Caffeinated Masterlist

I just found an old oneshot that's sitting half finished in my notes! Would you guys read a oneshot about a reader who is Baxter Stockman's niece and who gets into crime fighting to try to save him from himself, shenanigans ensue and it becomes a cute story of reader and Donnie getting into a relationship like two nerds?

Statistical Improbability ♡ DonBot x Reader 《 Part 2 》

Oh mi gosh it's been so many months... hahah

I promise I'm still alive! And I'm still working on these parts, slowly but surely

Anyway here's part 2

Summary: Reader has a nightmare, Donnie and Reader have some cute moments, there's a fight, a kid gets kicked somewhere during it, Bertha is sassy.

Warnings: There is a ghost of proofreading somewhere in between drafts, read at your own risk. Mixed POVs. Slowburn? Mentions of blood, swearing, strangers to reluctant friends trope, mentions of reader's mysterious backstory, some semblance of an action scene, this chapter is filled with some general trauma, self deprecation and angst on reader's part, she also gets shot. Reader is really going through it today™. The whole shebang.

Word Count: Around 7.5k words. Trying to keep these parts roughly the same size

Dumb.

Stupid.

Fucking idiot.

The words ricochet inside your skull, each new one made your heart throb. Breathing felt like a chore, almost as if a heavy anvil was pressing down onto your chest, suffocating you, killing you slowly.

The air felt like lead, thick and unyielding. Your head spun as the words echoed with each unsteady step you took down the cold, empty hall. Just a little further, you told yourself, but the hallway stretched on endlessly, twisting in impossible directions, a nightmarish labyrinth. The generator, the exit—it’s just there around the corner, I know it is.

But no matter how many doors you passed, no matter how many corners you rounded, you were trapped. The silence was deafening, only broken by the agony of his voice—raging, desperate, each yell like a blade scraping against your nerves. He was getting closer. He was almost right behind you.

"Come back here!" His screams of agony hurt your ears, but each new insult, each new threat, it was loud and clear.

The sound of metal crashing, doors ripped from their hinges— Nathan's fury echoed through the labyrinth of this forsaken place. You couldn't run fast enough. You shouldn't have been so foolish, to think you could find a solution, to think you could find a cure? What a sick joke, and now you've only made everything worse.

Holding back sobs and sniffs you try to make it through the twisting nightmarish halls of the abandoned laboratory, you had to make it to the generator. Your hands shake as you press them against the walls to stop yourself from tumbling over.

Stumbling close to the generator you grab your laptop. Focus, you tell yourself as your sweaty hands struggle to work. All you need is to divert the power, lift the lockdown. Just one more click, and you'll be out in no time.

But the generator sputters and dies, and the lights flicker, plunging you in an inky darkness that almost sticks to your skin, thick and heavy like oil. Your fingers tremble, sliding over the cold keyboard, too slippery with sweat to type correctly. You can feel your grip slipping, losing control as the reality of your situation closes in.

The laptop crashes to the floor, a dull thud followed by the sound of cracking glass as the screen shatters and the glitches. No, no, no... Panic quickly sets in as you take it back and try to get it to work, you groan in frustration and punch the screen, the glass digs into your knuckles and the laptop dies completely. The weight of the world presses down, suffocating, it's over.

You hold your breath, placing your hands over your mouth to keep yourself as silent as possible as you can hear his heavy footsteps running through the halls. *Maybe he won't find me.* Your heart races, and then you hear it—the claws, the scraping sound growing closer, more predatory. *He found me.*

A heavy weight slams into you from behind, throwing you to the floor with bone-cracking force, you can feel a sharp pain shoot through the entirety of your side as you hit the ground. You cry out and gasp for air, but the world spins wildly around you as dagger sharp claws sink into your skin, tearing, ripping through your flesh. Your scream echo through the lab, but there's nobody to hear them.

A flicker of light reflects in his claws, glinting sickly red in the darkness. You can see your own terrified reflection in his crooked glasses. You try to apologize, to beg, but your voice is lost in the storm of pain shooting up from your arm. His claws rise above you, poised to strike.

You shut your eyes, bracing for the end, raising your hands in front of your face as if you could prevent the final, fatal blow.

---

You shoot up in bed, gasping for air, your heart hammering in your chest. You could almost feel the taste of blood still in your mouth, the ghost of a metallic, sickly tang that doesn't leave.

Your hand fumbles for the gun beside you, gripping it so hard that the cold metal leaves imprints in your palm. Bloodshot eyes dart wildly around the room, the pitch black suffocating you in its oppressive silence. The sound of your own ragged breathing fills the room.

"Anybody there?" You say it no louder than a shaky whisper, barely audible in your dark room.

Nothing.

Your gun slips from your grasp, clattering against the floor. You raise your trembling hands in front of your face and grasp your prosthetic pulse, cold, shivering. You close your eyes, your heart beats against your chest so hard you can feel it against your ears. You slow down your beating, attempting to calm yourself down.

It's gone, he's gone, it was just a nightmare. I'm in Bertha, I'm safe.

But even as you repeat the words like a mantra, like a prayer in your mind, a chill runs through you that makes your stomach sink.

I'm not safe. I'm never leaving this hell.

You feel your breath hitch, and for a moment, you almost laugh at the absurdity of it all. What am I doing? You push the hair sticking to your face back, your hand slick with sweat. The day’s events replay like a cruel joke, from barely escaping savages to stumbling across a mutant turtle in a robot’s body—what was this, some kind of twisted science fiction book?

Every breath feels like it’s pulling you deeper, suffocating you with the weight of everything. The guilt spirals through you like a whirlpool, drowning you. Mistakes, regrets, all of it leaves you empty, and the cascading of silent tears starts to stream down your face.

The sheets, once comforting, now feel like needles, the fabric scratching at your skin, irritating. The symbol of comfort that used to be your refuge is now just another reminder of everything you’ve lost, everything you can’t escape.

You sit there, breathing raggedly, unsure if you’re trembling from fear, guilt, or something far worse. Maybe it’s all of it.

You're not sure how long you stayed like that for, the same thoughts spiralling through your head like a tornado of guilt, eating you up inside as each new mistake leads to a new wave of shame, and each regret you remember just fills you with despair.

You push the sheets aside, letting them fall to the floor.

It doesn’t matter. Nothing does anymore.

You get up from the bed before you could go over those dark thoughts any longer. You roll your shoulders and pop stiff joints as you shuffle toward the window. The blinds creak as you pull them open, and sunlight spills into the trailer in a soft golden flood. It’s warm on your face—gentle, like the world hasn’t gone to shit —and for a moment, it almost feels normal. Outside, the sand has settled. The storm’s over. You survived another night.

You linger there longer than you should, blinking into the light like it might make you forget of the darkness inside of your heart. But then your mind drifts— Donatello, he’s still here, somewhere in your trailer. That strange, unexpected guest. The memory of the nightmare loosens its grip just enough to let curiosity take its place. You drag your fingers through your hair and wipe at your face, muttering a quiet curse.

You make a half-hearted attempt to look presentable—just enough to avoid pity or prodding questions—then open your bedroom door and step into the main cabin.

Empty.

The trailer’s still. Quiet.

Your brow lifts slightly, suspicious. No heavy footfalls, no mechanical humming. Just silence.

Did he leave?

Your stomach tightens. You stride over to the cabinets and start checking—drawers, toolboxes, storage crates. The essentials are still there, mostly. A few tools missing. Not much else. No signs of a scuffle, no busted locks.

If he looted me, he did it politely.

Still, you frown. He wouldn’t have just wandered off with a toolbox in his hand—not into this wasteland. Not without wheels. Even someone like him wouldn’t last long alone in the open desert. And he didn't strike you as stupid.

You glance toward the door, heart beating a little faster now— Where the hell did you go, Donnie?

The low sharp hiss of something sizzling snaps you out of your thoughts.

You pause with your hand resting on the trailer door, thumb brushing the worn edge of your gun. Carefully, you step outside, blinking against the dry glare of morning sun. The storm had scrubbed the sky clean, and now it hung cloudless, a sickly pale blue. You follow the faint sound of whistling, trailing it to the front of the trailer.

He’s under it. Of course he is.

Metal legs jut out from beneath the frame, kicking slightly as he hums a tuneless melody. Your eyes drift to the open toolbox by his side—your toolbox—and your brows knit together. Unbelievable.

You cross your arms, tilt your head, watching in silence. He mutters to himself, something about rust patterns and heat damage and "whoever welded this should be arrested."

"Hey," you say, flat but firm.

THUNK.

A hollow metallic crack rings out, followed by a yelp. You cringe at the sound.

"Gah—desert apples!" Donatello slides out from under the trailer with one hand pressed to his forehead, a faint scuff marking the metal. The light of his visor slightly brightens, adjusting to the sun as he looks up at you, then he does a small head tilt. "Good morning. Didn’t think you’d be up so early."

You arch an eyebrow. "Didn’t think I’d wake up to someone crawling under my home."

He shrugs, unapologetic. "Thought I’d pitch in. You saved my shell, after all."

Donnie gestures toward the frame and taps it with a knuckle. "Figured your girl here could use some TLC. Judging by the way this thing's rattling, I’m guessing you mistook a cliff for a speed bump?"

You stare at him, arms still crossed, lips twitching.

"Something like that. What are you doing, exactly?"

He sits up and casually gestures toward the undercarriage. "Your girl’s suspension was practically crying. I figured I’d take a look."

You frown. "You could’ve asked me before tinkering with it."

He shrugs. "Didn’t want to wake you."

Your gaze lingers on the toolbox—how neatly he’s laid everything out. You walk closer to him and crouch near your tools: "What did you touch?"

"Only what was already broken." He raises his hands slightly. "Scout’s honor."

You glance at him sideways. "You don’t look like the scout type."

"And yet here I am. Fixing your suspension."

You press your lips together, trying not to let the hint of amusement show. You grab a wrench and nod toward the trailer.

"Fine. Let me make sure you didn't rig anything up to explode, and if anything else breaks after this, I’m blaming you."

Donatello chuckles. "Deal."

You both spent the next half hour working in near silence, the occasional scrape of tools and muttered commentary filling the air. You kept your distance, arms crossed, throwing sideways glances when he wasn't looking—or at least, when you thought he wasn't. He didn't say much, focused on his repairs, but there was something oddly calming about watching him work. Mechanical precision mixed with something more... thoughtful.

"You sure that’s the right bolt?" you asked, crouching nearby, arms crossed.

He slid out slightly and stared at you. "You're gonna have to be more specific. There's like… fifty bolts under here."

You arched an eyebrow. "The one you just dropped, again, for the third time. You sure you know what you’re doing under there?”

His voice floated back, smug. “Of course I do! I’m not just a pretty shell, you know.”

Before you could answer him, Bertha’s dashboard lights flickered to life, and her voice croaked online, dry and annoyed.

"System diagnostics: 74% operational. Suspension barely hanging on. Probably because someone thinks duct tape is an acceptable structural solution."

"Bertha,” you sighed, "It's good to hear from you again."

"Yes, well. Hard not to wake up when I’m being ‘repaired’ with the finesse of two raccoons in a toolbox."

"Oh, excuse you." You answer her back. "Sorry if we have to make do in the middle of an apocalypse, not professional enough for ya."

Bertha ignored you, voice feigning weariness. "Honestly. I’ve survived mutant raiders, electrical storms, and a sand vulture infestation. But this? This is the real test."

Donatello stifles a laugh as he wipes oil from his hands. "She’s... charming."

"She’s mouthy," you mutter, though there’s an edge of affection in your tone.

"Oh please, I'm starting to think you enjoy it."

Donatello looked at you, his voice clearly amused. "Is she always like this?”

"Built-in personality chip," Bertha said. "Came with ‘advanced diagnostics’ and ‘unfiltered sarcasm. At this rate, I’ll be road-ready in... oh, a week. Maybe two."

"Oh please, spare me the drama. We're almost done, you'll be fine." You answered her sass with some of your own.

Bertha sighed dramatically. "I’ll start drafting my will just in case."

You rolled your eyes, shaking your head with a grin and patting the trailer on it's hull. "Glad to have you back, Bertha."

"Of course you are," she said. "Who else is going to keep you two from turning me into a glorified tin can?"

After the light banter with Bertha it didn't take you and Donatello too long to get the trailer fixed up. Once everything was ready, Donatello helped you take the tools back to your trailer and you told him you could take him wherever he needed, he seemed satisfied to be left at the nearest village, so that's where you two were headed to.

He climbed in beside you on the trailer, you grinned as Bertha’s systems powered up completely and the engine hummed back to life.

----

You toss a scratched-up CD into the player. An old rock tune crackles to life as the trailer rolls out into the wide-open wasteland, tires kicking up dust as your home-on-wheels trudges forward.

The silence between you is thick. Not hostile—just awkward. Like two strangers stuck in an elevator, except the elevator is a solar-powered survival trailer in the middle of a sun-scorched desert filled with feral mutants, and one of you is a six-foot tall turtle in a robot body.

You keep your eyes on the road. What do you even say to someone like him? Nice weather for the apocalypse? It’s easier to just focus on the path ahead. Still, you steal the occasional glance. He hasn’t said much since you left.

Meanwhile, Donatello was stuck in a similar predicament, he sat stiffly in the passenger seat, fingers twitching in thought. He wanted to ask her a hundred questions—about her, what was her life like before, what she liked, how she built Bertha —but every time his voice threatened to start, the words got caught in his voice modulator. She didn’t seem like the type who liked being pried into, and he didn’t want to ruin whatever fragile peace was forming between them.

He let out a soft, synthetic sigh. You caught it, glancing over with a raised brow, but said nothing.

His mind drifted back to Raph. He tried not to let the concern take root, but he just couldn't shake the feeling. Where are you, big guy?

"So." A sweet voice derailed his train of thought and he looked at the human. He tilted his head in curiosity, "you said you're good with car repairs, right? Why's that, were you a mechanic before all of this?"

Donatello blinked and looked at you. The question surprised him.

"Not exactly," he said, rubbing the back of his neck. "I used to build some things before this... There was the Party Wagon, the Shellraiser…" He started counting on his three-fingered hand, and you had to stiffle a laugh at the names.

You quirked a brow. "The Shellraiser?"

He could hear the amusement in your voice, even if you were trying to hide it. “Hey! What's wrong with the name?"

You fought back a smirk. "Nothing! It's actually perfect, it's just, is everything you make turtle themed?"

"Hey, it's a great theme."

You gave a small chuckle, but quickly looked away, fingers tightening on the wheel. "Right. Speaking of which, you said you were a mutant before this. Was that before or after the mutagen bomb?"

"Always been a mutant." He replies flatly, but that peaks your curiosity.

"Really? Were you never human?"

"Nope." He shakes his head, "I started out as a baby turtle, me and my brothers got hit with the ooze and here I am."

"Huh, that's, interesting." So he was always a mutant, you wagered it wasn't much different from some of the younger desert folk, but it was still something curious. "So if you were a mutant before all of this— what was your life like?"

“Oh, it was the best. My father— Master Splinter, he taught me and my brothers everything we knew. Ninjutsu, discipline, philosophy... how to fight, how to think.” He gave a soft chuckle.

He leaned back on his elbows, exhaling. “Back before all this... before everybody went crazy and the sand swallowed everything... we fought to save the world from these things called the Kraang. Nasty alien brain-things. They tried to take over the Earth. We stopped them. Barely.”

You watched his body language shift—shoulders slumped, nostalgia softening into sorrow.

“I had a lab. Gadgets. Friends. Pizza. And my brothers—Raph, Mikey, Leo. We fought, we joked, we looked out for each other.”

"Seems like you all were quite close." You comment and he nods.

"We didn't always get along, but, we cared about each other." He shifted in his chair and left out a soft, glitchy sigh. "Raph and I had a big fight before the fall. Stupid stuff. Then we were ambushed. I lost him.”

Donatello looked over at you, a quiet fire in his visor. “I have to find him."

You nodded slowly. “If he's out there, we’ll find him, Donnie.”

His antenna shifted and with the way he tilted his head, it almost seemed like he was smiling, for a moment you both fell quiet again.

"And what about you?" Ah, of course he'd ask you.

"What about me?" You stole a glance at him, before looking back at the desert.

"What was your life like before all of this?"

You sigh.

"Well, I asked you about your life, only fair you ask about mine, I guess." You shift in your seat. "My dad worked at TCRI," you said, almost surprised by your own voice.

"He was a chemical engineer. Smart, kinda goofy, loved soccer and puzzles. He used to bring home all kinds of weird samples—crystals, spores, little things in jars that glowed when you shook them." You smiled faintly at the memory. "Said his research was going to 'change the world.'"

Donatello looked up, attentive but silent.

"I was just finishing my engineering degree when he sat me down one night. Looked pale like death. Said there was something wrong. Said the guys he was working for weren't who they said they were, that they were actually something called the Kraang, sound familiar?" She looks at Donnie for a brief second. "That he thought they were aliens from another dimension. I thought he had lost it. But then… he made me promise I’d run if anything happened to him."

Donatello's voice softened. “They took him?”

You swallowed and nodded.

"He was taken the next morning. By men in suits, in black vans. I didn’t even get to say goodbye. That was the last time I ever saw him."

Donatello didn’t speak, just listened.

"So I ran. Hid out. But I couldn’t let it go. I needed to know what happened to my dad," You gave a bitter laugh. "I thought maybe if I, I don't know, solved the mystery of my dad's disappearance I could stop whatever was coming. Maybe even find him."

She glanced over at him.

"Then the bomb hit. Just like that, all of it, gone. And, well, I was the only survivor, in a way."

"I lost my home that day too," he said. "My friends, my brothers. All of it."

Your brows knit together and you shake your head, voice low. "It sucks, right? Funny thing is, even after everything that's happened, I never stopped thinking about him. Even now, I wonder what happened."

"I'm so sorry that happened to you." He whispered your name at the end.

You looked at Donatello then—really looked. Even though he didn't even have any facial muscles to speak of, you could swear you saw a hint of something behind his visor. Different stories. Same pain.

"Yeah, well." You shrug, "Me too."

Donatello didn’t reply right away. But he reached out and gently placed a hand over yours. The metal was cold, but the gesture itself felt warm. He gave you a good squeeze and then took away his hand, he didn't say anything afterwards, but the silence didn’t feel as awkward anymore.

------

You’re cruising the desert highway, dust curling in your wake when something catches your eye—a cluster of suspicious movement in the distance. You squint. A little girl, strung up in the air, restrained and apparently asking for help by the way she was flaining wildly.

Donatello almost jumps in his seat and grabs the panel of the trailer, clearly having noticed the scene and wanting to do something about it.

Your stomach knots, you're almost driving over. Fingers tighten around the steering wheel. But then you see it—light glinting off something at her hip. Too shiny. Too deliberate.

You slam your foot on the pedal and jerk the wheel hard, veering away.

"What the hell are you doing?!" Donatello shouts, twisting in his seat. "It's a kid!"

"Might be bait," you mutter, eyes fixed ahead. "Savages pull this trick all the time. You stop to save the helpless kid, and suddenly your tires are gone, your supplies too—and if you're lucky, you walk away."

"You don’t know it’s a trap!" He protests.

"I know enough," you snap, offended. "And I’m not dying over a decoy."

Donatello stares at you like he’s seeing you for the first time. "Seriously? That’s it? Just keep driving?"

You glance at him, jaw tight. "It's not our problem."

His voice is sharp, angry now. "Not our—? Wow. I thought you were better than this."

You laugh, dry and bitter. "Better than what, exactly? You don’t know me."

"You're right," he says, quieter now. "Just... I thought you were better than someone who turns their back on a kid."

You look over, ready to fire something back—but the passenger door’s wide open, and Donatello is nowhere to be seen.

“Donnie?" you call, blinking in disbelief.

"He jumped. If that wasn't obvious enough." Bertha chimes in.

“Oh for—goddamn it. You want to die? Fine by me. Stupid, fucking, robot, ugh." You slam your fist on the steering wheel, cursing under your breath. His words echo in your skull.

"I spent whoever knows how long oiling that jerk's joints and now he wants to go out into this scorching heat and die over some, scavenger ambush, that's fine." You shrug and monologue loudly, biting the inside of your cheek in frustration and pushing your foot deeper into the pedal. "Totally cool. Cool, cool, chill. Awesome sauce."

Your grip tightens and on the side of your eye you catch a glimpse of the photo you keep close to the panel. It's a photo of you and your Dad, the only one you had left. You pick it up and look at him, a bittersweet feeling washes over you and you look outside of your window, Donatello's figure becoming smaller and smaller in the distance.

You think back to the last day you saw your Dad, the last time you saw Nathan, how both of those times you ran off, and never saw them again. You sigh in frustration, then whip the wheel around.

"Hey—uh, what’s happening?" Bertha chimes in, voice dry. "Because if this is another one of your spontaneous heroic breakdowns, I would like to register a formal complaint."

"It's not a heroic moment, it's a me doing something stupid moment," you mutter, flooring it toward the kid.

"Stupid, confirmed," Bertha replies. "Shall I ready the medbay? Or the flamethrowers?"

"Both, and ready the guns."

The trailer roars forward, kicking up dust and fury. When you're getting closer your see, the spikes they throw on the ground and the savages that ride in on their motorcycles when they notice you approaching rapidly, shouts rising and weapons fumbling in surprise as Bertha readies her own.

Your front tire burst with a deafening pop, the whole rig lurching sideways. You lose control as the trailer fishtails wildly across the cracked asphalt.

"Shit—!" you yank the wheel, but it’s too late.

Metal screeches. The trailer slams into the wall, the crunch of impact ringing through your bones.

Smoke hisses from the hood. You cough, blinking through the haze. Your fingers scrabble at the jammed seatbelt, adrenaline still spiking.

So much for this morning’s repairs.

You can hear the sound of gunshots and fighting outside, but you couldn't see Donatello through the clouds of dust.

You kick the door open and rip your seatbelt. Bertha’s guns whir to life, spitting fire at the circling savages as you bolt into the chaos. Sand and smoke sting your eyes. You pull a knife from your boot, heart hammering and cut the rope that was keeping the girl strung up in the air.

"Hey—easy," you call, crouching low as you reach the little girl on the ground. "I’m just here to get you out, okay?"

The little rat mutant hisses at you, feral but as you tell her your intent, she slowly stops flailing. She hesitates and seems to consider your words. Then she nods.

You slash through the ropes around her wrists, the tension in her limbs easing—but the second you cut the binds on her legs, she bites.

"OW—what the hell?!"

Her sharp teeth sink into your hand. You hope she doesn't have rabies. Before you can shake her off, she grabs your knife—and your gun. Fast hands for someone so small.

You spot a glint on her hip—another weapon—and realize too late: she’s pulling something. You kick her off instinctively, and she tumbles back with a growl.

"What the hell, kid?! Give me that back!"

"No way, you filthy human!" she snarls, scrambling up.

Called it. Your gut churns.

She kicks sand straight into your eyes. You scream, blinded—then a shot grazes your ribs. Pain flares sharp and hot. You hit the ground, groaning, crawling backward as a dust cloud swallows the fight. You can’t see a damn thing.

As you try to find your footing, sharp claws grab at your hair. You shriek, kicking, thrashing, but it’s no use. You’re yanked through the sand like a rag doll, away from Bertha—whose wheels now spin, shot to hell, her guns silent.

The savage drags you up by the roots of your hair, forcing you to your knees. Blood trickles down your scalp. He presses a rusted machete to your throat—close enough that when you swallow, your skin kisses the edge.

"It’s over now, girl," he growls, breath hot and rancid. "You and your friend thought you could steal from us and live?"

You glare at him. But the fear? Yeah, you're not hiding it as well as you'd like. He laughs when he sees it.

"Any last words?"

You eyes dart around the place, where did Donatello go? He was there for a second, and now he was gone.

He ditched me. Your heart tightened. *Of course he did, maybe he was with them, and this was all an elaborate ruse for me to let my guard down. Well, shit, joke's on me for having a bleeding heart.

You turn your gaze to the ground, and then look up with teary eyes, looking at the savage with what seems to be a regretful look behind your long lashes.

"Yeah, but I'm shy, come closer..."

The savagemoves closer, ever filled with malice, you almost vomit in your mouth from their stench, but you wait for him to get close enough until you land a heavy ball of spit right between his eyes.

Asshole.

"Go to hell."

Laughter rings around you. The savage wipes the spit off his face with the back of his mutated hand.

And then, everything goes back for a second—punctuated by the dull crack of the butt of the weapon slamming into your skull. You could feel the metallic taste of blood in your mouth.

This was it. You’d finally run out of luck.

You clenched your teeth, eyes screwed shut, bracing for the killing blow—bullet, blade, didn’t matter.

But nothing came.

No sharp pain. No final breath. Just... silence.

Tentatively, you cracked one eye open, expecting to see the afterlife—or nothing at all.

Instead, you saw Donatello.

He struck like lightning, his bo staff slicing through the dust with terrifying precision. One savage dropped. Then another. A third went flying into the wreckage. Every hit was calculated, every movement deliberate—fluid, graceful, lethal.

You stared, jaw slack. “What the hell…”

Bertha’s voice crackled through the static, distant but urgent. “Are you just gonna sit there drooling or maybe fight back sometime today?”

Snapped out of your daze, you scrambled for a weapon— anything, the savages flew around you as you crawled through the sand in search of something, there! An old pipe club half-buried in the sand. You kicked one of the scavengers in the gut, then swung hard, knocking another across the face.

The mutant kid—the one you tried to save—still had your gun, and she was trying to make a run for it. “Give it back!” you barked.

"No way! Die, human scum!" she shrieked, firing. The bullet grazed your prosthetic arm. You growled and smacked the weapon out of her hands with the club.

She dove for it, but you were quicker this time. You caught it and turned it on her. She froze, wide-eyed.

You hesitated.

She was just a kid. A snarling, weapon-stealing mutant brat—but still a kid. Maybe in another dimension, if she hadn't been cursed by being born in this apocaliptic hellspace, maybe she could have been a regular kid, laughing with her friends, talking about makeup and boys or whatever kids would have been into, rather than trying to kill you.

You pointed vaguely to the horizon. "Go."

She hissed at you, then bolted, sand kicking up in her wake, you could see her one of the motorcycles from the savages and drive off into the distance.

Breathing heavily, you turned toward the wreckage. The savages were either unconscious or fleeing. Donatello stood in the center, bo staff resting on his shoulder, breathing steady.

"I didn't think you were coming back. What, did you have a sudden change of heart?" He asked sarcastically, but underneath it you could feel a hint of something else. You weren't sure, and you didn't feel like asking.

"Yeah. Yeah, whatever you pulled at my heartstrings and I couldn't watch you die to an obvious trap. You sure took your sweet time saving my ass though," you muttered, brushing sand off your shirt as Donatello came closer.

He smirked. "I think you meant to say ‘thank you." And then he looked at the way you stumbled over your feet and the way your held your side. "Are you okay? Did you get hurt?"

"That damn kid tried to kill me." You touched your side and groaned. "But that happens twice a week, I'll be fine."

"Can I take a look?" He seemed regretful, even if he hadn't apologized for the ordeal. You sighed and rolled your eyes. "I'm fine. Really."

Donatello took a step backwards, he almost seemed ashamed as he lowered his bo-staff.

You squinted at the mess around you.

"What the hell did you do to them anyway?"

“Let’s just say... being a robot ninja turtle in a desert full of psychos comes with certain advantages.”

You stared. “Show-off.”

He shrugged and you both started gathering gear, with Donnie tugging one of the savages' motorcycles upright. Donatello checked the engine, nodding. “This one’s salvageable. I guess I'll take it and uhm, get out of your hair.”

You raised an eyebrow “Wait,” you said.

He paused.

You kicked a rock and looked up at him. "Look. You may have gotten me to drive into this... whole situation, but you saved my ass. And I don’t exactly have a five-year plan... so if you wanna find your brother, I'll help you, if you want.”

His body language shifted—just a subtle lean forward. “Really? That’d be amazing!”

"Yeah, and it's gonna give you time to male up for almost getting me killed." You gave him a crooked smile.

Together, you patched up Bertha quickly before any back-ups could arive, you replaced the tires, and Donnie hooked his brother’s tracker to your radar. The signal was weak—but it was there.

Soon enough, you were both riding out across the open desert.

----

"Just let me take a look at it!" He protested, following you around the trailer with a clean rag and a half empty antiseptic in the other.

"I've got stabbed more times than I can count, I'll be fine!"

He crossed the short distance between you. His metal joints whirred softly as he followed, as you tried to leave he walked into your path, everytime you stepped away, he was there. You groaned in frustration. "Come on, it's my fault. Let me help you. You got bit and you got shot, I swear I'm a decent medic."

"Oh my god." You threw your hands in defeat at the air. "Fine, I give up."

You groaned and relented, pulling your jacket off and unwrapping the crusty bandage you had put together earlier. He leaned in, his visor narrowing in concentration as he inspected the wound. His fingers were careful—gentle, despite the cold metal.

“Bullet just grazed you,” he said quietly. “Could’ve been worse.”

You winced as he sprayed the last of your antiseptic. "Could’ve not been at all."

"You did save a kid—even if she tried to kill you afterward."

"She tried to kill me before I saved her," you muttered through gritted teeth.

He chuckled softly, then carefully wrapped your side with clean gauze. "You didn’t have to come back. But you did."

"I wasn't gonna let you get killed after I put so much effort into saving you." You retorted, and he let out a soft laugh.

His hand moved to your bitten palm, and you flinched as he wiped the wound clean.

“She got you good,” he said. “I’m starting to think she was half piranha.”

You smirked. “I think she was mostly brat.”

He got some needle and thread that you kept in your medkit and started to stitch the wound together, you both remained silent while he patched you up, once he was done he sat back with a satisfied hum. "There. Not perfect, but it’ll hold. And you won’t die of infection, so… win-win."

"What about mutant rabies, hm?" You look at your bandaged hand, you had to admit he really was good at this. It made you wonder how much 'practice' he had. "Did you think about that?"

"She didn't look like she had mutant rabies to me, I think you're gonna be fine."

"I wouldn't bet on those odds."

You flexed your fingers, looking at the clean bandages. "Thanks," you said, a little softer than usual.

He tilted his head slightly. "Anytime."

You pulled your jacket back on, trying not to look flustered. "That doesn’t mean you get to play nurse every time I scrape my knee."

"No promises," he said, leaning back with a smirk. "You’re kinda accident-prone."

You snorted, tossing a pebble at him. He caught it mid-air, just to show off.

You rolled your eyes and returned to the driver's seat, Bertha had been driving while you were away and apparently nothing interesting had happened so far, so you settled into place and Donatello followed suit, sitting in the passenger's seat.

-----

"I got it! His phone's signal is close by." Donatello almost chirped when the little dot on the radar became stronger. You two had been driving the entire day, the sun was almost setting when you finally reached Raphael's signal.

"It leads right into those ruins." He pointed at what was left of an old road town, now beaten and battered by constant storms, desert raiders and sandworms.

"Let's be careful. It could be another trap."

You park close enough to the town that you and Donatello could bolt to Bertha if things turned south, but not to close she would be vulnerable to any sneak attacks.

You keep your gun drawn as you and Donatello make your way through the ruins, your finger just barely grazing the trigger as you round the corners, the sand crunching beneath your heels. Everytime you heard somethint louder than a whisper you would instinctively hold your gun tighter and feel the back of your hand burn.

You and Donatello were quiet as you cleared the town, the only residents left were bone and dust, if anybody ever lived here, they were long gone by now.

You made your way around a particularly tall wall, ready to shoot at anything that seemed like a threat, but instead you saw a big graffiti on the wall, it looked recent.

Coming closer your eye caught a glimpse of a reflection from the ground, it seemed like a small phone half buried in the sand, it's screen black. You made your way over the phone and picked it up with your metal hand, swiping away the dust and the sand— the tiny phone had a rounded backside, resembling a turtle's shell. Yep, definitely Raphael's phone.

"Hey I think I found something." You call out to Donatello.

He rounds the corner, you place the phone in his oversized three fingered hand and he looks it over carefully.

"This is Raph's phone." He confirms your suspicions and turns it on, the screen flickers for a second before a glitchy voice comes from the tiny phone.

He stares at the screen for a moment longer, then tilts it slightly so you can see. The video file flickers to life—grainy, damaged, but it plays.

You can barely see anything through the damaged screen, but through the parts that are still semi-functional, you can see the loose shape of a large green man. His face is covered with dirt, blood crusting his temple, eyes red-rimmed. He looks angry. But underneath that... he looked tired.

"Don… if you’re seeing this, I guess you're going through my stuff again." He let out a chuckle that turned into a strained cough. "Look, I know we don't always agree on how to go about things, I guess you'd say that's always been on brand for me."

"But listen… things got messy after our fight. I don't even know if you're out there still, but if you ever come across this, I shouldn’t have walked out, but I needed space. You were right, we should’ve—"

The phone glitches out, the sounds unintelligible before it sputters back to working, but the video gets more and more glitchy as it keeps going.

"If you come looking—" The video cuts and you can barely understand the next words coming out, "The old radio tower—" it cuts again "I'm waiting, little brother—" and it dies.

Donatello tries to turn it on, but finds no success. He let out a frustrated sigh.

"Is it broken?"

He shakes his head, "I don’t know."

"I have some tools back in Bertha, maybe you can fix it in there." You try to be a bit optimistic, noticing the shift in Donatello's mood. "You might find more clues."

He doesn't answer you at first, staring at the black screen in his hand before turning his attention to the wall, which had been forgotten by both of you until now.

"That's the symbol of the muskrats." Donatello points out.

"What?"

"They're a bunch of thugs me and Raph ran into a couple of months ago. They almost trashed my truck." He touches the wall and then rubs his neck. "If they took him, oh boy..."

You hesitate, but put your hand on his shoulder and pat him awkwardly at first, but then give him a good squeeze.

"He looks tough, I'm sure he's fine. Look, he said something about an old radio tower. I have some old maps, and maybe we'll find something on that phone. Do you think you can fix it?"

"Maybe. If I can turn it on, I might be able to find something else."

You watch the emotions shift through him — relief, guilt, hope — all tangled in silence.

"Let's hunker down for tonight, Donnie."

---

The fire had died down to low embers, casting long, flickering shadows across the sand. The desert wind had quieted for the night, save for the occasional rustle of grit brushing against Bertha’s worn hull.

You tried to pass the time fiddling with Bertha's panels, but Donatello insisted — insisted! — that you get some rest so as to not ruin your new stitches.

It was funny, in a way, you barely knew each other but he seemed so protective of you, in his own way. Fixing your trailer, patching you up, so even though having someone telling you not to tinker with your own trailer was annoying, you begrudingly complied— for now.

You leaned back on your elbows, legs stretched toward the dim glow, a mutant cockroach and a fat beetle on a stick barely caught your attention.

Donatello sat a few feet away, one knee drawn up. He was quiet. You watched him for a moment before speaking.

“Is something on your mind?"

He looked over. "Just thinking about Raph."

"I get it." You nod. "But we'll find him."

He nodded.

Silence followed. You grabbed a stick and started poking the fire, stirring up sparks.

“This… whatever it is between us. It’s weird,” you muttered, not looking at him.

Donnie looked up at you. "Because I’m a mutant turtle in a robot body, and you’re a grumpy desert scavenger with a death wish?"

You smirked. "I'm not that grumpy."

You could hear Bertha's mock laugh coming from behind you, and you threw a pebble at her, which earned you a fake 'augh, the pain—it's unbearable!' from her. You rolled your eyes and ignored her theatrics.

"I haven’t talked to anyone like this in a good while, unless you count Bertha. It's....odd."

Donnie chuckled softly. “I dunno. I think it works. You’re tough, resourceful. A little intense.” He tilted his head. “In a good way.”

You let out a 'psst' sound. Not letting yourself believe the compliments entirely. Your gaze dropped to your hands, fingers tightening unconsciously. There was a long pause. You could feel his eyes on you but didn’t look up.

"I’m glad we ran into each other," he said softly.

You didn’t answer right away. Finally, you muttered, "I’ve had worse company."

"You’re terrible at this, y’know that?"

The corner of your mouth twitched, almost a smile. You both turned back to the fire, saying nothing. The beetle popped, spitting juice into the coals.

Eventually, you said, "Get some rest, Donatello. Big day tomorrow."

He nodded but didn’t move. "Yeah. You too."

I draw too

He's so cute

If I started taking requests for drabbles, headcannons and oneshots, would anybody be interested in that?

No I'm not putting off editing statiscal Improbability ~shut up~, I just think it'd be fun to take requests

The Secrets we Inherit ♡ Donatello x Stockman's Niece!Reader 《 Part 2 》

Summary: After your eccentric uncle, Baxter Stockman, vanishes without a trace, you're the only one who can investigate his sudden disappearance.

Your father doesn't believe you and you're alone in your search for your missing uncle. You decide to take matters into your own hands.

Context: This continues right after Season 1, Episode 11: Mousers Attack!

Content Warnings: Not proofread, mentions of blood, some minor injuries, reader is a certified nerd and a bit dorky, I don't remember if I mentioned but this is going to be a slow burn because I like torturing myself, be warned— terrible dad jokes are present in this chapter

Word Count: Idk some 8k words

----

"Do you have anything to say for yourself?"

Your knee bounced up and down, matching the frantic rhythm of your pulse. Everything had blurred together— swinging katanas, laser flashes, your uncle being dragged away by that... monster, a swarm of metallic figures that seemed to swallow the entire building as you could do nothing but watch.

The thoughts in your head overlapped one another, and you wanted to say a million things, do a million things. You wanted to say 'I'm sorry' and 'I have no idea what just happened' but nothing but air came out.

Your body was shaking as if you were just pulled out from freezing water in the Arctic. Was it the blood loss? The concussion? Or just the shock? Maybe it was everything all at once, you couldn't tell. All you knew was that your dad was standing there, staring at you with those eyes— big, disappointed, and expectant eyes. You just about regretted calling him to pick you up.

You sucked in a breath, fighting back the tears that burned at the back of your throat and threatened to spill at the slighest of sounds. Your hands, slick with sweat, were locked so tightly together they hurt.

You didn't dare answer.

Never did you think silence could be deafening, but in this moment you finally understood what this phrase meant— New York had never felt so quiet, the city’s pulse muted in those seconds that seemed to stretch on, everlasting.

The only thing that broke this illusion of silence were the strangled sniffs and hitches of your breath. Quiet, stifled sobs that wanted to turn into an ugly, uncontrolled cry. Then came something different, a sigh, deep and defeated coming from your father.

You heard his footsteps retreat, the creak of his car door opening, and then it shut suddenly. His boots squeaked against the concrete before he kneeled in front of you, gently lifting your chin, forcing you to look at him.

He grunted when he saw your face—swollen, bloodied, the cut over your eyebrow has painted a good part of your face red.

"What the hell were you thinking?" he asked, his voice flat. "You sneaked out and came out to this abandoned place. What the hell happened here?" When you still didn’t answer, he called your name sternly.

You let out a small laugh but forced your eyes shut and sucked in a breath, your lips trembling. "I needed to know what happened to Uncle Baxter."

God was this deeply, utterly humiliating.

Your dad scoffed, his fingers pinching your face but gently turning it around so he could inspect your injuries. He pressed a cold water bottle to your eye. "Come on, kid."

He leaned back, studying you. "I get it. You two were close. But Baxter—" Your father paused, a quiet sigh escaping his lips. "He’s kind of a loser, honestly."

"Uncle Baxter’s not a loser," you protested, but it came out weaker than you intended.

"He's a loser," your dad repeated, pulling your chin up to inspect your black eye more closely. His fingers pressed the cold bottle with more pressure into your face, drawing a low hiss from your clenched teeth.

He paused, looking at his watch. "And by the way, as of two weeks, three days and 7 hours, he’s also a wanted criminal." He rolled his eyes. You could tell your dad was deeply annoyed and angry at your uncle for his recent shortcomings, but you wished he at least gave him the benefit of the doubt.

However, your dad had a good argument, and the growing evidence was quite hard to dispute. He’d botched his chance at that big tech job. Then, he got fired from his last office gig for breaking the copy machine. And if that wasn’t bad enough, his face had been plastered on the morning news as he terrorized his poor ex-colleagues, not once, but twice.

"He's just... going through a tough time," you added, but even you didn't believe the words.

His brow furrowed in concern. "Did he do this to you?"

"No."

"Then what the hell happened?"

You let out a dry laugh, closing your eyes.

"You wouldn't believe me even if I told you."

"Try me."

You hesitated and drew in a sharp breath, licking your lips as you sought for courage.

"Well, I found out that Uncle Baxter had this secret hideout... like a base or something that he used for his experiments. He told me about it once, and I came here to— argh!" You let out a sharp wince as your dad checked your strained ankle.

"And?" He prompted, putting your foot down on the ground gently.

"And then I found out Uncle Baxter’s got beef with, like, four human-sized turtles who do karate. And then he got kidnapped by some giant dog-man." You stated very matter of factly, as if it was the most natural thing to tell someone, almost as if you were answering what kind of coffee you had this morning, black or an expresso? "And I fell down the stairs, that's how I cut my eyebrow and sprained my ankle."

Your dad’s expression didn’t even flinch.

He raised an eyebrow slowly. "Yeah, hallucinations are a telltale sign of a concussion." He stood with a slap on his thighs and picked you up. "We're going to the hospital."

"Dad!"

-------

You sat stiffly in the passenger seat, arms folded tight across your chest and eyes staring at your faint reflection in the car window. You could see the jagged line of stitches above your left brow— fresh, red, and still itching. You kept your jaw clenched so tightly that you could see some veins jutting out of your neck.

"You want to uncross those arms or what?" Your dad said, eyes still on the road back from the hospital. "Any tighter, and they'll fuse like that forever."

You exhale sharply through your nose. "You don’t believe me, dad."

"Not even a little," he answered, not missing a beat.

He glanced over, and when he saw your expression, he sighed softly. "Look, kid. I know Baxter was into some shady stuff, and you’ve got that wild imagination— probably from your mom’s side—but human-sized turtles? Mutant dogs? You've got to know what you sound like."

Yep, there it is. That quiet judgment of his.

Your head snapped toward him. "Dad, this city’s weird. You know it is. Remember when the streets filled with rats? Like, biblical levels of rats. That’s not normal. Rats don’t coordinate en masse." You turned too fast and smacked your sprained ankle against the door, hissing through your teeth as the pain flared up your leg. "And what about that thing running loose in the sewers scaring the workers? Or those UFO videos—there are hundreds."

He let out a snort. "Have you been watching too much Grody to the Max again? That show’s gonna rot your brain with conspiracy theories. Ninjas, mutants, government cover-ups— it’s entertainment, not evidence."

"I know what I saw!"

Your voice cracked, high with frustration. You swallowed it down.

"Uncle Bax’s been missing for weeks. No calls. His apartment’s a mess—cobwebs, food rotting, mail piling up. And you think that’s fine? I mean, look—"

You search your pocket, finding your phone, and you show him the recording from earlier. He slows down at a red light and takes the opportunity to glance at the screen. You can see his eyes slowly furrowing and then squinting.

"And what am I looking at?"

You look at the screen. The recording is mostly a blur of colors and noise. You sigh in frustration. "Oh c'mon, it's the fight! Here, look!" You pause the video on a particular frame, where one of the turtles you saw from before stood, holding its katanas, ready to strike at one of the robots.

"See? That's evidence!"

"Nice costume, kid." Your dad squinted at the screen and then glanced back at the road. "Look, do me a favor, and don't let fake videos on the internet warp your brain. Okay? That stuff is not real."

"Fake videos?! I recorded this myself!" You threw your arms in the air.

"Right, and I'm the king of England."

"Unbelievable." You put the phone back into your pocket and fold your arms tighter, sinking into the seat with a pout.

"If you’re not gonna do anything to find Uncle Baxter, then— I dunno. I have to. If he’s a criminal—"

"Which he is," your dad cut in, firm and weary.

"Then shouldn’t he be in jail?" You completed.

He sighed, rubbing his jaw and scratching his beard. "Maybe. But that’s not your job. That’s the cops'. And let’s be real—you’re not exactly law enforcement material, kid. Not in that ‘Space Heroes’ t-shirt and with those little chicken arms. Just… leave it alone. Please."

"I know you love him. And I—" He sighs. "Well, he’s still my brother. But he made his choices. Don’t get caught up in his bullshit, okay?"

You stared out the window, the glass suddenly fogging from your breath.

"I’ll… I’ll try, dad."

-----

"Sorry, dad."

Over the past few weeks, whenever your father was out for work, you'd turn your room into a crime board— articles, notes, printed maps, and odd bits of evidence scattered across your desk and your bed. As much as you loved your dad, you couldn’t ignore what your gut—and your heart—told you. Your uncle meant the world to you, even if he was a bit eccentric.

You owe your love for science and robotics to him. The one who helped you build your first hot chocolate-spewing volcano, who stayed up late soldering wires and testing circuits with you. He took you to your first robot fight tournament, and together, you built a champion.

Your gaze drifted to the wall, to the collages of memories and trinkets and memories you had with your family. One photo caught your eye—your younger self, beaming atop your uncle’s shoulders, a gold medal hanging proudly from your neck. The robot you two built gleamed in the background like a loyal knight after a bloody battle. You smiled softly at the memory.

Maybe you should have known there was something odd about your uncle, the way he still held decade old grudges as if he was wronged just a couple of minutes ago, but you knew there was some good inside of him too— in some hidden part he only revealed to you, but it was there.

And that's why you couldn't just forget about him. He was still out there, and you needed to find him. Even if it meant lying to your dad.

You'd buried yourself in research these last two weeks— downloading articles, compiling headlines, and cross-referencing every bizarre incident you could find in New York. Ninjas. Criminals appear tied in alleyways, ready to be taken by the cops. Strange sightings. You didn’t know how it all connected yet, but you had to believe it did.

Two shurikens lay side by side on your desk. One bore a flower emblem, delicate and strange. The other, a crude engraving of a foot. You trailed your finger over the marks and tapped them both thoughtfully, then lay back on your bed with a groan, holding the flower-emblazoned star above your head.

"Okay," you whispered.

You turned the weapon over in your fingers as if some great truth might reveal itself if you just stared hard enough. Maybe, if you focused—just a little more—something would click.

Then your hand slipped, and you grasped it a bit too tightly in the sharp edge.

"Ow!" You hissed, shaking your hand and instinctively sticking your bleeding thumb in your mouth.

You shake your hand and instinctively shove your bleeding finger in your mouth. Welp, at least your tetanus shots were up to date.

You sighed and let your head fall back onto your pillow. "Maybe dad was right. This is way over my head. If the cops can’t figure it out, what am I supposed to do?"

But as you sat up to retrieve the fallen shuriken, your eye caught where it had landed—smack on top of a forgotten article.

You crawled over and snatched it up. The piece of paper interested you. A piece about a little restaurant in Chinatown. Harmless, at first glance. Just some local spot run by a blind man named Mr. Murakami. But it seemed to have something else to it.

The article mentioned how the area had been under the Purple Dragons’ control for years… some local thugs. Nothing new, but interestingly, a neighbor had reported strange noises coming from the restaurant one night. A fight. Some type of loud disturbance. But when questioned about the occurrence, Mr. Murakami only offered one cryptic statement:

He’d been saved.

By four mysterious samaritans.

Your heart gave a thump. Four. Four mysterious samaritans. What else did that remind you of?

You scrambled through your notes until you reached a notebook, and you flipped through the pages until you reached your sketches of the four strange turtle people you saw fighting your uncle weeks ago.

You looked down at the ninja star with the flower again, a slow smile forming on your face.

"Some Chinese food sounds pretty good right now."

----

The bell above the door gave a soft ding as you stepped into Murakami’s restaurant. The warmth hit you first—savory steam, old wood, soft chatter. The place smelled like soy broth, sesame oil, and oddly comforting.

"Welcome," said the old man behind the counter. "Please, sit anywhere you like."

You chose one of the seats farther away, dropping your backpack beside you as casually as you could. From here, you had a clear view of most of the dining area. Perfect.

A few minutes later, he shuffled over. "What can I get for you?"

You leaned in a little and gave him the small wooden token from the ordering machine outside.

Mr. Murakami ran his finger over the small piece of wood, lips curling into the faintest smile. "Ah, pizza gyoza."

"I never heard of it before," you said, voice low. "But it sounds good."

He gave a slow, approving nod. "My invention. Strange, but comforting. Not many request it—but I always remember who does." Then, without another word, he turned and slipped behind the swinging doors, the muffled hum of the kitchen swallowing him up.

The moment the swinging doors closed behind him, you started moving. You popped open your backpack and pulled out a tiny spy cam— something you’d built yourself back when you and Baxter used to sneak them into science fairs for fun. You’d hollowed out a fortune cookie holder and disguised the lens in the plastic.

You slid out of your seat, took a quick glance around, then crouched low by the condiment shelf near the counter. You tucked the fake cookie holder behind a soy sauce bottle, adjusting it slightly so the lens had a wide view of the dining room.

Then you slipped back into your seat just as Murakami returned, a small plate in hand.

"Pizza gyoza," he said with quiet amusement. "Fresh from the pan. Careful—they bite back."

You smiled awkwardly. "Thanks."

----

The glow of the computer screen paints your face in pale blue. Noodles gone cold and abandoned somewhere in a far corner of your desk. Eyes rimmed red from hours of squinting. Your room is dark except for the screen and a small desk lamp.

Click. Fast-forward. Click. Rewind. Pause.

You exhale through your nose, leaning in, you rub your eyes as you watch the pixelated footage from Murakami’s restaurant. The camera has the perfect angle for the dining area of the restaurant, but so far, you haven't seen anything but the ordinary noodle shop customers come and go.

You shove your chair back from the desk and grab your controller, flopping onto the bed while the footage plays on screen. The screen keeps playing as you mash buttons in a half-focused blur. You pause the game occasionally to squint at the screen, chewing your lip.

Later, your controller sits forgotten on the floor, amidst the crumbs of potato chips. You’ve swapped it for an old edition of Space Heroes, propped open on your knee while the footage fast-forwards again. You dog-ear the page, frown at something offscreen, rewind three seconds, but it was only a small glitch in the footage. You huff and hit play again.

You lay on your bed, pizza box open, slice hanging limply in one hand as grease drips down your wrist. Your other hand hovers over the keyboard. You're not even chewing—just watching.

The hours tick by. You curl up in your hoodie, hair messy, computer still running. Occasionally, you mutter to yourself, jot something down on a sticky note stuck to the desk: 'Murakami - hang out spot for the turtles or dead end lead?'

You finally slam the pause button mid-bite—something flickered on screen. You squint, eyes scanning the screen. You rewind slowly. Frame by frame.

The restaurant doors burst open with a clatter and a chorus of laughter, echoing off the walls before the turtles even fully enter. Mr. Murakami barely flinches—he just turns from the kitchen with his usual gentle smile.

"Welcome, my friends," he says warmly, folding his hands in front of his apron. "What can I get for you today?"

"Only pizza gyoza, the two best food groups in one beautiful bite-sized dumpling!" The orange-masked turtle — Mikey, you recall from earlier — executes an unnecessary but impressive backflip, landing with a flamboyant dab. You lift one eyebrow and write 'EXTRA' close to a small doodle on your notebook.

The red-masked turtle shoves past him with a grunt, clearly unfazed.

"Just feed him before he starts breakdancing."

"Thank you so much for your kindness, Mr. Murakami San." The turtle with the katanas and the blue mask steps forward, sitting on a stool close to the balcony.

"I should be thanking you," Mr. Murakami chuckles as he heads back into the kitchen. "My restaurant has never been so popular."

"What? But you’re the best, Mr. Murakami-san!" Mikey says with genuine affection, flopping into a chair like he owns the place.

You lean in closer to the computer screen, the blue glow reflecting in your eyes as you scribble notes in the growing margins of your notebook.

Over the next few weeks, this becomes your ritual for the weekend. Like clockwork, the turtles show up— generally on the saturdays, always full of energy and always hungry.

Mr. Murakami greets them like family. He serves up steaming plates of his strange but irresistible pizza gyoza, the sight of it makes your mouth water every espionage session. The turtles tease. They act like teenagers. They act like brothers— because they are, as you come to find out.

The blue-masked one is Leonardo. Calm, composed, looks like the leader of the group— though he’s not above wrestling over the last dumpling from time to time.

The red-masked one is Raphael. Hotheaded, sharp-tongued, but protective. He’s the type to tease his brothers mercilessly… and deck anyone who tries to do the same.

Donatello, the tallest, wore a purple mark and carried himself with a quiet intensity. He’s clearly the brain of the group, deadpan and sarcastic, his humor bone-dry and dipped in irony. You find yourself rewinding his lines more than once, smirking quietly in your dark room at each particularly funny quip.

And then there’s Michelangelo — Mikey. Loud, lovable, chaotic sunshine in a shell. The heart of the team and the most likely to get distracted mid-sentence by food. You find yourself laughing out loud at his antics more than once— and as weird as it is— and you slowly warm up to these strange mutant teens and become more curious over their lives, where they live, how they came to be. They would discuss bits and pieces here and there, but putting them together was like trying to solve a rubik's cube while colorblind.

Sometimes they talk about someone named April — a mutual friend, from the sound of it. They talk about her school, homework, the brother's tease Donatello for apparently having a crush on her— so you assume she must be a human girl. Probably.

And then—bingo. One of them mentions coming back next weekend, some type of celebration with the April girl.

You pause the footage, rewind it just to hear it again. Confirmed.

You swivel to the second monitor and grab the calendar off your wall, your chair groaning dramatically under your weight. Popping the cap off your marker with your teeth, you circle next Saturday with a bold, aggressive red loop.

----

"Hey, turtle people, you may not know me, but I sorta know you." You gesture with your hands, speaking to no one in particular as you pace nervously in the empty alleyway behind Murakami's noodle shop. You wince. "No, I sound like a stalker." Being a stalker is one thing, but sounding like it? Bad.

You stare at a faded graffiti mural on the wall—some pin-up anime girl on a motorcycle, winking like she knows how ridiculous you sound. "Turtles, we need to talk. It's about Baxter Stockman." You say, firmer this time. You sigh, too intense, it'd be a bad start.

"Hey, turtle-men, I heard you're good guys. Can you help me?" This one was even worse. You groan. "Maybe I should have practiced this earlier."

Your monologue is cut short at the sound of boots scraping pavement.

"Well, well… what do we got here?"

Your stomach drops.

Three figures emerge from the shadows behind you—leather jackets gleaming under flickering streetlights, tattoos curling up their necks like living things. One of them taps a pipe against his palm.

You smile nervously. Right, you were just standing in a random alleyway in Chinatown.

"Hey, I don't want any trouble." You stammer out.

"Who's said anything about any trouble?" One of them smiles. "Just give us your wallet and nobody gets hurt.

Your nervous smile fades as fear coils in your chest. You swallow hard, heart pounding, and slowly reach into your pocket with trembling fingers.

You pull out your wallet and hold it out, your voice barely a whisper. "Here. Just—take it."

One of the men snatches it with a scoff, flipping it open and rifling through the contents. A transit pass. Your library card. The pitiful remnants of your weekly allowance scraped together from your dad's coffee jar.

Then it slips out—your lucky Captain Ryan card.

It flutters to the dirty pavement like a fallen leaf, landing face-up in a puddle of city grime.

You stare at it in quiet horror. That card had survived middle school lunches, bus rides, and an accidental trip through the washing machine. Now it just laid there—soaked and stepped on—like your last shred of control.

"There’s almost nothing in here," the taller thug grumbles, clearly annoyed.

"H-Hey," you say, trying to stand your ground even as your voice cracks, "That’s all I have…"

"Fine. Hand over your phone."

That was your last lifeline. Your only way to call for help. Your only connection to your dad. To anything. You had photos and recordings and backups of all of your research in there.

But the look in their eyes says this isn't a negotiation.

Your fingers twitch toward your jacket pocket. Your mind races for a way out.

Just as your fingertips brush the edge of your phonecase, a heavy thud shakes the alleyway behind the thugs.

A shadow lands hard, crouched low—muscles taut, orange bandana fluttering like a warning flag in the dim glow of a flickering neon sign.

"What the—?" one of the Dragons starts to turn.

A nunchaku whip out in a blur of motion, slamming across the thug’s wrist. The metal pipe he’d been clutching clatters to the concrete. Another thug lunges, but Mikey's already moving— fluid and fast.

One thug groans on the ground, holding his stomach. Another stumbles backward, dazed, before Mikey sweeps his leg out and sends him tumbling into a stack of trash cans.

You stare—stunned—mouth slightly open. It’s him. The one from before.

After thoroughly kicking the thugs' butts with a whirlwind of honed ninja skill and just as much chaotic, childlike silliness, the alley is left scattered with groaning bodies, dented trash cans, and bruised egos.

One Dragon curses under his breath as he scrambles to his feet, clutching a bruised rib. "Freak!" he spits before taking off into the night, the others limping after him in retreat.

As they vanish into the shadows, something clatters against the ground—your phone, knocked loose in the scuffle, spinning to a stop in a small puddle by your feet.

You stare down at it, chest still heaving, pulse in your throat.

Did he just save you?

Michelangelo turns to you, panting lightly, he seemed jumpy, as if he was ready to leave, but upon looking at your face and weighing the fact that you haven't screamed or thrown anything at him so far, he seemed to change his mind. "You okay?" he asks, flashing a crooked, lopsided grin.

Your heart is hammering so fast it feels like it might rip through your ribs. "Y-Yeah," you say, and then glance at your ruined Captain Ryan card. "Well, mostly."

He kneels beside you, picking up your card carefully and giving it a shake like he might dry it out. "Sorry about your... space guy."

"Captain Ryan," you correct instinctively. "First edition. He's my favorite."

"No way! I thought only my bro was into that nerdy show." He gives you a soft smile, despite everything, you laugh. He helps you gather your things. His movements are careful, respectful, but slightly jumpy, ready to run off at any moment.

You sit up, slowly. Still catching up to what just happened. "Thank you for helping me. W-what's your name?"

"Name's Michelangelo, but my friend's call me Mikey."

"It's nice to meet you Mikey." You offer him a smile and tell him your name, he smiles brightly at the situation. "Uhm, listen, I need your help,” you say quickly, standing. "I'm trying to find someone. He disappeared. No one believes me. Not the cops, not my dad—no one. But I think something’s wrong. Something bad.”

"Who's missing?" His brow furrows under the orange bandana, confused at the sudden shift in your mood.

"My uncle." Here it goes. "Baxter Stockman."

Mikey blinks. "Wait, your uncle is Derek Stockboy?"

"Baxter Stockman." You replied firmly, a bit more annoyed than you intended. "But yes, he went missing weeks ago, I'm trying to find out what happened to him. Do you know him? Do you know what happened to him?"

Mikey studies you. Really studies you. His smile’s slowly fading, but not completely gone. There’s caution in his eyes now—but also curiosity.

His attitude was very carefree, he seemed static that a human was talking to him, but you could see the hesitancy, the slight anxiety of getting too close to you, maybe he was suspicious of you in specific? You couldn't fully tell.

"Yeah, sorry. But he's sort of the evil scientist guy type, I don't think he really wants us helping him."

"What do you mean by that?"

"He sort of hates me and my bros 'cause we kicked his butt and threw him in a dumpter once." He was laughing as he retoldthe story, but it slowly died ouy when he noticed your face. "Sorry."

Your brain raced. Evil scientist? Dumpster?! None of that tracked with the man who built you soda-spraying robots and named them after Star Trek ships. Well, maybe some of it tracked considering recent events.

You push past the disbelief. "Do you have any idea where he might be now?"

Mikey’s face softens. "I'm sorry girl, but I—" Before he can finish his sentence his phone buzzes in his belt. He turns around and picks up the phone.

"MIKEY, THE PIZZA!" A voice shouts through the speaker.

"MIKEY, YOU’VE BEEN GONE TWO HOURS!" Another voice yells—this one angrier, gruffer. You wince as it practically shakes the phone. "GET HOME RIGHT NOW OR I SWEAR I’LL KICK YOUR BUTT SO HARD YOU'LL BE STUCK IN YOUR SHELL FOR A WEEK!"

He winces. "Oops. Uh, sorry, gotta go! Nice chatting with ya!"

"Wait—Mikey—!"

Within a few moments Mikey was already jumping and going up the building's wall with incredible ease, even if you wanted to follow him you'd never make it with your chicken legs.

He gives you a smile and wave before he dissapears.

You let your arms fall to your sides in frustration.

"Ugh, c'mon!"

“But if you forget to reblog Madame Zeroni, you and your family will be cursed for always and eternity.”

Aaaa I love this so much and I can totally see the resemblance, it would have been so good if this was explored in the show, especially considering how at times Chris Bradford/Dogpound seemed to be a loose parallel to Leo and Fishface clearly was very similar to Raph and even seemed to have a redemption arc being foreshadowed, especially in Baxter's gambit and him helping the turtle's when TigerClaw starts Shredder's cult.

I would have loved to see that kind of dynamic explored more.

I think it would have been really funny for the main 2012 Shredder villains to have a similar dynamic to the 2012 Turtles- Where they're constantly doing goofy stuff as group or getting in each other's way during missions but in a really dumb way? I don't know how else to explain that- Lmao

(I missed a lot of little details + I was going to color it but I didn't, I'm sorry- I'm super tired and I got my blood drawn today which sucked ass, so I just wasn't feelin it- 😭)

Welcome back to a re-written 2012 Donatello analysis!

I have posted a 2012 Donnie analysis here previously discussing his obsessional behaviour, and it was quite well received. However, it is not as put together as I would've liked it to be. Vague ideas were mashed into a post after I ranted about aspects of his character to an online friend.

But, I've had some more time to think - this will be a bit longer, and cover some different scenes and ideas, as well as repeating some of the things in my previous analysis - in general, hopefully a more concise and enjoyable analysis of his character.

: IMPORTANT NOTE : To make it clear, I do not support stalking/obsessive behaviour - whatever the reason behind it may be - and I do not want to make it seem like I am infantilizing Donnie in this analysis.

The whole point of this analysis is that I like to be aware of characters' less-than-ideal traits and discuss what the root cause of them might be. The possible/suggested causes does not excuse this behaviour, rather explains it. And people should still be held accountable if they have made another person upset/uncomfortable.

Without further ado, onto the analysis.

I think Donnie's biggest issue is how he looks.

In the 2012 iteration, we never really see any of the turtles have a strong desire to be human, to change how they already are. Mikey sometimes doesn't understand that humans will be scared of him, (Like when he tries to return a cat to its owner, dismissing his brothers when they warn him the owner would be scared of him) but Mikey never has a big moment and lashes out like, ‘I want to be a human so I can make more friends!’

We also see Mikey wonder what he'd look like as a human in an episode after Donnie creates retro-mutagen, in which Mikey assumes he'd turn into a human instead of a regular turtle if he were to use retro-mutagen on himself. It is played as a joke though, as he is seen smiling in the scene following and doesn't seem to show any true disappointment/distress etc towards being how he already is - a mutant.

Raph openly declares himself as ‘handsome’ in Season 1, Episode 2 - so that rules out Raphael, and I don't remember any scenes with Leo being upset or having a negative view attached to being a mutant but please correct me if I'm wrong.

Interestingly enough, Donatello seems to have the most trouble coming-to-terms with the fact that he's a mutant and can't change that out of his brothers.

Outside of being a mutant, it is implied that Donnie already has a fragile self-image anyway.

Remember the episode Turtle Temper? I think it's the third episode of the first season. But at one point, the other turtles are instructed to shoot arrows at Raphael while he has to try and avoid them - Splinter makes it clear, however - that the others are allowed to insult Raphael.

I've seen a content creator say that the insults they throw at Raphael could be more internalised opinions they have on themselves rather than genuinely thinking these crude things about their own brother - think of it like bullying, in the sense that you're often told ‘bullies like to make fun of others because they're insecure themselves’.

People often take out their anger about their insecurities and place them onto other people if given the chance.

Leo says, ‘And you're always whining, poor me, nobody understands me.’ While this is easily applicable to Raph as an insult from Leo, Leo has also had his own fair share of moments where he has gone to Splinter complaining that the others aren't respecting or listening to him, that they don't understand the burden he holds as leader.

Mikey tells Raph he moves like a bloated buffalo. In other words, you're slow. You can't keep up.

And Donnie says, ‘Oh! You can't keep your back straight during Omote Kote Gyaku! And you're ugly!’ I think the first part of this insult is what really hints this is more so them projecting views of themselves than genuinely insulting Raphael. Donnie, out of all of them, is most likely to feel insecure about his height, a lot of teenagers can feel awkward or uncomfortable as a result of their growth spurts, tall individuals are also more prone to slouching.

Donnie also probably spends quite a lot of time hunched at his lab desk, which could also contribute to his posture. I'm pretty sure he is also called ‘scrawny’ in an episode by Karai, but if not Karai, some other character, and Donnie responds, ‘And I'm not scrawny! I'm svelte!’

Raph has also insulted Donnie's looks before, and, although it is unclear if it's a common occurrence, knowing Raph's character it has most likely happened on more than one occasion.

Donnie : And why do you keep grabbing me by the face? What is wrong with my face?!

Raph : Do you want me to list the reasons alphabetically or in descending order of grossness?

So regardless of being mutated or not, it seems like Donnie just has a generalised lack of confidence and some issues surrounding how tall he is.

But onto his issues regarding being mutated.

Donnie might’ve previously not had any issues with being a mutant. Before, it might’ve been just a general lack of confidence, as I have already said. Before April, his brothers would've been the only thing to compare himself to. He lived in a home with only mutants for fifteen years of his life - so had normal teenage issues of going through puberty and insecurities. Tons of people dislike their growth spurts, which is why Donnie's issues at first might seem like normal things for a teenager to worry about. Donnies biggest issue was how scrawny and lanky he saw himself.

But when they meet April, there is a glaring difference.

Suddenly, there is somebody in his life who isn't a mutant like him. It becomes abundantly clear to Donnie that from somebody else's viewpoint, their biggest issue with him wouldn't be his tooth gap or his height, but the plain fact that he's so different. Inhuman. Out of the ordinary. A mutant.

In ‘Mutagen Man Unleashed!’ Donnie says, ‘I'm worse than a nerd - I'm a freak! We're all total and complete freaks-’ This shows that Donnie went from having individual and relatable insecurities to believing that simply being a mutant inherently means you are ugly.

Especially when you consider the fact that, individual-traits-wise, Donnie and Casey both share the same traits, they both have issues with their teeth, and they’re both scrawny and fairly tall - realistically Donnie should believe they're on somewhat equal grounds of ‘unattractive’ qualities, but Donnie seems to believe Casey is naturally at an unfair advantage because he’s human.

As I said, Donnie has begun to associate his very being with ugliness, and so sees Casey as a threat thinking April will lean more towards Casey for the sole fact he's human. Donnie doesn't think that perhaps Casey's behaviour or the way he treats April is what might potentially win her over - when Donnie is ranting to Mutagen Man about why April might be hanging out with some punk kid (Casey) the conclusion he comes to is ‘because he's human, that's why.’

With a smile on his face and a look of anger in his eyes, the way he phrases it and his expression almost comes across as, ‘I knew it.’ It's like he's self-validating his presumptions at this moment.

Donnie tends to get scarily territorial over April, even going as far to try and forcibly push the two apart when April and Casey hug at the beginning of ‘A China-Town Ghost Story’, seemingly oblivious to the fact he could also possibly harm April in his shoving.

If he genuinely loved and cared about April as a person, he'd be more concerned about the fact he could hurt her - instead his eyes are on Casey this whole scene - his competition, the threat, the thing that might make his fears a reality.

Looks are a very important part of gaining a partner in society, Donnie might not love April as a person. Rather, he sees her as a piece of evidence that could potentially soothe his insecurities. If he wins her like some prize, it'd be like saying, ‘Look! I'm not ugly after all because someone wanted to be my girlfriend!’

If he loses April to Casey, it’d be confirming his idea that mutants, as a whole, are ugly.

This whole root cause of his obsessive and almost protective nature over April and wanting to keep her away from Casey really comes to light in the Season 2 episode, ‘Fungus Humungous’ where mutated fungi spreading across the sewers make our heroes hallucinate their worst fears.

Donnie has two scenes displaying his fears. The first is one of April, with sharp teeth and white eyes, and is a lot bigger than him. Which creates a feeling of inferiority, ‘Levels’ is a technique used in theatre. It refers to the use of different heights and positions to convey certain messages. It's often used to indicate status or communicate character relationships.

Here, it's a perceived relationship that Donnie has between himself and April. Donnie doesn't think mutants and humans are equal, Donnie truly believes that mutants are smaller or not as important as humans and his fear represents that visually by the way his vision of April quite literally looms over him.

Donnie doesn't think mutants are good enough. It's like the nerd not being good enough to hook up with the pretty, popular girl - reflecting back on what Donnie said earlier - ‘I'm worse than a nerd, I'm a freak.’ If we think of it on a ladder of ‘not being good enough’ he thinks being nerdy puts him below on that ladder, but right at the bottom, worse than being a nerd, is being a mutant. And that's why his vision of April is so ginormous. She's right at the top of that perceived hierarchy that Donnie has built up.

This vision of April calls Donnie an ‘ugly mutant freak’ it's unlikely April actually thinks this, but it's what Donnie thinks she does.

The next scene we see is a vision of a bunch of tiny April's kissing Casey.

I think it's noteworthy that the ‘ugly mutant freak’ part comes before the kissing Casey part. The two scenes are quite literally split into ‘Words’ and ‘Actions’. In the first scene, April has a sharp tongue that is used like a whip, going through Donnie's heart and subsequently breaking it.

‘To have a sharp tongue’ means being critical of someone, speaking in a way that is unkind though often clever. I think this shows that, over anything, it is April's words that break his heart more than her actions like kissing Casey. Mutants being seen as freaks is his actual biggest fear. He just doesn't want those fears to be confirmed - which is why that scene of April kissing Casey comes after.

This fear of humanities' dislike and rejection towards mutants existed before Casey came into the picture, he just became a threat and therefore added to Donnie's worries which is why Casey makes an appearance, but he isn't the main problem.

The first scene is what truly makes Donnie crack, he starts screaming, runs away, and shouts that he ‘doesn't want to hear anymore.’

-

In Season 3, an episode titled, ‘A Foot Too Big’ when Donnie starts to apologise for his behaviour, he says ‘I'm just… a mutant.’ The word ‘just’ implies that being a mutant is all Donnie has boiled himself down to, he doesn't think his other traits are worthwhile, like him being loyal, inventive, and funny because at the end of the day he thinks nobody will be able to see him outside of being a freak and therefore doesn’t care about other aspects of himself.

When April kisses Donnie at the end of this episode, he doesn't even seem to enjoy it like he usually does. Which is odd for Donnie, as he normally gets excited or gloats about being kissed by April to Casey. I know people say he's confused because April has a habit of leading both Donnie and Casey on, but I think the words she says right before she kisses him is what confuses him.

‘You're not just a mutant, Donnie, you're my mutant.’

The whole point of the episode is that Donnie is supposed to get a taste of his own medicine, where Bigfoot is following Donnie around. But Bigfoot is a monster. Donnie’s behaviour is being parallelled in a monster.

When Donnie is told, ‘now you know how April feels’ by Raph, he partly comes to the realisation that April feels like he is clingy and love bombs her with gifts, (Like how Bigfoot follows Donnie around and consistently makes Donnie soup) but Donnie also acknowledges that April is being followed around by something inhuman and that might play a part in making her uncomfortable.

If we, as the audience, are meant to look at Bigfoot as a parallel to Donnie, that should also include Bigfoot's other traits and the way other characters act toward her that prove Donnie feels ugly.

Bigfoot wants to look better and feels ugly. When she believes she is not good enough for Donnie, she asks April to help her give herself a ‘makeover’ before trying to show Donnie affection again.

Other characters, such as Leo and Casey, also make fun of how Bigfoot looks, with Casey asking, ‘You think she's his type?’ As a crude joke. Donnie has had his looks made fun of before, and his brothers seem to share similar sentiments that Donnie doesn't have a shot with April and thinks of his crush to be a waste of time - the other characters react the same way to Bigfoot's crush on Donnie.

And so when Donnie apologises to April, he not only feels the need to acknowledge his overbearing nature, but also to apologise for simply being the way he is, knowing she might feel embarrassed or uncomfortable that a ‘creature’ that has no shot with her is drooling over her and following her around.

After all, Donnie felt embarrassed when Bigfoot kissed him, and all of his peers laughed at him.

When Donnie was kissed in Target: April O’ Neil, it was directly after Donnie was thanked for his actions in saving April, and it made him feel good about himself in general, shouting ‘I looooove being a turtle!’ which is a rare instance of Donnie showing a positive attitude towards being how he is. Being loved in itself and being thanked for something understandable made him feel confident.

Donnie believes April likes Casey for being human, so when April says she likes him because he's mutant - for what he is, not who he is, it confuses him. Donnie thinks April doesn't care about who Casey is either, but Donnie thought he'd never be on equal grounds with Casey in terms of what he is, again, because he thinks mutants are lesser than.

He believes and everyone else around him believes that because he is a mutant he had no chance, at the beginning of the episode Raph said, ‘She's a girl, you're a giant talking turtle.’

Donnie believed who he was didn't matter because he thought what he was would make people dislike him.

And in April's words, who he is still doesn't matter, but she's showing a positive attitude towards him being a mutant. That's what confuses him so much.

April doesn't forgive Donnie’s apology for his obsessive behaviour, she forgives his apology for being different. April doesn’t say something like, ‘But you’re smart, loyal, determined,’ before kissing him, she says, ‘You’re my mutant’ before kissing him.

Donnie has never received positive comments from April about good aspects of his personality, or even comments about enjoying spending time with him - times Donnie has been kissed, hugged, and/or received comments of praise from April has been directly after acts of service where Donnie puts himself in danger for her wants/needs;

(Operation: Breakout, Season 1, in which Donnie goes on a solo mission to rescue April's father) When Donnie works tirelessly to resolve her wants/needs, (Donnie's several attempts to make retro-mutagen for her father) or when Donnie has literally almost died, (waking up after Donnie came close to dying in Dream Beavers, and after coming back post being molecularly scattered in ‘The Power Inside Her’)

This creates an extremely negative correlation in which receiving affection comes after self-sacrificing behaviour, putting her needs over his, or near death experiences, especially when you consider how Donnie's more tame and realistic attempts at affection are met with abandonment, dismissal, or odd looks.

When Donnie tries to offer hugs to April, she looks at him oddly, and Donnie quickly switches to ruffling her hair, and he seems to go stiff and looks anxious/awkward after. When Donnie calls her a nickname she agrees to ignore what was just said. When Donnie makes her a music box at the beginning of ‘A Foot Too Big’ she makes the excuse of needing to train and leaves Donnie by himself instead of addressing the issue if she didn't like the gift.

Hugs, nicknames, and gift-giving are met with negative responses that create negative feelings in himself as well.

Self sacrificing behaviour is met with positive reactions from April, as well as positive reactions from those around him as the action usually resolves some sort of problem (like Donnie rescuing April's father, the creation of Retro-mutagen) and even Splinter telling Donnie to ‘never give up hope’ in regards to pursuing April.

So Donnie now has two things to associate kisses/hugs with:

Self sacrificing behaviour.

Being a mutant.

And he doesn't understand.

-

I honestly think Don Vizioso is a physical manifestation of how Donnie feels. I always thought it to be a bit weird that a villain and a main character shared similar names, as Donnie has also been called ‘Don’ in the series as a nickname before.

Don Vizioso believed that mutants are freaks of nature that don't belong, a scientific mystery to be studied, which is scarily the same ideas that Donnie has about mutants.

Don Vizioso’s restaurant is the only building we see in the whole series with a ‘No Mutants’ sign. Donnie has a preconceived notion that the whole world is against mutants, in truth, barely anybody knows about them to say that’s true. All that hatred for what mutants are and the belief that mutants shouldn’t be accepted anywhere is all contained within Don Vizioso’s restaurant. Contained in Donnie’s mind.

I find it no coincidence that Donnie is the one to be put into a dehumanising situation and almost be dissected by Don Vizioso.

‘Vizioso’ translated into English, means things like depraved, vicious, immoral, and the next time Donnie has a run in with Vizioso, how is his actions perceived? Immoral. Vicious. He's quite literally going on a killing spree to face his own ideas, to confront Don Vizioso, his own anger and violence.

When Donnie is about to kill off Vizioso, Leo tells him to not lose sight of who he is, which makes Donnie pause.

Donnie believes mutants aren't ever going to be accepted by humans, that they're freaks. And nobody wants to believe that, he wants to erase those violent thoughts toward himself and other mutants by killing Don Vizioso, a manifestation of his own opinions - but if he kills, he is just going to prove what he thinks humans assume mutants are. Vicious monsters.

And that isn't who Donnie is, Leo reminds him of that. Maybe those negative thoughts of him being a freak won't go away, and maybe humans would actually think they're monsters if they ever got exposed - but if Donnie feeds into violent behaviours he's making those thoughts into true statements.

Donnie knows a killer isn't who he is, and in that moment Leo reminds him of that, he comes to terms with his mindset and realises he has the power to change how he thinks in a more healthy way, deciding not to kill Don Vizioso.

If you're part of a minority/marginalised group, you may struggle with things like internalised homophobia, racism, and ableism because of the way the society around you has built negative stereotypes around those groups. You may hate your own thoughts and hate the world for making you think that way.

It can be hard. If you act out in violence, unlike white, or straight, or able-bodied people, you are more likely to have your differences blamed for your violent behaviours. You feed into people’s stereotypes and negative ideas of certain groups unintentionally. If you struggle with internalised ableism, racism, homophobia/transphobia, the first step is coming to terms with your mindset, and finding a healthy way to accept who you are, and know that stereotypes and preconceived notions don't change you.

Never lose sight of who you are.

-

END SUMMARY:

2012 Donatello is a character with a complex and negative perception of who he is, with many things contributing to that fact.

At the end of the day, Donnie doesn’t seem to actively be after love or April as a person, rather simply a feeling of equality and confidence in general.

He wants to prove his thoughts that mutants are ugly wrong by gaining April as a girlfriend, aware that in society looks heavily contribute to having a romantic partner. Donnie seems to be afraid of humans rejecting mutants in general, but because April is the first human he has a personal relationship with, it’s shown through her.

As for equality, in relationships it's expected that you are treated equally and that no one is superior or inferior to the other, you both have equal say. Donnie is shown to feel that mutants are inferior and not good enough for humans, as shown by how much larger April is than him in his hallucination, and may also crave some sort of feeling of equality by getting into a relationship with someone he deems to be superior than him.

Donnie has also claimed April as some sort of thing to own, in the episode, ‘The Gauntlet’ by saying ‘There's a creature out there trying to hurt my April’ but apologetically changes it to just ‘April’ after he notices April's raised eyebrow at the choice of words. However, when April calls him ‘my mutant’ in ‘A Foot Too Big’ she doesn't stick around to see if he even likes it, or still wants to be in a potential relationship with her after the apology, quickly walking away.

And Donnie definitely doesn't seem to like it, being left confused and upset.

LEAVING NOTE : Thank you for reading, and I hope it was a bit more in - depth and well explained than the last analysis! I just want to say this isn't an attack on April’s character either - the writing isn't great in 2012, each character has noteworthy flaws and I don't think one character's behaviour is ultimately worse than another, including April's. Both her and Donnie are flawed, just like other characters, and I love them both.

Donnie while saying 'Because he's human, that's why.'

Donnie, at the end of 'A Foot Too Big.'

Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles: Family Systems Analysis A college Essay by The-TMNT-Ficfinder

Word count: 5273 | Page Count: 18 pages (Not counting ref or cover)

The Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles: A summary

The main family group of the show, Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles is made up of six different characters, with a seventh one introduced as the story progresses. Starting off, is the father figure, Hamato Yoshi (Also known as Lou Jitsu) or popularly known as Splinter. Originally human, he was mutated into a rat at the same time as when the turtles were mutated, then adopted them as his children.

Following that are the four turtles. Raphael, the biggest brother, muscle man, and leader of the group. He is an Alligator snapping turtle, wears red as his signature color, and has been decided as the oldest (as they don’t know their exact age). Second, is Donatello, the tech guy of the family. He is a softshell turtle and wears purple. Next is Leonardo, who classifies himself as the ‘face-man’ of the group (and later on in the series replaces Raph as leader). He is a red-eared slider, and is the best known, as the blue turtle, the most popular ninja turtle in the series. Leo and Donnie have been decided to be the same age by the fandom and are referred to as ‘twins’. Then Michealangelo, the youngest turtle of the group, and an ornate box shell turtle. Michelangelo wears orange as his color, and is known as the family chef, emotions guy, and boldest of them all. Their adopted human sister, April, is the oldest of the siblings and gets into many shenanigans with them. Lastly, is Baron Draxum, who is the villain who created the serum also known as mutagen that mutated Splinter and the turtles in the first place. Originally, he is a villain who is bent on destroying humanity, but later gets a redemption arc, and is welcomed into the family. The show features two seasons, and one movie. In this essay, I’m going to be focusing on the two seasons, and the direct aftermath of that.

The family, and how they function

The family, in season one, goes on a variety of wacky adventures, learns to use their new mystic weapons, and get the hang of their mystic powers. In season one, Baron Draxum is a villain and relentlessly attacks them. In season one, the turtles also are unaware that their father, Splinter, was actually their favorite movie star Lou Jitsu in the past before he was mutated into a rat. Following the events of The Shredders temporal revival (The main bad guy) the turtles beat him a first time, and the show slides into season two. In season two, Baron Draxum gets a redemption arc where instead of fighting the turtles, he reluctantly joins their family, and builds connections with them (and becomes a ‘secondary parent’ to the turtles, as he is the one who mutated them in the first place) The boys discover that their father was Lou Jitsu, and uncover important backstory and lore, leading to them having to fight The Shredder a second time, due to Big Mama, accidentally letting him loose from her Battle Nexus (the same battle nexus Lou Jitsu was kept prisoner in after his actor years, and before he got mutated). In order to defeat the Shredder a second time, they had to connect spiritually with all of the ancestors of the Hamato clan to master their mystic abilities. By the end of season two, despite being victorious in defeating The Shredder, they ended up losing their home in the process, and the life of their long lost many times great grandmother, Hamato Karai. From there, they build their life back up from shambles, which spans the time after season two, until the movie.

Raphael

Raphael, or Raph, is the biggest brother, “the brother who is the biggest,” (Rise of the TMNT, Nickelodeon 2018) the decided oldest, and the self-proclaimed leader of the group. Raph act’s part-time as the oldest brother, with the other half of the time, adopting a very parental role for the sake of his younger siblings. Raph is very harsh on himself, entirely believing that the family is his responsibility when it comes to leadership and keeping them safe. In season one, he is much more fun-loving, and playful with his family. However, as the seasons go on, and the turtles get themselves into dangerous situations, Raph gets stricter and begins to worry. Along with that, Raph has the natural tendency to try and parent his siblings, (due to being parentified by his father) meaning he doesn’t always have the best relationships with them.

Raph’s relationships with his family holds interesting dynamics, as he operates as part time sibling, part time leader, and a part time parent. When it comes to Donnie, Raph values and understands his physical and technological skills, yet hesitates when it comes to his emotional maturity, consistently choosing to skirt around a problem rather than say what’s on his mind to avoid hurting Donnie’s feelings. They work wonderfully together when it comes to combat yet struggle with communication and feedback.

Raph and Leo’s relationship is somewhat strained, as they don’t quite see eye to eye when it comes to making plans. Leo’s perspective is more on the strategic and morally grey side, which is hard for Raph to grasp, as he relies on a much more black-and-white viewpoint. Raph and Leo end up not interacting very frequently, as many of their interactions end with arguing. This is partially due to Raph’s parentification, and Leo’s rebellion against parental figures in general.

Raph and Mikey, despite have a very drastic size difference with Raph being the biggest of the family by quite a bit, and Mikey being smallest (aside from Splinter), have somewhat opposite temperaments when it comes to interacting with people. Raph constantly switches between relying heavily on Mikey to do the breaking of bad news for him, (because he doesn’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings) and feeling overprotective of his youngest baby brother. Raph will specifically ask for Mikey’s help when it comes to breaking bad news, as he knows Mikey will do it regardless of people’s feelings, taking that burden off his shoulders. Meanwhile, he is very fearful of the idea of Mikey going and doing anything alone, as he is the smallest. He overly relies on him when it comes to vocal situations, while not giving him any room to breathe in physical settings. Almost opposite of how he interacts with Donnie.

With April, who is older than him, come’s a change of pace. As April is an adopted sister (she still has her own family and just comes over to visit) Raph often tries to pull the ‘parent card’ on her, since in his mind, she’s family.  April being older, and an only child, never lets that slide, refusing to let Raph parent her. Often when April is around, Raph relaxes, and tends to have more fun, as April fills some of the parenting shoes, and helps keep an eye on the other younger brothers.

Then there’s Splinter, their father. Raph looks up to him greatly and is always wanting to impress him, despite Splinter not playing a very active role in their lives until their later teen years. He also doesn’t want to worry him as he knows his father has been through a lot. As such he keeps all his struggles, and the family struggles to himself. His relationship with Splinter is fairly stable, sitting at a deemed comfortable level of lacking support, yet still being happy to interact at times. Their relationship stayed like this until the end events of season 2, where Splinter takes leadership away from Raph, and gives it to Leo. This is also where Leo’s and Raph’s rocky relationship goes from chilling and joking together, to constant fighting.

Lastly, Baron Draxum. As Raph has a very ‘forgive then forget’ mentality (meaning he intentionally chose to forget a lot of what they went through when the Baron used to attack them) he is rather impartial to Draxum. He neither cares for him, nor does he dislike him. He’s very neutral on the subject of Draxum and mainly interacts with him since Mikey insists on it. Raph doesn’t see Draxum as a parental figure at all, as Raph thinks himself the parental figure.

Donatello

Donatello, or Donnie, is the tech guy of the family, the middle child (shared with Leo) and is said by the show’s creators, to have autism. Donnie has a huge love for fixing and improving things, even his family, and an urge to control everything and anything he can. Donnie has deemed himself the ‘tech guy’ of the family and made that his ‘definitive quality/trait’ or reasoning to be useful to the family. As such, he helped build the lair they live in and all the tech inside. He has what he likes to call his ‘bad boy’ persona, where he pretends, he doesn’t care and acts ‘emotionless, and cool’. As his species is a spiny soft-shell turtle, his temperament leans much closer towards one of spitefulness, and agitation, with a very sensitive outlook on things. This has a pretty big influence on how he reacts to things.

Donnie’s relationship with Raph, is a fairly stable one. As Raph is the leader, and Donnie is the tech and maintenance guy, they understand each other. They know what it takes to keep things running. Donnie is quite willing to work with Raph at most times, as he likes being given instructions to follow. Along with that, Donnie has a very strong need for parental praise, and as Raph acts very similar to a parent at times, Donnie makes an effort to impress him, just as he would his own father.

Donnie’s relationship with Leo is a lot more strained, as he finds his ‘twin’ to be a frustrating individual. While Donnie loves to rely on a system and a support group, Leo doesn’t, which makes him harder for Donnie to understand. Donnie and Leo have a very ‘you can’t hurt my twin, only I can hurt my twin’ mentality. They will push, and fight, and argue with each other, yet the moment anything threatens one of them, they’ll both rise up to fight back. They love to fight, partially to vent frustration, and partially to bond. Similar to how animals in the wild ‘play fight’ with each other.

Out of the brothers, Donnie has the best relationship with Mikey. In Donnie’s eyes, Mikey is like a walking comfort item. Donnie and Mikey have a silent communication style, that relies a lot on body language. Mikey is also ‘on equal footing’ with Donnie, as they are both treated like younger/youngest siblings, and contribute to the family via ‘giving’ something. Donnie gives his tech services, and Mikey gives his emotional support and advice. Donnie can also trust Mikey to tell him the truth, even when it may hurt. Donnie and Mikey together have established a really good sense of trust.

Next is Donnie and April’s relationship. Out of the whole family, April has the best relationship with Donnie, as Donnie feels like he is able to give to her, and she is able to give to him. A symbiotic relationship. He helps her with homework, and she sneaks him into the school’s computer lab. Donnie is also the most honest with her, as there are no ‘standards’ he feels the need to uphold. He tells her his feelings and explains the reasoning behind them. Donnie can do this with April, and not the others, because both Leo and Raph aren’t as emotionally mature, and Mikey has studied psychology, and is always attempting to help Donnie ‘fix’ his emotional issues. April is the only one who listens for the sake of listening.

Splinter and Donnie’s relationship is pretty rough, as Splinter pays very little attention to him. Donnie likes to obsess over the attention he does get, just to purposefully be sour about it. Donnie keeps a calendar dedicated to keeping track of each time he and Splinter interact, and more than once uses it as a weapon against his father, using it as proof that they don’t spend enough time together. Along with that, Donnie highly craves parental praise, making him easily manipulated into doing almost anything. Hence the lair having the finest technology. He builds to be noticed and creates to earn praise.

Lastly is Baron Draxum, who Donnie secretly admires, not as a parent, but as a potential lab partner. As Donnie is a scientist, just as Draxum is, Donnie is immediately captivated by the Barons abundance of knowledge and is willing to ignore Draxum’s past wrongdoings to work with him. Draxum, recognizing Donnie’s parentlal issues, will toss him praise, which Donnie jumps at even against his own father’s wishes, as Splinter rarely offers the praise and learn what he has to offer. Draxum uses Donnie’s need for approval against him, and Donnie has had enough backlash in his life, that he’s fine going along with it.

Leonardo

Leonardo, or Leo, is the self-proclaimed face man of the group, the strategist, and ‘local comedy guy’. Leo tries to emotionally be everywhere and nowhere all at once, people pleasing to get his way. Leo very much idolizes his favorite movie actors, and rather than turn to his father or siblings for advice, he turns to the logic he learned from comics, and cartoons. Leo picks and chooses who to get along with in the moment, depending on who will get him the most out of a situation. Along with that, he has a savior complex and consistently cuts his way into any and all of his brother’s various plans to ‘bail’ them out and then feel smug about it. As Leo is a red-eared slider, a turtle originating from Mexico, Leo takes a great deal of interest in Mexican culture and consistently speaks Spanish throughout the series. This is good and bad, as it does get him involved in some scandals later on.

Leo’s relationship with Raph swings back and forth from being thick as thieves, to arguing nonstop. Rather than craving parental attention like the bulk of his brothers, Leo chooses to reject it, which connects to how he treats Raph. If Raph acts like his brother, Leo will easily play along and follow his ideas. Yet the moment Raph steps up, and goes into leader/parent role, Leo takes on an attitude of rebellion and follows his own plans. Raph and Leo throughout the series have their good and bad moments, till the end of season two when Leo is given the title of leader by Splinter. This causes both Leo and Raph to excessively butt heads. Especially, as before since Raph held the position of leader, Leo felt no need to compete with him, as he and Raph weren’t on equal footing. But the moment Leo became leader, Raph became his equal, leading to him fighting with him constantly, just as he used to fight with Donnie.

Leo and Donnie have a very competitive relationship. Leo constantly feels the need to be the superior one, or the ‘champion’ of the team, (which of course is his own way of coping with a lack of parental praise) and will try and one-up Donnie. Depending on the situation, Leo either encourages Donnie, or tears him down. Whatever gets him the most praise in the moment. For example, when out with his brothers having fun, he’s more likely to have a positive relationship with Donnie, as they are simply existing. Yet when Splinter is in the room, Leo tears down his ‘twin’, with the hope that he’ll appear better than him. This dynamic changes again, depending on whether said company is friend or foe. Leo will tear down Donnie while in the presence of family and friends, as its beneficial to him. Yet when around enemies, Leo practically sings Donnie’s praise, claiming to have the smartest brother. This is because he loses nothing by claiming that Donnie is a great guy, and gains everything instead. Leo knows that Donnie feeds off praise and will use this to his advantage to get himself bailed out of bad situations.

Leo and Mikey’s relationship is opposite compare to Leo and Donnie. Mikey is competitive towards Leo, like how Leo is competitive with Donnie. Except Leo doesn’t ever compete with Mikey, as in his eyes, there’s no reason. Mikey already wins by being the youngest, and the ‘favorite’ of the family. Leo tends to push Mikey away, annoyed by his younger brother who can’t ‘gain’ him anything in the family dynamics. Out of all of his brothers, Donnie is the biggest threat to being ‘cool’ and not ‘disliked’.  Raph is leader, which puts him atop everyone, and Mikey is youngest, which makes him ‘objectively cooler’. Leo’s main issue is that he’s very insecure, and deals with it by fighting, and telling poor jokes.

When it comes to April, as she doesn’t tolerate any of that, refusing to allow Leo to act like a ‘champion’ or ‘better’ than anyone. In fact, when he pulls these stunts, she usually kicks his butt. Around April, Leo will somewhat relax, that burden of being the family ‘champion’ lifted from his shoulders.

With Splinter, Leo’s relationship is strained. Leo idolizes his favorite movie characters, tending to act like them, which puts him at odds with Splinter. As one of Leo’s favorite actors is Lou Jitsu (Splinter before he was mutated, but Leo is unaware of this) he tends to act like him. Splinter, who doesn’t like himself as a person, sees his son acting like he used to when he was younger, and immediately becomes harsh and standoffish. Leo’s and Splinter’s relationship together only becomes even more strained once they figure out Splinter and Lou Jitsu are the same person. Leo becomes very confused as the image of a distant, uncaring father overlaps with the image of his idol.

Lastly, Leo and Draxum have a horrible relationship, as back in Draxum’s evil days, he threw Leo off a roof, and Leo refuses to ever let him forget. While the other brothers somewhat jump at the opportunity to have a ‘secondary’ or ‘new’ parental figure in their lives, Leo is already resentful of parental figures, which leads him to immediately disliking the Baron Draxum. The only parent he wants to be proud of him, is his own father. And even then, Leo is resentful of that too.

Michelangelo

Mikey is the youngest of the family, and along with that, the glue that keeps them together. Overly optimistic and pessimistic all at once, Mikey is a wildcard, and the brashest one of the group. Mikey’s role in the family is to help keep the peace and identify the emotions of his siblings. When it comes to interacting with the family, Mikey has curated ‘personalities’ dedicated to situations, to get the job done. Mikey is an ornate box-shell turtle, which is a turtle species that can fully pull into its shell, which Mikey does both mentally and physically. If things become to overwhelming, he retreats into his delusional ideals, essentially putting himself into a ‘box’.

Mikey and Raph’s relationship is very back and forth. Mikey ends up acting as Raph’s emotional support more than once, whether it be yelling at someone in Raph’s stead or giving delusional advice. Mikey also kisses up to Raph to get favors from him, such as rights to the last slice of pizza, or being allowed to ride on Raph’s shell, rather than walk. Mikey understands how to get what he wants when it comes to Raph and often plays into his ‘needs to be protected’ youngest sibling role for it. The downside is he gets babied because of this, and is restricted from going out alone, or on solo missions.

Mikey and Donnie have a very dependent relationship. In Mikey’s eyes, they’re actually on the most equal footing. Donnie is the guy who fixes the physical things in the house, and Mikey fixes the mental things in the house. They’re both ‘fixers’. Mikey doesn’t feel the need to impress him, quite like he does with his other brothers. In fact, he and Donnie have a somewhat symbiotic relationship. Mikey helps Donnie with his own emotional issues, and in return, Donnie acts as Mikey’s comfort person, the person he goes to get a hug from.

Mikey’s relationship with Leo is interesting, as Mikey views him as a cooler older brother, while Leo views him as an adorable nuisance. Mikey is constantly trying to compete with Leo, not to prove that he can be better, but to prove he can be just as good as Leo is. While Leo believes he isn’t good enough, Mikey looks up to Leo, and believes he is more than enough, taking inspiration from his confidence. Along with that, as Leo is the only one in the family that doesn’t wear his emotions on his sleeve. Mikey is drawn to that, as he feels like Leo is the only brother he doesn’t have to cater to emotionally. 

While Mikey and April have a good relationship together, it doesn’t really extend past goofing around, and having fun together. Mikey doesn’t feel the need to cater to her emotional needs, as she already does that on her own, and instead uses her as the one person he can unabashedly have fun with, without worrying about anything.

Mikey’s and Splinter’s relationship is better than the other brothers, yet worse at the same time. As Mikey is the ‘feelings’ guy of the family, he often justifies Splinter’s behavior, excusing him because he understands that his father had a rough past life before he was mutated (despite not actually knowing what happened), because having to care for four baby mutants would be mentally draining to anyone. As Mikey is the youngest and had the parental role of Raph in his life, he’s not quite as resentful as the others, nor does he chase praise like they do. Though he recognizes the emotional damage they have had in their life, due to upbringing, he chooses to ignore it.

Lastly, Mikey and Baron Draxum’s relationship which leans more on the toxic side. As Mikey had given up on the idea of having a parental figure in his life, immediately latched onto Draxum when he realized he might be his ‘second chance’. Once Draxum had his redemption arc and stopped fighting against the turtles, Mikey found him and began to ‘train’ him to be the parent he never had. If he couldn’t fix his original dad, maybe he could place his faith in a new person instead. One he could personally shape due to being older and having more knowledge.

Splinter

Splinter is known by many names, due to a complicated past. His original name was Hamato Yoshi (last name first, as according to Japanese custom), which he later changed to Lou Jitsu during his rebel actor years. Then finally Splinter, when he was mutated into a rat, to escape his past once more. Splinter, as he has an inherently tragic past, has quite a few mental issues. As a child, he lost both his father and mother and had to live with his grandfather. Following that, during his teen years and into young adult years, he ran away, became Lou Jitsu, and was an actor in action movies. Then, he fell in love with a woman who was helping on set, and planned to propose to her, only to discover she was a Yokai (a mystic species that lives beneath New York in a Hidden City) in disguise, named Big Mama (see image(s) in references). Big Mama kidnapped Lou Jitsu and forced him to fight in her Battle Nexus arena for seven years. Losing hope, he then fully gave up, expecting to die, and was kidnapped by Baron Draxum to be used in experiments. It was there that his DNA was used to mutate the four turtles into mutants, and he was accidentally mutated with a rat. He escaped the lab with the four baby mutants and was out on the streets with nowhere to go, and no shelter in sight. Splinter’s story is a sad one, a story of a man who never got a break, was continually depressed, and used his children as a distraction to keep himself alive.

Splinter’s relationships with his kids are not necessarily the best, due to his own traumatic background. In the earlier years of his kids’ lives, he was much more involved, as being involved in their lives was a great way to stay distracted. Then as they all got older, specifically Raph, the responsibility shifted to him, and Splinter fell into depression. Splinter and Raph originally had a very father-child relationship, and as time went on, their bond grew distant. Splinter began to see Raph as more of the leader, rather than a son. And Raph being Raph, didn’t do anything to change it.

Next, Splinter relationship with Donnie. Splinter used to be more involved in Donnie’s life, then as Donnie got older, and more independent, Splinter began to fall away, just as he did with his other kids. Along with that, Splinter was continuously depressed, and would use external stimuli to give him dopamine, which in this case was watching TV. Donnie, being the tech guy, and desperately wanting his father’s praise, built him a well-working projector to please him, which only fueled Splinter’s depression and addiction. Though Donnie meant well, in the long run, it was harmful.

Splinter ended up gaining a dislike for Leo as Leo got older, and began to idolize Lou Jitsu, a phase of Splinter’s life that he grew to hate. Though Splinter loves his son, he hates himself, which led to him acting somewhat hateful or dismissive towards Leo. Leo in turn made no effort to build their relationship, as he saw no point in trying. In fact, Leo referred to himself as the ‘least favorite’ child, multiple times.

Out of all his sons, Splinter favors Mikey the most, as Mikey is the one who leans on him the least yet is still highly affectionate. Mikey doesn’t expect him to be a parent like the other brothers do, which already takes away a lot of pressure. Though later on, as Mikey becomes closer friends with Draxum, Splinter becomes increasingly jealous, and angry that Draxum is pulling his attention.

Out of all of the kids, April is the one who received the best parenting from Splinter. As April isn’t Splinter’s actual kid, he feels less pressure to parent her, and as such, ends up parenting her more. Splinter has narcissistic tendencies, which in this instance, show up as the willingness to parent other children, but not your own. April and Splinter have a relationship very similar to an uncle and niece.

Lastly, is Splinter and Draxum’s relationship, which is anger fueled, spiteful, and very mean. Splinter, who never forgave Draxum for mutating him, and the overall lab experimenting process, hates him, and hates that he interacts with his sons. Splinter never told his sons exactly what happened in the lab in the past, so they just see him being hateful for what they deem to be ‘no reason’, which doesn’t help his case.

The Family Dynamics

The four turtles land in the four common family categories, as found in Chapter 2 of Family Systems Theory (Anonymous. (n.d.)). Raph, the eldest of the group, falls into the hero category. “This person may be a perfectionist who appears to have managed all of the demands placed on them easily because there are many rewards that come to the member who takes on this role” (Anonymous. (n.d.). Chapter 2: Family Systems Theory. FAML 360 Readings: Family Stress and Coping). Raph takes on a very parental role in the family, and makes himself leader, not because he wanted to originally, but because he felt he had to. The big protector of the family. Donnie falls into the delinquent and/or scapegoat role. “This child may be prone to acting out, doing poorly in school, or using other strategies that are seen as negative, but may play an important role in maintaining the family’s functioning” (Anonymous. (n.d.). Chapter 2: Family Systems Theory. FAML 360 Readings: Family Stress and Coping). Donnie has his ‘bad boy’ persona that he uses to get attention and is constantly aiming towards ‘evil’ or ‘violent’ tendencies. He also manages all the lair’s money, the tech, and everything else, forcing everyone to rely on him. Leo is in the invisible child category, the child “who seeks to remain on the periphery of the family function in order to reduce family tensions by not drawing any attention, positive or negative, to themselves” (Anonymous. (n.d.). Chapter 2: Family Systems Theory. FAML 360 Readings: Family Stress and Coping). Leo only interacts when it befits him, choosing to remain invisible unless he gains something from it. And when he does interact, he acts as a people pleaser, the ‘face-man’ to be on everyone’s good side, so once again, he isn’t picked out of the group. Lastly, Mikey who is the youngest, falls into the clown category “using humor as a strategy to deflect attention to family problems” (Anonymous. (n.d.). Chapter 2: Family Systems Theory. FAML 360 Readings: Family Stress and Coping). Mikey defaults to a very ‘whimsical’ outlook, where he either chooses to have a very delusional outlook on life and people, or a very angry, harsh outlook. Mikey’s coping method relies less on the ‘telling jokes’ part of humor, and more on the ‘having a very silly’ outlook on life method.

The Hamato family had a very negative feedback loop for almost the entirety of the two seasons, where neglect was common. As the turtles grew up, Splinter felt less needed, and as such, would distance himself. The turtles, noticing how their father was distant, pulled back, and stopped asking for help. This perpetuated in a negative feedback loop, where over time, they all stopped interacting all together. During the beginning of season two, and around the last few episodes of season two, the turtles began to reach out to Splinter more frequently, and as such, he began to reach back. Though they still weren’t interacting as frequently as they used to when younger, the feedback loop began to turn to a more positive one.

Lastly, on the Olson’s Circumplex Model (Anonymous. (n.d.). Chapter 2: Family Systems Theory. FAML 360 Readings: Family Stress and Coping). We find that their family dynamics are very chaotically enmeshed. They rely very heavily on one another, keeping Raph as the designated ‘leader’ but still running off to do their own thing. They don’t exist separately and instead refer to themselves as ‘we’ more often than ‘I’.

Conclusion

The Hamato’s, (the family featured in Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles), is a wonderful example of how parental trauma affects children, and how neglect can become a feedback loop if left unaddressed. Due to the trauma Splinter experienced in his younger years, and how restricted he felt during his childhood and into his adulthood, he gave his sons a lot of free reign. This had its pros and cons, as they had a very freeing childhood, where they were allowed to explore and run about as they pleased, yet as they got older, they got into more and more trouble. Along with that, they learned that they didn’t need to rely on their father, as they could provide for themselves.

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