The Secrets We Inherit ♡ Donatello X Stockman's Niece!Reader 《 Part 2 》

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

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!"

More Posts from Mrcaffeinatedisopod and Others

3 weeks ago

hey guys have you ever heard of THE CHARACTER. i’m thinking about THE CHARACTER. honestly can’t even get shit done because i’m thinking about THE CHARACTER. i’m listening to a song and imagining THE CHARACTER. all i know and love is THE CHARACTER


Tags
3 weeks ago

Me: this idea will be a short fic, something to get me back into doing some writing quick

Also me: *immediately writes 9k words*


Tags
1 month ago

Part 2 of my fic is almost finished but I have to actually edit things because I write like a madman on speed, oh my god....


Tags
1 week ago

You can't tell me this isn't their dynamic a majority of the show- Donnie / Raph are also 5 seconds away from losing their shit and Mikey / Casey are always the victims of their wrath (While Leo and April either just exist in the back or try to "mediate" the situation-). 💀 LMAO || To be honest, I originally made this video at Mikey and Casey's expense, since it was meant to demonstrate Donnie and Raph's similarites and why I love 2012 Brawn + Brain even though we barely got any real content for them in canon,, 😔 🫶 🧪🔭🔬 / 💪💥🤬

Wow, this video is super old,, I haven't drawn like this in ages- 😭 Lmao

(Old Content)


Tags
2 weeks ago

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

image
3 weeks ago

The Secrets We Inherit ♡ Donatello x Stockman's Niece!Reader

The Secrets We Inherit ♡ Donatello X Stockman's Niece!Reader

A/N: Soo apparently I'm incapable of writing short chapters hahah, this was originally much longer but I decided to keep the first part as a prologue or you guys would have to read through 8k words of my ramblings

This was originally supposed to be only around 5k words at most but it uh, sort of got out of hand, good news is next chapter is mostly done and it will be around 7k words

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

But your life takes a dramatic turn when your search leads yoi into the underbelly of the city and you stumble into a world of mutants, ninjas and crime syndicates that controls the city.

Armed with nothing but stubbornness, determination, and a few gadgets you built yourself, you find yourself tangled in a world far stranger— and much more dangerous— than anything you could have ever imagined.

Context: This story starts in Season 1, Episode 11: Mousers Attack! And goes from there.

The reader is Baxter Stockman's niece. Whenever I watched this show, I thought Baxter Stockman had so much Girl Dad™ or Girl Uncle™ energy. I mean, LOOK at him he has such dorky uncle energy, and you can't convince me he wouldn't teach his niece how to weld and create little robots—OF DOOM— while he tells her his world-domination plans.

Content Warnings: There is only a vague phantom of proofreading in between drafts, read at your own caution, mentions of blood, some minor injuries, reader is a certified nerd and a bit dorky, swearing

Word Count: Around 2k words

----

You stared down at your phone, the little red dot pulsing on the screen. That was it—your uncle’s current location.

After weeks of unanswered voicemails, fruitless visits to his apartment, and even showing up at his old job only to be told he was fired after breaking the copy machine and then terrorizing his coworkers not once, byt twice— you’d had enough. If he wasn’t going to call, fine. You’d find him yourself. It wasn’t even that hard. All it took was a little signal triangulation—a trick he’d taught you himself. He’d probably be weirdly proud.

But what didn’t make sense was where the signal led: not to some dingy apartment or cheap motel, but to a run-down warehouse on the edge of the city.

You'd tried the main doors to no avail. You circled the building, looking for a different way in. No windows. No cracks. Nothing. Your gaze drifted up. Maybe the roof? If only you could reach it…

You deflated until you saw a different building with a fire escape and a garbage dumpster close by. You could reach the fire escape with it. But you'd have to jump from one building to the next.

You shifted nervously on your feet. Maybe you could make the jump, maybe.

"This is so stupid," you muttered, walking over and clambering onto the dumpster. Your hand scraped by something sticky and wet, and you gagged, wiping it off on the wall before you pulled yourself up toward the fire escape. "This better be worth it."

With a grunt, you hoisted yourself up and jumped for the fire escape. It creaked violently under your weight and dipped down with a sharp *clank.* You shrieked, clutching it tight.

"Okay… okay…" you breathed, heart thudding. Slowly, you climbed the stairs, hearing your dad’s voice in your head with every step: *This is not something you got from my side of the family.*

At the rooftop edge, you glanced between buildings. It wasn’t a massive gap—but it was enough to make your stomach drop.

"Oh boy…" You hold on and take in a deep breath. Thankfully, you wore regular sneakers today.

You paced nervously in circles, bouncing on your feet and shaking your hands.

"Okay, okay, I'm doing this. I'm really doing this."

You hyped yourself up with little jumps and then sprinted, legs pumping, and leapt—only to hit the edge hard. Pain shot through your ribs as your hands scrambled to catch the ledge. You shrieked as you dangled for a second, kicking, and with one final heave, hauled yourself up.

You flopped onto the roof with a wheeze, the cold concrete soothing your scraped palms.

"Oh, sweet mother of God," you laughed breathlessly, staring at the stars. "Uncle Baxter is so gonna hear about this when I find him."

You rolled to your knees and crawled toward the warehouse skylight. You expected to have to pry it open but instead found a neat, circular hole in the glass—like someone had already cut their way in. A wad of gum was stuck to the discarded glass near the edge.

"…Weird."

You slipped through the opening and dropped onto the catwalk inside. Voices echoed just call out for your uncle. What if they were dangerous?

You crept forward, heart pounding, and tucked yourself behind a stack of rusted crates. Carefully, you peered over the edge—and your jaw dropped.

There was your uncle, hunched over a computer, typing furiously. Looming beside him was a hulking, monstrous dog-man, all claws and snarls. An asian looking man stood at his side. The dog growled something low and threatening, gesturing sharply at your uncle to hurry up—apparently to crack some encrypted phone. Your uncle winced and nodded, typing faster.

To the right, chained against the wall, were two turtle-shaped figures. Humanoid. Green-skinned. Wearing differently colored bandanas around their eyes. Bound by heavy steel restraints. You stared in disbelief. What the hell was going on here?

I must have fallen off the building, I hit my head and now I'm in some kind of hallucinatory coma. That's got to be it. You think, it was the most logical explanation.

You pinch yourself to test the theory. The sharp pain travels up your arm and you flinch, rubbing it to ease the pain.

This is a very realistic hallucination.

"Almost done," You peer up as you hear your uncle's voice. The faint light of the computer reflecting in his glasses. "Ninety-eight, ninety-nine, yes! One hundred percent! And processing, processing... C'mon... And finished!"

You crouch lower behind the rusted crate just as glass rains from above—a shattering explosion of light and sound. You raise your head slightly in order to get a better look at whatever just crashed through the ceiling.

The two figures that drop through the ceiling land hard and fast. And they're not just anyone.

They're— More turtles?

"The turtles!" The hulking dog mutant growls, lip curling in fury.

The newcomers straighten—one clad in blue, the other in red. Twin katanas in hand as the one in blue points directly at the chaos unfolding.

"Not so fast, Dogpound! And... Dexter Spackman?" he accuses, voice sharp.

"Baxter Stockman!" the scientist shrieks in frustration.

The mutant dog— or Dogpound as the turtle had called him, doesn’t wait—he charges, massive claws swinging. But Blue is faster. He sidesteps with practiced ease and dashes for the desk. Dogpound snarls— but before he can run after blue, the turtle with the red bandana charges and lands a kick to his muzzle.

You can see Baxter run towards his desk, but before he can swipe the phone off the table, the turtle in blue slams his katana and grabs the phone.

"How did you escape my mousers?" Stockman snarls.

"We didn't." Blue replies, and as soon as he does, dozens of mechanical robots crash through the ceiling, a screech of whirring metal following suit.

The red turtle dashes forward, slashing the chains that held the other turtles. "We’re here to save the day, as usual," he smirks.

"Oh yeah, looks like you guys were doing great." Replied the one in purple with a healthy dose of sarcasm.

"You try fighting two thousand robots!" Red snaps back, pointing at the chaos unfolding behind them.

Your jaw is slightly ajar. You can't believe your own eyes and ears, and you're barely breathing. Your fingers scramble for the phone in your pocket. You clutch it tightly and hit record, trying to capture what you can from the safety of your hiding spot.

"Mikey!" Blue shouts. The orange-masked turtle looks up, and Blue tosses the phone to him in a perfect arc. "Keep away!"

Mikey bolts as the dog mutant lunges after him, tearing through crates and cables in a frenzy.

You sink deeper into the tiny corner of your hiding spot as both of them run past you at full speed. You take a deep gulp and pray to whatever gods there are that you don't get found right now.

"Wow! A gamma camera!" You hear a different voice and peak through the space between the crates to see the tallest turtle, the one with the purple bandana analyzing a small piece of tech from one of the mousers. "It detects radio isotopes. That must be what he's tagged you with."

"How do we get it off?!" The red one screams, slicing a mouser in half.

"You can't. It wears off gradually. But if someone else got sprayed, they'd give off a stronger signal."

Suddenly, a startled yelp echoes through the warehouse as the orange-masked turtle crashes down from the second floor in a tangle of limbs and momentum, hitting the ground with a painful thud. Above him, Dogpound lunges—his massive, misshapen hands raised high, jagged claws glinting under the flickering light as he prepares to bring them down like sledgehammers.

But before the blow can land, a blur of motion cuts through the chaos.

A sharp crack splits the air as the purple-masked turtle vaults in from the side, his bo staff whipping through the space between them with precise, practiced force. The impact slams into Dogpound’s side, knocking him off balance and forcing him to stagger back with a furious snarl. The orange turtle blinks up in wide-eyed relief just as his friend plants himself protectively in front of him, staff raised and ready.

"We've got to get Stockman's spray. It controls the mousers!"

"You mean that thing?" Orange asks, pointing at your uncle holding some kind of spray.

"I'll handle this, dog-man! One spritz and they'll be mouser chow!" Your uncle is ready to spritz the turtles with the sttange looking spray, and your stomach drops. What is he going to do? But before you can even process it, the red turtle comes from nowhere, throwing two precise ninja stars at the spray, which explodes on top of your uncle and the mutant.

Without warning, the mousers halt mid-lunge—just as they’re about to shred the shell-backed brothers to pieces. Their glowing eyes flicker, their heads twitching in eerie unison. Then, like a switch flipped, they swivel toward Dogpound and Stockman.

The warehouse erupts into fresh chaos.

With metallic snarls and snapping jaws, the robotic swarm descends on Dogpound, clamping down on his tail and clawed legs. He howls in rage and pain, swatting them away as sparks fly. In the confusion, your uncle bolts—arms flailing, coat streaming behind him—only to promptly trip over one of his own creations and faceplant hard into the concrete.

You facepalm slowly and drag your fingers across your face at the scene.

Dogpound snarls and yanks him upright, holding him with a clawed hand. Just as the brute starts to drag him off, a sharp ring cuts through the chaos.

Ring. Ring.

Dogpound sees the phone on the ground, lost in the chaos. He smiles as he picks it up in between his claws, but his win is short lived.

Thunk! A precisely aimed blade whistles through the air, embedding itself dead-center in the phone. Sparks sputter as the device falls in pieces.

"Hang it up, Dogpound," the turtle in purple calls. "Your call just got dropped!"

Dogpound growls, baring teeth like cracked concrete. Without another word, he barrels forward—and straight through the literal wall—leaving a man-shaped hole in the warehouse as he drags your uncle out into the night, mousers nipping at their heels.

"Nice job, guys!" The blue-masked turtle cheers as the mutant and your uncle run away.

"Yeah!" Red whoops, throwing his arms around his two friends with an exaggerated grin."From here on out, you're the A- team!"

"That’s probably the best we're gonna get out of 'em."

Silence finally settles over the warehouse, the last echoes of battle fading. You hold your breath. Count to ten. Then, slowly, cautiously, you peek out from your hiding spot.

Silence finally settles over the warehouse, the last echoes of battle fading. You hold your breath. Count to ten. Then, slowly, cautiously, you peek out from your hiding spot.

Nothing. Just a wrecked warehouse and your thudding heartbeat.

You try to take the stairs down—but your legs betray you halfway. You tumble with a grunt, landing hard. The impact sends a jolt of pain through your body, and when your hand touches your forehead, it comes away wet. You lay your head on the dirty floor and breathe in deeply, remembering the way your uncle tripped over his own feet just moments before.

"Runs in the family, I guess..." You mutter, dragging yourself upright with a wince. Every step toward your uncle’s desk is a limp, your sprained ankle screaming with each movement.

You reach the desk and stop. Really look around.

The scorched floor. Shattered windows. Broken robots twitching in piles. Gouges in the walls. Your uncle’s half-melted laptop still glowing faintly. Somewhere, a mouser drags itself in a slow circle, one leg sparking.

You limp closer to one of the walls and see a ninja star buried in a metal beam. Cautiously, you grab it and pull it from the beam, looking at the small indent it leaves behind. Your mouth hangs open slightly.

"What the fuck?"


Tags
5 days ago

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

Welcome Back To A Re-written 2012 Donatello Analysis!

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


Tags
1 week ago
Master Splinter Be Looking Kind Of Different :0 Lol Can't Believe He Used To Voice 2012 Splinter Haha

Master splinter be looking kind of different :0 lol can't believe he used to voice 2012 splinter haha


Tags
1 week ago

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

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- 😭)


Tags
1 week ago
Donnie Would Be A Fool To Think His Older Sister Wouldn't Be As Much Of A Threat As His Brothers- LMAO
Donnie Would Be A Fool To Think His Older Sister Wouldn't Be As Much Of A Threat As His Brothers- LMAO
Donnie Would Be A Fool To Think His Older Sister Wouldn't Be As Much Of A Threat As His Brothers- LMAO
Donnie Would Be A Fool To Think His Older Sister Wouldn't Be As Much Of A Threat As His Brothers- LMAO
Donnie Would Be A Fool To Think His Older Sister Wouldn't Be As Much Of A Threat As His Brothers- LMAO
Donnie Would Be A Fool To Think His Older Sister Wouldn't Be As Much Of A Threat As His Brothers- LMAO
Donnie Would Be A Fool To Think His Older Sister Wouldn't Be As Much Of A Threat As His Brothers- LMAO

Donnie would be a fool to think his older Sister wouldn't be as much of a threat as his brothers- LMAO

I was originally gonna do something different, since my goal was to draw some sibling dynamics with Karai, but then this idea popped in my head and it made me laugh- I was gonna include Raph laughing hysterically in the background and even making a comment about how any of them (siblings wise) could ask April out better than Donnie could, but I didn't have enough time since I promised to start up Shredder's Revenge- 😔👍✨


Tags
Loading...
End of content
No more pages to load
  • httpvomitello
    httpvomitello reblogged this · 1 week ago
  • alittlecolorsblog
    alittlecolorsblog liked this · 1 week ago
  • ghostlybatcreation
    ghostlybatcreation liked this · 1 week ago
  • beahargreevesstark
    beahargreevesstark liked this · 1 week ago
  • slic3ofpi3
    slic3ofpi3 liked this · 2 weeks ago
  • dumpsterdivver
    dumpsterdivver liked this · 2 weeks ago
  • peanutbutterjelly24
    peanutbutterjelly24 liked this · 2 weeks ago
  • emptynoddles
    emptynoddles liked this · 2 weeks ago
  • melliveshere
    melliveshere liked this · 2 weeks ago
  • jabsbwjha
    jabsbwjha liked this · 2 weeks ago
  • valliereissad
    valliereissad liked this · 2 weeks ago
  • grandpandacowboynickel
    grandpandacowboynickel liked this · 2 weeks ago
  • mrcaffeinatedisopod
    mrcaffeinatedisopod reblogged this · 2 weeks ago
mrcaffeinatedisopod - I ramble about Turtles
I ramble about Turtles

Call me Mr. Isopod ♤ I'm just a cave hermit whose life has been consumed by Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. ♡ I write, sometimes ◇ He/Him MDNI ♧ 21 《 Requests: Open 》

35 posts

Explore Tumblr Blog
Search Through Tumblr Tags