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Good Omen Coffee Theory spoliers below the cut. I just realized something.

So the Metatron asks for a "small dash of almond when he orders the coffee right??? And when he gives the coffee to Aziraphale - he says it has a "hefty jigger of almond"

Why the change?

Cyanide, when ingested -tastes like almonds.

He could have been posioned with Cyanide.

That makes the scene with Crowley drinking poison and being super loopy make a lot more sense.

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Hey! Just wanted to say I've been loving your rise fics, they're a treasure, thanks for your service <3 Was curious if you were working on any wips or fic requests currently that we can know about 👀 ?

Ahh thank you so much for your lovely words!! I'm glad you've been enjoying them.

I have a few ideas rumbling around right now. And a lot of amazing people have left me prompts!

HOWEVER I bought an actual adult house with my partner, and have been in the process of moving for the last month!! I hope I have more time to write soon !!!

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Minor Malfunction

There was a possibility that something was wrong. A small possibility. An insignificant possibility even. But there was a possibility nonetheless.

Donnie sat on a stool in his lab. The soft blue lights around him had long since dimmed, as there was so little movement in the lab, and it was so, so late at night. He had one long leg crossed over the other, and he was hunched over the Tech-Bō in his lap. In their last encounter, (less than 12 hours ago, Donnie’s mind supplied unhelpfully,) it had malfunctioned in the middle of a fight with Big Mama and her goons. They had been getting their shells kicked, and Raph had called for cover. The Tech-Bō should have been equipped to handle a task as simple as that. He had built its smoke bomb feature long ago, but when he tried to use it, the compartment containing the compound hadn’t opened.

Thankfully, Mikey had snapped his Kusari-fundo to the smoke alarm, setting off the sprinklers and noise, and buying them enough time to escape. It was quick thinking, but it was something that never should have happened.

Minor malfunctions such as these could be devastating. Donnie had the scars to prove it.

This should be a simple fix. Something was preventing the compartment from opening, he had to figure out how to open it. He knew the problem. Why was a solution proving so difficult?

Keep reading

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Hold On (Or Three Times Donatello's Soft Shell Almost Killed Him, and One Time it Saved His Life)

The first time it happened, there really wasn’t anyone to blame. Four knee-high turtles stumbling around were chaos-bound, no matter how early their father tried to send them to bed. They were in Raph’s room, brightly colored bandanas wrapped tightly around their little heads. Raph was standing on top of his bed with a huge toothy grin.

“Are you ready, boys?!” he yelled, spreading his arms wide.

Mikey was hanging on the bookshelf, his short legs dangling dangerously. Leo was crouched on a chair, and Donnie was balancing on a pillow in the center of the room.  

They all smiled back and began to chant, “Three, two, one, THE FLOOR IS LAVA!” Their screams echoed around the room, and they began to bounce from one piece of furniture to the next.

“Look out, Mikey!” Leo shrieked as he jumped and desperately tried to hang onto the shelf. The younger box-shell laughed hysterically as the shelf began to wobble, clearly not designed to handle the weight of the two turtles.

“Saaaave meeeee!” Mikey held out his hand, and pulled the rest of his body into his shell.  Leo reached out, wrapping three chubby fingers around Mikey’s hand, right before his shell tipped off the bookcase. He began to swing his littlest brother back and forth, building momentum.

“Raph! Heads up!” With a final swing, Leo tossed Mikey across the room, toward the (relatively) large snapper.

Raph jumped up and closed his arms around Mikey’s shell with a triumphant “Gotcha!” As he landed, his left foot slipped out from underneath him, and he stumbled off the side of the bed.

All of this would have been fine, if not for two simple facts. The first is that that with Mikey in his arms, he instinctively fell backwards, trusting his own shell to take the fall.

The second is that Donnie was crawling underneath them both, building a bridge of pillows across the concrete floor.

Keep reading

[dunk-on-em-ao3]

Chomp (Or Three Times Donnie Bit Someone Accidentally, and One Time He Did it on Purpose)

Wind and ran thundered through the New York alleyway, shaking the gutters of the apartments that lined it on either side. The inhabitants of those apartments had all closed their windows and pulled shut the blinds a long time ago. There was no going out in this kind of weather, their only choice was to wait it out.

In the middle of the alleyway, out of sight from the cars and taxis on the road, there was a shack. Pulled together from discarded shipping pallets and stolen laundry, it shook and rattled in the raging storm. Splinter sat in the center; his newly mutated legs drawn up towards his chest. While the shack provided shelter from the wind, rain dripped through, drenching the top of his head. He held out a jacket in front of him, creating an additional shelter for – for his children.

This is no place for a child, he thought distantly, watching as the four young turtles played on the concrete ground.

The four didn’t know any better though, and their laughs and shrieks of joy as they chased each other through their small shelter almost drowned out the thunder overhead. Splinter’s mouth twitched up into a smile every time one of the kids crawled under his legs to hide from their brothers.

He was calling them brothers, anyway.

They were all very clearly different kinds of turtles. The largest one seemed to be the oldest, as he was already walking without much hassle. His jaw and protruding snaggletooth that Splinter found endlessly endearing pointed toward some kind of snapping turtle. The smallest one, fittingly enough, seemed to be the youngest, as he was still crawling, his large round shell bumping up against Splinter’s foot every so often. The other two seemed to be close in age, one with distinct red markings over his eyes, and one with –

One with a shell that was soft to the touch. 

Keep reading

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Who is wawawaleonardo and why do people keep mentioning him

Now that i am deep in the trenches of turtle brainrot, did i ever tell tumblr about the time that i saw a four foot tall Michelangelo in the back of a pickup truck so I chased it on foot before the reached the dump

And now i have a four foot tall michelangelo who lives in my basement at the bar

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AHHHHH LOOK AT THE BITEY TURTLE!!!!!!

TY SO MUCH HES SO CUTE AND I LOVE HIM SO MUCH!!!

CHOMP!!

Its a good fic,, highly recommend :DD

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Ah, I love seeing my work on a rec list! Thank you so much for including me <3

I wrote "and I would know him in death, at the end of the world". Can't wait for season 2!!!

Hello, I hope y'all are all doing fine! Do you guys have any good recommendations where either Aziraphale or Crowley presume that the other is dead (other than the bookshop scene.) Thank you, and have a nice day!

Hey! You’ll want to check our #assumed character death for more fics like this. Here are a few more for you...

and I would know him in death, at the end of the world by dunk_on_em (M)

Crowley’s legs didn’t move for a couple of seconds. The seconds felt like years. When he finally was able to move, he sprinted, stumbling over himself to reach the courtroom doors. He threw them open, and all the air in his body left him with a broken cry.

There, in the tub, was Crowley. Or what looked like Crowley, at least.

Or;

Crowley waits for Aziraphale to return from Hell. He doesn't.

happiness, more or less by TheKnittingJedi (M)

Renting a flat is all fun and games until you fall in love with the ghost haunting it.

An adaptation of the 2005 romcom Just Like Heaven.

Pieces of You by syrupfactory (M)

Twenty years post-canon, Crowley and Aziraphale's happily-ever-after is uprooted when Aziraphale suddenly vanishes and an encounter with demons leaves Crowley mortal and powerless. After passing months in solitude, Crowley ventures back into London, only to find his husband living a human life as "Ezra" and mourning a fictional human husband called "Jay." Determined to get Aziraphale back, Crowley resolves to do whatever it takes to befriend him all over again, as ordinary people this time, until his angel remembers him.

Fractured Heart by Blue_Sparkle (T)

Angels are sturdy beings, but rigid and changeless and not meant to endure grief or loss. When thousands Fall and many more are slain in the Great Rebellion, they either literally break apart...or forget. Aziraphale's only memories of his lost beloved are his lover's skill at creating stars. Memories he cherishes above all else. It complicates matters when his heart starts attaching to a certain demon, but perhaps his time on earth can teach him how to heal.

The Christmas Tree by ICanSingNoRequiem (T)

Aziraphale plans to avoid any holiday traditions that bring back memories of his late husband until he receives a gift from a handsome shop owner. To move on from his loss, Aziraphale works for a balance between his memories and finding a future.

A Beautiful Fiction by Thestarlitrose (E)

Nineteen years after having his memories of Crowley stolen, Aziraphale encounters Warlock and has everything come rushing back to him. Together; with the help of an ex-antichrist, they embark on a journey through the Southeastern, United States to locate Crowley to bring him home, where he belongs.

Chapters with smut and other potential triggers will be listed in the notes.

- Mod D

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Chomp (Or Three Times Donnie Bit Someone Accidentally, and One Time He Did it on Purpose)

Wind and ran thundered through the New York alleyway, shaking the gutters of the apartments that lined it on either side. The inhabitants of those apartments had all closed their windows and pulled shut the blinds a long time ago. There was no going out in this kind of weather, their only choice was to wait it out.

In the middle of the alleyway, out of sight from the cars and taxis on the road, there was a shack. Pulled together from discarded shipping pallets and stolen laundry, it shook and rattled in the raging storm. Splinter sat in the center; his newly mutated legs drawn up towards his chest. While the shack provided shelter from the wind, rain dripped through, drenching the top of his head. He held out a jacket in front of him, creating an additional shelter for – for his children.

This is no place for a child, he thought distantly, watching as the four young turtles played on the concrete ground.

The four didn’t know any better though, and their laughs and shrieks of joy as they chased each other through their small shelter almost drowned out the thunder overhead. Splinter’s mouth twitched up into a smile every time one of the kids crawled under his legs to hide from their brothers.

He was calling them brothers, anyway.

They were all very clearly different kinds of turtles. The largest one seemed to be the oldest, as he was already walking without much hassle. His jaw and protruding snaggletooth that Splinter found endlessly endearing pointed toward some kind of snapping turtle. The smallest one, fittingly enough, seemed to be the youngest, as he was still crawling, his large round shell bumping up against Splinter’s foot every so often. The other two seemed to be close in age, one with distinct red markings over his eyes, and one with –

One with a shell that was soft to the touch. 

Keep reading

[dunk-on-em-ao3]

Chomp (Or Three Times Donnie Bit Someone Accidentally, and One Time He Did it on Purpose)

Wind and ran thundered through the New York alleyway, shaking the gutters of the apartments that lined it on either side. The inhabitants of those apartments had all closed their windows and pulled shut the blinds a long time ago. There was no going out in this kind of weather, their only choice was to wait it out.

In the middle of the alleyway, out of sight from the cars and taxis on the road, there was a shack. Pulled together from discarded shipping pallets and stolen laundry, it shook and rattled in the raging storm. Splinter sat in the center; his newly mutated legs drawn up towards his chest. While the shack provided shelter from the wind, rain dripped through, drenching the top of his head. He held out a jacket in front of him, creating an additional shelter for – for his children.

This is no place for a child, he thought distantly, watching as the four young turtles played on the concrete ground.

The four didn’t know any better though, and their laughs and shrieks of joy as they chased each other through their small shelter almost drowned out the thunder overhead. Splinter’s mouth twitched up into a smile every time one of the kids crawled under his legs to hide from their brothers.

He was calling them brothers, anyway.

They were all very clearly different kinds of turtles. The largest one seemed to be the oldest, as he was already walking without much hassle. His jaw and protruding snaggletooth that Splinter found endlessly endearing pointed toward some kind of snapping turtle. The smallest one, fittingly enough, seemed to be the youngest, as he was still crawling, his large round shell bumping up against Splinter’s foot every so often. The other two seemed to be close in age, one with distinct red markings over his eyes, and one with –

One with a shell that was soft to the touch. 

The young turtle, while clearly an infant, seemed to know that the shell on his back was vulnerable. He always kept his shell pointed away from his brothers, especially the oldest. He was the first to back up when the red-eyed turtle and the snapper got into wrestling matches. And while him and his red-eyed brother seemed to be in the process of learning to walk, always made sure to fall forward instead of backwards when he tripped up.

Splinter didn’t know much about turtles. Honestly, he didn’t know soft-shelled turtles were even something that existed.

He leaned back, resting his back against the alley wall. He continued holding the jacket up, not wanting his young children to get wet.

For the hundredth time that day, he wondered what exactly he was doing. He had never cared for a child before, let alone four children, let alone four infant, mutant, turtle children. A sigh echoed through their small shelter, as Splinter tried to quell the rising panic in his gut. This home would only work for so long. They needed somewhere new to go. He glanced at the fur covering his arms and legs, and a rush of bile rose in this throat. No one would take him in – not in this state. What was he going to do? How was he going to provide? What if –

A small tug to his side broke him out of his thoughts. His soft-shelled son had a grip on a shirt, and was trying to pull his small frame onto Splinter’s lap. His forehead was furrowed tight in concentration as he scrambled for purchase, and Splinter could almost imagine a pair of eyebrows above those focused eyes.

“What are you doing, little one?” Splinter chuckled as he let go of one end of the jacket. He placed a gentle hand underneath the young child, (and ancestors above, he really did need to name them,) and carefully helped the child up.

The other three took that as their cue, and they all immediately started climbing, trying to join their brother on the warm lap. Splinter laughed, wincing slightly as his oldest son’s claws dug slightly into him.

They all made it there eventually, sprawled out in Splinter’s arms. The youngest turtle immediately fell asleep, one chubby hand wrapped around a clump of his fur.  The other three curled up around him, and their giggles and shrieks quickly turned into sleepy snuffles as they all started to doze off. Splinter smiled at the sight, his eyes starting to feel heavy as well. He drew the jacket over his own head, creating a makeshift tent for his boys. A small nap would do him well, and he could look for a new place to stay when the rain finally stopped. He closed his eyes, and let the sound of the rain lull him into a fitful sleep.

Line

When Splinter awoke, it was to soft whining, and gentle tugs on his whiskers.

“Hmm?” he sleepily mumbled, as he blinked his eyes back into focus. He pulled the jacked off of his head, and the light from the streetlights illuminated the scene in front of him. His red-eyed son stood on his chest, right in front of his face. There were tears in his eyes as he whined again, and gave his father’s face another pull.

“What is it?” Splinter murmured, much more awake. He looked around. Evening had fallen, and the rain had stopped. The streets were eerily quiet. The child in front of his face started to cry, his wails quickly turning into hiccupping sobs. His oldest child and his youngest quickly rose from their slumber and joined in, their wails adding to Splinter’s panic.

And the soft-shelled turtle –

And his soft-shelled son was not on his lap at all.

Splinter scrambled to his feet, holding the other three close. His eyes dartled frantically around the shelter. Nothing. He wasn’t here.

“Little one?” Splinter called out, again cursing the fact that he hadn’t named them yet. “Where are you?”

Nothing.

Cursing under his breath, Splinter exited their small shelter. Holding three of his sons in one arm, he rifled through his meager pile of possessions he had collected outside. Most of it was stuff he had pulled from the trash, and most of it was probably useless, but maybe-

A-ha!

He pulled out a bucket, and quickly put the three turtles inside. Their cries only got louder, pulling terribly on Splinter’s heartstrings. There was no time. He couldn’t afford one of them wandering off as well while he was looking for their brother.

He ran up and down the alley, pushing over boxes and pulling up trash, all while calling out softly for his son. He kept his voice low, even though every part of him wanted to yell. He didn’t need any humans opening up their windows above him, and taking this night from bad to worse.

His eyes kept flicking over to the roads on either side of him. The bright lights of the cars brought forth a panic in him that he was unable to describe. If his son had gone out there –

Would it be worth looking?

Would it be worth that pain?

No, he thought desperately. He would find him. He would find his son. He had to be here somewhere. Splinter quickly retraced his steps, checking and double checking every nook in the wall and every discarded Amazon box. The cries of the three turtles in the bucket faded into the background, as Splinter scurried as quickly as he could.

He isn’t here, Splinter’s mind unhelpfully supplied as he finished looking through the alley for the second time.

His feet stuttered to a stop.

My son isn’t here.

He turned towards the roads once more, trying to find the courage to make his feet move towards them. If something had happened, he needed to know.

He took a step, and at the same time heard a cry that had his ear twitching. He remained perfectly still, almost convinced that he had imagined it.

Again, a wail cut through the silence. It wasn’t coming from their shelter, from the bucket that housed the other three.

He ran in its direction, skidding to a stop in front of a manhole cover.

He couldn’t have –

Another cry, and Splinter was pulling the manhole cover out of the way. The cover had already been raised, creating a two-inch gap, perfect for a curious turtle. Splinter grunted as he tossed the cover aside, and stuck his head inside.

His eyes took a second to adjust, but when they did, Splinter let out a sigh that sounded more like a sob. There, only two rungs down, was his soft-shelled son. He was straddled over the ladder rung, clinging desperately to the side. His shell was pointed toward Splinter, and his face was pressed into the side of the ladder.

“You’re alright, little one,” Splinter cried, reaching his hand out. His son wasn’t that far down. He reached forward, holding on to the edge of the manhole for balance. Another stretch, and his hand wrapped around his son’s soft shell.

And maybe it was because the child was very obviously panicked, or maybe because his shell was sensitive, but as soon as Splinter made contact, his child turned around, his eyes pinched shut, and bit him.

Splinter didn’t know a lot about turtles, but the first thing he learned was that soft-shells have very powerful jaws.

His son clamped down harder, and Splinter yelped, desperately fighting against the urge to yank his hand back.

“It’s okay, little one, please let go,” he whispered, his voice trembling. His son hadn’t opened his eyes, and a faint spot of blood bloomed from where he was biting down. Splinter pulled the rest of himself into the manhole, trying not to move his hand at all. As soon as he got his feet on the ladder rungs, he brought his other hand around to his son’s front, gently prying him away from the ladder and into his arms.

As soon as his son was off of the ladder, his bite slackened and pulled away. His eyes opened, Splinter’s heart shattering as he saw they were red from tears.

“There you are!” Splinter laughed, as he spared a glance down at his hand. A perfect bite mark laid in the palm of his hand, a mark that would no doubt scar.

But any pain he felt was quickly overpowered by the overwhelming relief at having his son in his arms again.

His son smiled, cooing happily, finally feeling safe.

Splinter took a deep breath, enjoying the warm air that the sewer brought. It was – a lot cleaner than he imagined. This might be something to explore in the future.

But for now, he climbed the ladder back up to the alley, looking for his sons that he left in a bucket, and looking to see if he had any bandages.

_______________

It was early August in New York City. Three months of blistering heat had the city desperate to cool down. The public pools and private waterparks were at maximum capacity, as tourists and locals alike swarmed to the water, looking for a day of rest and relaxation.

And below the city, a turtle had the same idea.

Two sets of feet barreled through the underground tunnels, one set being significantly less enthused then the other.

“Donnie, c’mon! Put some pep in your step already!”

“Leo, if you don’t-,” Donnie squirmed, trying to free his arm from Leo’s determined grasp. “If you don’t let me go right now-”

Leo continued to pull Donnie along, narrowing his eyes in skepticism. “If I let you go, are you going to go back to your lab?”

“No,” Donnie immediately lied.

“Oh, you’re such a jerk.”

“But I’m working-”

“Forget about it! You got to trust me, bro, you’re going to love this!” Leo smiled while marching on. Donnie continued to sputter complaints and threats in the background, but at this point Leo had completely tuned his twin brother out. He stopped suddenly, scratching his head in thought. “Well, maybe not love it, but you’ll tolerate it for sure.” He pressed on, dragging Donnie through sewer tunnels at a quicker pace. “Mikey and Raph are already there! So let’s go!”

“I can say with one-hundred percent certainty that there is absolutely nothing in these tunnels that could be more important than the project I’m working on,” Donnie grumbled, although he had long since stopped pulling against Leo.

“Donald, you should know not to underestimate me by this point,” Leo drawled, one hand splayed dramatically across his plastron. “If I say it’s going to be amazing, you can bet your nerdy behind that it will be.”

Donnie sighed, and resigned himself to the fact the Turtle Tank would have to wait another day. In all honesty, he wasn’t too upset about it. While the sewers were a bit cooler than the outside world, the constant electricity thrumming through his lab made the temperature borderline unbearable.

He raised his head, squinting. In the distance, he made out the outline of Raph and Mikey, alongside a whole bunch of –

“Are those plastic inner tubes?” Donnie asked, almost laughing. “Is this what you dragged me out here for?”

“Donnie, please,” Mikey gasped. “They’re called floaties.”

“Oh my god.”

“Gentlemen!” Leo yelled, standing on a concrete cinderblock. “Welcome to New York’s first and only completely private lazy river!”

Raph looked over the ledge to the water below.

“This looks like any ol’ sewer river.”

“And that, dear Raphela, is where you’re wrong.” Leo whipped open a map of the New York sewers, where a particular section had been highlighted. “This river flows in a square. Completely uninterrupted, completely calm, completely cool. We hop in here, hop back out when we complete our loop. Won’t take more than an hour or two.”

“I love it!” Mikey clapped his hands together. “I call the orange tube!”

“But of course, Michael.” Leo smiled, as he passed out the swim tubes.

Donnie begrudgingly held out his hand for the purple tube as Leo approached him. The water did look inviting, and he really could use a cool down. He stepped in gingerly, wincing as Mikey and Leo jumped in with a splash. The water felt divine, and he rested his head against the plastic float. He glanced back up to see Raph still standing, still holding on to his red tube. Donnie raised an eyebrow.

“You joining us?”

“If you think this lil’ tube is gonna hold Raph, you got another thing coming.”

“Sorry about that, big guy,” Leo frowned. “They didn’t exactly come in extra-large.”

“Just hold on to it with one hand!” Mikey yelled as he padded around. “We’ll get you a new one next time.”

With that, Raph stepped in the water as well, holding on to the tube in front of him. He slowly started to kick, quickly joining his younger brothers.

“And we’re off!” Leo yelled, flopping back in his tube. “Let the relaxation begin!”

And it was relaxing, which was the annoying part of the whole situation. Donnie’s eyes had even started to flutter shut as they drifted down the lazy river, enjoying the cool water and the extremely rare silence. They snapped open only when Leo bumped into him.

“Well, what do you think?” Leo smiled, flicking water up at his twin. “Still wish you were back at your lab?”

“Yes,” Donnie lied for the second time that day.

And Leo just laughed, knowing full well that Donnie was just trying to save face.

“I’m wearing boardshorts next time,” Donnie scoffed, and kicked off of Leo, moving closer to Raph.

“What do you two think?”

Raph gave a sleepy thumbs up, his face half-submerged in the water.

Mikey didn’t immediately answer, as he was busy spinning around in his tube as quickly as he could.

“I think it’s great! But-” Mikey stopped, pointing ahead. “Which way to we need to go?” In front of them, the sewer river forked in two directions.

Donnie turned to Leo, who still had his eyes closed.

“Just relax. The current will pull us left, and that’s how we complete the square.” He traced the outline of their path with his fingers in the air. “Just let the water take you, boys.”

Donnie nestled back down in his tube, but only for a moment. The water around them was picking up speed, knocking the tubes into each other.

He turned to see Raph raise his head out of the river, and slightly frown when realized that he couldn’t touch the bottom.

“Leo?” Raph called, swimming closer to the group. “It’s pulling us right.”

“Raph’s correct!” Donnie yelled over the water. “And we’re moving fast!”

Raph abandoned his red tube, choosing to hold on to Donnie and Leo’s instead. Mikey soared out in front of them, howling with laughter. He was outside of his tube, choosing instead to just hold on to it.

“Hold on to your tubes, boys!” Leo cackled. “We’re taking a detour!”

The water roared as they all crashed through the opening on the right, yelling and screaming all the way.

And while the left entrance might have been a continuation of the lazy river, the right entrance was a fifteen-foot drop to a large pool below.

And that wouldn’t have been terrible. They had definitely been through worse. But as they crashed into the water below, Mikey’s tube bounced to the side. It sailed toward the concrete edge of the pool, and the three older brothers could only watch as Mikey’s head connected with the edge.

The sickening thunk was clearly heard over the waterfall.  Immediately, Mikey’s eyes drifted closed, and his grip loosened on his float.

“Mikey?” Donnie threw his tube off, swimming towards the box-shell. “Mikey, just-”

And Mikey let go.

He slipped into the water silently, quickly going under.

“MIKEY!” Raph bellowed, and the three other turtles exploded into movement.

“I got him!” Donnie yelled as he swam. “Get ready to pull us up!” He reached the spot where Mikey went under, and took a deep breath.

He knew he was the strongest swimmer of the three. He knew he could hold his breath for longer. Distantly, he saw Raph pull himself up on the concrete, immediately turning around and kneeling down. Leo stayed in the water, ready to hoist Mikey to Raph when Donnie returned.

And he would return.

The three knew that they wouldn’t consider an alternative.

Donnie dived into the water, immediately opening his eyes. In the dark, murky depths, a flash of orange in the distance was all he had to go on. He swam down, kicking as hard as he could. His hands reached into the darkness, trying to connect with his youngest brother.

He had to be here somewhere.

He had to be.

Donnie’s arm reached the bottom, (Approximately twenty feet deep, his mind unhelpfully supplied), and there was still no sign of Mikey. (Box-shelled turtles can hold their breath for up to 30 minutes. No data on half-human box-shells, his mind continued to rattle.)

He pushed off of the floor, arms quickly moving side to side, still looking, ignoring the slight burn in his lungs.

And just as a wave of panic threatened to overtake him, his arms slapped in to the shell of his brother.

A yell of relief escaped as bubbles, as Donnie wrapped his arms around Mikey’s carapace. He kicked upwards, vaguely seeing the outline of Leo’s feet in the distance.

Twenty feet. He could make it.

He continued to kick, and the sludge that had accumulated on the river floor billowed up under them.

He looked around desperately, realizing that with the weight of Mikey, and without the use of his arms, they weren’t moving.

Donnie looked down, and in the darkness of the water, made out Mikey’s face. He was unconscious, obviously, but he had to be alive.

He had to be.

In one movement, and without much thought, Donnie opened his mouth and bit down hard around Mikey’s upper arm. The taste of iron quickly filled his mouth, and he pressed down against the feeling of nausea that arose.

His arms now free, he swam upwards, slowly making headway. The water in front of Donnie’s eyes was slowly colored red, but they were more than halfway there. He couldn’t stop now.

Above him, he saw the lower half of Leo jump as he recognized Donnie in the water. He saw Leo reach one hand toward him, and one hand towards Raph on dry land. With one last kick, one last push, he reached out as well.

As soon as Leo grabbed him, he heard a distant shout. Immediately, he was jerked clean out of the water by Raph, who took one look at Mikey hanging from Donnie’s mouth and screamed.

“Why the hell are you BITING him??”

“Not now, Raph!” Leo snapped as he grabbed Mikey. Donnie immediately let go, and Leo gently set Mikey on the ground. “I can feel a pulse,” he breathed, tension melting from his body.

“I had to use my arms,” Donnie whispered. His knees collapsed next to Mikey, he felt Raph kneel next to him, wrapping an arm around his shivering frame. “I had to get him out.”

“Mikey, are you there?” Leo tilted his chin up, and let out a laugh of relief when Mikey started to cough.

“Oh, thank god,” Donnie heard Raph sigh from behind him. Donnie took that moment to lean over to the edge of the water and spit, disgusted as nothing but red left his mouth.

“What-” Mikey took a sharp breath, turning his head to the side as he coughed up water. “What happened?”

“Donnie dragged you up with his TEETH!” Leo yelled, helping Mikey sit up.

Mikey glanced down to his arm, where a bite mark continued to bleed.

Donnie turned away, leaning a bit more into Raph. The guilt in his body was rising like the water that brought them into this mess.

“Mikey I-”

“That is awesome,” Mikey whispered, his voice still hoarse. “With your teeth?”

“What?” Donnie gasped. He felt tears rise in his eyes and he furiously tried to blink them away. “Mikey, I’m so sorry-”

“You got him out!” Raph cut in, squeezing him gently. “You did what you had to do.”

“And it is going to leave a kick-ass scar!” Leo cheered, wiping some blood away from the wound. “Provided Donnie got his rabies shot.”

“Language!” Raph immediately chided.

“No, you can’t do that. I heard you swear.” Mikey whispered, while Leo howled with laughter. “You said hell.”

“I was shocked!” Raph sputtered. “It’s okay when Raph does it!”

Mikey leaned forward, wrapping his arms around Donnie’s plastron. He smiled as he felt his older brother melt into the hug.

“Thank you, Donnie.”

Donnie squeezed back in response, and Leo and Raph joined the embrace.

Mikey was here.

He was okay.

And that was more than enough.

_____________________

The sharp pink tentacles of the Krang ship stabbed through his shell, his body overtaken by a searing pain that ripped a scream from his throat. He was yanked down into the depths of the Krang console, more tentacles coming forth to stab through his shell, his body, his mind.

“Donnie!” he heard someone scream. “Get out!” The voice was warbled, as if it was underwater.

He pried open his eyes, and saw Mikey hovering above him. He was hard to make out, the barely translucent Krang flesh obscuring most of his vision. He saw Mikey reach down, extending a hand for Donnie to grab.

“Give me your hand, Donnie!”

And he tried.

His hands thrashed at his sides, desperately trying to extend upwards, to grab on to his little brother and get out, but to no avail.

A looming figure appeared behind Mikey, unfurling silently into the form of Krang Prime.

“Mikey!” Donnie tried to scream, but a tentacle quickly wrapped itself around his throat.

Krang Prime drew closer, drawing a powerful fist back as it approached.  Donnie pulled against his restraints, all while screaming silently for Mikey to turn around. It got closer, and through the haze, Donnie saw Mikey’s eyes widen in realization when –

Donnie shot up out of bed, standing up and running toward the center of his room before he fully realized what his feet were doing. His plastron was heaving with each panicked breath he took. His eyes darted around the dark room.

There was no one here.

He was home.

A wave of relief, with just a hint of embarrassment, crashed over him. He took a shuddering breath as he lowered himself to the floor, ignoring the slight shake in his legs.

Another nightmare then.

They weren’t uncommon in this house anymore. The number of times he had woken to Leo screaming in his sleep, or Raph falling out of bed because he was clawing at his eye –

It was a wonder anyone in the house slept at all.

Donnie sat on the floor for a bit, taking steadying breaths like Mikey showed him. He didn’t have the energy to do the counting thing Mikey always did, so he settled for holding his breath for as long as he could before releasing it at a steady pace.

He had no idea how long he kneeled at the center of the room, trying to calm himself, but it was long enough for his legs to fall asleep. He frowned at the stinging sensation, and glanced over to the digital clock.

2:43 AM.

He stood up, scrubbing a hand over his face. Sleep. He needed to sleep. He hadn’t gotten much rest the last few nights, and a little over an hour of sleep today certainly wasn’t going to cut it. Donnie turned to walk back to bed when the sounds of a crash from outside his room stopped him in his sleep.

His feet stopped, as did his breath. A beat of silence, and another crash, followed by thudding footsteps that he didn’t immediately recognize. He silently walked over to his bedroom door, pushing a hidden button in the doorframe. A battleshell detached from the opposite wall and hovered over to Donnie, attaching to his shell with a hiss.  He slowly crept out of his room, blinking his eyes to adjust to the darkness.

It was probably just Leo. He barely slept these days.

Something dropped on the floor, shattering loudly. Immediately, thundering footsteps, much too large for Leo, much too quick for Raph echoed in the silence. It was coming from the kitchen.

Quick breaths, in and out through his nose, was all Donnie could manage. He could feel his heart hammering through his plastron, and his hands were pinned to his sides. He should call for help. If it wasn’t one of his brothers, they should wake up. He needed help. He didn’t bring a weapon, what an idiot, what chance did he stand against –

Donnie reached the edge of the kitchen, and peered into the blackness. He couldn’t get control of his breath. What if someone had found them? What the Krang had found them? What if they weren’t all gone? What if they had already found his brothers, what if he was the last one alive, what if–

And in the darkness, in the silence, a hand was placed on Donnie’s shoulder.

He didn’t even think. There was a hand on his shoulder, he didn’t know who was behind him, and he didn’t know where his brothers were. He whipped his head to the side, and bit down hard. The hand immediately pulled back, but Donnie locked his jaw and refused to let go. He was yanked, and his knees hit the hard ground. Someone was yelling, someone was shaking the hand back and forth, but he couldn’t hear any of it. There was a ringing in his ears, and his eyes were screwed tightly shut. He couldn’t let go if he wanted to.

The hand stopped moving.

The yelling that was barely heard over the noise in his head stopped, shifting instead into a quiet murmur.

There was another hand on the side of his face. Not pressing down with any sort of real force, just resting on his head. The hand felt vaguely familiar – which was enough for Donnie’s eyes to snap open and see –

“Ramphh?” The name came out muffled, due to the fact that he was currently biting down on the snapper’s hand.

“Heeeeyyy, Donnie,” Raph forced out a smile. His face was tightly pinched in pain. “I know you’re ‘prolly all sorts of stressed right now, but I really need ‘ya to let go.”

Horrified, Donnie did what he was asked. Raph drew his hand back to his chest, letting out a low whistle. “Man, you really got me.” He reached up to the kitchen counter to grab some paper towels.

Donnie looked around, confused. He felt like his brain was still catching up to reality, like he was still to steps behind.

“When did we get on the floor?” was the only question he could manage.

“Well,” Raph started. It was obvious he was choosing his words carefully. He tore off some paper towel, and pressed it to the bleeding wound on his hand. “I was in the kitchen, lookin’ for a snack, and I stubbed my foot. I was hopping around, trying to balance, knocking into stuff and whatnot.”

Which explains why he didn’t recognize Raph’s footsteps.

“I was trying to be quiet, but I saw you in the doorway. You looked all freaked out, so I was trying to get your attention without scaring you!” Raph lifts an uninjured hand to scratch at his head. “It didn’t work.”

Donnie drew his knees up toward his chest, tucking his head between them. He couldn’t stand looking at Raph right now. The guilt was too much.

“You bit me, and I kinda just fell backwards. Figured you would let go when that happened, but you just fell with me.”

“Raph, I’m so sorry,” Donnie whispered. A metallic taste filled his mouth, and tears gathered in his eyes as he realized what it was.

“Hey, hey now!” Raph smiled, “It’s okay! I scared you!”

“I hurt you!” Donnie snapped back. He lifted his head. “I bit you!”

“Believe me, I know!” Raph chuckled. “But it’s alright. Raph has had worse.” He passed Donnie another piece of paper towel, which Donnie gratefully accepted. He wiped his mouth, cringing when it came away red.

He tucked his head back down in his knees, another wave of panic and shame quickly overtaking him. He bit his own brother. Just because he was panicked. What kind of scientist does that? What kind of brother does that? What -

“Hey,” Raph’s gentle voice cut through the static. “I’m gonna put an arm around you now, okay?”

Donnie didn’t say anything in response, but when Raph crawled next to him on the kitchen floor and put his arm around him, he immediately leaned into his older brother.

They sat in silence for a bit, the only sounds the hum of the refrigerator and the shallow breaths of Donnie.

“Remember the last time I went Savage Raph?” the snapper asked quietly.

Donnie said nothing, but nodded his head slightly.

“I lost it! Apparently.” Raph tilted his head to the side. “Don’t remember much of it. But I attacked all three of you! And tried to EAT a crab man.”

Donnie smiled, even though Raph couldn’t see it.

“And I felt so guilty!” Raph continued. “I really did. I would never hurt you guys.” He tenses for a moment, and Donnie knows he’s thinking about what the Krang did to him that day.

“Wasn’t your fault,” he murmurs, pushing himself into Raph’s side. “You didn’t mean to.”

“You’re right, it wasn’t!” Raph shook Donnie slightly. “It wasn’t my fault, and I didn’t mean to! And you didn’t either.”

“I wasn’t in ‘Savage Mode’,” Donnie said, complete with the air quotes. “I don’t have an excuse.”

“I think you do!” Raph laughed. “When you bit me, your eyes were white. Scared the pants off of me.”

Donnie lifted his head once more. “You’re kidding.”

“Nope! Apparently, my eyes go white too!” Raph smiled once more, and Donnie couldn’t help but feel a bit comforted. “Savage Raph tries to eat villains! Savage Donnie bites a lot.”

Donnie laughed, the tension of the day fading from his frame. “There’s no such thing as Savage Donnie!”

“We’re brothers, aren’t we? If I can go Savage, why can’t you?”

Donnie just shook his head. “Let me see your hand, you idiot.”

Raph unfurled his injured hand, which had just stopped bleeding.

“I’m gonna match with Mikey and Dad now!” Raph cheered. “I’m part of the club!”

“That’s a horrible club,” Donnie scoffed.

“It needs a name,” Raph smiled, and pulled him in to a tighter hug, which Donnie didn’t mind at all. They sat on the floor, the older brother rattling off ideas for club names, while the younger shot them down. He wouldn’t be going back to bed tonight, but he found that he really didn’t mind.  

_________________________

Donnie’s eyes slowly fluttered open.

His neck cracked as he lifted his head, slowly blinking as his eyes adjusted to the soft glow of his lab. One of his cheeks had been marked with sleep lines from being pressed on the worktable for so long.

He must have fallen asleep? When did that happen?

The last time he looked at the clock, it was 4:57 in the morning. He twisted to look at the clock behind him, his back singing with pain as he did so.

12:41 in the afternoon. On a Sunday.

Mikey was going to kill him.

He stepped down off his work stool, slightly impressed that he managed to fall asleep balanced like that. He yawned, scratching the back of his head as he glanced over the table. Pieces of his Tech-Bo were scattered across it, scorched from their latest battle with Big Mama’s goons. What was supposed to be an easy infiltration mission to steal more webs went horribly sideways when she introduced her new dragon yokai.

At least, it looked like a dragon. Whatever it was, it spit fire, which was enough for Mikey to label it a dragon. Donnie frowned, a bit frustrated. He thought the tech-bo would be easy enough to repair, but the damage was more extensive than he initially thought. The fire had burned through some wires completely, and rewiring anything was always a slow process.

The rumble in his stomach snapped him out of his thoughts, and Donnie exited his lab, shrugging on one of his battleshells as he did so. He headed towards the kitchen first, where the sounds of Mikey singing along to the radio echoed through the lair.

“Good morning,” he mumbled as he entered. “Did you vultures save me anything?”

“Good afternoon,” Mikey corrected, setting his colored pencil down. He was drawing something in his sketchbook, though it was closed before Donnie could make out what it was. “And I basically had to fight Leo with a spatula, but I managed to save you some. There should be some blueberry pancakes in the microwave.”

Donnie opened the microwave, eagerly grabbing the plate inside.

“You’re a blessing, an angel, a hero.” He grabbed a pancake off the top, and practically inhaled it.

Mikey stuck his tongue out. “Bro, really? At least warm them up! That’s so gross!”

“It’s so efficient,” Donnie cackled, inhaling another cold pancake.

“Out of my kitchen, you non-syrup using fiend.” He threw a wadded up napkin at Donnie’s head. “Take your food crimes and be gone!”

Donnie smiled, patting Mikey on the head in thanks as he left. He flopped down on the sofa, balancing the plate of pancakes on his plastron. Leo was on the sofa as well, and he looked up from his comic and frowned.

“I knew Mikey was hiding more.”

“You ate like twelve,” Raph chimed in from the beanbag on the floor. “We had to cut you off if Donnie was going to have any.”

“You knew?” Leo gasped, setting the comic down. “Betrayal!”

“Don’t be so dramatic, Nardo,” Donnie sighed. “You can have one of mine.”

“Really?” Leo reached for the offering.

“No,” Donnie laughed, and quickly shoved the pancake in his mouth.

Leo immediately tackled him, and Donnie held the plate above his head, out of Leo’s reach.

“Leo! Get off of him!” Raph snapped from the floor. “He’s going to choke!”

And Donnie did have three pancakes in his mouth at this point, desperately trying to eat them all before Leo could.

“Then perish,” Leo growled, taking another swipe at the plate.

Raph got up, seemingly to separate the twins, when an alarm when off on Donnie’s wrist pad. He sat up, shoving Leo away with one hand. He clicked through a few buttons, and frowned. He spat the rest of the pancakes back on the plate.

“Dude, really?” Leo whined.

“Hold on, something’s not right.” He clicked a few more buttons on the wrist pad. It continued to beep, the flashing red symbol lighting up Donnie’s face.

“What’s going on?” Raph asked, lines of worry already appearing on his forehead.

“Something tripped the motion detectors in one of the tunnels leading here.”

“Don’t you have,” Leo twirled a finger in the air as he tried to think of the word. “Some sort of protection built into those tunnels?”

“I have security measures, yes,” Donnie snapped as he tried to bring up more reports on his wrist pad. I have barricades that drop down when a sensor is tripped, but whatever this is-” He looked up as Mikey came into the room, his head tilted in confusion. “It just ripped through the barricade walls.”

“Do we know where it’s coming from?” Raph asked, standing up from the beanbag.

“The south entrance.” Donnie shut the wrist pad down, drawing his spare tech-bo as the rest of his brothers drew their weapons. “It’s moving fast.”

“What are we waiting for, boys?” Leo sang. He twirled one of his ōdachi in his left hand, and gestured toward the south entrance with his right. “Let’s go say hello!”

The four moved in the direction of the tripped sensor, arriving swiftly at the sewer entrance. The skateboard ramp loomed above them as the four brothers held their breath, listening for any signs of an intruder.

“Where’s Dad?” Donnie whispered, leaning towards Raph.

“At Draxum’s. Left a while ago,” Raph whispered back.

“Dad wouldn’t trip any alarms!” Mikey cut in quickly. “He knows where they are.”

Leo raised a finger, presumably to remind his brothers of the multiple times their dad forgot about the motion sensors, but stopped when the lights of the lair flickered off.

“Did we lose power?” Mikey squeaked, pushing himself a little bit closer to Raph.

The back-up generators hummed to life, and the emergency lights bathed the lair in a warm orange glow. The faucet in the kitchen was not turned off all the way, and the drip of water into the sink was the only thing to be heard.

No one spoke.

After a few moments of silence, a loud growl echoed through the lair, coming from the sewer entrance.

“You!” the voice yelled, and Donnie tightened his grip on his tech-bo. “I’ve been looking for you guys for a while!”

And from the shadows, the huge, lumbering form of Big Mama’s hellhound emerged, spikes on full display.

“Gus??” Leo gasped. “How did you get here?”

“I’ve been tracking your scent since your latest stint at the hotel,” Gus snarled, drool dripping from his razor-sharp teeth. “Some ninjas you are. Didn’t even notice that I was following you.” He drew up on two legs, towering over Raph by at least two feet. “She’s gonna be so happy when she finally learns about your little hideout.”

“You’re not going to get the chance to tell her, you mutt!” Raph yelled, drawing his sai’s and charging.

Leo and Mikey quickly followed, with Donnie close behind.

It didn’t make much of a difference.

Gus was pure muscle, in a way that most of the other mutants they crossed paths with weren’t. He lifted a powerful arm and swung, hitting Raph square in the center of his plastron. He flew across the room, slamming into the opposite wall with a thud.

Recognizing that a direct attack wasn’t the best idea, Mikey snapped a chain up to the top of the skateboard ramp, soaring high above Gus’ head. Leo followed in a portal, landing directly beside his younger brother.

Donnie moved to follow, the engines on his battleshell humming as they prepared to lift him in the air.

He didn’t get the chance.

Moving at a speed that didn’t seem possible with his size, Gus slammed into the skateboard ramp, shoulder first. It shattered to pieces that quickly came raining down. Caught off guard, Mikey and Leo fell with it, getting trapped under the wooden debris.

“Guys!” Donnie yelled. Terror was quickly overtaking him, an icy feeling that bloomed from his chest, made it hard to even think. This wasn’t working. Gus was ripping through them all.

He swallowed down his fear, and charged at Gus. Any plans for an airborne attack were immediately discarded. He needed to keep Gus distracted, he needed to give his brothers enough time to recover. He raised his tech-bo, preparing to strike, when Gus exploded from the wreckage, tackling him to the ground with a roar that sent chills down his spine.

Gus pinned Donnie to the ground, his massive paws keeping both of Donnie’s arms immobile at his sides. He roared again, and Donnie flinched when the hot breath of the hellhound hit him in the face.

“I might bring you home to Big Mama myself!” Gus yelled; his teeth pulled up in a hideous grin. Donnie turned his head to the side, desperately looking for any signs of his brothers.

In the distance, he saw Raph get to his feet, shaky and dazed, but alright.

Raph just needed a bit more time, but Donnie’s brain was quickly running out of ways to come up with it.

“I wonder if she’ll mind if I bring you back in pieces.” Gus snarled, and Donnie turned his head back to the beast with a snarl.

“You look angry!” Gus laughed, leaning in closer. “Not scared of getting bit?”

“No,” Donnie snapped. “But you should be!” And with that, Donnie reached up and bit down hard around Gus’s arm.

The hellhound howled in pain, immediately jumping up. He stood on two legs, holding his arm out from his body.

Donnie, mostly due to panic, although there was a good deal of stubbornness involved, did not let go. He dangled three feet in the air, attached to Gus’s arm only by his jaw.

Gus tried shaking his arm back and forth, and Donnie just bit down harder, causing the hound to yell out again.

Which bought Raph all the time he needed.

The snapper barreled back into the fight, his large form made larger by the red Ninpo energy that surrounded him. Raph tucked his head down, and slammed into Gus. Their heads collided with a sharp crack, and Gus dropped as if he was a puppet with cut strings. Donnie let go as well, and they both fell to the floor with a thump.

“Donnie!” Raph yelled, as his Ninpo form faded away. “You alright?”

“I’m-,” he stopped to spit out some hair that was in his mouth. “I’m fine.”

There was a rumble, and Donnie looked to the side to see Mikey and Leo pulling themselves out of the rubble of the destroyed skate ramp.

“You two good?” Raph called, and Mikey immediately responded with a thumbs up.

“No!” Leo yelled. “I’m not!” He stumbled as he tripped over the wreckage, stomping towards Donnie with a snarl on his face. “You!” He jabbed a finger in Donnie’s direction.

“Me?” Donnie scoffed. “What’s the matter with me?”

“I was supposed to be next!”

“Nardo, what on earth are you talking about?”

“I was supposed to be bitten next!” Leo screeched, as Raph exploded into laughter. Mikey quickly scampered off to the kitchen, returning almost immediately with his sketchbook.

“What?” Donnie repeated, his head tilted to the side in confusion.

“Everyone got bit!” Leo continued, holding up a hand to count on his fingers. “Dad got bit when you were little. Mikey got bit in the sewers. Raph got bit last month.” He threw his hands up in the air. “Everyone else is part of the club but me?”

“The club?” Donnie yelled. He turned to Raph. “I thought you were kidding!”

“Nope!” Mikey chimed in. He opened his sketchbook, where the words ‘Bite Club’ took up the page, with pictures of Splinter, Mikey, and Raph decorated the edges. “It’s like Fight Club! Except with biting.”

“You have never seen that movie, Mikey.” Donnie sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face.

“It doesn’t matter!” Leo continued on, getting angrier by the second. “I was supposed to be next to join! And you bit Gus.”

“It’ll be weird having him join our meetings,” Raph hummed in agreement, staring at the unconscious hellhound on the floor.

“You have meetings?” Donnie asked, completely dumbfounded at this point.

“Which I am not allowed to join!” Leo yelled. He pointed a finger in Donnie’s face. “You’ve done this on purpose!”

“Leo-,” Donnie started, raising a hand to push the finger out of his face.

He stopped, considering his next words very carefully.

And then he grabbed Leo’s hand, and bit him.

__________________________

Thank you so much for reading!! I would love to know what you thought. Find this fic on AO3

[dunk-on-em-ao3]

Chomp (Or Three Times Donnie Bit Someone Accidentally, and One Time He Did it on Purpose)

Word Count: 7620 - Complete 

Rating: T

Summary: 

He was a scientist, a scholar, and a ninja above all else. He prided himself on his intellect, and the fact that his mind had saved the lives of his brothers countless times. But he was also a soft-shelled turtle.

And soft-shelled turtles bite.

Link to Read Here!

[dunk-on-em-ao3]

He is sleeping!!!! He is so cozy!!!!! They are brothers!!!!!

Now that i am deep in the trenches of turtle brainrot, did i ever tell tumblr about the time that i saw a four foot tall Michelangelo in the back of a pickup truck so I chased it on foot before the reached the dump

And now i have a four foot tall michelangelo who lives in my basement at the bar

[dunk-on-em-ao3]

I just updated the author’s notes, but Chomp won’t be updated until tomorrow or Wednesday. Work is just destroying me right now lol. 

[dunk-on-em-ao3]

Now that i am deep in the trenches of turtle brainrot, did i ever tell tumblr about the time that i saw a four foot tall Michelangelo in the back of a pickup truck so I chased it on foot before the reached the dump

And now i have a four foot tall michelangelo who lives in my basement at the bar

[dunk-on-em-ao3]

He is working hard :)

Now that i am deep in the trenches of turtle brainrot, did i ever tell tumblr about the time that i saw a four foot tall Michelangelo in the back of a pickup truck so I chased it on foot before the reached the dump

And now i have a four foot tall michelangelo who lives in my basement at the bar

[dunk-on-em-ao3]

Now that i am deep in the trenches of turtle brainrot, did i ever tell tumblr about the time that i saw a four foot tall Michelangelo in the back of a pickup truck so I chased it on foot before the reached the dump

And now i have a four foot tall michelangelo who lives in my basement at the bar

[dunk-on-em-ao3]

Chomp (Or Three Times Donnie Bit Someone Accidentally, and One Time He Did it on Purpose)

The sharp pink tentacles of the Krang ship stabbed through his shell, his body overtaken by a searing pain that ripped a scream from his throat. He was yanked down into the depths of the Krang console, more tentacles coming forth to stab through his shell, his body, his mind.

“Donnie!” he heard someone scream. “Get out!” The voice was warbled, as if it was underwater.

He pried open his eyes, and saw Mikey hovering above him. He was hard to make out, the barely translucent Krang flesh obscuring most of his vision. He saw Mikey reach down, extending a hand for Donnie to grab.

“Give me your hand, Donnie!”

And he tried.

His hands thrashed at his sides, desperately trying to extend upwards, to grab on to his little brother and get out, but to no avail.

A looming figure appeared behind Mikey, unfurling silently into the form of Krang Prime.

“Mikey!” Donnie tried to scream, but a tentacle quickly wrapped itself around his throat.

Krang Prime drew closer, drawing a powerful fist back as it approached.  Donnie pulled against his restraints, all while screaming silently for Mikey to turn around. It got closer, and through the haze, Donnie saw Mikey’s eyes widen in realization when –

_____________________________

Donnie shot up out of bed, standing up and running toward the center of his room before he fully realized what his feet were doing. His plastron was heaving with each panicked breath he took. His eyes darted around the dark room.

There was no one here.

He was home.

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