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crowsandturtlesandbatsohmy · 3 months

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Destinies’ Keeper Snippet

Okay so I said a few days ago that I’d post this, and here it is! Quick rundown: Destinies’ Keeper is my own personal TMNT iteration. Donnie is the oldest, followed by Leo and Raph (twins), and then Mikey is the youngest.

Warnings: Yelling, implied parentification, Donnie has a flight response to raised voices.

• • • • •

“Donnie?”

Donnie looked up from half-heartedly plucking out the melody to Here Comes the Sun on his guitar, left unplugged so as not to disturb anyone. His gaze landed on Mikey, silhouetted in the doorway. When the curtain swept behind him and Donnie could see him clearly, he noticed how much smaller than usual Mikey looked.

His youngest brother had hunched in on himself, his hands held up by his chest as he fidgeted with his fingers. His head had been ducked from the moment Donnie had looked up, and when baby blue eyes flicked up to meet Donnie’s brown they lasted only a second before looking down again.

Donnie shifted his guitar off his lap and set it next to him on his bed. “Hey, ‘Angelo,” he began, tone gentle and encouraging, “what’s up?”

Mikey glanced up yet again, then back down at the cement floor. “Can we talk?” He asked quietly.

Donnie shifted to make room and patted the spot beside him on the bed.

Mikey shuffled his way over and sat down, fingers closing around the edge of the mattress, still not meeting Donnie’s gaze. After a long moment of silence, he spoke. “I’m sorry,” he said, just as quiet as before. His lower lip trembled and wetness shone in his eyes. “I didn’t mean to get you in trouble. I promise! I’m really, really sorry.” His youngest brother looked as though he expected Donnie to yell, to scold him, to tell him to get out and not come back. “Please don’t hate me.” His voice had dropped to a whisper.

Donnie’s heart panged. Losing his temper with Splinter had ruined everything he’d worked so hard for, hadn’t it?

He set a gentle hand on Mikey’s shell. “Hey, look at me?”

Mikey met Donnie’s gaze, still seeming afraid of what he’d find there.

Donnie thumbed away a tear that had spilled over. “I could never hate you, ‘Angelo. It wasn’t your fault. I shouldn’t have gone in the first place.”

Mikey’s eyes widened. “No! No, Dee, that’s not fair!”

“‘Angelo—“

“If Raph ‘n Leo and I can go out you should be allowed too!”

Donnie frowned and tried again. “Mikey—“

“And Dad shouldn’t have yelled at you and you shouldn’t have had to defend yourself and I shouldn’t have called attention to you being gone and—“

“Michelangelo.” Donnie’s long-since-perfected ‘listen-to-me’ big brother voice. Gentle, but firm.

Mikey’s mouth snapped shut.

Donnie sighed and offered a tired smile. “It’s different for me than it is for you and Raph and Leo. I’m the only one of us who has medical knowledge. I shouldn’t have gone wandering off like that. What if one of you got hurt and I wasn’t here to help?”

“But—“

Donnie held up a hand.

Mikey obediently quieted down.

He must really feel bad if he’s listening this well. “Dad was right. I acted irresponsibly, and arguing with him was wrong. You didn’t do anything wrong by asking where I went, and I’m not mad at you.”

Mikey frowned. “That’s not fair,” he repeated.

Donnie shrugged. “Maybe. But on the other hand, I have the coolest little brothers in the world. Why would I risk that just to go for a walk?”

Mikey’s frown deepened. “You weren’t risking us. Da was here and can do all the medical stuff you do.”

“Dad’s busy, Mikey,” Donnie deflected calmly. “He can’t do everything.”

“Neither can you,” Mikey countered.

This is going nowhere.

“Mikey, listen. It’s my job as the oldest to look out for you guys, and I forsook that job today just because I wanted to go for a walk. That’s not okay.”

“How come Leo gets to go for walks? It’s his job as the leader to look out for us too!”

“That’s different. Leo isn’t the oldest.”

“Nuh-uh! Da made Leo responsible for us when he made him leader!”

“In the field. Leo is responsible for you in the field. Here, I’m responsible for all of you.”

“No you aren’t!” Mikey snapped, voice rising to a shout.

Donnie flinched. Just a small one, barely noticeable. All in all he hid it very well.

At once, the anger in Mikey’s eyes faded. “Sorry, Dee,” he said quietly, reaching out to take Donnie’s hand in his. “I didn’t mean to yell.”

“It’s fine.”

Mikey frowned, his ‘we are so talking about this later’ frown, but didn’t argue.

Donnie privately hoped Mikey would forget before later came. His flight response to being yelled at was his to deal with and his alone.

“Dee.”

Donnie snapped back to the present.

Mikey squeezed his hand gently. His gaze was serious as he looked into Donnie’s eyes. More serious than it should ever be. Mikey shouldn’t need to be serious.

Just another thing Donnie had failed at today.

“I don’t know what book I have to get Raph to slam your head into in order for you to understand this, but I’m not afraid to start guessing. So maybe listen so I don’t have to do that, yeah?” Mikey’s lighthearted tone didn’t reach his expression.

Donnie inclined his head to indicate he was listening.

Mikey squeezed his hand again. “You aren’t Da.”

Donnie blinked. “Of course not.”

“No, Dee, listen to me.”

Mikey grabbed Donnie’s other hand. His stare seemed so intense Donnie wondered if Mikey half-hoped to intimidate him into accepting whatever he said next.

“You. Aren’t. Dad.”

“Mikey—“

“I’m not done.” Mikey’s tone was firm even as his voice remained a normal speaking volume.

Donnie closed his mouth. Interrupting was rude. He hated it when his siblings interrupted him.

“Dad is responsible for us when we’re in the lair. Not you. You aren’t Dad, you’re our big brother. And I hate to break it to you, but you’re never gonna be Dad. You’re Dee-Dee.” A pause. Mikey glanced away and his volume dropped as he let go of Donnie’s hands. “I don’t want another Da. I want my Dee-Dee back.”

A confusing mess of feelings slammed into Donnie, all tangled and indiscernible. He couldn’t put a name to any of them, wasn’t even sure he could describe them. The only thing he knew was that his littlest brother needed a hug.

“Mikey?” He said softly.

Mikey turned to look at him.

Donnie held his arms out.

Mikey wasted no time launching himself at Donnie, who just barely had time to brace himself.

“Oof,” he wheezed as Mikey slammed into him. His arms closed loosely around the box turtle, waiting for Mikey’s shifting to stop.

After a moment Mikey had situated himself partially in Donnie’s lap, head tucked under Donnie’s chin, snout buried into Donnie’s neck just above his plastron, arms looped around his shoulders.

Donnie couldn’t suppress an affectionate snort. “Comfortable?” He asked, raising an eyebrow even though Mikey couldn’t see.

“Mhm!” Already Mikey sounded better, even if his hummed response was muffled.

Another amused huff, and Donnie tightened his arms around Mikey, holding him close.

How long had it been since he’d last hugged Mikey like this? The most recent time coming to mind had been a month ago. Surely it couldn’t have been that long?

Mikey turned his head to press the side of it where his snout had been seconds prior, and his arms slipped underneath Donnie’s to wrap around the soft-shell’s middle. “Dee-Dee?”

“Yeah ‘Angelo?”

“Was your walk good?”

Donnie fell silent. He knew what Mikey meant. Had he enjoyed his walk? Was it good for him? Did he wish he could do it again?

The answer was yes. It should be no. Did he lie and say no so Mikey would drop the subject? Or did he tell the truth and face Mikey’s badgering about taking time to go for a walk more often?

Mikey poked him in the side. “You’re doing the spinning-wheel-of-death thing.”

Donnie sighed. Held Mikey a little tighter. “Yeah,” he answered at last. “It was good. I went to see April.”

“What’d you do?”

“I helped her with homework for an hour. She had early dinner because she has a volleyball game tonight, so I couldn’t stay any longer.”

“But you were out for two hours and April’s house is only fifteen minutes away. What’d you do the other thirty minutes?”

Another pause. “I watched the sunset. I hadn’t seen one in so long… and the roof was warm. I like being warm.”

“That sounds nice.”

“Yeah.” Donnie chuckled half-heartedly. “It was.”

Mikey squeezed Donnie a little tighter. When he spoke again his voice was quieter. “Can I come with you next time?”

Donnie didn’t bother reminding Mikey there wouldn’t be a next time. “I’d like that.”

#crow’s scribbles #tmnt #destinies’ keeper #tmnt donatello #tmnt michelangelo #tmnt donnie #tmnt mikey #pb&j duo

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crowsandturtlesandbatsohmy · 4 months

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ROTTMNT Bad Future

so uh, I had an idea today about how I imagine future Donnie went out. This isn’t the whole story btw, just what I would consider the first chapter.

Warnings: Undisclosed illness, blood, mentions of death, self-worth issues, quarantine, Leo deals with problems by ignoring them, mentions of Leo and Raph arguing. If there are any I missed please let me know!

—————————————————- Everything ached. A shudder ran throughout his body. He went to sigh and wheezed instead. A hacking cough forced him to sit up, blankets falling away and leaving him even colder than he already was.

Red. Drop, drop, drop.

A slow breath, then. In and out.

What was that buzzing?

He swung his legs over the side of his cot and got up on shaky feet. He leaned against the wall as he staggered along towards his chair.

Oh. The buzzer. That was what woke him.

The buzzer.

Clarity.

He launched himself away from the wall, lurched across the room, tripped, and caught himself against the abnormally-sturdy glass door, trying to catch his breath whiteout inhaling too deep.

Everything ached.

Mikey stared back at him from the other side, eyes wide and concerned.

“Dee… you have blood on your chin.”

Donnie grunted and wiped it away with one hand. Breath after breath. A wheeze, another hacking cough, and then he lifted his head to meet Mikey’s gaze. He pressed the button to talk.

“…G’morning—“ another wheeze. He dropped his volume, drew shallower breaths. “…’morning Angelo. Status report?”

Mikey hesitated. “Donnie—“

“Status report, Michael.” Too loud. Hurt. Cough, cough—stop—more coughing— hurtstoomuchstopit— finally a break. Finally air, finally he could breathe.

He met Mikey’s gaze again. Fixed him with an “I’m older than you, do as I say” look. A look that had gotten so much practice since the invasion. Since everything went wrong. And even more since he got sick. Stupid, stupid, stupid stupid stupid dumb-dumb-Donnie with your dumb-dumbness getting yourself sick—

“Donnie!”

Donnie’s attention snapped back to Mikey.

Oh. Oh no. The ‘kicked-puppy-meets-Dr.Feelings’ expression, as April called it.

He looked away. “Report?” He pleaded in a whisper.

A beat of silence. Static, then, “April isn’t getting any better.”

Donnie slammed a fist into the wall with a grunt.

Mikey didn’t even flinch. Instead he looked for all the world like he wanted nothing more than to pull Donnie into a hug and not let go for a long while.

Donnie ignored it. Shoved the thought to the back of his mind.

April.

She’d been caught in the trap meant for him, had the same illness he did.

I should have known. It’s my job to know.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

He met Mikey’s gaze again.

“Donnie. Don’t blame yourself.”

Donnie scoffed. Bad decision. He squeezed his eyes shut against the wave of pain and nausea, opened them when it passed.

“It’s not your fault.”

“The trap was meant for me, Michael,” he said quietly. “And I can’t fix it. I’m the science guy. I have to fix this and I can’t. I’m useless—”

“DONALD!”

Donnie’s mouth snapped shut and he looked up at Mikey again.

“April doesn’t blame you. Casey doesn’t blame you. Leo doesn’t blame you. I don’t blame you. The only one blaming you is you, so knock it off before I razzmatazz your shell.”

Donnie snorted at that, deciding against pointing out that Mikey couldn’t get near him without exposing himself. For Mikey’s sake of course, and so they didn’t argue longer. Not because the reminder was painful. He was an emotionless bad-boy after all, and isolation was a bad-boy’s dream.

“Casey Junior?” He asked instead.

“Leo’s keeping him busy, or else he’d come visit more. I’m talking to Leo about it today. Casey needs more time.”

Casey needs more time with you and April before you go. Donnie could extrapolate. He knew what Mikey really meant.

“Appreciated. He has been reluctant to leave and I dislike having to be the ‘bad uncle’ and send him away.”

I need more time with him too.

Mikey understood. Mikey could extrapolate too. He offered Donnie a sad smile.

“And ‘Nardo?” Donnie asked after a moment.

Mikey frowned and looked away. “He’s… taking it hard, Dee. He’s losing you and April all at once.” A pause. “He hardly lets Casey out of his sight, unless it’s to see you.”

Donnie’s heart sunk. “He’s mad.” The words were bitter.

“He’s scared,” Mikey corrected gently. “He doesn’t know how to handle this, so he’s ignoring it. If he comes to see you, that makes it real and he has to deal with it.” Another pause. “I’m talking to him about that too.”

Donnie snorted. “No rest for Dr. Feelings, huh?”

Mikey smiled again, weary beyond his years, but said nothing. A brief pause, and then he shrugged. “That’s my report.”

Another pause. Donnie frowned.

“‘Angelo?” Donnie’s voice was quiet.

“Yeah Dee?” Tension in every line of his body. Forced cheer. ‘Everything-is-fine-because-I-have-to-be-fine’. The same tactic he used when Raph and Leo argued.

“You forgot yourself.”

“Oh.” Mikey’s smile dropped.

Silence.

A long moment. Then another. A sniffle. At last Mikey met his gaze, placed a hand to the glass as though maybe, just maybe, he could reach through it and get to Donnie.

“‘M scared, Donald.”

The same words he used to say when the arguing reached its height for the day, back when they were still kids living in the sewers and Leo had been recently promoted. The arguing had gone on as they grew up and faced the apocalypse, but Mikey had become numb to it. Just like Donnie.

But Mikey didn’t need Donnie right now. He needed Donald.

“I know, Angelo,” he replied quietly. The same soft voice he’d learned for Mikey’s sake back then and later adapted for a very very— two very’s— small Casey Junior. A beat of silence passed. He drew a shaky breath, set his hand over Mikey’s on the glass.

Palm to glass to palm. “I’m scared too.”

“What am I going to do without you?” Mikey whispered, still not meeting Donnie’s gaze.

Donnie didn’t know what to say. Neither did Donald. “You’ll keep fighting. And you’ll look after Leo and Casey Junior, like you always do.” Logic. Facts. Donnie or Donald? Donnie couldn’t tell anymore.

“I need you.” Mikey looked up at last. “I can’t do this alone.”

His heart, the one he always claimed he didn’t have, felt like another big chunk had been ripped away. He’d lost a sizable piece when Raph died. Another with Splinter. A smaller one with Draxum. Even Casey, the first of their small family to fall, took a chunk with her. How much did he have left?

It didn’t matter. He wouldn’t need it for much longer anyway. He had a week, maybe two at best.

What did matter was that Angelo needed him. Needed Donald.

“I’m sorry,” was all he could think to say.

Mikey glared at him, eyes wet with unshed tears. “Stop blaming yourself. I told you, it’s not your fault.”

“No, Angelo, listen to me.”

Silence.

Donnie continued. “I’m not apologizing for getting sick, though I have every right to do so—“ he trailed off as Mikey’s expression shifted into something vaguely reminiscent of an aged Dr. Delicate Touch. “Not my point. Sigh.” He paused and drew a breath. “Apologies. This is… hard.”

Mikey waited. He always did when it really mattered.

“I am apologizing for leaving you. I am breaking my promise. And I am apologizing because I do not know what else to say.”

Mikey’s gaze softened. “I don’t blame you for the promise either. I know you wouldn’t be breaking it if you could help it.”

Another long silence.

“Donald?”

“Angelo?”

“It’s your turn.”

“Hm?”

“Status report.”

Donnie huffed a chuckle, only to regret it when another wheeze followed.

“I’m coughing up blood, experiencing bouts of nausea, and I have one week left to live, perhaps two if I am lucky.”

“I know that. That’s not what I’m asking and you know it.”

“Those are the facts, Michael. I am sick and dying and I am going to live out my final days in quarantine.”

“There it is.”

Donnie raised an eyebrow. “Hm?”

“You admitted it.”

“What?”

“That being quarantined is bothering you.” Mikey shifted to sit on the floor, back to the glass. “I know you, Donald. You’ve been trying to pretend that being locked up isn’t a problem, but I can tell.”

Donnie fell silent as he moved to sit on the floor, back pressed over where Mikey’s shell should be.

Cold. Flat. Solid. Not at all like Mikey’s shell, especially not now that he had his cloak on every time Donnie saw him.

Not Mikey. Glass. Because he was highly contagious and could kill Mikey by breathing.

A shudder ran through him, brought on by a tangle of emotions he doubted even Dr. Feelings himself could help him place.

He wanted a hug. Warm and too tight and too long and too close.

Another shudder ran through him. Cold, aching, blood on his hands, nausea coming and going in waves.

Mostly cold. Shivers passed under the shudders.

Yeah. A hug sounded great right about now.

“Donnie?”

Donnie glanced over his shoulder.

“Does whatever this is affect ninpo?”

Donnie turned away. “Michael, no.”

“I’m serious, Donnie!”

“You don’t know how much lifespan you have left!”

“I know how much you do!”

“You can’t afford to use your ninpo for things like this—“

“Like what?” Mikey challenged. “Like giving my dying brother a hug when he clearly needs one?”

“It’s not worth it Michael.”

“You don’t get to make that call.” Mikey got to his feet. His spots started to glow.

“Michael I forbid you—“

A golden projection of Mikey stood before him in the quarantined room. It grabbed him by the wrist and yanked him to his feet, then pulled him into a tight hug.

Donnie didn’t react. Couldn’t. This was bad. “Mikey—“

“Shut up and hug me, Donald.” His voice trembled, like he was about to cry.

That couldn’t happen. Stupid dumb-dumb little brothers and their dumb-dumb guilt-tripping big brother instincts activation.

He wrapped his arms around Mikey, buried his snout in the crook of Mikey’s neck. Found himself holding onto Mikey like a lifeline, unable to let go.

Mikey held on just as tight, his head buried in the crook of Donnie’s own neck.

“For the record,” Mikey mumbled without moving his head, “you’ll always be worth it, Donnie.”

Something wet on Donnie’s face, trailing down his snout, landing on Mikey. But then again, Mikey’s face was wet too.

Warm. Too tight. Too long. Too close. Just like always.

Mikey was scared. So was Donnie. But for now it didn’t matter. For now, they had each other. Just like always.

Mikey and Donnie. Mystic Warrior and Lead Scientist. Heart and Head. Art and Smarts. Orange and Purple. Peanut Butter and Jelly.

Angelo and Donald.

No matter what our dumb-dumb brothers do, I will not leave you.

Promise?

Well, theoretically in battle situations—

Donnie.

Sigh. Yes, ‘Angelo. I promise.

—————————————————-

Basically it boils down to, what if in his final days, Donnie the turtle who is the most touch-averse, was denied the ability to be in physical contact with anyone. Would he grow touch-starved?

I think he would. Donnie may say he doesn’t like touch, but his interactions with his brothers in the show tell us otherwise. I think he just prefers for it to be on his terms (which I totally get).

Anyways. Here’s my little Bad Future Timeline take. I already have Headcannons for it that I’d love to talk about so feel free to ask questions if you have any.

#rottmnt #rottmnt donnie #rottmnt mikey #future rottmnt #future donnie #future donatello #pb&j duo #smarts and crafts #bad future rottmnt #bad future donnie #tw mentions of death #read the warnings #fanfic #crow’s scribbles #crow’s cawing #tmnt #future mikey #future michelangelo #tw illness

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