#donnie is just perf | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hijinxensues · 2 years

Text

The Cloaking Brooch Dilemma - Part 11

RotTMNT Donatello x OC!AFAB

Synopsis: Donatello considered himself, nay, deemed himself the greatest mind of his generation. He was known for his skills as a scientist, inventor, engineer and was a technological genius. Dare he throw in that he was a damn good brother and held the title of being ¼th ‘Protector of New York City’.

He could barely fathom that he didn’t piece together that the pretty barista he was falling for was simultaneously his gaming buddy (might I add, for the last eight years) and was working for Big Mama.

At this very moment, Donatello was sure of two things in his life. One of them being his life was a joke and the second being that he was fraternizing with the enemy.

All because he decided to run errands whilst donning his cloaking brooch.

Warnings: Aged-Up turtles, fluff, Half-Yokai OC, AFAB OC (does use she/her/they pronouns in writing), swearing

FIRST

Ch 11 – Iris

“Perf, pick me up at 6pm.” Violet leans against the door frame, one hand on the doorknob.

“That is amenable. It’s a date.” Donatello nods and pulls at his sleeves to adjust them, there were too many seams touching his skin.

“It’s a date! Bye, Donnie!” She waves at him then closes the door behind her leaving him staring at the paint chipped door.

“Angelo, there was nothing out of ordinary within the interaction, I insist.” Recalling the very last moments with Violet before being very rudely interrupted, all I’s were dotted and all T’s were crossed. Donatello knew Violet like the back of his hand. The way she tugged on a strand of hair near her face when she was nervous, the way she scowled when gave her attitude, there was a certain guffaw she did that was reserved only for Usagi’s memes- Donatello knew there was not a single thing out of place during that interaction. Not an eyebrow raise, a twitch of a finger or tilt of her head to indicate anything out of place when he said the dreaded phase that’s gotten Michelangelo up in arms.

“You can’t seriously believe that Dee! You asked her out! Like on a date.” The orange terrapin sat in a rolling chair across from him using it to spin in circles.

Donatello sighs, “Yes, a date. A hang out, an outing, an activity, to fraternize, to ‘kill time’, to socialize- Mikey, there are many different names that are associated with ‘a date’. I merely asked my friend to go to Albearto’s with me, to spend time together. There isn’t a need to read into this as deeply as you have.”

“Wait, is this the same ‘friend’ you were feeling guilty over? I knew you had a crush on them! Have you told them the truth?”

“I do not have a ‘crush’, I’m not a prepubescent turtle. I was in the middle of the reveal but then I was rudely interrupted!” He glares at his brother who shrugs sheepishly “I’m sorry! We really needed you; it was an emergency!”

“Michael, I say this with the utmost confidence that Raph getting his whole fist stuck in his mouth was something that you and Leo could have dealt with on your own.”

“You say that but you were also the one to get his fist unstuck. And we were trying! Really trying! For like, fifteen minutes.” Michelangelo whined then turned into jelly bones in the chair, “Sorry, Dee.”

Donatello waves his hand and furrows his brow, “It’s okay, Angelo. I’ll get another chance at it.”

Michelangelo nods with a smile, “You could always text them now just to get it over with, but I think it’d probably be best in person. It’s kind of a big reveal, yenno?” Donatello nods in agreeance before reaching for a small remote inside a desk drawer.

Michelangelo’s eyes sparkled as he perked up in his seat, “Hell yeah, baby! Fashion show!”

A bookshelf rotated to reveal a seemingly empty large room. Donatello pushes a button on his remote and the floor opens to reveal a stage which emerges from the floor with a metallic pole in the middle that connected itself into the ceiling. The stage is accompanied by multiple revolving clothes rack controlled by a remote. The lights for the stage and clothing rack automatically turn on to provide optimal lighting for impromptu fashion shows.

“Alright, Dee, let’s see what we’re working with!”

Donatello struts up to his stage and reaches for the stripper pole in the middle before swinging himself around, one foot perched and one hand holding on, “We’re playing it casual and comfortable!”

“Boo! Boring! What about this?”

“Fashion is cyclical and while the shoulder landing pads are most definitely in at the very moment, I’m not going as new and improved Dynamite Don.”

“Valid, it’s a bit busy for Albeartos, even though the original Dynamite Don outfit was debuted there. Ok, ok, this?”

Golden flare bell bottoms with a purple floral-patterned shirt, tucked in with the first three buttons undone. Donatello struck a pose, akin to a disco dancer and nodded his head downwards so his shades covered his eyes. “Great choice, I do look fabulous in florals- but not what we’re going for. Maybe a roller-skating slash disco themed date?” He rips the outfit off himself and holds a new top and a bottom on his person, “What about this?”

“So, it is a date?” Michelangelo waggles his brows at him completely ignoring his follow up question.

Donatello pinches the bridge of his nose, “Angelo, ‘a date’ can mean many things as I said earlier. This is closer to a social interaction and gathering of two individuals than a romantic endeavor.” Donatello turns to face himself in the mirror holding up the next outfit choice, a collared shirt paired with a purple pullover sweater and slacks. He struck a pose and shook his head, “Too formal.” He put the fit to the side to hang up later.

“Google would say otherwise.”

“I doubt Google would have anything to say about my exemplary wardrobe.”

His younger brother clears his throat and begins to recite off his phone, “‘What is a date?’, the first answer doesn’t count because it’s ‘the day of the month or year as specified by a number’ but the second result on Google is ‘a social or romantic appointment or engagement.’” Michelangelo puts heavy emphasis on the word ‘romantic’ then turns the phone around so Donatello can read the words himself.

Donatello stumbles over his feet in a dash to get to his younger brother and snatches the phone out of his hand. His eyes scan the Google results page rapidly as his thumb scrolls down the page.

Dating is a stage of romantic relationships in which two individuals engage in an activity together, most often with the intention of evaluating each other's suitability as a partner in a future intimate relationship. It falls into the category of courtship, consisting of social events carried out by the couple either alone or with others.

go out with (someone in whom one is romantically or sexually interested)

Dating is fun and physical intimacy is definitely achievable during those kinds of casual relationships, however in a certified relationship, it is easier to maintain physical and emotional intimacy.

A date is where two people get together to get to know each other, to see if they’re compatible, often with the hopes of getting into a romantic-sexual relationship with each other.

Donatello’s brain goes full blue screen.

Donnie.exe no longer functioning.

“Uh….Dee? Are you feeling ok?” Michelangelo approaches his brother slowly, his hand gripping the phone so tight he was surprised it didn’t snap in half. Donatellos form hunched over and staring intently as his eye followed the text on the screen over and over again.

“Perchance is Dr.Feelings available for an appointment?”

Donatello is sitting stiff as a board in front of a projector that materializes suddenly in the lab. His younger brother suddenly in round frame glasses (they reminded him of Violet, but what didn’t remind him of her these days?) and a mustard-colored turtleneck, he stands next to the projector, the screen reading: ‘Dating for Dum-Dum Turtles 101’.

“Can we skip to the chapter about lying about your physical appearance due to a mystic artifact?”

“Nope! But there’s an easy answer to that and you already know it, which is…” the smaller turtles points to him to finish the answer.

‘To….ignore them for as long as I breathe so I never have to admit that I’ve made a mistake in regards to not being forthcoming about who I am physically because I’m deeply insecure about not only what I look like as a mutant, but also about who I am personally because what if she’s disappointed upon finding out who I am.’

“To tell them the truth.” Donatello settled on this for his answer. Michelangelo nods encouragingly, “Exactly! Didn’t you say your friend already knew everything about you except your physical appearance? I get that it’s scary, especially after all this time, but I’m sure she’ll love you the way you are!”

His heart jumps at the choice words Michelangelo uses, love, has he ever loved anyone that wasn’t family or considered family? Did he even know what that felt like? How is an emotion as visceral as that quantified when everyone had a different meaning for it? He tucked those questions very far away under some mind cabinets to maybe unpack with Dr.Feelings at a different time.

Donatello played it cool and shrugs, looking over his cuticles, “Thanks Angelo, can we move on to ‘Dating for Dum-Dums’?”

Nodding, he changes the slide again, “What I originally wanted to ask was, did you want to take her on a date?”

It’s not that he was adverse by the idea of…. potentially exploring romantic advances toward Violet, it just didn’t seem morally just given the circumstances. Ironically, he was the most morally ambiguous amongst his brothers regarding most things, but Donatello was a generally honest person. He was also aware that starting romantic relations with them while not being forthright was very problematic. April always said he was horrible at lying but here he was, head barely over the water line, drowning in his so-called ‘little white lie’.

Did Violet think he was taking her on a romantic escapade? He’d be offended if that is, in fact, what she thought. He had such better taste than a first date at Albearto’s.

Donatello chewed at his bottom lip, “No, I don’t want to take her on a date.” Speaking it out loud felt like a lie.

“Okay, so you don’t have feelings for her?”

“….No…?”

Michelangelo facepalms and sighs, “Okay. I’m not going to meddle with that big brain of yours because I know what you’re like when you’re in denial and there probably isn’t anything I can say to change your mind.”

“Denial!?” his hands grip the side of the armchair he’s in. Donatello Hamato was not in denial.

Dr.Feelings pulls at the bottom of the projector screen and lets go letting the screen roll up and into itself and the set up magically disappears. “I know you don’t like being under prepared and whether you want to recognize this is a romantic-date or not is on you, but what I suggest is that you get her flowers! That way you’re prepared for any circumstance! If anything, she’ll perceive it as a nice gesture from a friend.”

Were ‘friend bouquets’ a real concept? There were instances where friends would send each other flowers, but normally for special occasions.

“You are right, I do like being prepared for any and all circumstances.” He mused thoughtfully, he could take a visit to his greenhouse and pick out a personalized arrangement just for them.

“Perfect, I’ll pick out your outfit for tonight and you go make an arrangement for her. You need to leave,” Michelangelo looks at his empty wrist, “in an hour.”

Donatello bolts out of the lab to leave Michael with his selection of fine clothing for any occasion. The doors to his greenhouse were attached to his lab, the doors making a whoosh sound as they open then closed behind him once he fully entered.

The greenhouse was Donatello’s safe space, his brothers knew not to come in here (unless explicitly invited) and he often lost himself in tilling and pruning when he needed a moment away. He didn’t use the space for fresh produce and mostly focused on flowers, shrubs, and fruit trees.

He took a gander checking the temperatures for the day, adjusted a few and moved around a few grow lights to optimize space and growth for a few of his lemon trees before moving onto rows and rows of flowers organized by annual versus perennials, where they were in growth, hybrids (flowers he’d grafted together) size and temperature needed to thrive.

Picking up shears he gravitated towards the Asters, a perennial flowering plants in the family Asteraceae. He gently thumbed over the thin purple petals and cut a few of the stems at an angle before setting them aside. Dainty blue flowers catch his eye next, Forget-Me-Not’s, genus of flowering plants in the family Boraginaceae, he takes extra care into handling and setting them down the flower so much smaller than his hands. Followed up with a larger white petaled flower with a yellow centre, Gardenias, genus of flowering plants in the coffee family, Rubiaceae. Flower language could vary widely, but he knew the most common iterations of it for most, if not all, of the specimens he carried in the greenhouse.

Asters, love and patience.

Forget-Me-Nots, fidelity and loyalty in a relationship, despite challenges. (He pretends to not know that the classic tiny blue flower also represented ‘growing affection between two people’.)

Gardenias, Trust, respect and clarity. (He also pretends to not know that the alternative meaning is ‘secret crush’. He has his emotionally unavailable bad boy image to uphold.)

He barely had to think about the flowers he wanted in the arrangement. Donatello added in a few leafy steams to fill it out, placed it perfectly in the middle of a brown papered square, bundled it then tied it off with a purple ribbon. He holds the bouquet at an arms length and gingerly inspects his work looking for imperfections- the bouquet had to be perfect. It wasn’t the prettiest arrangement he’s put together given the variance in shapes and colors, but it would have to do. What did April tell him? It’s the thought that counts? He nods as he recounts the memory, he liked being calculated. He brings the flowers to his chest careful to not squish any and makes his way out of the greenhouse.

“Donnie! I thought you’d gotten lost,” his little brother jokes and lays out an outfit on the desk, “Here, you have to dress for the occasion.”

Donatello sets the arrangement down on a chair and rubs the fabric of the button down between his fingers, “Thank you Mikey, I shan’t ruin tonight!”

There’s a hand on his wrist to halt him as he picks up the button down, “You know, I think you owe me, Dee. I’ve been helping you out with this mystery person….and I think I deserve to know my new best friends name that I have yet to meet, but will be meeting soon.”

Donatello rolls his eyes; he supposed his brother did deserve to know. “Violet.”

“Violet,” Michelangelo softly repeats, “Oooo, I can’t wait to meet her! Dee, you gotta bring them around when you’ve told her the truth!” He claps excitedly and throws himself onto his older brother to engulf him in a hug, “I’m so glad you found someone.”

Donatello chokes on his spit in the most inelegant way, “Mikey, she’s just a friend.” He shrugs him off and puts his focus towards the clothes laid out in front of him as his younger brother giggles around him.

“A ‘just a friend’ that you made a personalized bouquet for?” He wiggled his brows suggestively. The purple terrapins’ cheeks glow, “You’ve been banned from the lab starting now.” Mechanical arms pop out of his battle shell to hoist him up and carry him towards the door.

“Have fun on your date, I’ll keep Raph busy, hurry up and sneak through the garage,” his voice sounds far away before he yells out, “Love you, Dee!” The mechanical doors whoosh shut and Donatello makes quick work of clipping the brooch on, getting dressed in slacks, a button down (the top three buttons undone to be scandalous, a tip he learned from Warren Stone) and a coat. He does a double take at his mask, wraps and tech bo before shrugging, ‘they’ll be safe in the lab’, he didn’t need them tonight.

He checks the clock, ‘perfect timing’, and hustles towards the garage and zips away before anyone can notice.

He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, the sensation no longer unfamiliar considering how often he was in his brooch form. Given all the video chats and in person time he has with Violet, he’d argue that he actively wore his brooch around fifty percent of the time. He’s never gotten so much use out of the mystic artifact.

The car slows to a step as he parks next to the curb in front of her apartment. Anxiety crept up his spine and made itself home in his throat.

Inhale, exhale.

He steadied his breathing then squeezed his fists together tightly to help ground him. There was barely a reason to be nervous, even though he had yet to decide if he was going with tonights ‘date’. Donatello’s stares at the flowers gently set down with car in the passenger seat. He could just put them in the trunk and forget about them, pretend they didn’t exist.

He sighs, that didn’t feel right.

He checks the digital clock in the car, T-minus three minutes to pick up. He had three minutes to decide where he was going with this. Frustration threatens to boil over as he smacks the steering wheel, “Okay, if she doesn’t ask, it’s not a date- easy! We will be just two people ‘hanging out’.”

“But if she does ask…..pull over, do the reveal? And then say yes?”

He tapped into his tech gauntlet and ran his Genuis Built, trademark pending, dialogue simulator, typed into it and waited for the results. The gauntlet glows purple and holographic results begin to filter through for every possible way the conversation could go.

Donatello scowls as he reaches the end of the page, it was a 50/50 chance that Violet would get upset about him omitting the truth, the alternate being she wouldn’t be upset at all, albeit surprised. That didn’t help him at all! That gave him even less to work with given the percentage chance of them getting mad, and never forgiving him effectively erasing her from his life. It could swing either way and it was too risky to do the reveal now before Albeartos. Pulling down the visor in the front seat he fluffs his hair out with a hand then gives himself a once over in the small mirror.

He steels himself, cursing under his breath he presses the ‘call’ button to alert Violet of his presence. It goes to voicemail and he pockets the phone. Donatello exits the vehicle with bouquet in hand and leans against the passenger door facing the apartment building.

The tight feeling in his chest returns tenfold but he doesn’t have time to log it on his spreadsheet before Violet flounces downstairs, a bounce to her step as she nears him. She looked as close to perfection as humanly possible. Violet stops in front of him, her hands clasped behind her back as she rocks on the balls of her feet, “Lookit you, wow!” she tucks a few stray hairs behind her ear, the same thing she did when she first met him at the coffee shop, “You look amazing, Don. Maybe a bit over dressed for an amusement park?” She winks then giggles with a doe eyed look. Her pupils dilate as she holds his eye contact, a physical tell of the oxytocin and dopamine, the ‘love hormones’, running through her system. The disguised turtle is stunned into silence at his friends flushed cheeks and pushes the bouquet into her hands. He catalogues the way her face is framed by flowers he picked for her and squirrels it away to look at later.

‘Say something. Anything!’

“Michael insisted I dress for the occasion.”

‘Oh gods, anything but that!’

Donatello catches a slight quirk to her brow out of curiosity then rapidly bends at the waist hiding a wince, “After you!” He felt like he was going to combust. If he wasn’t careful steam would go flying out of his ears and nose at his own blunder.

“So, ‘for the occasion’, huh?” Violet has a leading tone to her voice but avoids his gaze. The bouquet resting on its rightful owners’ lap as she fingers the ribbon holding the arrangement together. He almost misses the way she tugs on a lock of hair as he pulls the seatbelt taut over himself.

This was it. He was never so unprepared in his entire life; he would like to think he was better than this but the way his mind went blank as everything around him constricted said otherwise. Donatello set his mouth in a thin line and started to slow the car down to park it, he would tell her now even if he wasn’t ready to lose his best friend.

“Just kidding! I know we’re just going as friends, relax.”

“Right!” he chimes in mechanically, “You and me? A couple?” a forced laugh rips from his throat, “What a laughable notion.” Saving face never hurt so bad before.

Perfect. Having Violet confirm they were only friends took the pressure off him immensely. This is exactly what he wanted, so why was it so hard for him to breath. He even admitted to Mikey that he didn’t want to go on a date with them. He felt his tech gauntlet vibrate against his arm, most likely to tell him he’s lightheaded and to take his blood pressure.

“That’s me, a joker! Super hilarious.” Violet says steadily, keeping herself occupied as she looks out the window.

Deep breaths, nothing could possibly go wrong after this. Everything was sorted (mostly) and tonight would be like any other time he’d been with Violet. It would be easy smiles and banter the rest of the night.

Donatello reaches for the volume button on the dashboard and turns the volume up slightly, the silence in the car beginning to feel like suffocation.

“Gigachad Theme – Phonk House Version? Exquisite taste, good sir.” Violet remarks playfully. The thrum of the bass washes over them both, it was an instrumental piece he often put on in the background when tinkering and even had it on ambiently while playing Minecraft.

“I’m not a fan of the song title being ‘Gigachad’ but it is a groovy beat. The beat is addictive.”

“Don’t tell me you’ve had a nightcore phase.��

“I’ll keep my mouth shut then.”

She laughs, and Donatello loosens the grip on the steering wheel for the first time since he’s started driving. He turns his head to smile at his companion, relieved at the mood turning around. Violet averts her gaze quickly as the traffic light turns green and he starts driving again. The knot in his stomach was slowly leaving him the closer he got to Albeartos.

“I’m a musical theatre connoisseur.” He pitches to bring back the conversation.

“You? Donatello ‘knows all the words to Hamilton’ Hamato? Who would’ve thought.” Violet jokes as he pulls into a parking spot. Donatello hurriedly steps out of the car to open the door for her and as he reaches for the handle, she lets herself out of the vehicle. “It’s not a date, Don. No need to play the part.” The pat on his shoulder burns like rejection and all he can do is nod as he follows her to the entrance to Albeartos.

“Okay, well where do we start?” Violet twirls, her hair whipping around her face, she adjusts her curly hair, so they don’t get stuck on her glasses frames. This was going to be the best not-date he’d ever taken anyone on. Violet’s friends would be so jealous to hear about it afterwards.

“Based on our previous conversation, you’re the one who seems to love amusement parks. I figured this would be best suited for your discretion!” he folds at the waist and outstretches his arm in grandeur, as if to offer the whole park to her. He banishes the thought of offering the world on a silver platter to her if she’d only ask.

“Letting me take the wheel, huh? Alright! Rides first!” Violets hands nearly brush against his palms before wrapping around his wrist to pull him along.

There was a system to the madness, his Violet was so clever, they started off with the most intense rides, only taking small breaks in between for some sips of water to avoid any ‘TummyTello’ incidents. He begrudgingly had to indulge her in a less exaggerated ‘TummyTello’ story to get her off his back about needing smaller breaks in between rides as his stomach was doing somersaults in between the low gravity and merely glancing at his friend (more data for the spreadsheet). Donatello didn’t have much of a sweet tooth but did indulge in sharing some popcorn in line, their fingers brushing against each other occasionally sending a shock to his senses. Violet catches herself on the bars after one of the more extreme coasters, her cheeks flushed, and the sound of her laugh causes him to break into a grin himself as he watches her adjust her glasses before reaching for him to ground herself as she leaves the steel bars.

He stares at Violet fondly and adjusts her grip to his bicep to keep moving, “Are the animatronics ruining it for you yet?”

Violet shakes her head before giving his bicep a light squeeze, “Nah, the animatronics I guess give the park a bit of flare. I think it’s time for some churros though! You promised.”

Donatello’s eyes catch something off in the distance on a coaster across the way. He glances at Violet to ensure she isn’t paying attention and turns back around to look harder at the coaster, squinting his eyes. He wished he had his goggles with him to see farther away. Holding in a groan he recognizes the mechanical bug wings and flat top fade. It was the fake Youtuber and wannabe Twitch streamer, Baxter Stockboy, online alias Stockboii. Whatever he’s up to, it isn’t good.

Turning his attention back to Violet, he moves slightly to obscure her vision, “Churros! That’s right, absolutely. I’ll go get them for us!”

“Sure thing, bud. You alright?”

“Yes! I am simply ecstatic to retrieve a churro. The churro I promised to get you.” Hands on her shoulders, he spins her around and gently pushes her in the opposite direction, “You’ll have to wait all the way over here though, okay?” he gives her a pat, pat and then a firm squeeze to her shoulders, “And face this way! There’s a lovely view of the pier!” risking a glance he notices Baxter attach himself to the tracks, “I’ll be right back!”

Violet tries to turn her head to face him and, in an effort, to stop her from catching on, his hands find both sides of her head and rights her to look forward. Donatello’s face is dangerously close to hers, the smell of vanilla clouding his senses as he lowers his voice, “You don’t want to miss the pretty lights at the pier, right?”

She stiffens as her breath catches in her throat and nods.

Spirits, he’d do that to her forever if it meant getting that reaction.

Donatello takes a few walking steps while watching over his shoulder to ensure Violet doesn’t turn around, then moves into a light jog and starts scanning the area for a bathroom or a booth to hide behind.

‘Bathroom, bathroom, bathroom, c’mon….bathroom!’

“Yes!” he exclaims and makes a dive to reach the door before someone else does, “Occupado!” Donatello slams the door in front of the next person in line, “My sincerest apologies! I’d recommend using a different bathroom.” He listens to the disgruntled person slam on the door and take their leave.

All he needed was ten minutes to sort this and get back to Violet.

7:00pm, Grimacing at the tiles of the public bathroom he delicately strips out of his slack being very careful to ensure none of it touches the floor. He hangs them over a stall door and makes quick work out of his button up before hanging it over the door as well leaving him in his compression shorts and socks and shoes. Pulling his feet out he takes his socks off and steps on his shoes before taking the brooch off.

Reprimanding himself for being grossly underprepared for something like this to happen as he was sans mask, goggles, wrappings and tech-bo currently, but not for long as he uses his gauntlet to summon his battle shell. He luckily had back ups stored in something akin to safe houses around New York for emergencies. He shoves the brooch in his pants pocket and steps outside the bathroom, luckily no one is outside. By some miracle he finds a spare ‘closed for maintenance’ sign nearby and he sticks it on the door.

Hearing the telltale whir of his battle shell, he leaps up in the air as it attaches itself to his soft shell. A spare tech-bo sprouts out of a smaller compartment along with a mask with already drawn on brows.

7:03pm, opening his tech gauntlet he goes through his contacts as he makes his way towards the coaster. The first five people that pop up are his brothers and April, he decides against this, he didn’t have time to entertain or create a congruent story, even with Mikeys help, to why he was here ‘by himself’. He scrolls further down quickly to the Joneses’ and rings Junior instead.

“Pick up, pick up.”

“Donatello?”

“Junior!” the relief he feels when he picks up on the first ring is almost enough to forget the stress he’s under.

“What’s up? You don’t normally call me.”

“Baxter Stockboy is interfering with one of the coasters at Albeartos, how fast can you get here?”

“Five minutes, but why did you call me? I’m sure Leo can make a portal and get there immediately to help.” There’s shuffling on Casey’s end of the call signaling Donatello that he’s getting ready anyways to come out.

“Have I ever told you that you’re my favorite nephew slash friend slash family member who is capable of keeping a secret and who travelled back in time to save the world?”

“…No..but thank you? What’s the secret?”

“I’m accompanying a friend here on a casual excursion and I’d rather not let my brothers know.”

“Master Donatello, are you on a date?” The suggestive tone to his voice is hard to miss and he facepalms.

“You have three minutes left to get here, it’s the coaster at the far end of the park, not near the pier, the other direction. I’ll apprehend Stockboy and you take him to the station for me. Don’t tell my brothers.”

“Already on the way!”

“You’re the best, Junior!”

There’s a crowd gathering around the coaster as Baxter seems to be hovering over the tracks dismantling portions of it. The workers try their best to disperse the crowd and evacuate the ride as his battle shell whirs to life lifting him up face Stockboy.

“Stockboy.”

Donatello’s mechanical arms spring forth and grab Stockboys wings and pulls him off the coaster. His other two mechanical arms start to piece together the tracks at rapid speed.

“My rival! Can’t you see I’m in the middle of something?! I’m going to film the greatest clickbait video you’ve ever seen! I’ll hit a million views on Youtube!” Baxter wriggles to get lose with no avail, “It’ll be called ‘not clickbait: crazy rollercoaster goes off the tracks’!” his hands move farther apart from one another as he says the title.

The last bolt goes in and Donatello quickly descends and looks for Casey in the crowd. “While I most definitely would love to school you on the way algorithm and clickbait works, I do not have the time nor the energy. Insert clever monologue here.” Baxter clutches at his chest and gasps for air in dramatic fanfare as he’s lowered directly into Casey’s grip.

Catching Casey in the crowd he dives directly to him, Baxter swinging in the wind being held by the wings by his mech arm.

“I got it from here, Donatello. Go on and enjoy your date!” Casey dismantles Baxter’s wings and cuffs his wrists behind his back.

“Not a date! And consider your hockey stick upgraded by next week, Junior!” Donatello speeds off to the bathroom and flings himself into the stall.

7:08pm, he had two minutes left.

Exiting the building he ensures the signage remains outside and uses a lockpick to lock the doors just as a precaution and to keep his battle shell safe while in his brooch form.

7:10pm, ‘right on time’, rounding the corner he deftly weaves through the crowds and slows his steps down to maintain the air of ease. Running a hand through his hair to tussle he speaks up, “I’m back, my sincerest apology for the intermission on our evening.” Donatello feels the slight flush up his neck and cheeks.

“Did you eat the churro on the way back, or?”

“The churro!” he exclaims, “I knew I was forgetting something.” How could he forget the one thing he was meant to retrieve!? Even if Stockboy served as a mid evening distraction, he should’ve known better. It was one of two conditions that needed to be met in order for Violet to go to Albeartos’ in the first place. Internally he scolded himself to be more mindful of the requirements set for a successful evening.

He counts himself lucky as Violet waves him off dismissively, “Hey, it’s not problem. Were you having like a, TummyTello moment?”

His face burns with embarrassment, “Yes. I was most definitely having a TummyTello moment, I was using the…. lavatory and just…. forgot.” He wanted the ground to swallow him whole, maybe Stockboy could dismantle the ride with him on it so he’d plummet to his death.

The lightness of Violet’s laugh brings him back, “Gross, I hope you washed your hands after. All good, lets just go get a churro now.”

Violet stops abruptly and reaches into her fanny pack, “Here, it’s an Imodium.” She presses the tiny white pill into his palm, “It’ll help so you don’t have any more TummyTello moments. Happens to the best of us.” Nodding dutifully, he thanks her and takes a swig of water pretending to take the pill before tossing it discreetly over his shoulder as Violet makes her way to the nearest churro booth.

“It’s ok Don, when we need to go, we need to go! I’m not judging you.” A mischievous twinkle in her eyes as she teases him.

“That’s enough.”

“Donnie,” she turns to face him and uses her hands to make a funnel around her mouth as if to whisper something, Donatello leans much farther forward than he needs to meet her face, “everybody poops, it’s okay, buddy.”

“I am begging you to release me from the chains of my mortal body.”

Violet bursts into giggles while leaning her weight into the space unoccupied where his arm and body meets. Was she always this warm? Warmth flows from his chest up to his neck as his hand hesitantly finds purchase by her waist. Had she always fit so nicely into his arms? This is casual, he reminds himself. Friends did indulge in physical affection; he can’t count the number of times he and April cuddled. Even himself and Cassandra had shared an occasional cuddle, their shoulder pressed against each other during a movie marathon or while reading comics. There’s a distinct mood change as Violet sighs and pulls away, his hand now cold and a bitter taste in his mouth he ignored from the rejection.

After a short wait, Donatello says a quick ‘thank you’ and hands his friend the sugary snack. Violet lights up and squeals before taking a first bite, “Thanks, Don!” He returns her thanks with a smile, mentally checking off ‘Acquire Churro’ in his mental list. One out of two done. A bit of a hiccup with Stockboy, but he was back on track and nothing else could possibly ruin this….excursion. Donatello only needed to complete one more task, winning a carnival prize, to ensure victory for the best not-date slash friend-excursion Violet ever had.

“Bite.” She offers the stick to him and he plays into his disinterest to earn a pout and a glare before encasing her hand gently with his own to steady it before taking a smaller bite. Violet’s hands were small compared to his human ones; he could barely imagine how petite they’d be against his mutant ones. The thought alone makes him bite down on his lip to conceal a groan while a flush dances up his neck. He does a double take at his own reaction and stamps that down quickly. Friends didn’t think about other friends like that, he’d have to reference the friendship to romantic interest pipeline later to confirm.

“The sugar granules sticking to everything really makes this a treat.” He busies himself looking anywhere but Violet and willing his mind to clear itself.

“Oh, fuck off, more for me then! Wouldn’t want you to have another TummyTello moment anyways.” His brain is still rebooting and fails to produce a witty remark.

Gathering his wits, he trails after you to a standing table occupied by none other than Foot Brute and Foot Lieutenant, sharing…. a candy apple and a soda? Immediately his senses are sharpened as he takes in his surroundings and the nearest exist as well as the restroom he had used for his battle shell if needed.

“C’mere. There’s some room.” A hand pulls his sleeve to place him beside her and he makes an effort to set himself between her and the table instead, his gaze not leaving the two Foot clan members. Violet furrows her brows trying to catch why there was such a distinct shift in his mood but finds nothing. Who does he call if it goes south? Mikey? He already knew where he was and it’d be an easy cover if Raph or Leo found out. Call Casey again? He’d most likely be close by and would most likely have his hands free if he passed Stockboy off to someone else.

In his peripheral he sees the churro and takes a bite wordlessly while glaring, the two didn’t seem to recognize him (why would they?), and he wasn’t the most intimidating either as his human self but he was steadfast. Feeling a jab in his ribs he shifts his attention to his counterpart, “Dude. Knock it off. Sorry about him, he has no manners!” Violet scowls at him before laughing sheepishly to cover up for his ‘poor manners’. Foot Lieutenant quirks an eyebrow at him before taking a bite of his apple slice menacingly.

Donatello puts an arm protectively around Violet’s shoulder without breaking his gaze, “Lets pick another table.”

“Donatello!” Violet scolds him and it feels like his knuckles have been thwacked with a ruler. His grip loosens but doesn’t leave, he tries a different way to prompt an escape by pushing into Violet to get her to walk. Violet angerly shrugs his hand off her shoulder and glares up at him with a fire in her eyes, “It’s fine! You’re worked up over nothing.”

Foot Brute shrugs nonchalantly, “We look a lil funny, we get it.” He wants to scoff, as if they didn’t nearly cause the end of the world a few years back. He bites his tongue so he doesn’t chime in with a ‘yeah, you do!’ to upset Violet further. Foot Lieutenant pipes up, “Yes, we’re an odd sight to see indeed.” He waves his hand in the air dismissively and continues eating.

“There are weirder things in New York.” Violet responds politely with a smile.

Discreetly, Donatello pulls his phone from his pocket and opens a text thread to Michelangelo.

‘Foot Brute and Foot Lieutenant @ Albeartos. Churro booth, west side, by pirate ship. ASAP. No shell. Brooch on.’

‘OTW, hang tight!’

The cold shoulder and blatant dismissal of his concern makes him flustered with anger more than it stings with rejection. Did she not trust him?

He scowls and keeps his eye out for Michael, his body still in front of hers but turned away with his arms over his chest. There’s light conversation at the table he doesn’t pay attention to.

His acts on instinct.

“Don’t touch her.” He latches onto the offending wrist so tight his knuckles turn white. His thoughts spiral, Violet was going to get hurt, if he let his guard down for a moment longer, she would’ve gotten hurt. His chest is tight and he wills his breathing to even out and taking slower breaths lest he gasp for air. How dare this cretin who was almost responsible for the apocalypse reach for his Violet? How dare he, how dare he, how dare he-

“Donnie!”

He’s brought back to reality; his grip loosens immediately at her voice. Liquid drips off the table and churro long forgotten on the ground. “Violet, I-“ Frantically he reaches for spare napkins on the table realizing the mess he’s gotten himself into.

“Save it, Don.” The napkins are snatched out of his hands and he curls in on himself, dejected. Your hands touch briefly but it isn’t warm this time. “Apologize to them if you’re going to apologize to anyone.” Violet didn’t understand, they were going to harm her. That’s what the Foot Clan did, they harmed. She didn’t know what they were capable of, what they’d done. If he could just explain himself-

“I’ll be right back.” Violet glares icily in his direction, pools of hazel brimming with tears.

Violet disappears from view and a flash of orange and red make their appearance. He knew his brothers ninpos like the back of his hand. There’s no time to dawdle, reflect on his thoughts or chase after his friend.

The youngest brother swoops down beside him and Donatello makes a b-line to the washroom he’d used last, fingers already working on his buttons. He’d help his brothers to take the Foot down and then run after Violet. There was only two of them, so it’d be quick.

He changes into his gear, pockets his brooch on his person for easy access before storming out of the bathroom and catching up to Raphael and Michelangelo.

“Why’d you bring Raph?” whispering through his teeth to the orange terrapin.

“Sorry, Dee! He caught me sneaking out and came with. I said you were taking a ‘self care day’.”

Foot Brute and Lieutenant raise their hands palms facing up, “We can’t have a single day off without you turtles harassing us?”

“Day off? Crime doesn’t take a day off!” Raphael does a Superman pose.

“Why aren’t you in uniform?” Michelangelo interjects and points at their winter clothes.

“We’re doing a staycation!”

Donatello checks the time on his tech gauntlet, “You don’t expect us to seriously believe that do you?”

Raph scratches his chin uncertainly, “Well, they are bundled up in regular clothes. Maybe they’re telling the truth?”

Michelangelo lowers his weapon, “Dee…”

Donatello scoffs, he didn’t just “ruin” the entire evening for two criminals on a ‘staycation’. “Even if they were on a ‘staycation’,” he makes air quotes, “they had rudely interrupted my da-“ Michelangelos’ hand slaps over his mouth, the words hanging in the air.

“Interrupted his day!” Michelangelo covers for him. “Remember? I told you Raph, he’s having a self care day. His day has been ruined.” Donatello nods tight lipped. Spirits, he was so stupid. The eldest brother nods slowly and shrugs then turns back around, “We can’t fight them over nothing though, they haven’t technically done anything.”

Foot Lieutenant moves around the table slowly with his hands up, “Are we good to go, folks? You heard the big guy we haven’t done anything.”

Raphael eyes them cautiously but side steps to let them pass, Michelangelo following suit casting a furrowed browed look at Donatello. Donatello clenches his fists as he begrudgingly side-steps, but not fast enough as Lieutenant trips over a table leg and stumbles into him before righting himself and walking off with Foot Brute in tow.

Donatello lets a ‘tsk’ fall from his lips as he glares holes into the pair walking away. All this trouble for what? For nothing? He wanted the ground to swallow him whole. He must look crestfallen since a large hand rests itself on his shoulder, “Don’t worry Donnie! Your self care day isn’t ruined with us around! Let Miguel and Rapharoni take care of ya!”

He needed to find Violet.

Michelangelo is on it before Donatello even needs to spare him a glance, “Raph, a self care day is usually done by yourself! Dr.Feelings prescribed it. I’m sure Donnie-boy can continue on with his day in peace.”

Raphael strokes his chin thoughtfully, “You sure you don’t want us to stick around?”

Donatello’s already making steps away from them, “Ah, yeah I think so Raph.” His hand makes a move for his pants pocket and feels the flat expanse of his thigh instead of a telltale feeling of the brooch underneath fabric. Immediately his eyes are searching for the perpetrators frantically as he pats himself down to ensure he didn’t just place the brooch in a different area. “Mikey, they took my cloaking brooch.” He feels as though his head been dunked under ice water. Raphael’s voice is warbly and he can’t make out quite what he’s saying.

“Mikey, I need the brooch. They must’ve grabbed it when they bumped into me. We have to get it back, I can’t- Violet, she-“

Donatello feels Raphael’s squeeze around him firmly while dragging his hands along his battle shell, “I don’t know what’s going on, but Raph’s got you, ‘right? We’ll get it back.” Donatello presses his snout against the comforting presence of his brother and inhales deeply, feeling himself relax head to toe.

Michelangelo’s gives an affectionate head bump and nuzzles his snout into his forehead, “We got you, Dee.”

Inhale. Exhale.

His family has him.

Raphael slowly releases his arms around the smaller frame, “Okay, we know they went vaguely that way, so they can’t be far. Mad Dogz, lets roll out and get that brooch!”

If he was in a better frame of mind, he’d let the warm fuzzies wash over him. However, right now, he doesn’t let that distract him. Checking his tech gauntlet, 7:50pm, which meant it had roughly been ten minutes since Violet stormed off. If she was cleaning herself off, it probably gave them another ten, fifteen at most, to get the brooch, change and then meet her back here at this table.

The three of them split up, Donatello taking an aerial approach, scouring the nearby areas. Pulling his goggles down he let them do the work to finding the culprits.

“Gottem!” Michelangelo’s voice rings in his ears, his voice projecting from an internal speaker attached to his goggles. His tech gauntlet glows to life, and he follows the moving dot on the interface to his brother. He zips down and joins the fray with his brothers.

Golden chains whiz by him and encircle Lieutenant of the pair while Raphael battles Foot Brute off to the side, his sais equipped and swinging. Lieutenant manages to origami and summon a few origami foot ninjas that all pounce towards Donatello at alarming speeds. Goggles still equipped he lets his scanners run over Lieutenant to pick out the mystic energy of his brooch and his screen hones in on his front pocket in his coat. Found it.

Deftly he moves from one foot to the other dodging the ninjas dust kicking up from every step as he approaches the struggling Lieutenant in Michelangelo’s chains. His hand reaches forward and grazes the fabric of the jacket, and he goes flying as a large body collides with his side throwing him a few feet from the action as he tumble rolls in the ground.

Donatello coughs as his battle shell takes most of the brunt landing on his back then glares at Raphael who’s already spewing sheepish apologies while he strides over to come help him to his feet. Using his tech-bo he swipes at Foot Brute to launch him farther from him and Raphael helps him up.

“Donnie, catch!”

His hand flies up and he grasps around the tiny artifact with a grin, “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” Flappy hands ensue for only a moment before he faces his oldest brother, “I’m guessing you guys got this?”

Raphael salutes, “We got it, Donnie.” A comforting hand on his shoulder, “And whenever you’re ready, Raph is ready to listen. We’ll keep this a secret for now.” He winks with his signature snaggle toothed grin and Donatello isn’t sure what he did in his past life to deserve his brothers in this life.

Donatello knocks his head against Raphael’s and tosses an up-nod to Michelangelo and darts off tripping over his feet on his way to the bathroom for what felt like the hundredth time.

8:20pm, he slams the door behind him and curses his luck for tonight. He chants a mantra of ‘don’t panic’ in his head as he pulls his legs through leg holes and arms through sleeves along with everything else then bypassing a mirror and running out.

Violet is oh so conveniently not by the churro stand he curses under his breath as he runs down the path to the exit, weaving through the thinning crowd. He wished he had his goggles and battle shell equipped to fly; it would be so much easier.

He sees curly hair and an oversized coat in a purposeful stride to the exit and the anxiety comes back full force. “Wait! Letty!”

He knows that she hears him as she stops abruptly and turns around to face him with her shoulder back and her chin held high with glossy eyes and a scowl, “What is it now, Donatello? You ditch me and-“ her breathing is ragged as she stops mid-sentence and gestures wildly at him. His hand flies to his chest, no, the brooch is on. That’s not what she’s staring at. “What the fuck is going on!?” She all but shrieks at him.

He looks down and does a double take as the humiliation hits him like a truck. It sinks into his skin and holds him his chest and throat in a vice. Shirt rumpled, inside out and with the buttons were mismatched to the wrong hole which led to the bottom of his shirt being wildly uneven. His pants equipped but backwards. He remembered his socks, but not his shoes. Of course, he remembers the socks. But not the shoes. Mutant turtles did not wear shoes.

“Ha ha, I can totally explain this!”

He can totally explain this.

His hand is still hovering over his chest, all he needs to do is pull the brooch off.

Violet stares holes into him and waits for his explanation.

The Violet of his mind yells at him for lying and he never hears from her again, and so his hand finds his buttons to fumble with instead to buy him time. “Okay, listen. I’ve been meaning to tell you this for a while and-“

“And?”

Just like it did the other night, his tech gauntlet glows underneath his sleeve and he knows she can see it to. He catches the slight exhale she does as she tries not to deflate, and he tries to start over but his phone buzzes in his now front pocket.

He opens his mouth to start over but closes it as his phone starts to ring. His brothers needed him. They wouldn’t call him if they didn’t.

Was it too much of an assumption to think Violet needed him too? Wanted him? Even as a mutant turtle? Was it too far-fetched? Was the danger associated with his hero duties ‘too much’ for Violet? Was it safer for her if they just parted ways here instead?

The thought makes him breathless, and he decides he can’t bare with that idea. He needed her too.

He memorizes the way his favorite strand of curly hair fell between her eyes, the way she always needed to brush it out of the way because it was too long and a nuisance to you, but you also never wanted to cut. The soft curve of the apple of her cheeks and the arch of her cupids bow when she smiles for him. The scent of lilacs and vanilla swarmed him, encircled and held him close. Her gaze was hardened and targeted at him, but Spirits, her eyes were his favorite. They reminded him of lightning, even as they shone with unshed tears (that he caused, and it makes him ill to think about too long). He liked to think he could recognize her gaze anywhere.

“I’m really sorry, I have to take this.” He hopes she can hear the regret laced in his tone as he sprints in the other direction.

The Violet of his mind smiles at him and tells him to go, says that she’ll wait for him and that it’s okay with a wave and a lighthearted grin.

Not bothering with undressing his backwards pants (the texture was driving him insane now they he knew the seams were all wrong), he pulls the brooch off and summons his battle shell, equips his goggles and abandons his shirt on the way and quickly reaches his brothers and unleashes the rage.

The Foot had called for reinforcements in the time he’d gone and come back. He assisted with the fight, clearing his mind of everything but using his skills to ensure his and his brothers’ safety. Zipping around the battlefield he shares space with Michelangelo who swings a foot ninja in the sky for Raphael to smack down mid-air.

“Didn’t go too well, huh?”

Donatello hated how easy he was to read.

He dodges and flips a ninja over his shoulder, “I think that’s the understatement of the century.”

“It’ll work itself out, Dee!” Ah. The optimist of the family. “You just gotta hope!”

Donatello rolls his eyes so far back into his head he’s surprised he still has the ability to see once he’s blinked.

Raphael sends Foot Brute into a nearby stand, stuffed toys that were meant for prizes scatter amongst the ground, a stuffed corduroy frog with a tiny crown sewn atop his head hits him in the shoulder. “Hope hasn’t failed us yet, Donnie!” He clocks that Raphael really doesn’t know what’s going on but is just as supportive.

“Just win me something at one of those rigged carnival games.”

“You’re a genius, Raph!”

He picks up the stuffed frog with a mechanical arm and it’s tucked safely away in a compartment in his battle shell. He didn’t really win it, but it still counted if he shifted the requirements mildly. Winning against the Foot Clan warranted a prize and the stuffed frog that laid in his mechanical shell was prize enough for him.

Hope.

He could still turn this around.

A grandeur apology, from the heart, with the second half of the requirement. Followed up by the truth.

Donatello effortlessly dodges and parries his way through enemies, and on the third call to Violet she finally picks up.

“What?” Her voice feeds clear in his ears from the goggles. She’s mad. Noted and very reasonable.

“There are not enough words to express how deeply apologetic I am for how tonight went. Let me make it up to you.” From the heart, that part is important. Something Dr.Feelings had told him long ago. The silence on the other end is weighted and he’s mildly distracted as he ducks and uses his tech-bo to block with a grunt.

“….Okay, where are you?” He couldn’t believe that she’d be willing to meet with him still, after everything and the thought makes him feel fuzzy. He’d go up to her in his mutant form, just rip the band aid off.

His attention is needed elsewhere for but a moment and he swings down, his ninpo materializing at the end of his tech-bo in the form of a three-digit hand and slams down on the opposing forces coming closer to Raphael, “Phalange sandwich!”

How many of these stupid little origami ninjas were there!? He felt like he’d been fighting for a lifetime.

“I-….is there… like, a finger sandwich place at Albeartos? Do you want me to turn around and meet you there?”

He facepalms hard forgetting Violet could hear him and yells in frustration to himself, “No!”

“Ok! I won’t turn around then.” She huffs annoyed.

Frustration was building quickly, and he was running out of patience for this, “Er, yes! Turn around! I was…speaking to someone else!” Can’t he do anything right?

“Who’re you talking to? Who else is there?”

There’s a looming presence behind him that takes Donatello by surprise as Foot Lieutenant tries to take a peak at his tech gauntlet over his shoulder while simultaneously throwing a punch he narrowly dodges, “Trouble in paradise?”

“It’s none of your business!” He yells and promptly slaps a hand over his mouth realizing his mistake.

“Excuse me!?”

Scratch that, he could not turn this around.

The ringing in his ears is sudden and incessant. Chest constricting uncomfortably, time slows down as he watches his brothers continue to dwindle the Foot Clans numbers, the park guests long gone from the area.

“Listen, if this is your weird way of doubling down that you don’t have feelings for me, this is in crazy bad taste.”

Why was he breathing so fast? The rhythmic thumping in his ears was too loud. Everything was too loud, so why did Violet sound so far away? He’s in an out of focus but he manages to fight the breathlessness for a moment, “No! No, of course not.” What was the question again? Feelings? Bad taste? He can’t remember.

In the peripheral, Foot Lieutenant and Foot Brute tied back-to-back on a large pole to hold them there. Good riddance. The rumble of Raphael’s footsteps is what he grounds himself to first, then Michaels concerned expression comes into view. His tech-bo is gently taken from his hand as he gently shoves Michael backwards, he’s too close. He could barely make out the words Michael was saying to him, their eyes wide and pupils dilated. Raphael’s mouth moves but he can’t hear him either over the thumping in his ears.

“Can you just tell me what’s going on!?” Her voice is clear and concise. She’s upset with him, but he’s thankful as it’s the only voice that brings him out of it.

“Galileo, Newton and the stars above, just shut up for two seconds! I can’t even think!”

Raphaels’ and Michelangelos’ hands retract from him as he catches his breath.

“‘Shut up’? ‘Shut up’!? You literally called me! Fuck you Donatello!”

The line goes dead.

He indistinctly hears Raphael ask what was going on. Asks if he’s okay. Is he? He doesn’t think he is. He needed to get to Violet. Raphael urges gently for him to talk to them. He can’t, words still escape his dry mouth.

His hand hangs limply beside him, tech gauntlet still on the screen for Violet’s contact. Michelangelo’s hand finds his elbow, calloused fingers rub on the inside of his elbow in an attempt to soothe him.

There’s more mumbling and he can’t quite remember how he got to his car, but Michael loads him into the back seat. The younger brother buckles himself in and turns to him, “Raph is just going to take care of the Foot clan guys, okay Donnie?” His voice is soft, the way an adult speaks to a child after a nightmare.

He concludes he must’ve nodded since Michael smiles and adds on, “I’m going to take you home, ok?”

Home.

His mind goes to his lab, then to the couch in the living room, well loved from numerous turtle piles and movie nights. There was a purple beanbag for him with a bundle of fleece blankets folded for him- the perfect texture against his shell. It quickly pans over to the kitchen cabinet where all the teas and coffees are stored. Leo would always go for hibiscus, something sweet for a tea. Raphael liked herbal teas and Michael would drink anything given he could put too much sugar in it. He kept the coffee pods in there, he loved the convenience.

Donatello’s startled at how quickly the visage morphs into coasters placed on top of the fridge, fluffy slippers (just for him) and the sound of a Keurig as background noise paired with the soft citrus smell of a Clementine. The TV is running, there’s a gentle breeze from the balcony door accompanied by the soft yellow glow of fairy lights. There are too many trinkets everywhere, too messy for his taste to leave everything out, but showed that the space was well lived in. Everything is cozy.

His hand brushes against paper and he straightens up, startled out of his thoughts, before glancing down.

Asters, Forget-me-nots and Gardenias. Wrapped in paper and fastened together in a bouquet with a purple ribbon.

His vision is blurry, his eyes glassy but he doesn’t let the tears fall.

He’s never felt so homesick.

TBC

A/N okay, good god this took me AGES to write and mainly because i dont think i characterize donnie very well and it puts me in my head alot. SIGH. but anyways this turned out alright, i suppose. LOL i hope yall enjoy it atleast!

If you read this chapter and the last one back to back, you’ll notice I’ve written the way Letty and Donnie see eachother different. There are portions where in the last chapter it’ll say that Violet chuckles and from Donnies POV, he views it as her giggling. It’s kind of a play on how you see people with rose colored glasses when you have a crush on them lmao. I pepper these in the chapter and I’ve also peppered in the same verbage Letty uses in Donnies POV too to display how they’re vaguely thinking the same things as well.

I’m not sure if anyone has ever been in such much denial with being in-like or in-love with someone but I have and I’m drawing directly from the experience (dw i got there lmao my person and I are together not for two years and counting haha). But being in denial of your feelings the way Donnie is makes him a horrible narrator (thus all the crossed out dialogue he perceives as intrusive thoughts he should not even entertain) and makes him extremely inconsistent in terms of referring to him hanging out with Letty as romantic or not. So I hope that makes sense on why he’s so all over the place. He literally can’t keep it together LMAO I hope Donnie isn’t becoming to repetitive but HES GOING TO RESOLVE IT SOON. You know our boy needs to think really hard.

I’d also like to say Violet is also conflicted in terms of coming clean, but I feel like it doesn’t hit her as hard as she’s practically pretty much always had a soft spot for him. Her reveal also isn’t as “large” in terms of the fact that she physically still has the same face etc and her rose colored glasses just aren’t as pink because she can admit that she does /like/ him. Donnie is literally changing into a completely different person and species whenever he uses his cloak and this ilicits a much larger concern for him. He also can’t quite pin down /why/ he continues to lie (obvi bc he likes her but lmfao hes getting there), which adds onto his stress.

If this “date” had gone well, they would have made the reveal this night but I still want to write these two fucking idiots so I needed to make this horrible for both of them so I can continue to write them. (: LOL

@maribatshipper @goldenpanda16 @moonlightmarauder @samilucas67

#Donnie #tmnt donnie #donnie x reader #rise donnie #rise donatello #rise donatello x reader #rise donatello x oc #rise donnie x oc #tmnt #rottmnt #the cloaking brooch dilemma tmnt #donnie x oc #donatello x oc

17 notes · View notes