Hey Guys Have You Ever Heard Of THE CHARACTER. I’m Thinking About THE CHARACTER. Honestly Can’t Even

based on someone irl finding out i was a tmnt fan, asking who my fav was, and being like "oh but not 2012 donnie right 😆" like um. get my babygirls name out of your mouth

i thought id post some old art since im still working on new stuff :-) just a donbot doodle!!!

If u follow me on Insta u already saw this ermrmm awkward!! But these are my 2012 human designs, I took a lot of creative liberties obviously.. So I thought Id explain their designs a bit here!

Mikey - I gave Mikey a lot of colors based off of his siblings because I think he takes a lot of inspo from them, or LIKE HE LOOKS UP TO THEM YOU KNOW?? I think Mikey knows who he is but the colors are kind of a homage to the ppl who r a huge part of his life, hes a very big people's person so it makes sense to me.. His mask tail is tied around his belt!! All the characters have their mask tails somewhere. also Mikey totally would wear socks and sandals lmaoao

Leo - transfem Leo as always!!!! So true! I gave her more Ninja-like clothes bcuz I don't think she wears casual clothes unless she's going to sleep. Her hair is tied up in a braid bcuz u thought it would be cute lolol oh and her mask tail is in her hair

Donnie - close toed boots is a requirement!! He works in a lab! But also he undermines safety ruled by not tucking his hair away properly lol I just know it catches on fire all the time. Also that's why his eyebrows are burnt off, if he ever had facial hair it's def scorched now LOLOL and the mask tail is tied around his belt!! Which is probably another safety hazard lol

Raph - I definitely wanted to give him a boxer feel even though he's a ninja. I think boxing would be more his style not that I don't think he doesnt enjoy being a ninja, but I think a lot of the times raph just wants to skip the stealth and jump to Combat lol. He's got the most scars for sure! Hence the bandages reaching higher up on his arms than the rest (I do this on my reg raph design too lol) and his mask tail is tied on his head!

Statistical Improbability ♡ DonBot x Reader 《 Part 1 》

Summary: You are a lone human survivor in this apocaliptic wasteland. You've made it this far by avoiding any unnecessary conflict with the mutant savages of the desert. Slowly, your drive to survive, the idea that things might get better - more bearable - gets more distant every day as you continue to search for your lost family members.

Just as it seems barely getting through each day is the only thing left for you in this world, your radar picks up a strange reading in the middle of the desert.

Context: This takes place in the wasteland warrior alternative reality/arc. Reader is the last human in the wasteland, and she survived all these years in her futuristic trailer, which she calls Big Bertha.

For some reason, the reader was aware of the Kraang before the mutagen bomb went off. She's repurposed some of their tech for her prothestic arm as well as her trailer.

I have also taken some creative liberties with how DonBot came to be, in the show he is essentially a copy of Donnie's consciousness after his body was destroyed, which is a super dark SOMA-looking plot-point. But I wanted a different flavor of existential angst, so instead DonBot has Donnie's actual brain inside of him! How does that work? Science *jazz hands*

Warnings: Be warned, this is my first TMNT fanfic ever, read at our your discretion. Mixed POVs. Slowburn? Mentions of blood, mentions of a brain in a glass tank, alcohol, a whole bunch of swearing, strangers to reluctant friends trope ( to eventual lovers ), mentions of reader's mysterious backstory, filled with some general trauma and angst.

Word Count: Some 8k+ words

Reader's POV:

"Come back here, I'll turn you into my next leather jacket!" The shrill voice taunted you through a speaker, and you gritted your teeth, grabbing the wheel until your knuckles turned white.

From your rearview mirror you could see the savages closing in from all sides, until your mirror was blown away by a shotgun blast. You grit your teeth and turn the wheel sharply, Big Bertha buckled and groaned as you went off road.

"You want a piece of me?" You pull a speaker from your panel, answering the taunt with one of your own. "Gonna have to catch me first, jerks!"

A savage lunges onto the side of your trailer. He elbows your window, and pieces of glass rain down as the maniac cuts and slashes at your neck.

You dodge just in time for the machete to imbed itself in the leather of your chair. With a primal growl, you kick the door open full force, slamming it into the mutant's face. He staggers and claws at the door, but with a swift boot to the face, he crashes onto the harsh desert sand.

"Maybe taunting the people you stole from was not such a good idea." Bertha's sweet voice hums through the speakers.

"NOT NOW!" You slam your working fist on the middle of the steering wheel. A hidden emergeswith a mechanical *click*. You punch it with all your might, your trailer creaks and shakes as just outside a hidden compartment opens up, a minigun sliding into place, it's barrel spin with a deafening whine.

With near perfect precision it blasts round after round of high powers lasers at the brutes chasing you down. Motorcycles explode and are torn apart in a violent scene. Riders are blasted off from their bikes in a shower of metal parts and flying blood, until the minigun starts to fail, sputtering in a pathetical whirring.

"Bertha, the spike strips!" You scream.

"On it." Beneath your license plate the spike traps are deployed. The spikes cover the ground of the desert, puncturing the tires of the mutants closest to the trailer. You can hear the sickening sounds of screams and screeching as the bikes are torn apart, but the tribe of savages is still hot on your tail, even after most of your tricks.

The rythmic thuds of bullets hit your trailer like rainfall. Were it not for your bulletproof plating you would be swiss cheese laying on the side of the road by now.

A honey badger mutant in an impossibly large motorbike closes in to you, giggling maniacally as it fires a bunch of crossbolts through your door.

A sharp thwack pierces your window, missing the target, but the second dart flies through the window and pierces you through your prosthetic arm and onto your side. The crossbow bolt embeds itself deep as you let out a painful cry.

Your robotic arm glitches and spasms against your will, and the steering wheel jerks out of control. Gritting your teeth, you hold the steering wheel with all of your willpower and force yourself to keep the vehicle on the road.

Out of frustration, you let out a strangled wail and slam the trailer on the motorcycle, sending the mutant flying through the air and tumbling through the rocks and dirt.

"There's too many of them." Bertha warns as her scanners show at least a dozen more savages and you're out of surprises. Despite their persistence, backing down wasn't an option.

"And you've got bigger problems." A warning flashes on your screen and Bertha shows a simulation of a rapidly approaching abyss. "We're approaching a deep chasm in 500 meters, at least a mile deep. You should turn around and find an alternate route."

"And get captured by those losers instead?" You lick your dry lips. "Ain't no way, Bertha."

You suck in a sharp breath, spitting blood and dust out of your broken window. Staring down at the rapidly approaching abyss.

"Give up, girl, and we'll make your end shift!"

Furrowing your brows in concentration, you awkwardly grab the crossbow bolt with your metal hand, snapping the end of the dart to free your arm. You pull down your helmet over your head and buckle your seatbelt.

"I'm gonna jump." You state flatly.

"Wait, that's too dangerous!" Bertha protested through the speakers. "Based on the previous damaged I've sustained, there is less than a 62% chance that-"

"Good enough for me! You got any other bright ideas?" You scream out, but before you get any answers you're cranking the gear shift. "Didn't think so!"

You grab the steering wheel like your life depends on it and hit the pedal. You open another compartment in the panel and smash the turbo button with your malfunctioning hand. The trailer rushes at an impossible velocity, pushing you back into your seat as you approach the edge of the abyss.

The trailer groans as you jump over a well angled rock, going airbone. You let out a strangled scream as you almost hit your head on the ceiling and can hear everything that wasn't chained down falling and hitting the walls of the trailer behind you.

Everything slows down to a stop. People weren't lying when they said you could see things in slow motion when you were about to die.

This is it. This is the end.

You close your eyes as tight as you can, your heart skips a beat or two as your life flashes before your eyes. Every single failure, every single mistake. Oh god, you'll never get to see them again, say sorry for everything that happened, how you wish you could go back. You forget to breathe as you embrace for impact.

The trailer lands harshly on the ground, and everything that wasn’t neatly tied to a wall falls and clatters to the ground. Bertha herself blows a tire from the impact and the fall almost crushes the hull completely on the front, she slides through the ground, creating a cloud of dust as the trailer hits a big rock that turns it on it's side.

The world spins around you as you push your door open, struggling to breathe not just from the dust in the air but your own near death experience.

You try to leave, but your seatbelt pulls you back. You groan in frustration and almost rip the fabric off of you, crawling through your window, away from the near totaled trailer. Gasping for air and struggling to swallow with your dry mouth, you fall to the ground, breathing heavily. You spit some blood and saliva on the rocks, and then out comes whatever’s left of your lunch.

Slowly, you stick your head up. Your double vision still allows you to see one of the savages tried to follow you, only to plunge into the depths of the earth bellow. The rest of the gang stops just at the edge of the abyss, staring daggers at you.

"We'll get you yet, you filthy human!" The tribe of savages shouted obscenities at you from the other side, blaring their horns at you, shaking their weapons and shooting at the sky. Tires screech horrible against the rocky ground before they ride away.

You let yourself fall into the ground, exhausted. On the bright side, the heist paid off. Fuck, who knew getting water could be so life threatening?

-----

Thankfully, the bolt didn't hit you too badly, as your metallic arm took most of the damage, but it still hurt like hell. You winced every time you had to move, and with the amount of repairs you had to make to Bertha, it meant you were wincing a lot.

"Okay, Bertha, prepare yourself." You say as you finished putting the last hydraulic jack into place, you scootch back and stand up slowly, holding your side to ease the pain. Once you're at a safe enough distance, you take a device from your pants and push a button.

The jacks groan loudly as the trailer is slowly pushed back onto it's wheels, for a second it seems like it might slip and crash back into the sand, but at the end the futuristic looking jacks push it with enough force to push the van back upright.

The door to the trailer creaks loudly as you open it up, almost falling off its hinges as you walk inside. It takes a lot of effort from you to get the spare tires from the back and change them.

You sigh, looking back at the abyss you jumped over to escape your mutant pursuers just hours ago. Getting Bertha functional took the better part of the evening, and you were still completely exposed underneath the desert heat.

From far away, you could already see a monstrosity forming on the horizon. Growing at an alarming rate, threatening to engulf everything in its path, a gluttonous entity that would destroy anything that didn't find proper shelter when it finally arrived. A sandstorm, and one of the bigger ones you'd seen.

You hit your clothes to clean them off, but it doesn't do much.

"Bertha?" You asked, using the side of your truck as leverage to get yourself back on your feet.

"Yes?" Her voice sputtered and glitched, the outer speaker damaged from the fall.

"How long until the sandstorm hits us?" You point towards the horizon, as if Bertha could really see you.

"By my calculations," She stays quiet for a couple of seconds. "We've got roughly 12 hours and 23 minutes before it reaches our current location."

With the sandstorm approaching quicker than you anticipated, it wouldn't be enough time to fully repair Bertha. Thankfully, the upgrades you’ve made over the years held up well, but this brilliant escape maneuver certainly put Bertha on her last legs. It didn’t help that the sandstorm brewing might tear her apart before you can make any further repairs.

Defeated, you threw a small wrench into it's toolbox. Getting back to your hideout was of the upmost importance in order to fix Bertha completely, but with the savages and the sandstorm looming on the horizon, you were one crash away from your end. The risk was too great, you needed to wait out this storm somewhere safe.

"Bertha, remember those big rock things we passed by years ago?" You ask as you start to recollect your tools.

"Oh yes, I remember. It was quite a lovely scenario." She chirped.

"Make a route for them," You clap your hands to get rid of the dirty in them and take your tools back to the trailer after getting Bertha functional. "They should only be a couple of hours away. It should shelter us from the worst part of the storm."

----

You struggle to keep your eyes open as you lay in bed. Tossing and turning you grunt every time you put too much pressure on your side and decide to lay on your back, one hand behind your head and another holding your gun close to your chest.

Just as you're about to doze off, you're suddenly thrown a couple inches in the air and fall from the bed, faceplanting onto the ground.

You groan, annoyed. Kicking your legs, you throw off the sheets away from the bed and fall completely to the ground, holding onto the bed to catch yourself as Bertha drives over a bumpy rock and you hit your knees onto the steel floor.

"What's going on, Bertha?" You scream out, "I'm trying to sleep over here."

"The radar's picking up some interesting energy readings."

"Interesting how?" You throw the covers back onto the bed and walk to the front of the trailer, putting a hand on your chin and analyzing some of the bullet holes in Bertha.

"I think you should check it out." You stop in your tracks and frown.

Walking up to the front of the trailer in nothing your pants and a dirty t-shirt, you sneak your head into the passenger's seat. "What?"

"It's some kind of unidentified energy reading about a mile north," The radar shows a small dot in your map, close to the caverns and mountain ranges you were headed off to. "Could be dangerous, should we avoid it?"

You look behind you to the mess of wiring on the ground. You hop onto the passenger's seat, and through the rearview mirror, you can see the sandstorm is coming closer. "How far away is this reading?"

"About a 30 minutes drive."

"No, let's go check it out," You walk to the back of the trailer, slipping into your boots and grabbing your gear. "Could be useful."

After a short drive you finally reach your destination, which seems to be an old town's ruins, bleached under the unforgiving desert sun, battered by the repeated harsh winds of the sandstorms, its once-sturdy walls crumbling into dust and mixing with the desert.

There was nearly nothing left of the decaying buildings. The main street couldn't even be seen, several years without care had cracked it beyond repair, and it was covered in dirt and sand. In the distance, a surviving windmill creaks, what's left of it's blades spin aimlessly in the hot breeze.

The whole trailer shakes and groans as it slowly comes to a stop, just close enough to the ruins that you could see a strange object reflecting the sun from far away, your curiosity peaks, and you tell Bertha to keep what's left of the guns ready.

You swing the doors open, and your heavy boots land on the rocky ground. You huff irritated as the sunlight hits your eyes. The annoying light seems to be coming just further up through the ruins.

Even though the evening draws near, the desert heat immediately hits you full force, it feels like the very sun is trying to cook you alive then and there. You open your waterskin and chug down a generous gulp of the water you stole from the savages. It was all the more refreshing in this scorching heat.

You walk through the ruins of the town, the silence is eery. Reaching what's left of a small house a small object in the sand picks your interest, kneeling down you swipe away the sand and debris, pulling what seems to be a girl's doll from the wreck. You grip it tight in your hand, what was once a bubbling town full of laughter and noise is now a ghost town, the only noise being the whisper of the wind and the occasional scurry of a mutant cockroach or bug beneath the wreckage.

You put the doll inside of your bag and carefully make your way to the strange object laying against a far away crumbling wall. It's metal reflecting the light of the evening sun. You keep your blaster ready to shoot.

As you get closer to the target, you see something that makes you stop in your tracks. A low, sickly hue of purple and pink that glows from the strange object. It was unmistakable.

The telltale sign of Kraang tech.

You dash behind a low wall and grab your blaster. Despite your calculated movements, you could feel your heart pounding in your chest as you sneak a peak, but the thing doesn't move an inch. A million thoughts race through your mind.

Were they really back? Why would they be back? Would it even matter if they came back to finish the job?

You stole a glance up from your cover, analyzing it more intently. It seemed like the strange object was a humanoid figure, laying on the ground close to the wall. Perhaps a broken droid? No. There's no way such a thing could have been made by the Kraang.

You could never forget it, the last time they came through their giant portal and brought their spaceships and guns and weapons of war. All of their machinery was sleek and polished, industrial, shiny to a sickly degree. From what you could see through your cover, this thing looked like it was made out of scrap and garbage, battered and worn down with time.

Crouching down from a safe distance, you start to pull the wrappings from your left arm until it is bare. Your prosthetic. It’s a crude thing, cobbled together from scraps and scavenged parts, far from sleek or efficient. You run your hand over the alien metal that you slapped together with iron and titanium, a makeshift arm that got the job done but constantly reminded you of your failures.

Trailing the slight glow of pink and purple markings in your hand, you almost lose yourself in thought. You breathe in deeply and struggle to close a malfunctioning hand before glancing back at the same faint glow in the machine that stood just a few feet from you.

If you could have found a way to utilize this technology years ago, perhaps others probably found a way as well.

Slowly, you grab a small rock close to your feet, throwing it over the wall. The rock hit the robot's back with an undignified "clunk" and fell to the ground in between its legs, unceremoniously.

"Huh," you think, standing up from behind the wall and making your way to the strange object. Now you could finally see it more clearly. It looked like some sort of robot... No, it was a robot of a humanoid looking turtle... man?

The metal was dark green and weathered by the harsh desert, battered and rough, but weirdly well taken care of considering the circumstances. There were several scratches and imperfections. It looked like it had seen quite the story, but the most curious aspect of the robot's anatomy was its shell, where the letters NYC still read clearly.

NYC. Ground zero.

That was a place you hadn't heard of in years, and now it stared back at you from the top of the manhole cover turned robo-turtle shell.

"Who would build something like this?" Your brows slowly furrowed in confusion.

Gently, you poke the robot on its side with your boot, not really expecting anything, but you keep your good hand on your gun.

Nothing.

You place your boot on its shell and press harder. "Yo, you good?" You tilted your head to get a better look. You prod it beneath its arm - then its face, but the hunk of metal remained motionless.

You wipe the sweat off your brow with a leathery hand.

"Yep, it's dead." Figures.

"If someone abandoned this thing by the road it was probably for a good reason," You say out loud to yourself. "Perhaps it is best to just use it for scrap."

There was just the slighest chance you could get it back online, reprogram it, and you could use a hand or two with big Bertha. An AI assistant was great but a full-on robot?

You hum as you run over the pros and cons through your head. If you leave it here, it'll definitely be torn apart by the sandstorm. The thought of getting mauled by a rogue robot you fixed was something out of a blockbuster horror movie, but the thought of such a fascinating piece of tech being abandoned ate you up inside. What was the saying again? Curiosity killed the cat?

You bit your lower lip, mulling it over.

Kneeling next to the robot, you touch its arm. The intense heat has made the metal so hot you could fry an egg on it. It must have been there for at least a couple of hours. Were it not for your glove, you could have burned yourself. You turn it over carefully, inspecting the indents of the metal and texture. It doesn't seem too badly damaged—nothing you couldn't fix inside big Bertha.

"Looks like we've got ourselves some company, Bertha." Standing up, you hit your pants to get rid of the sand and grab the robot by its legs, taking in a deep breath.

"This is going to hurt." You say to yourself as you start to pull the thing back to your trailer, your side flaring up in excruciating pain with each additional pull.

-----

You haul the robot into your trailer, feeling light headed from the effort. It's heavy body falls to the ground with a thud as you shove it inside.

Slumping against the wall, you press a hand to your side, wincing as it burns and warmth seeps through your fingers. You exhaled, ragged, trying to control your breathing.

"What did you find out there?" Bertha asks as the robot hits the ground, lifeless.

"Just... just a..." You struggle to breathe. "Robot... fuck." Grunting you push yourself back from the wall and close the door.

"Are you okay?" Bertha asks concerned, noticing your labored breathing.

"Damn stitches came undone. I'll be right back." You leave the robot to cool down inside your trailer while you head to your room to fix the stitches.

Bertha rumbles beneath you accelarating, so you can actually reach your shelter before sundown.

You throw your leather gloves and googles on the table. Turning on the trailer's dim lights, they flicker, struggling to keep on as you dig out your supplies -needle, thread, an old bottle of whiskey. You take a swig first, wincing at the bitter taste that burns your throat before dousing a rag and cleaning your wound.

The pain hits sharp, and your side burns as you grit your teeth and start stitching. By the time you're finished, you throw on a cleaner t-shirt before coming back to check on your guest.

Kneeling next to the robot, you brush the back of your hand against its metal plating, noticing it has already cooled down enough for you to fix it up.

With a grunt, you push it into a sitting position on the floor, then crawl behind it, inspecting the faint glow pulsating from its markings. Thing's still got some juice, apparently, but clearly not enough to be functional.

Taking out your notepad, you take your time with the machine. Rough coal sketches take shape in your pages, its segmented shell, the way the kraang technology seems to have been integrated in its sides, and the delicate mechanics of the three-fingered hands. Your calloused fingers trail the edges of its shell and each scratch and bump from the years of use.

"Man, I really would like to meet whoever built this thing." You mutter, jotting down quick notes.

Bertha hums through the speakers, guiding you into the mouth of a cave that's just big enough to shelter you two. Well, all three of you. "Do you think it still works?"

"I guess we'll have to figure it out."

You take a look at its left hand. Some of the screws had become loose. You tighten them up with a few quick turns of your screwdriver. The joints creak as you oil them, and you clean the excess that trails down with an old rag.

With your curiosity peaking, you sit down behind the robot again and carefully take it's head in your hands.

"Time to see what hardware this thing's packing." You tap the back of the robot's head with your screwdriver lightly, but Bertha groans loudly. "Oh, get your mind out of the gutter, Bertha."

Slowly, you remove all of the screws from the head, carefully you peel the plating back-

It slips from your hands, hitting the floor with a hollow *clang.*

Your breath catches in your throath.

"What? Is everything okay?" Bertha asks, voice sharp with concern.

Your feet scramble and scootch backswards quickly until your back hits the wall. A trembling hand covers your mouth.

"Hey, are you okay?" When you struggle to respond, Bertha calls your name loudly, snapping you out of your shock.

You swallow hard, pointing at the robot. "It's got a brain."

Silence.

"What?"

"It has a brain, Bertha!" You push your damp hair back, trying to make sense of the scene in front of you.

The brain sat in a glass-like tank, suspended on a thick, yellowed fluid. Wires snaked inside and hooked it up to a strange spine-line mechanism at the back of what would be its skull. It seemed damaged, some faulty wiring, almost as if he had been hit over the head.

The whole scene looked like something straight out of a science fiction book, and it makes your already empty stomach churn.

Slowly, you push yourself up against the wall, staring at the robot - no, at *him* - slumped lifelessly in front of you.

Is it a person? Some kind of cyborg? Could it have been human?

This thing looked like it was at least two decades old, could it be from the time when the bomb hit?

You gulp, considering your next options. *If it has a brain, it's a person.* Right? And you don't deal with people - if you could even call the savage mutants of the desert people - not since you got tired of pulling knives out of your back.

"Is it a person?" Bertha asks, a tinge of curiosity in her robotic voice.

"I don't know, I mean..." You close your eyes. "Probably?"

"Is he alive?" She questions.

"Maybe?" You laugh nervously, throath dry. "I don’t know what to do." And then you admit.

"Remember your number one rule?" She murmurs.

You nod slowly. "People are trouble."

Bertha hums in agreement. "We can still throw him back into the desert."

Bertha was right, throwing him back into the desert was still an option, but that would probably count as murder, not that you were a saint, but the idea of throwing a helpless person into the wasteland didn't sit right with you. You huff and push yourself off the wall, walking back to the robot and avoiding your mess of tools.

You walk closer to the robot, your legs feeling unsteady with each step you take closer to him. Kneeling, you study his exposed brain, reaching out to touch the glass tank with your metal hand and inspect the damage he'd sustained.

The sandstorm was already coming in strong, the force of the winds outside could be heard from inside the trailer and a cloud of dust started to form through the window.

Your eyebrows furrow as you look at the brain in the glass tank, wondering what kind of person would end up inside a humanoid turtle robot.

You suck in a shaky breath.

Maybe...

Running to your mountain of tools, metal, and other thingamabobs laying on your floor, you rummage through the pile of scrap, throwing useless pieces to your side as your frustration mounts. "Where is it?"

"What are you doing?" Bertha asks, confused at your sudden movements.

"I'm thinking!" You hit your hands in frustration on the floor.

"C'mon, c'mon, tell me I didn't throw it away..." You throw some old pieces of metal and tools around as you frantically search for it, letting out a loud "aha!" Once you finally find it.

From the disorganized pile of tools, you yank out an old dusty kraang charger. It was the same kind they used for their kraang droids, you never even knew what you'd use it for when you found it in the ruins of a building in New York, but you were glad you didn't throw it away now.

"Are you going to turn it on?" Bertha questions. "Are you sure this is a good idea?"

"Maybe, I just..." Scootching closer to the robot. Cyborg. Thing sitting in the middle of your trailer, your fingers fumble, you pick up your tools and put the wires back in its place, being careful not to mess with anything important. "I want to see what kind of person he is."

"And if he's a crazy robot on the loose?"

"Then it's a good thing I've got you here." Once you're sure everything seems to be fixed, you put the metal plating back on its head, and then hook up the spare charger, securing the connection with a quiet click.

Nothing happens.

Your hands tremble in anticipation in your lap, but when nothing changes after a couple of seconds, your shoulders slump. You assume it would take the thing at least a couple of hours to charge up, or maybe you were too late to find it. It might be braindead by this point.

"Great." You close your eyes and push yourself up, rubbing a metal hand down your face. The stupid thing is probably already too far gone to

A sudden jolt. You barely register the whirring hum before it stands up suddenly.

"As- As I was saying, we need to find-" The robot stood up suddenly with enough force to hit you with it's flailing arms. You stagger back, tripping over your toolbox. You let out a sharp yell as you hit your side.

The robot looks around startled at your sudden noise, head snapping to look at you on the floor. A low, electronic hum cuts through the air as his systems kick back online. Glowing markings flickering to life with full power, illuminating the dim trailer in its eerie pulses of purple.

You stare up at it, unmoving.

"What the fuck." You breath out.

The machine shudders, its body humming as systems power up, the robot's limbs twich and readjust after being powered down for so long.

A pause.

Then, in a voice more human than you anticipated:

"Oh."

-----

DonBot's POV:

"As- As I was saying, we need-" A loud electric voice stutters as the robot comes back to life.

Suddenly, his systems kick back on, and his body jerks. He was just in the middle of finishing his sentence when everything went dark. It took a split-second before he readjusted and started to take in his surroundings. He wasn't in the desert, and Raph was nowhere to be seen.

Donatello has been left with his own thoughts for hours as his body powered down, unsure of what had happened, if Raph was even safe.

Alarms flare in his head. His sensors scan his surroundings, locking onto something fascinating and impossible.

A statiscal improbability staring right at him.

A human.

She stares at him with intense eyes, pale as a sheet, as if she'd just seen a ghost. Slowly, she rises to her feet stood slowly, one hand clutching her side, eyes narrowed.

"Uhm." She hesitates. "Hey. Robot, uhm thing, what are you talking about?"

He moves switfly. Before she can even notice it, the woman is being held against the wall with his tech-staff pressed against her throat. She gasps, eyes flashing with fear and anger.

"Who are you? Where am I?" Donatello's voice cuts through the air, synthetic but sharp. Human or not, this girl has just taken him into her trailer, and she might be a threat.

She scoffs.

"Who am I? The girl that pulled your ass from the sun before your circuits melted out there." She nods to the door. "And the girl with the automatic laser guns."

Bertha takes the hint. The walls whiropen, revealing a row of small but deadly laser turrets, all of them simultaneously locking onto the robot's forehead and shell.

"Please disengage from any further attacks." Bertha asks in a sweet voice.

He glances at the guns, then back at the girl's face. The odds were not in his favor.

"So," She starts. "I suggest you back off. And then, we can talk about this." Hands raised in front of her, she raises an eyebrow in question.

He hesitates for a second, but wagers she wasn't one of his attackers from earlier, or he wouldn't be talking right now.

He lets her go. She stumbles forward, coughing and rubbing her throat. That was going to leave a bruise.

She glares up at him. "Damn, some way to say thanks."

"What am I doing here?" His robotic voice demanded.

"Chill out, I found you in an old town's ruins and took you in." She rubbed her collarbone from where he hit her with the bo-staff. Ouch, damn thing came out of nowhere.

"I thought you were scrap or something, then I opened up your plating." She taps the side of her own head. "What the heck even are you?"

Donatello stiffens.

"I'm a person!" He stammers. "Well, turtle. Well, okay, turtle mind in a robot body. But, I-"

She furrowed her brows the longer he kept rambling, but it didn't make it any easier for Donatello to find the words to explain his current predicament.

"My body was destroyed, but I was cybenetically wired to Metalhead Mark II, a robot I designed. So, I transferred my consciousness into this machine." He gestures at himself.

She looked at him up and down, never did he feel so comscious about his new robotic body. The girl blinks slowly. It takes her a moment to process.

"Okay..." She rubs her temple. "So, you're not like an AI or something."

"No." He shakes his head.

"You're a person." She stated.

"Mutant turtle," He correct, "But well. Yes."

"Mutant turtle." She repeats and lets out a snicker. "Fine. What were you doing cooking out there in the sun, turtle man?"

Oh, that's right.

"Raph!" He lets out a scream, suddenly remembered what got him into this mess.

"What?"

"He's my brother, I need to find him!" He ran off to the door, but the girl grabbed him by the arm and yanked him back.

"Did your circuits get fried out there!?" She pushed him against the wall and pointed a finger to the window. "We're in the middle of a sandstorm!"

Outside, the sandstorm rages - thick, churning clouds of dust outside the mouth of the cave.

He pushes her hand off of him. "But I—"

“Fine,” She snarls, shaking her head and gesturing to the door. “You wanna kill yourself out there? Be my guest, but I'm not driving out there in this storm."

He clenches his fists, scanning the storm while she walks away, throwing her hands into the air before sitting down at her table and grabbing some tools nearby.

Defeated, he lets out a robotic sigh, unfortunately this stranger was right, the winds howled outside, even though it seemed that they had taken shelter inside some sort of cave, the wind that made it into the cave was still strong enough to thrash against the walls of the trailer.

The sandstorm is picking up intensity—howling gusts of dirt and debris hammer against the thin metal and glass. Inside, it's dim, save for the flickering lights and a lantern, as well as the faint glow of the old Kraang charger that was still connected to his body. His systems were still blinking to life slowly, his power had run way too low, he wouldn't make it far.

Donnie just hoped his brother could take care of himself a little bit longer until he got back.

Curiosity peaks again, and he looks at the human woman in front of him, she sat at the table with all sorts of tools, fiddling with her mechanical arm.

----

Reader's POV:

You try to ignore him, but your nerves are wrecking you. Having someone in your personal space was a bit unnerving after so long. Sure, you had Bertha, but she wasn't really a person.

You can feel his sensors scanning you, even though you’re not looking at him. You half contemplated shutting him down again, if that would even be possible. After all, he did attack you.

The storm outside thickens, the sand’s beginning to coat the glass, blurring everything outside into a hazy mess. The atmosphere feels thick—suffocating.

You glance back when you can feel his gaze hasn't shifted in a couple of long seconds. When your eyes meet his sensors, he averts his gaze. You let out a huff and go back to meddling with your still damaged prothesis.

He finally breaks the silence.

"So, how did a human end up in the wasteland? When the mutagen bomb hit, there was nobody left."

You sigh, turning back into your chair to look at him.

"A brilliant observation, I hadn't noticed." You reply sarcastically and snap your real fingers. "I just did, that's it." There's a bitter tone that you don't even attempt to hide.

In a way, you envy the mutants of the desert, your lonely life fit you, of course, but it also meant always looking over your shoulder, patching your own wounds, rescuing yourself all the time.

"That's not a real answer." He presses, snapping you away from your train of thought.

"That wasn’t a real question." You snap back. "What's with the interrogation?"

He shakes his head.

"Just trying to make conversation since you saved my life and all, and we're going to be stuck together until this sandstorm passes."

She glances up at him, narrowing your eyes. "Since when do robots make small talk?"

"I told you - I'm not a robot."

"Fine." You grumble, focusing on the upper end of your arm, where it connected to your shoulder. "Ever since the world turned into, well, shit. End of story."

He watches you, silent for a long moment, sat in a makeshift seat across the room. "Are there any others?"

"I've got no idea," you growl, but your voice lacks conviction. "If I knew you were this chatty, I'd have thought twice about hauling you into my trailer."

He flinches just slightly, and you feel a pnag of regret into your chest.

The silence stretched again.

The tension was so thick you could cut it with a knife. You tried to pay it no mind as you attempted to get your arm fully operational again. You swore underneath your breath as the screwdriver slipped from your grasp, clattering to the floor. Scooting over to the edge of your seat so you could pick it up.

Before you reach it, the robot beat you to it.

"Looks like you could use a hand or two." He offers you the screwdriver. "You know, I'd say I've got quite the experience."

You ponder it for a second, before rolling your eyes and nodding to the seat in front of you.

He almost seems excited when he sits down. Slowly, he starts to inspect your prosthetic with careful precision.

"Who built this?" He asks, turning your arm in his oversized three-fingered hand.

"I did." You answer flatly.

His eyes, or sensors brighten - literally. "Oh woah." He turns your hand around in his own. It was almost comical how small your fingers looked in comparison to his. "This is amazing! I've never seen technology integrated in a prosthetic like this before."

You blink.

"Thanks."

He inspects the faint purple glow in your prosthetic.

"Where did you get this tech from?" He questions as he starts to loosen some screws.

"This? I could ask you the same thing." She raises an eyebrow with a smirk, looking at the same purple glow in his mechanisms.

"Well, does saying it comes from aliens from another dimension make sense to you?"

You chuckle. "Uhm, yeah."

He starts to adjust some of the internal wiring, his movements swift and precise. You watch with interest at how much control he seems to have over his hands, even though he only has 6 fingers in total.

"I'm sorry, by the way. For earlier, for attacking you. And for the questions, I didn't mean to offend," it says softly. "It's just fascinating! I- I mean," he stutters as he tries to find the best way to put his thoughts into words, rolling the screwdriver in his hand as he explains.

You tense, caught in between shutting his next question down or brushing it off.

"You might be the only human left in the wasteland."

Your jaw clenches.

"Hooray for me." You say bitterly and ball up your real fist.

The robot’s silence is palpable, a weight in the air. For a moment, he doesn’t say anything, but you feel the intensity of its observation.

"Sorry." He apologizes softly.

You bite back your sharp tongue.

"Look. " You hesitate, "It was pure luck. When the bomb hit, I happened to be in a makeshift lab of mine. It was enough to get me to survive the bomb and then the, well, fallout."

"But enough about me, you're a person, right? What's your name, turtle-man?" You change the topic of the conversation before he could prod any further into your personal life.

"Donatello" He answers. "But you can just call me Donnie."

'"Donatello." You tilt your head. "You're italian?"

That gets a chuckle out of him. "No, my father just really admired the great artists of the Renaissance." He takes away a damaged piece and replaces it with a new one.

"What's your name?"

You hesitate, but it's not like this nugget of information would tell him much else about yourself, so you tell him.

You watch as he repeats it slowly in a low voice, testing how it feels in his voicebox.

"That's a nice name."

"Psst. Maybe," You say, "But nobody really calls me that anymore. These days, when I meet someone they usually just call me something like 'Ghost'."

"The Ghost?" He asks, confused.

"Yep, you know." You sigh. "Last human on the wasteland and all." He thinks for a moment, then nods in understanding.

"So you're the one who built this robot body you're in right now?" You question him, looking back in his eyes, sensors? It felt weirdly personal, so you averted your gaze.

"I built this battle robot once, his name was Metalhead" He nods and hums as he explains, "But he got destroyed, so I made another one. I would never have thought it'd end up saving my life but, here we are."

"Cool." You say. "Not the your body getting destroyed part but, erhm, you know..." You rub the back of your neck with your good hand, cringing at the way your own voice sounded. Who knew spending years only talking to an AI assistant would put such a damper on your social skills.

"What about the voice that came through the speakers early?" He points at the speakers. Seaking of the devil...

"It's rude to talk about someone that's listening." Bertha chirps in, Donnie looks flustered for a second and starts to stutter out an apology.

"That's Bertha,sdon't mind her. She's my AI assistant." You answer. "I programmed her so she could be my lookout and auto-pilot."

"Just your lookout and auto-pilot?" She feigns hurt. "And here I thought we were actual friends." You roll your eyes and smile at Bertha's dramatics. Donatello watches the exchange in amusement.

"That's resourceful. No wonder you survived so long in the desert." He points out.

You give him a small smile.

"You know," Donatello says after a moment, "It's been a long time since I've had a conversation with anyone other than my brother."

"What happened to him?"

His hands still.

"Oh brother, we were ambushed by a gang of savages, then I lost consciousness." He admits. "When I came back online I was, well, here. I hope he's okay out there."

You grunt, shifting in your chair. "Seems like you two have made it pretty far. Can he take care of himself?"

"It's not that," Donnie says, his voice is quieter this time "He's lost most of his memories before the bomb. I'm worried about what could happen to him... but mostly, what could happen to anybody in his way."

Stealing a look at your own wall, your eyes find the lonely picture frame of you back in high school, surrounded by your father and friends, the only spec of your old life you had left at this point. You sigh, letting your gaze fall on the ground as you reflect.

"Do you have any idea where to start searching?" You finally look at him as he inspects your fingers in his own.

"Once the winds die down I could try to triangulate his location." He puts your hand down, inspecting his work.

"Sounds like a good start." You answer, wanting to add that you would help, you before you could speak again, he had already finished.

"And there you have it!" He spins the screwdriver in his hands before placing it in your toolbox. "A not so brand new robotic arm, but completely functional nonetheless."

You flex your fingers. The movement feels smoother than before, as if you had never even been shot.

You glance at him. "Thank you, Donatello."

His head tilts slightly, almost as if he's smiling. "You're welcome."

He looks at you, waiting for you to add anything else. The moment lingers longer than it should as you don'treally know what else to say.

He clears his throat, rubbing the back of his head. "So, how did this even happen?" He looks at your prosthetic arm, but you can also see him glance at the bullet marks in Bertha's plating.

"Savages." You say, keeping your voice even. "Had a run-in with them, too."

He waits expectantly. You rub your neck.

"Are you going to elaborate?" Donatello asks, more confused than annoyed.

"Hmm. Nope." You shake your head.

"Oh, okay." You chuckle at his response, half expecting him to press, but glad he took the hint.

You get up, popping your joints and gathering your tools.

"Well, it's getting late, and I've had a full day, so..." You let out a yawn and point towards your room.

"Oh, right! Seems like this storm isn't going to die down anytime soon."

"Do you need anything?" You cross your arms, and shift your weight from one foot to the other.

"I'll be fine, you've already done enough for me. Thanks." Donatello replies.

"Right." A long silence stretches between you, filled only by the howling wind outside and the occasional scrape of debris against the trailer. The storm rages on, the moment feels awkward, but for the first time in a long time, you don’t feel so alone. "Aight, imma head off now."

"Good night."

"Good night, Donatello." You close the door to your room behind you.

i cant believe ive completely forgotten to post my dontello’s cant vocal tones graphics

ft. my completely accidentally movie vs show split

theyre all not good at both but some are worse at certain aspects over others. except for true neutral 07 who is just The Struggler. true neutral equally shitty at both

and some additional clarifying memes as well

Welcome back to a re-written 2012 Donatello analysis!

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

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

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

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

Without further ado, onto the analysis.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But onto his issues regarding being mutated.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Self sacrificing behaviour.

Being a mutant.

And he doesn't understand.

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Never lose sight of who you are.

-

END SUMMARY:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Some doodles I made of @teks-emporium 's Adventure Time + 2012 crossover (Which specifically revolves around the Elemental Miniseries-) ! 😌✨

Ahhh thank you! I also think Donnie would love quick and easy foods like that, especially when pulling an all nighter at the lab :)

I draw too

He's so cute