Chapter Text
All he could feel were the slimy, invading tentacles across his body, devouring him whole and swallowing his pain-filled shouts in a disgusting sea of the ugliest shade of pink he’d ever seen.
Donnie felt wrong. Everything felt wrong , everything was wrong. His body slotted so perfectly with the Kraang that it had almost felt like home at the time, yet his mind had kept screaming at him to leave, run, help, anything please! He couldn’t handle it anymore, he needed to get out, he needed his brothers, where were his brothers?
But, hadn’t he already escaped the Technodrome? Why was he here? The Kraang had already forcibly ripped him out before so how did they come back? They locked the Kraang away, how did they come back?
Donnie was scared. He had never felt this kind of sheer terror before. Normally, everything was perfectly laid out before him in a logical way. His brain had never faltered to understand something before, so why was this his breaking point?
Donnie was facing standing at the control panel again. He looked up at the glimmering stars up ahead and Leo was yelling at him to follow the Kraang. But Leo wasn’t there. Leo should be fighting Kraang Prime. How did he get there? Leo shouldn’t have to suffer being torn apart from the inside and have tentacles drilled into his shell and shoved down his throat and slimy tendrils winding along his arms and cutting off circulation to his feet and hands and why was he here-
***
Donnie woke up on the floor.
“What in the…” Shaking his head, he pushed the dream from his mind. “It was probably just my dum dum brain making up some dum dum situation to scare me.” Sighing, he stood and started to make his bed. Methodically, he picked up each pillow his sleeping self had haphazardly kicked across the room and the multitude of blankets now twisted in tangles around his ankles. When he was finished, he glanced at his clock. It was now sitting in a pool of glinting glass a few feet away, still ticking away without a care for its broken body.
Monday, 6:30 am.
Good. He thought. Just in time for my morning coffee.
He stretched his arms above his head and pulled his arm controller onto his wrist, fiddling with the settings for a second until he eventually felt the sharp click of his battle shell over his shoulder blades. Tugging his mask on, Donnie felt ready to face the day. Or, as ready as he could be. If his siblings stayed asleep for a few more hours he wouldn’t be one to complain. Dealing with anyone always sat low on his priority list, far below chugging down a few shots of espresso.
Stepping into the cold kitchen, Donnie flicked on their, admittedly rather old, coffee machine, grabbing his favourite mug from the cupboard above the counter.
“Mornin’, Dee.” Leo smiled at him raising a steaming cup in greeting, clutching what appeared to be an out-of-date bagel in his other hand. Donnie suppressed a wince when he looked up at his twin's face. Deep eyebags pulled unflatteringly at the swell in his cheekbones, worry lines resting mockingly in between his brow bones. He was sure that Leo was either hoping that if he didn't acknowledge it others wouldn't, or he genuinely had not seen his reflection since he woke up. If he slept, that was. Donnie was sure it was the latter though. His twin would never leave himself open to be teased by Raph, especially not after making a joke out of their elder brother's own brow chasm.
“Good day, dearest sibling. To what do I owe the pleasure ,” He spat the last word out teasingly, staring blankly into Leo’s eyes, “of your company this fine morning?”
“Oh y’know. The usual.” Leo stared back, a smirk starting to form. “But of course my perfect twin would never understand my troubles, being as wonderful as you are.” After carefully placing his cup of tea down, he splayed out dramatically across the counter, pressing the back of the hand holding the bagel against his forehead.
Donnie rolled his eyes. Same old Leo.
“So glad you finally accept my superiority as the better twin. Now step aside, Leo. My delicious coffee awaits me.”
Leo narrowed his eyes at him, swiping his still-full mug of tea from where he’d put it down and taking a small sip. Scrunching up his beak, Leo waltzed over to the sink to dump it out. He had then made his way over to the kettle and flicked it on to boil. The same kettle that had, incidentally, been boiled only a few minutes prior and would have still contained water of a sufficient enough temperature to refill his cup.
While they waited for the kettle, they stood in silence, tension crackling like wildfire between them. The silence was broken by the kettle's shrill screeching, indicating it had finished re-boiling. In unison, the twins filled their respective mugs with water, the only communication between them quiet mutterings of, ‘Could you pass me that?’ or ‘Get out of my way, you’re literally the slowest person I’ve ever met.’ Leo’s mug already contained a teabag hanging out the side, the label read Lipton, as usual. At the bottom of Donnies was, in his expert opinion, the greatest thing humanity had ever created. Instant coffee.
Once both drinks had been stirred, they stood again in silence, leaning against opposite sides of the counter. Leo was clutching his mug as if his life depended on it, the quivers running up his arms strong enough to send the inner contents spilling over the edges and onto his fingers.
Leo was the first to break the silence.
“Hey out of curiosity, was something bothering you yesterday?”
“Please, 'Nardo I haven't the time to dwell on the past. In any case, I would remember if something upset me, and I cannot recall anything of the sort, so whatever you are attempting to allude to cannot be that important. Besides, based on the burns on your fingers I’d say you’re the one who's got a problem.”
Leo huffed, placing his mug down onto the counter where he had put it before.
“Oh, c’mon Dee. I know you know what I'm talking about. Yesterday you were saying some odd stuff. Like, really odd. Now we all know you are definitely the biggest weirdo in the fam, but like… Okay, I’m just going to outright ask. Donnie, who the hell are Bop-it and Croc Eddie?”
Donnie left without answering.
***
Donnie had a strange dream again, though this one felt more… tangible?
He couldn't recall the first half of the dream, but he remembered that at one point he was sitting on an old, worn-down couch next to some weird other-turtle in a blue mask. They were watching what looked like a discount Jupiter Jim. He felt taller too, or maybe it was just because the turtle on his other side was so short. Speaking of the shorter turtle, he was yelling about how stupid the show they were watching was, which Donnie could agree with.
This ripoff-JJ was absolute trash, and whichever of the turtles around him, be it the blue or orange one, bought it off of Craigslist should feel ashamed of themselves. Jupiter Jim topped this “Captain Ryan ” easily.
Maybe he was being too harsh on it, though. It wasn’t bad, per se. It just looked as though it was created in the 90s. But if it had had the charm of the 80s? Now that would’ve been a different story.
Back on track, he was definitely in some weird version of his family’s lair. A darker, more gloomy sewers and by pizza supreme was that tall ass lanky rat meant to be pops? God, this dream was weird.
He couldn’t fathom what part of his brain came up with this. Nevertheless, he supposed if being aware while dreaming was going to happen he might as well mess with this fake splinter and strange other-turtles while he was here. A turtle's got to get his joys from somewhere, right?
***
Donnie woke up at his desk this time, a pillow under his head and the most scratchy blanket that had ever touched laid over his shoulders and exposed shell. He was sure he fell asleep in bed though, battleshell still strapped securely to his back.
While his siblings would most certainly remove his battleshell, they wouldn't move him to his desk. If anything, they would move him from his desk to his bed. Especially Raph, he was always harping on about how if Donnie would only just sleep in his bed then he would find his neck and shoulders wouldn't hurt so much each morning. The joke's on him though, Donnie’s back was the real issue, and there was nothing that could fix the strain his battleshell placed on it. Not even getting proper sleep.
His clock, now sitting with tape across its face holding the shards together, read Wednesday 6:30 am.
Time for his morning coffee.