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hypnotized (by this anomaly)

Summary:

What he does remember is staring up at the ceiling for the better part of two hours. Thinking. Rationalizing. Making realizations, with a kind of sinking feeling that goes right into some deep, dark part of his psyche.

 

Thinking that he’d just managed to find another way that he’s different from his brothers, all of a sudden. Another way that he’s weaker than them. Another way for them to secretly despise him, another way for him to fall behind, another way for him to not have any use.

 

Donnie can’t have that. If he’s of no use to the team, no use to his family, then—then what good is he?

 

Or: five times that Donnie despised his autistic traits, and one time that he didn't.

Chapter 1

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

i. 

Donnie supposes he knew, even from a young age, that he was fundamentally different from his brothers. Not even in the sense that they are completely different species of turtles and are not, in fact, related to each other in the slightest—even though Leo keeps insisting that the two of them are twins courtesy of being hatched around the same time, something which Donnie always gives an affectionate eye roll over (we’re not even both sliders, dumb-dumb, he thinks, but whatever makes you happy, I guess)—and not even in the sense of his soft shell. Although that’s certainly an inconvenience, whenever he cares to dwell on it. He can’t roughhouse with his brothers the way a small part of him wants to deep down, a part that’s animalistic and feral and is determined to gnash its teeth and show dominance in any way possible—all because of his stupid dumb-dumb shell and how it’s stupidly softer than the rest of him. Soft and delicate and weak.

(He tries, once. He gets in the middle of a friendly tussle between Raph and Leo, and gets a few good hits in—perfect, he thinks, finally I get what’s so fun about this activity—but then Raph’s spines jab him in the shell just the right way and he shrieks over the sharp sharp sharp bad bad BAD feeling that runs up his spine, and then his father has to pull all of them aside and give them a collective lecture on how they can’t afford to be as rough with him. How his species puts him at a disadvantage over his brothers. How he’s apparently forever destined to be weaker than them.

…Okay, so his father hadn’t actually said as much, but Donnie had felt it hanging in the air all the same, back then. So he builds his battle shell, throws himself into training with the staff so that he can have a way to participate in combat while still hanging back enough that it’s not dangerous for him, and tries to ignore how his mind whispers that he’ll always be second best to his brothers no matter how hard he attempts to make it otherwise.)

No. It isn’t even that. It’s how they…always seem to view the world around them in a way that he doesn’t.  It’s how they make him feel…other, sometimes, whether they necessarily mean to or not. It’s how they seem to be in a bubble sometimes, a bubble that he has no earthly idea on how to break into, how to just…get things and understand them the way that they do. Donnie understands tech, even from a young age. He knows how to wire and rewire things until they work without fail, he knows how to build a perfect working circuit from the time he’s six, he knows how to code and solder and do everything else that’s expected of him as the resident tech expert. He prides himself on his intelligence in that field. But people…people are different, somehow. 

For instance, he doesn’t seem to really…act in a way that most people do. In a way that people don’t find strange, somehow. And he has no earthly idea what to do to fix it.

He first notices it at a young age. When the rest of his brothers fling themselves into piles of sewer mud with gusto, the first time that his father determines that they’re old enough to venture out into the tunnel system by themselves, Donnie hangs back. He’d rather not get mud all over himself just to have fun, and in fact, he really doesn’t understand how such a thing is supposed to be fun in the first place. What could possibly be entertaining about getting oneself caked in filth? He’d much rather sit in a quiet corner and read the books that he brought along just in case, or count the number of rivets on one of the pipes that runs perpendicular to the nearest wall, or—

“Donnnnnnie. Donnie Donnie Donnie Donnie—” Leo’s voice trills from beside him, a minute before a familiar weight descends upon his shoulders, and it’s all Donnie can do to try and muffle the irritated sigh behind his clenched teeth as his annoying dumb-dumb twin has to come in and ruin everything, like always. “Stop reading y’r stupid book and come build mud castles with us.”

Donnie looks sideways at where Raph and Mikey are still lingering, considering. Mikey is making a decidedly adorable rendition of…what’s probably meant to be a snow angel within the muck, tongue sticking out of the corner of his mouth in concentration, and the softshell can’t help but huff out a small laugh at the sight—a minute before he sees Raph rolling in the stuff and absolutely coating himself with mud. It really shouldn’t be surprising, considering that Raphael is a snapping turtle and burying themselves in river muck is their primary source of camouflage while hunting (yes, Donnie had bothered to do his research on the traits typical of their different turtle species, thank you very much), but it’s disgusting nevertheless, and Donnie finds his beak wrinkling in distaste the longer he stares at the sight. He can’t quite put into words just what about it is so repulsive to him—the way he instinctively knows it will itch at the sensitive parts of his skin once it dries, perhaps, or the way a part of his mind is thoroughly convinced that being covered in mud isn’t something to apply so much gusto to—so he settles for speaking up in his usual unimpressed drawl, after a beat of silence.

“I…literally think I’d rather pluck my own eyeballs out and eat them. Thanks, Leo, but I’m good.”

“That’s gross,” Leo squeals out, physically recoiling.

“And rolling around in muck isn’t?”

"Yeah. Because eyeballs are mushy."

“That’s beside the point.”

“Ughhhhh. Stop usin’ your big words or whatever and just come over here for like, five minutes. Or are you tryin’ to be the next Eensteen over here?”

“It’s Einstein, you reprobate,” Donnie bites out, not being able to quantify why he’s suddenly so frustrated over Leo’s stubbornness. “And I said I’m good.”

He turns back to his open book, fully expecting that to be the end of the conversation as his eyes flit over the words upon the page. Donnie and Leo are two peas in the same pod, after all, both filled with the same kind of stubborn determination that makes them dig their heels in and clench their teeth and refuse to yield once they’ve made their mind up about something. And in the same sense, they instinctively seem to know what will make the other tick. Donnie knows for a fact that ignoring Leo for long enough—not giving him the satisfaction of getting a reaction out of his constant taunting and nagging—is as good of a method as any to get him to leave well enough alone, even if he’ll dig his heels in all the more stubbornly over it at first. Leo thrives off of attention and validation and reactions to his antics, after all, and refusing him that much is the quickest way to get his attention to wander to something else.

When he doesn’t hear anything else from Leo, Donnie allows himself a small but extremely self-satisfied smile, pushing his glasses back up onto the bridge of his beak as he reads. It was a tome containing mathematical and scientific history, something which Leo had bemoaned as being boring the first time that their father had finally given in to their pleas about new reading materials and snuck above the surface to scrounge through book sale bins. His brothers seemed to not understand why Donnie would pick out such a complicated book to read, but somehow the softshell just…understands the equations, even better than he understands anything else at such a young age. Equations don’t judge him for being weaker than the rest of his family. He doesn’t have to be reminded to make eye contact with equations or have to explain why actually making eye contact in the first place sometimes makes him feel like he wants to crawl out of his own skin. Donnie just…gets them. When everything else in his life feels so large and complicated to try and pick apart, mathematics and science are simplistic. Easy to define, and easy to understand. They’re exciting, and it shows in the way his mouth moves along with the words as his eyes fly over them, attempting to commit as much of the information to memory as possible.

The Fibonacci numbers were first described in Indian mathematics—

SPLAT.

Before Donnie can even think to react—before he can even emit so much as a startled squawk—there’s suddenly a very large piece of mud that is sliding down the pages of the book and turning them from stark white to dirty yellowish brown, and all he can do is stare in horror even as the voices of his brothers sound from behind him—

“Leo, what did you do—”

“I was aiming for his stupid head, Raph, not the book—”

“Everybody knows your aim sucks, Leo, why would you do that, he’s gonna be mad—”

“Can you guys stop yelling at each other—”

That’s Mikey’s voice piping up, soft and frightened, and Donnie really should be reassuring him that everything’s fine, it was just a stupid mistake, but all he can do is stare at the mud running down the pages and feel horror and anger and shame rising in him like a tidal wave, and he shouldn’t be feeling this way, it’s so dumb, it’s just a stupid book, it’s not like it’s the end of the world, except it very much is because that book was special to him and Leo had to go and ruin it for him because that’s what he always does, and now it’s ruined forever and he can’t fix it and this was supposed to be a fun day for all of them, why do they always have to ruin his fun and why can’t he just get over it and move on and what’s wrong with him why can’t he fix it fix it FIX IT

An angry screech rises in Donnie’s throat as he whirls on Leo, as he leaps forward to tackle his brother to the ground before he can even realize what he’s doing. Tears spring into his vision, white-hot and full of rage, and he can’t even bring himself to care about them—or, for that matter, care about how strangled and venomous his voice comes out in that moment. “You RUINED it, Leo! You ruined my book, you STUPID dumb-dumb, you ruin EVERYTHING—”

“Donnie! Donnie, stop—” There’s limbs grabbing at his back then, trying his best to pry him off of Leo, and Leo is writhing beneath him and delivering bites to his arms—not with nearly enough strength to actually hurt him, because even if they’re incensed at each other they’re still brothers—but Donnie writhes out of their touch then, because their touch somehow makes his skin feel even more like it’s suddenly too tight for him, and he lets out an irritated hiss before he can stop himself, full of malice and animalistic instinct as he goes as far as to extend his neck slightly and snap at the offending appendages.

“I said I wanted to be left alone, I don’t want to roll around in the mud, why is that so hard for you to COMPREHEND—”

“It was an accident, you…you big dumb meanie, I meant to aim for your freakishly large head—”

Stop making fun of me! You ALWAYS do this, Leo, you always have to ruin my fun, you always have to make things uncomfortable for me and it’s NOT funny anymore and now my book is ruined—”

“It’s just a stupid book!” Leo squawks, holding his hands up to defend from the onslaught of completely half-hearted swipes that Donnie is making at him. “Why are you so upset over some dumb book?”

“Because it was special to me! Dad went all the way to the surface to get it for me, and—” And he never really pays attention to ANY of us, least of all ME, so it MEANT something, is what Donnie doesn’t say in that moment. He’s already having a hard enough time expressing his emotions, and it shows in the way his face scrunches up with frustration the longer he paddles at Leo. “And you RUINED it and you didn’t LISTEN to me and now I—” Can’t even explain why I’m upset, isn’t that funny, Leo, you always like to make a joke out of everything, why not make a laughing spectacle out of your own brother while you’re at it—

Leo does something, a sudden swipe of his legs under Donnie’s own, and then he’s free and both of them are being held back from further violence by their brothers, Leo’s glower somehow looking all the more severe with his bright red facial markings. “Oh, really? I’m the one that ruins everything? What about you? With your….your dumb-dumb shell that we always gotta watch out for and the way we gotta treat you like something that’ll break and now you’re being a big stupid idiot over some dumb book instead of trying to hang out with your own brothers like some kind of weirdo—”

THAT’S ENOUGH.” Raph’s voice cuts into the argument, even as Leo’s words cut right down to the quick and make Donnie suddenly wither in on himself, suddenly feel like a dried flower that had been left out in the sun. He barely even hears Raph’s lecture to both of them past the sudden drumming in his ears, or the way everything seems to narrow to a pinpoint until his brother’s words are all he can hear or focus on. Like some kind of weirdo. Like some kind of weirdo. They keep repeating in his head like a twisted mantra, circling around his brain and forming themselves into a knot to loop around and strangle him, and he feels his hands clench into fists by his sides the longer he stands there, the longer that he tries to make sense of it all.

He…he isn’t a weirdo. Isn’t he? He’s just…upset over one of his possessions being ruined. Anyone would be. It was a priceless item, something that couldn’t just easily be replaced, something that his father had gone to actual physical effort to get for him. It’s the same as Leo getting upset that one of the arms had broken off of his Jupiter Jim figurine after a particularly rough play session with it, or Raph getting upset because his old baby swing no longer held his weight, or Mikey crying into their father’s shoulder for ten minutes straight because he’d accidentally torn the corner of one of his paintings.

But it isn’t. It isn’t remotely the same. Leo and Raph and Mikey had never resorted to physical violence after something of theirs had broken. Donnie is almost doubly sure that the three of them had never felt like the breakage of the item was breaking a part of them, too, like it was something physical that had crawled inside of his skin and made a home there and now he had to get it out by any means possible. And he…he shouldn’t even be this upset over it, is the worst part. It was clear that it was just an accident, and he should be spending time with his brothers instead of being holed up in a corner somewhere, and Leo has always been abrasive and loud and demanding of attention, so why…why can’t Donnie just let it roll off of his shoulders? Why does it feel like the entire world is falling apart around him just because of his stupid book?

He doesn’t remember if he manages to stammer out an extremely half-hearted apology to Leo, or to any of them. Donnie doesn’t even remember the trip home, because his brain feels full of TV static and somehow it’s all he can do to put one foot after the other and follow after his brothers. He doesn’t even really remember worming his way into bed that night, trying his best to face away from Leo’s side of the room because he still wasn’t sure that he was entirely ready to look his twin straight in the eye for a legitimate apology yet.

What he does remember is staring up at the ceiling for the better part of two hours. Thinking. Rationalizing. Making realizations, with a kind of sinking feeling that goes right into some deep, dark part of his psyche.

Thinking that he’d just managed to find another way that he’s different from his brothers, all of a sudden. Another way that he’s weaker than them. Another way for them to secretly despise him, another way for him to fall behind, another way for him to not have any use.

Donnie can’t have that. If he’s of no use to the team, no use to his family, then—then what good is he?

He has to keep his emotions more carefully under control, from this moment on. He can’t afford another lapse like this. He can’t afford to have his family looking at him like he’s some…other, something different from them in a way that terrifies him. Donnie remembers seeing the fear and confusion that had leapt onto Mikey’s facial expression at one point during his tirade, and it makes him feel so sick to his stomach that he vows he will never see that expression cross his little brother’s face ever again. At least not because of him.

So he forces it down, after that night. Tries his best to regulate his feelings of frustration when things are moved around in his space without permission, or when Leo invades his personal bubble to share some piece of information that just can’t wait another minute, or when a piece of his technology breaks down for the umpteenth time in spite of him adding failsafe on top of failsafe to it. Tries his best to ignore how even the minor inconveniences make him want to just crawl out of his own skin sometimes, make him want to scream until his throat goes raw and punch at the nearest surface and hiss and claw until the bad feeling finally goes away. He can’t give in to those urges. He can’t let that amount of emotion show on the surface. It’s not proper. It’s not allowed. Donnie has to keep his reaction down to a sarcastic barb or two, an angry furrowing of his eyebrows, because otherwise…otherwise, he’ll hear Leo’s words ringing through his head all over again, even years after the fact.

And he tries. He tries. Donnie gets very well-versed at keeping his emotions in check, even under the most stressful of situations.

But then…then there are the other problems.

Notes:

You know, if you'd told me about a year ago that I would have gotten obsessed over a cartoon about literal ninja turtles, I probably would have laughed in your face. And yet, here we are, because the movie got me in a goddamn chokehold and I had so many ideas that I needed to get down.

Rise!Donnie, as a character, is the one that speaks to me the most. Not only is he heavily implied to be somewhere on the autism spectrum (I can't remember if it was actually confirmed whether the writers were explicitly writing him that way or not off the top of my head, but whatever. Look at me, Rise writers, I'M the captain now), but he also has the same issues in social situations that I do, the same inferiority complex, the same desperate need to prove myself. And as an autistic person myself, I see a lot of my own traits in him. Hence, this little character study. C'mon, as a tiny turtle living in a sewer with three other chaotic brothers and a dad who was trying his best but still HEAVILY wrapped up in his own depression and PTSD, Donnie HAD to have issues coping with his neurodivergent traits. And if the show won't (or didn't have the time to) fully sit down and talk about that, then by god, I WILL.

Note that this story is heavily based off of my OWN autism experiences, which I am aware are not universal. Hence, some characters will come across as not being particularly understanding or patient with Donnie at first--largely because they don't understand where he's coming from, not because they see his autistic traits as a burden or anything else. Leo will come across as a bit of a jerk for this chapter and the next, but he's doing it as a sort of "I'm fighting with my sibling, quick, grab for anything that might cut to the quick that much faster" thing, not out of genuine hostility. If such a reading experience bothers you at all, feel free to look elsewhere for a Donnie-centric fic.

Updates will try to be made semi-regularly. I do have a full-time job and such to attend to, so we'll see. Hope you enjoy! This is a new fandom for me and reviews are healthy, nutritious chow for writers, so do feel free to show it some love. <3

(title from Five by Sleeping at Last, because you CANNOT look at this autism reptile and tell me he's not a five enneagram)