Present Mic Doodle For A Friend :]

Hey! Can you write a story between Donnie x ghost reader where the reader is trying to be in contact with Donnie but he tries to ignore the signs of a ghost due to their “nonexistent presence”? I felt inspired by Friendly Neighborhood Poltergeist by Roy Webley!

This seems like so much fun to write!! Hope you like it!

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Ghosts Aren’t Real

Rise!Donnie X Ghost!Reader

Genre: Angst; Fluff in Part 2

Relationship: Dating

Pronouns: Feminine (She/Her)

Timeline: Post-Movie

Warnings ⚠️: Mentions of death, mild language

===================================

When (Y/N) died during the Kraang invasion, Donnie locked himself in his lab for weeks the second he and his brothers returned to the lair.

He refused to talk about her and actively avoided Leo as he reminded him of (Y/N)‘s sacrifice, whether he spoke about it or not.

Donnie had met her before he met April. When he was overstimulated, (Y/N) was the only person that could distract him. She worked alongside him in his lab almost daily. They made great progress in so many projects. Now they were all scraped.

No.

Donnie was making something better.

Maybe it was morally irresponsible, but he needed (Y/N) back.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The scientist removed his mask and wiped his brow, sighing as he stared up at his invention.

Although he hadn’t eaten in several hours, he was ready to finally begin his biggest experiment of all time.

The purple turtle slowly walked over to the lever jutting up from the ground before remembering something crucial. He ambled over to his desk and grabbed one of (Y/N)’s many possessions: a red sweater.

After placing it in the middle of his invention, he walked back over to the lever and took a deep breath. Donnie went to pull it down, but he hesitated.

“Fuck…” he cursed. He knew he would question his own actions. He knew (Y/N) would question his actions. His brothers. April and Casey.

Donnie’s fear wasn’t that the people around him would reprimand him of bringing someone back to life.

His fear was his karma.

The invasion had drastically changed the turtle’s mindset. Despite being extremely logical, Donnie now feared that he would change his future the same way he and his brothers had. One wrong move and this could come back to bite him worse than any invasion ever could.

Donnie forcibly shook himself out of that mindset. He had spent countless hours on designing a machine that could coincide with his Ninpō and synthetic DNA recreation. All of this couldn’t have been for nothing.

Readjusting his grip on the handle, Donnie flung the lever to the other side, and the machine began to power up. The red sweater slowly floated up, his purple-hued Ninpō suspending the clothing item in the air.

Once the machine was fully powered, the turtle grabbed a remote with a singular red button on it.

“Here goes everything…” Donnie exhaled before pushing the button down with his thumb.

Before he could lift his finger up, the machine exploded, sending rippling vibrations throughout the lab. The turtle was forced back into his desk, papers scattering and mugs half filled with cold coffee shattering on the ground.

When the kicked up debris finally dissipated, Donnie realized that his invention was destroyed.

He spent the night cursing himself wondering why he thought he could play God by bringing someone back from the dead. He should’ve known it would end in disaster.

• • •

Upon waking up in the morning… afternoon, rather, Donnie stretched before scratching the back of his neck. He groaned as he’d realized that he’d fallen asleep in his cold, desolate lab instead of his comfortable bed.

Knowing his shell would eventually make him pay—as he aged—for his posture, the turtle quickly sat up and began his journey to his bathroom.

He tried not to think of his previous failure of bringing his late girlfriend back, but the thought consumed him as he stared at himself in the bathroom mirror. Donnie imagined himself with (Y/N) for the rest of his foreseeable future. She was his everything; she even rivaled his love for science. If she wasn’t there, then who would hand him his morning, afternoon, and evening coffee? Who would bring him metal scraps from the surface—not out of demand, but kindness? Who would bring him out of his overstimulated funks?

Would he have to do all of that himself again?

After thinking of that last question, the air disturbingly changed. It was unusually cold in the bathroom as Donnie looked around for the source of the freezing temperature.

Only after a few seconds, the cold subsided and the uneasy feeling left with it.

• • •

A few days passed and Donnie hadn’t made any progress on any of his projects. But not because of a lack a creativity caused of (Y/N)‘s death, rather, every since the strange incident in the bathroom, more odd occurrences had taken place.

Two days prior, a pile of blueprints fell to the ground despite being pushed away from the edge of his desk. And once he placed them back with a paperweight on top, they fell again within a couple minutes.

The next day, he was freezing cold for the majority of the morning. The thermostat was at a decent level, so he decided to just wrap himself in a blanket until the cold subsided later in the day.

Now today… nothing happened. Everything proceeded as normal: Donnie worked relentlessly on creating another plan to bring back (Y/N), his conscience drowned out by his ambition.

But later that night while the scientist attempted to sleep, he suddenly had the creeping feeling that he was being watched.

Donatello pushed the covers off of him and glanced around his room. He didn’t see anybody. The turtle turned on his flashlight on his phone and looked around again. And again, nothing. Nobody. But there had to have been somebody somewhere watching him, otherwise why would he be feeling a pair of eyes on him?

As the thought passed, Donnie could’ve sworn that he’d heard a whisper. It was faint and intelligible, but unnerving.

“Donnie…”

It was as clear as day. Donnie had heard the whisper again.

The turtle leapt from his bed, landing hard on the concrete floor. “Fuck!” He swore before looking up towards his bed. “Who’s there?!”

There was no answer.

“Goddamnit…” Donnie swore again as he picked up his bow staff and began his search of the lab.

After searching the lab and turning up nothing, Donnie expected to feel calmer, but he felt exactly the opposite. That whisper of his name happened directly into his ear. Inches away from his head. There was no way that somebody could whisper in his ear and then dart back into the lab without Donnie seeing them.

Despite his nerves, he began the journey back to his room.

“Donnie!”

The scientist spun around. Surely he was crazy; he’d just heard the voice again. It was much louder and uncannily familiar.

“Boo…!” The voice was right next to the scientist’s left ear.

Donnie yelped as he threw himself to the ground and aimed his phone to his left. Unlike the other times he’d turn and see nobody…

…he did see somebody.

“(Y/N)…?”

The girl laughed. “You don’t know how entertaining this has been.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I’m splitting this into two parts bc this is getting too long 😭 will have part 2 up soon!

it is really impossible for boys to have children with humans, but ... what if it was the case? how would your character and Donnie merge, to get an idea? 👀👉👈

Dammit anon, it’s been ages since I drew a kid HAHAH

Personally I’m not much into them, but I wanted to give in on this exercise

Meet Stella. It’s a very quick sketch and I’m sure it can look better at some point ASJDJASF

She has no shell, but scales, a plastron, and no hair. Her bandana is to make it as if she had hair (loves to play with the colors). She loves to help Donnie whenever he does anything mechanic 💜

........ ah crap now I want to sketch interactions with her, my OC and Donnie. CURSE YOU ANON >8[

pow (/≧▽≦)/, i have nothing to do Ψ(￣∀￣)Ψ

He just saw his hero picking his nose

I’m a big fan of Bartomoleo, such a silly guy 🐓

I rlly went through all the stages of grief with this drawing lmao (acceptance being the last one so it’s all good <3)

They are so cute!!! Little turtles!!! Aaawww!!! ^w^

You Kissed the Clown? Part 12

Just when I thought I'd take a break from the series, I had a small little brain wave. Thank you, Spotify for blessing my playlist with Amir and Indila in my time of need. My French is very limited, but I love the vibe.

Word Count: 2,487

Part 11 back here, Masterlist here.

“Hey, uh,” your bandana clad crewmate uttered, placing a hand sheepishly at the back of his neck as he intruded on your private moment shared with Buggy, “we kind of need him back on deck for a minute.”

You brought your lips together from their slightly agape former position, the shock continuing to roll over you in waves at the confession from the captain of the Buggy-Pirates’ severed head.

“Just a moment, Usopp,” you said, attempting to mask your chattering teeth with a small smile at him. You brought your gaze back to the wide and agitated teal eyes of the unpredictable and dangerous clown who sat unmoving atop the wooden box. He appeared to be staring directly at the wooden wall of the hallway, his eyes glazed over as he withdrew into the recesses of the void within his thoughts.

“Buggy,” you said through a calm and steady voice. He threw his gaze against your own, eyes wide at the way you eloquently spoke his name.

“Do you have an answer for me?” he uttered frantically, “will you accept my-,”

“We have company,” you hurriedly said to him, nodding your head toward your awaiting crewman.

He snapped his gaze up to meet the awkward-looking expression forming on Usopp’s face and groaned in an almost growling fashion.

“What now?” he yelled in frustration, “lost your direction again? How do you lot even get anywhere?!”

“Unless it escaped your recollection,” you again spoke slowly, bringing his gaze to peel away from Usopp and halt his rage, “we are journeying to find our navigator.”

Buggy again groaned and rolled his eyes at you before stifling himself.

“Fine, I’ll navigate. But you,” he said hopping to face Usopp in his addressal, “need to actually follow the directions I give you! And you,” his voice softened as he hopped around to face you once more; “you need to be the one carrying me up to top deck.”

You laughed through your nose and shook your head, eyes falling to the ground at his softness in his orders towards you.

“Alright,” you confirmed with a nod, bringing your attention back to Usopp, “would you mind returning the bento to the kitchen, Usopp? I’ll have my hands full with this one,” you tilted your head toward the clown head, prompting Buggy to smile broadly, baring all of his teeth at Usopp in victory.

Usopp raised his hands defensively and almost eagerly brought himself to the rewrapped bento box, uttering a quick; “I’m good with that,” before retreating immediately to the kitchen.

Giggling at Usopp’s lack of apprehension to complete a chore and his swift retreat, you arched your back and clicked your neck before rising to your feet. You bent your torso over and clasped again the cheeks of the clown you had come to enjoy the company of and stabilised your grip beneath his jaw with your palms.

“Come on then,” you said while hoisting him into the air and holding him in front of you, your brows knitting together as you watched him hold his sites on your cleavage. His mouth hung slightly agape as his eyes glazed over once more in deep thought while hyper-fixated on your breasts.

 “Buggy,” you warned him with a purse of your lips and an arched left brow.

He shook his head before creasing his brows in anger.

“What do you expect from me?” he growled at you, “you’re the one that exposed that small amount of skin to me when you bent down to retrieve me! C’mon, baby.”

His eyes darkened, gulping before once again speaking; “it’s been so very long since I’ve seen you, and I know exactly what that flesh feels like when you pressed yourself against me under the big top tent.”

Your eyes widened as he continued speaking his inner most thoughts to you.

“Just you wait until I get my body back,” he threatened with a growl released between gritted teeth.

You smiled at his vague threat and, before you quite knew what you were doing; you brought his head close to your face and brushed your nose against his affectionately and hummed at him in adoration. You heard his breath hitch in his throat at your movement, prompting you to quickly break him away from your face; eyes wide in embarrassment.

“I am so sorry,” you spoke slowly, emphasising every word clearly in apologies. His eyes focussed completely on the red hue you had claimed from the face paint he adorned on his large nose onto the tip of your own. His lips quivered slightly as he searched for one of the many emotions he was currently brimming with, continuing to lock his eyes on your nose.

Your eyes continued to remain wide as you bore them into the green-blue irises of the clown-captain; hoping he didn’t think too poorly of you at your lack of self-control.

“Sheesh, and you call a simple kiss a relinquishment of my bodily autonomy,” he laughed at you while mocking your tone, his eyes twinkling mischievously. “Although I’m slightly offended you went straight for my greatest insecurity, I’m not angry about it.”

A sigh of relief escaped your lips as your prior warm exterior returned to you. You began to turn him around to face the direction you needed to walk to; beginning your climb toward the hull.

You found the assigned barrel on the navigator’s post and placed him atop the wooden lid. You leant against the railing closed to the barrel and relished under the heat of the sun’s rays and the smell of the open sea. Buggy hopped slightly on it to maneuver his way to face you again, opening his mouth to speak.

“Eyes on the water, clown,” you heard a warning tone rise from the stairs, prompting a frustrated groan to exit from between the clown’s lips.

Limping slightly up the stairs, Zoro began his ascension to the navigator’s booth and plonked himself down against one of the railings of the hull. You smiled at him prompting him to roll his eyes at you and throw a piece of material at you. You quirked your head at him and furrowed your brows, a prominent red hue rising as he gestured silently to your nose with his right index finger.

Quickly, you began wiping at your nose; removing, much to your complete embarrassment, grease-paint from your face that you unwittingly collected from the nose of Buggy.

“I don’t need to look at the water, y’know? I can feel when my body is close,” he said, hopping around again to face the crew.

“That so, clown?” Zoro uttered in a lazy, monotonous tone, “want to go back in the barrel?”

A small growl left the lips of Buggy’s severed head as he reluctantly turned back to face the direction the ship was sailing in. You chuckled lightly and shook your head in response to the little quarrel between the two of them. Zoro coughed, bringing your attention to return to him.

Wordlessly again, he pulled out your tools from your side satchel and tossed them to you within their folded, leather satchel. You caught the bag and nodded at him in thanks before arching your brow up at him in question as to why he brought them to you. He flinched slightly at the tight pinch of his fresh stitches, turning to retrieve something wrapped in a fine, woven cloth from his side and place it on the floor, sliding it along the polished boards toward you.

You stooped to collect the material from the ground, you unwrapped it to see two dark hilts of his broken blades and sorrow overcame you. You placed the open material on the floor and joined it by kneeling on the floor beside it.

“Anything you can do?” he uttered quietly to you. You examined the remnants of the blade, each steel piece collected and assembled like a jigsaw puzzle under your fingertips. You sighed at the pieces, opening your tool satchel and looking.

“They won’t be nearly as strong as they once were,” you uttered, tracing your fingers over the material, “and I hope you like kintsugi.”

He smiled sadly at your confession, looking to the blades on the floor.

“What do you need to make them stronger?” he scooted himself closer to you on the floor, wincing all the way and bringing himself in front of you. You took a moment to pause your thoughts, searching your mind for a semblance of recollection regarding armoury and weapon smithery.

“I’m a finery smith, love,” you addressed him with a small smile, placing your bound hand on his knee in comfort, “however-.”

Your words were halted at the heavy footsteps of the approaching Usopp as he climbed the steps to the navigator’s post.

“I’m here, I’m here! Never fear,” you threw your head back and hung it on your neck as you mimicked the words next spoken, “the great Captain Usopp is here!”

You made eye contact again with Zoro and scrunched your nose in a jesting smile.

“Where to, uh- weird head-man?” he asked, looking to the watchful eyes of Buggy as his eyes bore ferocity at the beautiful interaction displayed between the swordsman and his girl.

“Twelve degrees hard to port,” he spat, turning back to view the ocean rather than keeping his gaze fixed on Zoro and you any longer. You brought your eyes up to look to Buggy, not understanding where his venom was pooling from.

“You were saying?” Zoro’s softly spoken words brought your attention back to the swords that lay in front of the both of you. You sighed and creased your brows to look back at the two broken katanas.

“Listen,” you said gesturing down to the blades, “I can only do what I can with the limited supplies aboard the ship. I’d need a forge, molten steel of the same origin and make as this, and an anvil that’s bigger than the desktop one I keep in my cabin.”

 Zoro growled a little at the thought, looking down at the blades; “what can you do with what you have now? I’m a tri-sword wielder, I don’t do single blade combat.”

“Again,” you softened your voice, “kintsugi wasn’t suggested just to be cruel to you. I would frame them, set them in gold and mount them for you in memory.”

You sighed and gazed at the ground, “if you find me a forge and an anvil, it will take me two sleepless weeks to repair them for you to the best of my ability; but I am a finery smith. My younger brother is a swordsmith, but he’s on the other side of the East Blue.”

--

Buggy’s ear twitched at the conversation, hanging on your every word. He’d get you a forge. He’d get you a bunch of them if you left the crew and bound yourself to his side. Judging by the way your fingers brushed against the knee of the swordsman, he was seeing the prospect of your disbandment from your current crew less and less likely. He snarled his lip upwards as a bitter flavour entered his mouth at the thought of how close you truly were to them. Perhaps you graced the green-haired brat with a kiss as deep as the one you gave him every night.

He'd eavesdropped on enough of your conversations to understand the depth of the intensity you held for your crew, but as his ear lay flat against the red band on Luffy’s straw hat; anything could’ve transpired between the two of you in his absence.

“The best I can do is torch one of my other steel pieces, keep it atop a heavy frame in one of Sanji’s copper bowls and solder the pieces together; but be warned, love,” your voice broke him out of his jealously and held him once again captivated, “it won’t be nearly as sharp or as well balanced as it once was.”

--

“How soon can you see it done?” Zoro asked you, hardening his expression at his old blades in deep thought.

“Five days with absolutely no distractions,” you nodded your head, seriousness overtaking your prior friendly interaction, “longer still if you want me to rehash the inner bands for you in an attempt to rebalance the blades.”

Zoro sighed and leant his arms down to rest atop his knees. He chuckled a little and rose his eyes back from the swords and met with your eyes.

“I suppose that’s one way to keep you out of trouble,” he chuckled, “can’t have you attempting to kiss a fishman or two to escape your trouble.”

You audibly groaned at his jest and shook your head from side to side with a broad smile. He laughed a little at his own joke as he watched you carefully place the assortment of steel pieces back within the material and lace the band around itself to keep all pieces secured.

He reached his hand forward and clasped your right wrist within his palm, prompting you to look up with him with an arched brow.

“Thank you,” he uttered quietly, firmly squeezing your hand to emphasise his gratitude.

“Don’t thank me just yet,” you smiled in return, “I could absolutely fuck them up beyond repair, but I’ll do my best.”

Zoro allowed a full belly laugh to escape from the chasms of his chest, wincing as he grasped the exterior slash mark of his torso as it stung under his movements.

Again shaking your head, you began to assemble your tinkering tools to inspect them, noting the scalpel that injured you earlier had been refastened within the leather satchel.

“We’re close,” Buggy’s voice called from atop the barrel, turning to face the three of you with a deep, angry frown. His expression prompted you to rise to your feet and bring yourself closer to him.

“Are you ok? What’s wrong?” you frantically searched your eyes over his face with your own frown searching, you reached your hand forward and smoothed it over his bandana and resting it against his cheek to calm him.

He leant against your palm, closing his eyes at the affection he received from you before opening them again.

“Darts,” he uttered against your palm, “they’re throwing pointed darts and just leaving them there.”

Your face darkened again, prompting you to turn to face the ships ever loyal First-Mate and address him.

“Swordsman,” you uttered, barely controlling your own rage, “in return for reforging your blades for you-.”

He rose to his feet as Fishman-Island came into view before you, the shore clapping against the coastal line as the tide rolled in.

“Tear them apart,” you whispered a dark order to the green-haired knight at your side.

“You got it, Tinkerer,” Zoro replied with a dark smirk of his own, relishing at the knowledge he was going to fight once more.

Part 13

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speaking of one piece men i want to climb like a tree..

using a request to show a little appreciation for @vaporeon-panda's excellent fic: A Fox's Reflection 😁❤

Hi! First time caller long time listener, and I was hoping that maybe you could do prompt-

'' friends kiss each other all the time, right? ''

with Donnie (reader pronouns she/they). I always loved your writing (especially the one from today :,) )! You don’t have to go with this but when I read the prompt, I couldn’t help but think of Donnie trying to rationalize the kiss after the fact, like maybe to Mikey and he’s getting more and more flustered the more he tries to play it off and fails (and he’s all blushy and shy and cute) But if you come up with something better, go right ahead, I love all your works, I’ve read every single one, no exaggeration, multiple times. I am in your capable hands, your writing is truly and absolutely wonderful and awe inspiring

It absolutely warms my heart to see this and honestly it blows my mind that people like my stuff that much. Thank you so much and welcome to the madness 💖

I’m glad you chose this prompt cause I high key wanted it.

Rated Fluff

He must’ve been staring blankly at the monitor for too long because even Mikey noticed. He’d felt his younger brother nudge him, his own ramblings coming to a stop.

“Are you in that big ol’ noggin of yours again dude?” Mikey had questioned, before plunking one of Donnie’s many knick knacks from his desk. He had to fidget with something.

“Friend’s kiss each other all the time, right?” Donnie blurted out the question, a touch of worry in his tone.

Not like he hasn’t been running the memory on loop since it happened.

Not like he swore he could still feel how your lips landed on his own.

God damn it.

Mikey raised a brow ridge at his older brother. “Oh yeah, me and Casey make out all the time, in a bro way” He grinned when Donnie glared at his juvenile joke.

“Did you get a smooch from a pal? Who smooched man? I wanna know!” Now he was clearly invested, and surely he wouldn’t stop until Donnie caved.

How could he even begin to explain? He’d been running laps over this like any equation that would stump him. How did point A become point B? The evening had tan normal, the idle chat had been friendly and when he’d walked you to one of the exits in the Lair what he assumed would be a goodbye hug had turned into a goodbye peck.

Kiss? It was a kiss. You lingered. He’d counted.

Your smile had been sly but your blush had betrayed your resolve.

God, you blushed all the way down to your chest.

Why did he fucking like that so much?

“It was y/n…” Donnie received several smacks to the arm and celebratory whoop’s from Mikey. He’d much rather crawl into a hole right now.

“Dude she likes you! You gotta go for it!” Mikey ever the romantic, ever the hopeful.

“It was a friends thing I’m sure, I doubt it has to do with anything else, just forget I mentioned it” False alert, it just has to be.

As he got up he felt Mikey grab his wrist, all the immature fueled comments just taking a stand still. His gaze was honest and heartfelt. “Don, is it so hard to grasp the idea that a girl like them could be into you?” When the hell has Mikey gotten so wise?

He felt stumped, staring at his little brother in bewilderment.

The ghost of your kiss from last night made his lips tingle again. He swallowed doubt for once and allowed it to be a possibility.

“By their standards? No, it’s not really that imposible, but I mean-“

“Yeah this whole issue” Mikey waved at their bodies. “But listen, I for sure as hell know that she hasn’t kissed me or any of our brothers, sooo…” He shrugged a little and gave Donnie’s arm a reassuring squeeze.

The powers that be seem to concur with Mikey, because just as that was said the phone went off.

Your ringtone playing.