#Dona AU

[imagionationstation]

Incorrect Dona AU Quote:

Donnie: I passed by their meager standard. I failed by mine.

Casey: Why do women always do that?

Donnie: *pauses mid-step*

Leo&Raph&Mikey: *backs away*

Donnie: *slight maniac* …Fail?

Casey: Create ridiculous standards that no person could meet! With your careers, with your kids- you gotta be more like us men!

Donnie: Be lazy? Blame others?

Casey: Get help.

[borisnightingale]

Dona is living in my head rent free and I let her

I love her so much

For @imagionationstation ‘s Dona AU

[imagionationstation]

Not based off my AU, but still stealing this as a reminder that Dona gets to suffer in more ways than one. So many positives 💜

He's suffering my monthly pain because I love him, and he's the favorite

[cloudgremlin-creations]

Prosthetics are my JAM guys, so of course my Donatello makes prosthetics.

The Dewclaw prosthetic is heavily inspired by Dani Clode’s third thumb project (Ted Talk about it) but much beefier- after all, this finger has to handle the stress of a jō staff when Dona is out crime fighting!

Ol’ Grippy was Dona’s first design back when Don only had a 3D printer to work with, and though the prosthesis itself has been upgraded over the years, the design has stayed pretty much the same. It’s inspired by Ian Davis’ work (missingpartsclub on YouTube).

And of course I’ve taken tons of inspo from other fan creators, especially @tizeline’s seperated AU:

Dona wants to know how they work Tiz!Donnie! Don has no qualms about grabbing Tiz!Donnie and studying him bc he’s another Don!

[gruloky]

also today while on a long drive i was like hm how can i infuse more 60s into the characters i love and then i realized a large chunk of the adults in psychonauts would have been teenagers in the 60s and was like au where they were interns in the 60s............

[dreamerwitches]

Magical witches for Bella Donna and Gela! These both took me two goes… im most happy with Gela because clowns just spark my inspiration

Bella Donna is mostly inspired by shells and the birth of venus painting. It was hard to mix the bright syringes with such a delicate feeling outfit so i decided to make them more organic. Her appearance might change later but we’ll see

Gela’s challenge for me was working out what to do with her body… but i think she looks very fun in the end, doesnt she? The real witch is inside, her ‘faces’ are just a mask. Shes actually a demon

[defensivelee]

had a lovely nsfw dream about William and Sunderland, but as it gave me ideas for the next Six Lives chapter I will keep my mouth shut 🤐🤐 for now

[razzle-zazzle]

Whumptober Day 12: i haven't slept for days, but who's counting?

Red + Insomnia

2394 Words; Sit Still, Look Pretty

TW for implied kidnapping

AO3 ver

There had been little warning.

Dion had wandered off of the fairgrounds some time after lunch to find a payphone to talk to Gisu. He was more than old enough to do so, and Augustus trusted that he would be back well before sundown. If anything, Augustus was happy that his son was able to hold a steady relationship.

But then Dion didn’t come back.

The sky began to shift, brilliant warm hues coloring the horizon, and Augustus had yet to see his son return. Perhaps he had just missed him? Augustus made his way to Donatella, who was going over their equipment by the caravan.

He wrapped his arms around her, greeting her with a kiss on the shoulder. “Дорогая, have you seen Dion?”

Donatella giggled, turning around to kiss him back. “I don’t believe so,” she responded, “Isn’t he usually back by now?”

Augustus nodded. The horizon had been set aflame by the falling sun, and yet he hadn’t seen Dion return. “I’m sure he’s fine,” he started, “But I can’t help but worry.” Dion was strong. But with everything that had happened over the summer…

“Oh, mio caro,” Donatella put her hands on his shoulders. “Let’s go look for him. I’m sure our little bambino just lost track of time.” She set the clipboard on one of the crates.

Yes, that would put Augustus’ worries to rest. He took Donatella’s hand, then stopped.

“Wait, let me—” He raised a hand to his temple, and with a burst of mental effort—he was still getting used to his powers, still trying to wrap his head around them—he reached out to Frazie.

Солнышко, can you hear me?

This is still so weird, Frazie’s mental presence responded. But yeah.

Augustus concentrated. Watch the kids for us, okay? Your Mom and I are going on a little walk.

Ooookay. And with that, Frazie’s mental presence left the conversation.

Augustus removed his hand from his temple. “Let’s go.”

Donatella snorted. “I sometimes wonder if you love your new abilities more than you love me,” she joked.

Augustus leaned into her. “Я люблю тебя всей душой.” He murmured. And it was true—he loved his wife with every fiber of his being. It was impossible not to.

Donatella chuckled. “Ti amo anch’io.” She returned. “Now let’s go find our son.”

+=+=+=+=+

The sky had long darkened by the time they returned. There had been no sign of Dion anywhere—the payphones were abandoned.

Frazie had realized what their “walk” was for by the time they got back; Augustus wouldn’t have kept the truth from her, regardless.

Still, Augustus held hope that Dion would return come the morning. Surely, after everything that had happened over the summer, after all that the family had been through, they were at least owed some degree of luck by the universe. Surely.

But the sun rose again with no Dion in sight, and Augustus could deny it no longer—

Something had happened to his son.

+=+=+=+=+

Queepie didn’t like it.

Seven days. Seven days of that icky sticky feeling that Queepie abhorred. Seven days of it permeating the entire camp like fog, clinging to every surface.

The last time Queepie had felt like this, had felt this anxiety-nausea coiled in his stomach and making it impossible to dance, was when Raz had run away. He hated it. It clung to everything and everyone, even him.

He wondered if Dion had run away. He couldn’t imagine why, though. But Raz’ example was the only one Queepie had to go off of—he couldn’t fathom any other reason for this icky sticky feeling.

The radio blasted some nameless song—Queepie wished they were close enough to the quarry to catch K.L.O.B. Morris had been talking about getting new songs before winter—Queepie wondered what it’d sound like when the family returned.

But Morris wasn’t here, just like Dion—though at least Morris wasn’t missing.

Queepie leaned back, closing his eyes against the bright blue sky. Even up here, on top of the caravan, everything felt icky. The radio kept playing, the birds kept chirping, the leaves kept falling, the world kept turning—

“QUEEPIE! How many times have I told you not to climb up there!”

—and Donatella’s voice cut right through the air, icky sticky.

Queepie stuck out his tongue. He knew how to fall, and the caravan wasn’t even that hard to climb. If anything, it was safer up here.

(Dion had told him, once, that a bird might swoop down and snatch Queepie up if he sat on top of the caravan. Queepie had thought that sounded so cool, but no birds ever came. So even still, the caravan was safe.)

“Don’t make me come up there!” Donatella threatened. “Arquipo Galileo Aquato!”

Queepie grumbled. He started to make his way down, the radio floating down with him. He knew better than to mess around when being full-named. It was like a law of the universe, or something: being full-named meant trouble if one didn’t stop what they were doing.

Donatella scooped Queepie up the moment he was back on the ground. “I don’t want you wandering where I can’t see you, gufetto.” She murmured. “Not while your brother is missing.”

Queepie huffed, crossing his arms. “You could see me up there.” He pointed out.

“That’s not the point.” Donatella replied. “I couldn’t find you,” She explained, “And that scared me.” She pressed a kiss to Queepie’s forehead, ignoring the way he squirmed. “Don’t scare me like that, okay gufetto?”

Despite his misgivings, Queepie curled into his mother’s grasp. “Okay.”

He didn’t want to make the icky-sticky feeling any worse than it already was.

+=+=+=+=+

Mirtala squinted into the darkness. What time was it? Wayyyyy too early to be up, she decided, rolling over.

Beside her, Queepie was still asleep, blanket clutched tight in his hands. She had offered him Prince Froggington, but Queepie had refused the rabbit plush on principle. Whatever. He could have his blanket, then, and Mirtala would hold onto Prince Froggington. Even though she was a big girl, now, and didn’t need to hold onto a plushie—she just felt like it.

A few moments later, Mirtala rolled over again. Her face scrunched up, and she squeezed Prince Froggington a little tighter.

Queepie’s breathing mixed with the muffled sounds of the outside world. Mirtala tried to slow her own breathing, to relax and fall asleep—

She rolled back over. She hugged Prince Froggington tighter.

Sleep still refused to take her back into its embrace.

With a grumble in the back of her throat, Mirtala sat up. She rubbed her eyes, stretched, and stood, opening up the tent flap. Cold night air washed in, and she shuddered, but still, she padded out onto the dirt and closed the flap behind her.

Mirtala made to walk over to Dee’s tent—

It wasn’t there. Mirtala rubbed at her eyes. Right. Dee had been missing for two weeks—there was no point setting up his tent when they moved to the next town. She’d heard Mom and Dad talk about returning to the quarry, where Raz and Nona were. Maybe Raz could use his secret agent skills to find out what happened to Dion.

Mirtala held Prince Froggington closer. The air was really cold out here, so she couldn’t linger. She turned to Frazie’s tent.

Sisters had to stick together, after all. Sure, Dion wouldn’t wake for anything until the sun came up, but Dion wasn’t here right now. So Mirtala went to Frazie, who was just as good. She could almost pretend that Dion was here, and she was just choosing Frazie’s tent over his stinky no-good boy tent. Frazie was warmer anyway.

(Maybe if she wished hard enough, Dion would come back.

It wasn’t likely, but Mirtala couldn’t help but hope. Dee would be back soon. He had to.)

+=+=+=+=+

Three weeks.

Dion had been gone for three weeks, and Frazie was pissed.

Where did he get off, disappearing like that? Without a trace, too. They’d just gotten back to traveling after Pooter’s big adventure, too, and now this?

Frazie wanted Dion back just so she could yell at him. Punch his stupid face for making everyone worry—

For making Frazie worry. For making her lay awake at night thinking of all the horrible things that could have happened to him—

Frazie shook her head. She needed to focus. With Dion gone, all of his chores fell to the rest of the family. To her. Wherever he was, it wasn’t here, meaning Frazie had to step up and cover for his missing ass.

She was doing the laundry, now, working Queepie’s blanket cape against the washboard. Her baby brother had screamed and kicked when she’d come to take it, but Frazie took it anyway—it was disgusting. It needed to be cleaned.

Normally, it was Dion who ended up cleaning Queepie’s cape—he was the only one besides Mom who was willing to put up with the inevitable outbursts. But Dion wasn’t here. So it fell to Frazie to step up, kneeling over the basin on bruised shins.

“How much longer?” Queepie lifted himself up to lean over the side of the basin. Frazie put a sud-soaked hand on his face to push him back before he fell in.

“It wouldn’t take so long if you let it get washed more often,” She grumbled, scrubbing at a stubborn snot stain. Ugh. When Dion got back, she’d have to tell him to clean Queepie’s cape more often—this was just disheartening. He could deal with the bruised shins and the grody blanket cape in Frazie’s stead.

Queepie crossed his arms. “It doesn’t need washed.” He insisted. “It’s fine.”

Frazie made a face. “It’s disgusting, is what it is.” She scrubbed at a particularly crusty spot, trying not to imagine what it could be.

Queepie gasped. “No it’s not! Take it back!”

Frazie stuck out her tongue.

“Take it back!” Queepie gripped the edge of the basin, lifting himself up to lean forwards once again, “Take it back take it back take it back—”

The water exploded. Queepie fell back onto the dirt.

Frazie blinked. Water continued to drip languidly from her hair, from her shawl, from every inch of her down onto the dirt.

Queepie looked up at her with wide eyes.

“AUGHH!” Frazie was done. She was so done. This wasn’t even her job—but Dion just had to go and disappear without even any sign that he was still alive, like some selfish jerk who didn’t care if it stressed out the family he left behind—

She stood up, her hands balled into fists. “Guess what? Your blanket’s done!” She kicked the side of the basin. She wasn’t doing any more of this. The water was frigid, anyway.

Queepie made a face. “It’s wet!” He complained.

“DRY IT YOURSELF!” Frazie turned on her heel, not lingering long enough to see if Queepie started crying. She didn’t care. She didn’t. She didn’t care that Dion was missing or that she was soaking wet or that Queepie was probably crying by the basin over a waterlogged blanket cape and a mean older sister. She didn’t have it in her to care.

Frazie shoved open the flap of her tent and fell onto the bedroll, not caring if she got it wet. She screamed into the pillow.

Her eyes stung. It was probably just the soap. Her face was warm. (The laundry water was cold.) Her throat tightened.

Still, Frazie was fine. Everything was fine. She wasn’t crying at all.

(She’d always been good at denial.)

+=+=+=+=+

Donatella shuffled out into the morning air, pulling her coat a little tighter over her shoulders. The November sunlight wasn’t enough to warm the air, especially not at this hour—there was barely any, actually, the horizon just beginning to tint red. Still, she was out here, her hair still in its braid from when she settled into bed the night before, squinting blearily at the mailbox they brought with them on their travels, all because she couldn’t sleep.

She opened the box. A letter from Lucrecia, an ad, a bill, another ad—

Her foot bumped against something on the ground. Donatella looked down.

Well. That was certainly different.

The package was a plain cardboard box, barely half a foot tall. “The Aquato Family Circus” was written across the tape in elegant blue marker.

Donatella didn’t recognize the handwriting, and couldn’t find a return address. She regarded the box suspiciously, unsure whether she should open it.

A breeze blew in. Donatella shivered.

“Oh, fine.” She wasn’t sure whether she wanted to open the package, but she wanted to bring it into camp even less. And she certainly wasn’t going to waste time mulling it over—not in this cold, and not when she hadn’t slept nearly enough.

For lack of a knife, Donatella pried the tape off with her fingers, scraping at the edge with her nails until she had enough to grab and pull. It came off with less resistance than she was expecting.

Donatella pushed the flaps aside. There was a note atop a layer of bubblewrap. She pulled it out.

What lovely embroidery!

That was it. Donatella turned the card over—nope, nothing else. Just those three words in elegant blue ink, the handwriting unfamiliar. Alright then.

Prying apart the bubblewrap, Donatella pulled out a blue vest, neatly folded. Her thumb brushed over familiar embroidery on the collar—

Donatella was wide awake now. She set the vest in her lap, pulling out green-and-white tights with patches on the knees, a red sash, brown shorts with swirls sewn onto the hems—

Donatella felt lightheaded. She needed to lie down—

She pushed aside the last layer of bubblewrap to find a pair of green boots. There was a scrap of blue fabric in one of them, and in the other—

Seven red hair ties. She rubbed one of them between her fingers—she could just barely feel the grease.

Donatella inhaled a stuttered breath. The cold air was like sandpaper down her throat—or was it the pounding of her chest that made her throat tighten so? She struggled to breathe in, to get any air when she was utterly surrounded by it—all she could see were the red hair ties in her hand, red red red filling her vision while the world spun.

When she managed to breathe again, her scream shook the trees.

[purple-the-turtle]

Donnie’s not fooling anyone (aka Mikey)

[gayest-squrrel]

'Hide, you fools!'

(psst, these little guys have an ask blog, check it out!)

[portinaris]

@yuiyuuji I did my work. Maybe find a cute Timothy for my Damien? 🤍

[imagionationstation]

I don’t know what’s going on with my brain but it has been AU gender swapping Donnie so hard the past few days.

I’m just going to fix the series in a few simple steps:

Donnie leaning heavily on April only because she’s the first other female that she’s gotten to interact with ever

Leo getting some female interaction so he sees Karai as a potential friend instead of immediately crushing and the later reveal isn’t as conflicting since they’re just battle besties

Casey stays decent and awesome without the “battle for April” plot making his character hard to truly appreciate

The brothers are more supportive of Donnie and her attempts to form a relationship with April & Donnie doesn’t have to talk to a jar of guts and mutagen because they know how secluded she’s been, so they’re more free with advice like hey, maybe don’t stalk her and just text her or somethin’, mkay?

Splinter visibly checking up on her activities in the lab throughout the series because he has no idea how to raise a female (he was counting on Tang Shen for that) but he does his best to let her know he cares by supporting her in other ways 💜🤎

More softie Raph moments with his sis so the haters in the audience don’t hate him as much as they unreasonably do

Mikey doesn’t need to change. He just gets to have some more of the “emotionally intelligent” moments that we were deprived off.

I can’t think straight with all these bubbling rewrites help me-

For anyone who cares, also my favorite tidbits:

Splinter not realizing that Donnie was female at first and the name Donatello just ends up sticking. Donnie will die on a hill that Donatello is gender neutral even though her family and friends know it’s not. It’s a topic that they just avoid bringing up

Her brothers use Dona when they’re teasing her

An explanation as to why canon Donnie’s figure is just so randomly different from her practically identical brothers

The shock of Irma isn’t as crippling because April still has Donnie as her devoted female bestie & now the farmhouse era is a lot less stressful and complicated for April and the viewers

Role model Leo still exists & Donnie has a crisis over him bonding with Karai and that creates tension for a while & Four Trap is actually Leo accusing Donnie of not trying hard enough because of that past debacle and “try harder” has clear purpose

Donnie gets an official ✨ big sister ✨ and that means that good-guy snake Karai exists in the series more as the reptilian mutant females bond

Overprotective brothers over their sister (and-)

The sister who appreciates it but there are some moments where she gets tired of them treating her like she’s not as capable as them (not true, but how she interprets their actions) and one episode decides to prove herself (Operation Break Out)

Potential for Casey/Donnie but currently undecided

Consistent “girls are so emotional” jokes that are beyond cringe but the viewers have to tolerate them anyway bc 2012 humor

Broken Foot actually having an affect on Karai since she almost took part in killing off her only sister

Donnie’s biggest fear is that her brothers will one day get tired of her because of how different she is/feels and then she’ll be alone & this fear is the main debacle that she struggles with through the entire series instead of the weird love triangle thing

It’s okay everyone I’ll shut up now and go sit in my corner bye ✌️

[borisnightingale]

I made some finished pieces of the Dona AU by @imagionationstation check it out, it’s basically and AU where Donnie is a girl and it is really cool and freaking awesome and I. Love. It.

Here are some sketches I made that might be made into pieces

I love female Donnie so much you wouldn’t believe. She has invaded my brain and is providing much needed dopamine.

I gave her lashes because how could I not I mean, I think Donnie deserves lashes even if she can’t grow them . Most of these are redraws of screenshots from certain episodes, tho the last one is from a fan art I found on Pinterest and sadly I couldn’t find the artist. It was mostly a sketch to get to know Donnie as a character so yeah.

If I do make that sketch a drawing I would change some things about it but it was just a draft.

Please check out the creator of the AU they are so freaking cool.

[fuyuteki]

This Iori oh my oh my [redacted] [redacted] [redacted] in my bed NOW

[cloudgremlin-creations]

I’m not sure if I wanna have Draxum’s legs amputated or not so I just drew him with them for now.

Whenever Dona wants to be a lil terror Don will steal Draxum’s research and sit on the stairs to read it, giving full commentary. Eventually, this will lead to Draxum giving the young alchemist magic lessons, but it’ll be a while before their relationship is trusting enough for that!

[clover-the-awesomest]

*slaps forehead

OF FUCKING COURSE HE DID.

*proceeds to punch everything within a ten mile radius

Part 5!

For someone trained to be a stealthy ninja, Donnie surprisingly can't stop molding his logo onto every available thing~

Part 1