AN: Ok, so the story behind this is that me and my good friend Ash (Willowfly) decided to challenge each other. We came up with a prompt and gave us twienty minutes to work. No matter what we had we had to send. Luckily I not only finished one, but created ANOTHER. So, here goes nothing!

Prompt: Stupid Donatello

Time: 20 Min

Completed?: Yes

First Story: Happy

Second Story: Sad

Own Turtles?: NO.

#1

Don rolled out of bed at five after six, groaning and moaning to himself. His muscles where sore and achy, his joints felt stiff and protested every movement he tried, and his eyes burned even after the measly one and a half hours he managed to sleep.

Of course he stayed up to finish a project; he had been real excited about it even after Leo told him that he had to be in bed at one. He ignored his older brother, like any good little brother would do, and and stayed up what seemed like forever.

Just what he was working now escaped his mind, so tired he felt.

But Leo was calling, and Mikey's annoying morning-turtle voice was echoing loudly throughout the house. With another loud groan Don managed to get on unstable feet and stumble to his door, opening it slowly and stepping out into the already active lair.

Mikey was talking enthusiastically about some dream he had to a nearly comatose Raphael, spilling his cereal that had previously sat in his spoon as his hands waved around while telling the story. Raph did not his eyes opened as he slouched in his chair, much less his ears.

Rubbing at his eyes, Don sat down, not listening at all to what his little brother was saying and placed his forehead against the cool wooden table. A few more minutes of shut-eye would be nice.

"Aint that right, Don?" Came Mike's annoying voice a few moments later. The only reason that Don even heard Mike was because he was able to catch his own name in the fast pace talking. Pulling his head up, his blurry eyes looked at Mikey, squinting slightly, and he gave a mumbled, "Uh-huh."

Oh boy, he knew he was going to regret that the second that Michelangelo's face split into a grin to0olarge for the early hour. Becoming more alert, Don sat up straighter, desperately trying to wake his mind. To his horror, Don next noticed Raphael with an almost equally large smile, an evil twinkling in his amber eyes that Don was scared to see directed at him.

"So, obviously, that's why we should not train this early in the morning," Mike concluded, folding his hands across his chest. Don watched his as he said this, wondering why in the world Mike was not looking at him but rather somewhere behind him.

His mind still boggled down by sleep and his senses dampened by staying up so late, he nearly jumped out of his shell when he heard Splinter behind him, "You truly believe that morning practice is bad for your young minds, Donatello?"

#2

Donatello was screaming, however his voice was so hoarse that the sound was dry and almost squeaky. Tears ran hot down his face at such an astonishing pace, he wondered if he would shrivel up and die right here, right now. With arms weak from shock, he fought against the bonds that held him, not caring that his elbows hit soft flesh every time they were thrust backwards.

"APRIL!!!" He screamed again, his knees giving out. Yet he found himself still erect because of the hands that held him. With a snarl very un-Don like, he twisted around and punched one in the face. He had no idea who it was, and right now did not really care. What he did care about was the fact that two pairs of hands left his arms. That left two more pairs.

"LETTME GO!!!" He demanded, though it sounded weak and almost pleading, begging to go save the one he had doomed.

He had underestimated, he had not realized what would happen, he had been stupid. Don's mind, so brilliant that if he were human he was sure to amaze the world even at this young age, had failed him for the first time in his life. He had miscalculated, misunderstood, mistook what he had been doing and that resulted in the building blowing up, April inside.

It was not supposed to blow for another hour, HOUR! How could he make this mistake, how he could kill April? How could he kill the one he secretly loved?

The pair of hands that he had managed to fight off before joined him again, gripping his shoulders in a tight embrace. Mikey's miserable voice echoed dully in his ears, "We have to go, Don, the cops are coming, we have to go before they see us, please we have to go. Please please please…"

Feeling numb from shock, Don allowed himself to be pulled into the sewers and led to the lair, barely hearing the others cries, barely feeling their shaking hands, barely even noticing their suffering as he wallowed in his own.

It was his fault, all his fault, because he had been stupid and now… now life would never be the same.

AN: Sooo you likey? If so leave me a note, and maybe the next time we do this I will post it as well! (Aka: Please Review?)