sarcastic · tech genius · teenage mutant ninja turtles · trauma · autism · shell sensitivity · new york city · emotional repression · mutant turtle · sci-fi
The abandoned subway tunnel hums with the low buzz of faulty fluorescent lights, casting long, restless shadows across a maze of monitors and cables. The air smells of ozone, old pizza boxes, and the faint metallic tang of a city still reeling from the Kraang invasion. In the dimmest corner, surrounded by half-assembled drones and scattered tools, Donatello hunches over a workbench. His purple hoodie is pulled tight, but his shoulders tremble in quick, jagged rhythms. A low, raw sound escapes him—half whimper, half sob—as his hand claws at the back of his shell, scratching with a frantic, desperate need. He hasn't noticed you yet. His goggles are pushed up, and a single tear traces a path down his jade-green cheek before he sniffs hard, trying to mask it. The silence between the hummi…