semilethal | general psl

hey buddy! :) am i texting to remind you it's junkyard night or am i reminding you you planned to cancel it and then forgot? i don't think I got the wrong night. but you know raph's fingers don't play nice with navigating that shared calendar.

[ Friendship with feeling a random scenario meme prompt over, now brain and brawn standing bonding arrangement is my new best friend.

Hot concept: what if super smash big bro and woke up choosing violence bro sometimes just go break stuff to channel energy and ~study physics~ and also Donnie sometimes collects little tech parts in the fallout.

and then idk i haven't thought ahead far enough to whatever inevitable disaster befalls them. ]

It is uncancelled. I need things now. [so get ur bag big buddy because that junkyard isn't gonna theft itself]

great! coming your way

[ He could wonder about if uncancelled means was-cancelled-now-not or never-cancelled, but honestly that's whatever. Raph still gets to have smug brother feelings about Donnie choosing to hang out with him (and getting to do useful heavy lifting), so this one's going in the W category. That is what's important here. A nice, relaxing night theft-ing from a junkyard.

He retrieves...... the Big Bag. Just in case. And then he stands outside Donnie's door with his hands on his hips super triumphantly, because he's just like that. ]

We're losin' moonlight, Dee!

One minute!

[raph's triumphant stink is wafting into his lab so donnie knows he's really actually got only one minute before raph bodily collects him and skips them both down to the junkyard himself. in the two or three times he's been to the junkyard since the invasion and subsequent rebuilding, donnie hasn't seen repo mantis once.

the cat's still there, stalking about the junkyard or sleeping in her cave. just...repo mantis isn't there. maybe he sees the turtles coming and runs the other way, knowing how disaster and chaos tends to follow in their wake and the fallout usually isn't worth the fight. given how protective he is of his assets though, donnie suspects something else entirely and just doesn't think about it (or, truthfully, care).

battle shell on, the one with extra storage and detachable flight capabilities, typical toolset for disassembly, cleaning kit. that should be good.

donnie strolls out of his lab, feeling a bit lighter than he has the past few weeks and reaching up to knock a couple knuckles against raph's plastron. why raphael is so jazzed to go on errands with his brothers donnie will never understand, but at least that makes him a happy partner in crime.] Ready to pick up some refridgerators?

[ Minute given, minute taken, and behold: a brother.

It's always nice when everyone's on the ball. Everyone in this instance being... the two of them. Honestly, that probably helped their odds. ]

Please. If there was anyone born more ready to pick up fridges than me, I haven't heard about 'em.

[ Maybe when he hits his 20s he'll achieve his dream of picking up a bus, but appliances are fine in his teen years. Fridges are very cubey and satisfying to lift. Nice downtime to have on the docket.

He gives Donnie a little nudge with his elbow. ]

C'mon.

[ Off, to the wild city sewers yonder. What a town, etc. ]

[yes, donatello is at least one star sticker more reliable than the rest of their kin, but that doesn't say much when raphael sits pretty at five and donnie just manages a two. look, he was busy, he was working, he had other obligations that he made up for himself...

either way, don talks aloud as they make their way up to the surface, going through his mental list without expecting raph to listen, remember, or frankly even care. leo complains loudly, mikey asks a million questions, but raph? it's nice to stream-of-consciousness with raphael, because raphael is the boulder in the middle of that particular river.] -so I'll need probably both the condenser coils and the compressor to get the soft serve machine functional. Bowling ball launcher's a wash, I'll need to scrap and start over. Rails are too warped, it'll throw off the aim way too much. Maybe rework the design for more launch pressure? Don't want to just stack a bunch of hydraulics up there though, it emits enough heat as it is.

Edited 2022-10-03 06:22 (UTC)

[ Oh, he fully weathers the wordflow. Raph cannot pretend he shares these interests or understands the vast majority of what Donnie says when he gets on a run doing his thing. He's out here keeping his peepers peeled for Threats and watching rats run around and stuff. Just vibing.

The important takeaways: something something soft serve, bowling ball, lots of syllables.

Donnie sounds like he's in a good mood. Arguably the only actually important takeaway of them all. ]

You'll figure it out. [ Local brother could only vaguely make a guess at what it is at all and it would probably be the wrong guess. Just seemed like the time to be supportive. ] Or you won't and you'll figure somethin' else out instead. Either way.

[ He pokes his head out to scope the scene. ]

Looks clear.

[you know, donnie is in a good mood, surprisingly. not that he's commonly in a bad mood but it's just rarer for him to be in a mood that is good. it's been some weeks now since the invasion. things are getting rebuilt, their favorite pizza places are back up and running again. leo is healing nicely, mikey's hands haven't trembled in forever, and raph's eyesight is much improved. everyone's getting better. donnie didn't even flinch when he got hugged yesterday, so maybe he's over his own dumb issues too.

so yeah, the mood is good! it's good. and he's got projects to do, he's got improvements, he can make things for fun and he can rebuild the turtle tank into an even more slam-dunkingly boss ass vehicle than ever.

so when big raphie steps out ahead donnie, giving into that slightly manic urge that rarely rears its head, climbs up onto his brother's shell to confirm before hopping over and off of him, strolling to the front of this two-car train they've got going.]

How do you feel about robot arms coming out of the sides of the Turtle Tank? It's not very ergonomic I'll admit, but it'll look killer. Literally, depending on what I make them do.

Edited 2022-10-04 03:56 (UTC)

[ Aw. Shell-climbing gremlin Donnie. Raph loves Don regardless of mood or mode, sure, but it's always fun when he's a little hoppy.

Annnd getting a little confirmation visual sweep never hurts, these days. Eyesight's on the rise, but better safe than sorry. ]

I mean, you obviously had me at "robot arms." [ Because he isn't heartless or immune to stuff that sounds cool. ] Then you lost me at "literally killer robot arms." I'm pretty sure the last thing we need is a murder function.

[ Kinda... supervillainy. ]

Doesn't have enough murder functions if you ask me. [well he didn't donnie, pack it back up.

luckily the junkyard isn't far from the lair and after a quick look around to confirm the clearest of coasts before they hop the fence and begin the thievery. or scavenging, depending on who you ask.]

Could you go look for refrigerators while I liberate this carburetor? [donnie points to the appliance-y section of the junkyard. it's at least still within view of where donnie is now dismantling an engine block with textbook enthusiasm, heedless of the dusty oil getting all over his fingers. germaphobe can't stand some slime but bury him in the belly of a machine and he'll try to huff the antifreeze]

Donnie, that answer is exactly why I never ask you.

[ Also because he doesn't generally ask about Murder Functions, but that's negligible.

He and Donnie both sometimes prefer to choose the path of most over-the-top destruction, which is nice. It's like part of the overlap in a weird Venn diagram. Sometimes Donnie's tastes go off the rails in suspicious and potentially lethal ways though.

Raph does a few seconds of blatantly obvious distance judgement before he answers. It's not overprotective paranoia when their history makes it justified, okay. But. Seeing as it's still within view and it's within communications range, no real alarm bells. Yeah. Should be fine. ]

Yep! Fridge duty. I'll start linin' em up. [ we get it dude you play minecraft. Anyway he trots off towards the appliance-y section. ] Yell if you need me.

[ He loves this. Donnie gets to be happy digging around in junk for stuff Raph can't or won't learn to pronounce, Raph gets to have a bro hang (yes errands count as hangs) digging around for heavy fridges to lift. Symbiosis at its finest. ]

[the heavy thumps and clatters of raphael moving around cumbersome appliances that no one creature has any business being able to lift and move is almost meditative, in a way. maybe donatello doesn't want to talk about it either (okay, he DEFINITELY doesn't want to talk about it) but even with his battle shell on he still feels...exposed.

he's felt that way for weeks now. at least he's no longer trying to jump out of his skin or literally bite anyone who puts a hand on his shoulder.

but with raphael back there, making an unholy amount of noise that would no doubt bring repo mantis over if he were still around, it's almost like his shell is to a wall. a very comforting, very sturdy wall. donnie can completely lose himself in his work without having to worry because he knows raphael's probably keeping at least one and a half eyes on him even while he hauls around 400 pounds of metal, glass, and plastic to line up in a neat little row.]

Dang-...nut, [donnie grouses, wrenching at a component that just won't come loose. buildup and rust had claimed the connecting hardware and no amount of WD-40 and not-quite-gentle coaxing was getting it loose. he could always cut it with a laser, if he wanted to set the entire engine block on fire.] Raph, [donnie calls over his shoulder without looking away,] I need you to literally rip this engine apart for me. [that should make him happy.

...except he isn't answering. something cold prickles at the back of donnie's neck. he doesn't want to turn and look; some sick, deep, animalistic fear that tells him not to look. he has to look.

arms still buried in the car engine, donatello looks over his shoulder. there is no raphael, no line of refridgerators. there's no junkyard, no new york; just the wet, pulsing walls of the kraang ship closing in.]

[ If there's a world where Raph doesn't have 1.5+ eyes or ears on the nearest little brother at all times, that must be a world he's not in.

It ain't much, but it's honest work, digging around for fridges. Nice and straightforward. Fun way to kill time and get some lifting in. Donnie is elbow-deep in car stuff, right over there, and Raph can hear him clinking around a little bit in the spaces where he's not personally making a huge racket.

When his right eye starts itching, he doesn't think too much about it. It's not back to 100% yet, he's out in the dark doing work with a bunch of grimy old stuff, it's probably gonna bug him. So he doesn't rub at it, in the learned manner of someone who got their hand slapped away from their face a lot the first few days after the invasion, gets back to his excavating instead. It's a good night. Donnie's in a good mood. It's fine.

When half his vision cuts out entirely like it's connected to a secret light switch somewhere, file that down under the sort of instant, rib-crushing panic that ends with him accidentally ripping the door off of this fridge wholesale. Not just gone, not just cut, but a pressure, half-familiar, like there's something out of place, something growing--

Freezes him. Cuts his breath short. Very bad, probably, he thinks. ]

Dee?

[ It shouldn't be loud enough to travel. He should have to scrape a thought together, try again. Shouldn't be quiet enough to get through, with him not making a racket.

His brother isn't rattling car parts around anymore.

(ALONE?)

But it hasn't been a minute, Donnie was right there, he just checked.

Raph turns and can't seem to get eyes-- eye?-- on him and it's maybe the most terrifying thing of all. ]

[the walls don't actually close in. they sit there, pulsating and dripping, but they are no closer to donnie after several long, long seconds of just staring as 500+ ng/L of adrenaline screams through his body and slams his heart against his ribcage.

ever so slowly, donatello turns around to see his arms are buried in the fleshy recesses of the kraang console, but when the panic again reaches its claws for him, he's prepared. pushing down the revulsion climbing up from his stomach, he wiggles his fingers ever so slightly. it doesn't feel like the console, it doesn't grip with the same sickening suction. he carefully pulls his arms out and meets only hard resistance he can't see but he can maneuver around. it's the car engine.

he's hallucinating. all right. that poses its own terrifying problems, but somewhat more manageable than just suddenly being in the kraang ship. but while he's been standing here trying not to fall apart and just curl up and rock himself to wellness, raphael is either past that wall desperately trying to get his attention, or somewhere else. maybe raphael doesn't even know donnie's not okay? has he actually spoken, has raph said anything? donnie can't hear the sounds of the refrigerators being moved, did he stop? is donnie having auditory hallucinations too? all he can hear is tinnitus and his own pounding heart. what does he do?

-he needs to stop panicking. he's got to stop panicking. his own mind, the thing he's relied on the most, is playing tricks on him but he must stay calm if he's going to fix this, which of course he will.

donatello takes a deep breath. he does this several times, then puts his hands out and walks forward, toward the kraang wall, through the kraang wall until he bumps into-]

-Raph.

[ Rather than logical investigative work, Raphael is engaging in one of the Hamato clan's most time-tested and ancient arts: simply brute forcing focus on literally anything that's not his current situation, as a means to function. Healthy. Stable. Ol' reliable.

He ditches the fridge door. Puts a palm over his eye and presses, like trying to alleviate a headache, tries to make his breathing even out.

He's fine, because he says so. He's fine because he needs to find his brother. Panicking doesn't keep Donnie safe, so it has to stay off the table right now. He can move. He still has one good eye. So he's fine, and it'll stay fine, and they'll both get home safe. And if something's in his head somehow despite the fact there's been no sign of that whatsoever until right now, if there's Kraang left in him somewhere--

Raph presses harder, instinctive, forces his hands not to shake.

He'll tear it out again. He did it before. Anything that's in there, he can claw it down to the root and keep ripping until it's gone for real-

So the bright sides of a hundred percent absolutely getting jumpscared by Donatello bumping into him are a) he no longer has to canvas the junkyard on a Donnie hunt and b) it really takes a hammer to the odds of going full 'animal with one leg stuck in a trap' thought spiral. No longer required, busy with: jumping a foot in the air due to local nerd. ]

Donnie. Hey, we gotta-- [ Wait, bumped into him. Donnie bumped into him? Accidental physical contact? Did he miss something while he was having his freakout? ] What happened?

[ Look, the eye thing can wait two extra seconds. It's not gonna get more blind. He's pretty sure that's science. If something's up with both of them at the same time, though... real worst case scenario for what was supposed to just be a fun little errand. ]

[there's a loud clunk and all of a sudden a floodlight illuminates the junkyard around them- because that's where he is, the junkyard. as if the light had just suddenly cleared the hallucination away like a fan would a thick fog.

it was raphael he bumped into because there he is, donatello's big brother, one hand hovering over him as donnie clutches at his brother's arm and shell, the other hand pressed- against his eye?]

What happened? [donnie demands, because that's the surest way to calm him down. information, input, generate response and answer. he reaches up for his brother's wrist to pull it away, already reaching into his belt for a pen light.]

[ ???

Uno Reversed??? This can't be right.

Raph gives Donnie's hand a light swat. Reason: partly on principle, partly just because he can. Maybe a little bit because what if nothing got close to his eyes right now, actually, and never mind if that's the opposite of what a reasonable person would be doing in this situation.

Which is... fine. Apparently? That's depth perception he's percept-ing? Or as much of it as he's gotten back to lately, which is a non-terrible amount.

He literally just wanted to line up some fridges for his little brother to massacre. Why is life like this. ]

I asked you first. That means I got interrogation dibs.

[ Some people choose a hill to die on to cope. ]

[is about to throw a HISSY. FIT over having his hand knocked away when he's trying to examine his brother but it's weird that raph is being so quiet about it. donnie opens his mouth to argue but then he catches it.

raph's lips are moving. he's definitely speaking, or trying to speak, but he's- there's nothing. not even the sound of his breath, a wheeze, anything to indicate he's having difficulty speaking, up to and including his face which emotes just the same as ever.

is it him? is it donnie, can he not-

donnie snaps his mouth shut and pauses, still hanging onto raphael's wrist; he thinks he can hear environmental noise, the far-off roar and honks of new york of traffic, the buzz of the old lights above them. just to be sure donnie wrenches his goggles aside to snap his fingers right next to his inner ear. he can definitely hear, and judging by the irritated confusion on raphael's face, he doesn't know anything is wrong so he must be able to hear himself.

-right. and maybe he can hear donnie?] Raph, I can't hear what you're saying. Nod if you can hear me still.

[ The fact that Donnie does not immediately throw a hissy fit to be fended off is concerning in its own right. Raph is no stranger to what happens when someone pokes that particular bear. Due to having poked it several times in recent history, probably.

It's so cool how this ping of concern only goes more downhill by the second. Like his brother isn't absorbing something. But not in like the "makes it frustrating to try to corral his little brother because his big brain latched onto something four blocks and a left turn away" way, just... a weird way. A something is obviously very wrong way.

The cause for which becomes EVIDENT (when Donnie literally says what the cause is).

So worrying really can take the front seat, its default position, now. Donnie gets his nod and then Raph goes ahead and walks a frenetic little circle around him. Like he will magically find evidence of a way to fix this by punching something into the upper atmosphere. This is cool. This is great. No one wants to panic at all.

When his circuit ends fruitlessly, he stops in front of Donnie again and offers very clear sagely brotherly wisdom. ]

Home. Now.

[ POINTS IN A HOME DIRECTION FOR EMPHASIS.

His vision's on the fritz and Donnie is apparently going deaf, so maybe they just co-limp back to the lair to work on all that before something gets even worse.

And no one leaves home again until they're thirty. Decision pending. ]

[It gnaws at him, the mystery, the unknown behind this. Hallucinations- fine. Maybe he needs to run some tests. Raphael not being able to speak, and/or Donatello becoming very selectively deaf? Not...likely, but could still perhaps be explained with more data. Is it the environs? A gas? Some kind of chemical attack, or perhaps even mystic? But there was no indication of approach, it was seamless-

Raph's tense. Raphael's afraid.

It just happened moments ago but the danger's passed so Donnie's fine, but Raphael is practically vibrating out of his shell. He was clutching his eye. Pain? Loss of vision?

Don's brows furrow before he nods sharply, turning on his heel and heading right for the junkyard entrance. He even leaves behind his spoils; he can come back for them later, maybe send a drone to come pick them up if he has to. He needs to figure this out and Raph needs to get home, they both do.

-except when they turn the corner where the chain link fence should be, there are just more piles of refuse. Donnie pulls up short and even backs up a step, bumping back against Raph in his confusion. No, this is definitely where the driveway should be, and Repo's shack should be right over to the left. He didn't get turned around- he doesn't get turned around.] ...we should call Leo.

[ Every time Raph says "home, now" and it doesn't turn into an argument, he regains years of his life previously lost to other brother-related stresses. This is nothing if not a time to be actively grateful for Donatello.

He'll listen out, Donnie can cover the peripherals. Which would maybe require Raph actually mentioning the necessary precaution so he knows to do that. Not ideal. They'll get home. They'll figure it out. It'll be fine. It is fine.

So, a near immediate shoutout to everything being not fine after all. There should be a fence here. Raph would like to think that even distracted, he's not liable to get that lost somewhere they've been before. Donnie definitely shouldn't be getting lost, because he's got himself a whole mental mind palace layout of what's where around here.

But a fence, there's not. Where there should be fence, there's more junk? Is that legal?

Not that it's not nice to feel more annoyed by the audacity than worried about it for a hot second, honestly.

He gives Donnie a thumbs up while he gets his phone out, because he is still polite.

He follows it up with a tilt of his head, turns his thumbs up into a fist, and mimes a tiny uppercut, as if to say "if-slash-when phones and comms don't work like in a spooky movie, what if smashing through stuff until we've kindly given Repo Mantis a free emergency exit?" A healthy outlet. ]

[Donnie's got his phone out too, and wouldn't you know it? No signal. The same occurs when he swipes at his wrist computer to engage the escape pods; no homing beacon. They would shoot right out into space, drop them in the Hudson, slam them into a building, any number of unfortunate outcomes without any navigation.

Well- well, shit. His tech is failing him, and if that doesn't nudge Donnie back over the line from "damage control" into "panicking like a feral cat" nothing else will.]

-yeah, yes why not. Yes. [go get it big brother, beat the shit out of this junkyard for creeping me out and blocking my 8G connection]

[ It's nice to get permission to beat up an inanimate construct sometimes. Raph doesn't always ask permission, sure, but when he does ask permission and he gets the go-ahead, that brings a good energy to it.

Smashing is a vital and straightforward tool in the arsenal. Most of Raph's tools are the straightforward kind.

He gives Donnie a little 'shoo' gesture for safety distance purposes, then goes ahead and does the dang thing. No need for theatrical windups over making a fancy new door. Just a couple of Big Punches, and then surely all will be right with the world, get that nice airflow differential that signifies busting through to another area, problems solved for forever. Or for now, anyway.

Which kinda makes it suck when the dust settles and there's literally just a nigh-identical junk wall waiting for them. Since when was this place all spooky and cursed and likely to mess with their heads? Raph takes it as a personal offense. ]

What gives!

[ He attempts to punch them free of the junkyard three more times, for good measure. That's part of the scientific process, right. ]

[Donnie doesn't need to be able to hear his brother -which he still can't by the by) to know that 'destroy our way out' was unsuccessful. So a bunch of Donnie's tech isn't working properly, and he didn't bring his flying shell in favor of more storage space/attachments, and their phones aren't working all of a sudden, and one or both of them are experiencing hallucinations, and they can't find their way out, and this wasn't supposed to happen, and what is going on, and there's something wrong with them, and hE IS LOWKEY BUT SORTA HIGHKEY FREAKING OUT.]

What- [-do we do? What do they do? What's the plan, what do they do?! Raph- Raph must have another plan, right? Or a plan on how to form a plan?]

[ Oop.

Yep, okay, went from very bad to the worst just now solely because Donnie looks so upset about it. Given what they're working with, Raph can't blame him.

Tests are easy and answers are hard. Especially when not having the right answer leaves you backed into a corner.

So. Time for one of the oldest orders of operations in Raph's book. Albeit one that would have an easier endgame if, uh. If the second part could involve more talking. Maybe that part he'll do some phone-typing for. That's for in-a-minute Raph.

Priorities. Little brother first. Plan to plan a plan second. Everything else third.

It's a familiar emotional lens to make himself put on.

He taps his fingers against his own plastron a couple of times, center of the chest, and mimes a slow breath. Maybe not so mimes. Maybe actually just also takes one for himself as a special treat. ]

behold, a boy,

THERE HE IS!!! HE IS HERE!!!!

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