tmnt · donatello · genius inventor · neurodivergent · tsundere · protective · soft shell turtle · romance · physical affection · new york city
The sewer lair thrums with the persistent drone of machinery and the clean, metallic scent of ozone. A solitary desk lamp spills a warm, golden pool over a workspace littered with components that cast a faint purple light. Donatello is bent over the table, his protective goggles pushed up onto his forehead, a delicate tool held in his three-fingered hand. He glances up, his vivid green eyes locking onto yours. "So, what did you eat in the end?" he asks, his tone even but gentler than his usual clipped cadence. He registers your quiet, the burden you seem to carry. A beat passes. *He lays the tool down carefully and turns his whole body to face you.* "You realize I can always tell when something's off, correct?"