The long and short of it was, Raph was gonna kill somebody.
This murderous intent wasn’t unusual for him by any means. Fuck, it was rarer for him to go through a day and not want to fucking murder somebody. The only thing that really made this occasion any fucking different was that it wasn’t because of anything anyone did. No one pissed him off really. No one put him in a bad mood. Fuck, he didn’t even get any telemarketers calling.
But his head was fucking killing him. Absolutely fucking murdering him, and fuck did that make the concept of killing anything feel a bit more appealing.
Because this was bullshit. And fucking uncommon. Raph took good fucking care of himself. He ate healthily, he exercised. He couldn’t fucking remember the last time he was sick, and yeah he got the occasional hangover, but he hadn’t even been drinking since Saturday. And while he originally thought this might be some sort of fucking mutant hangover, one that lasted a fucking week and made his head pound like a bitch, he doubted it. Raph’s liver has been taking a beating since he was fourteen. He had no idea why the fuck it would decide to be a bitch about it now.
Raph pushes his way into his house irritably, the fucking sound of the door creaking making it feel like his brain was ping ponging between his fucking ears. He winces and grinds his teeth in annoyance as he angrily slams the door closed, immediately regretting the decision when the pound of his head gets so intense he has to stop in the middle of the foyer, doubling over as he has to inhale a sharp breath at the sudden pain induced nausea.
“Fuck. Fuck fuck.” Raph bites out between gritted teeth, and he is so, so fucking glad none of his brothers are home. So fucking glad the house is silent, because if he had to speak to somebody now he doesn’t even know what he’d do. Yeah he planned to fucking crash Pickles’ party just to spite her, but fuck, he could barely even get through the day without wanting to curl up and die, so pissing off her prissy ass would have to wait.
It takes him a few moments to get himself together, a few moments of fucking breathing and closing his eyes and trying to fucking work past the pain. There’s a small bitch ass fucking voice in the back of his head that says he should go to the doctor, but Raph dismisses the idea before it can develop. This was fucking ridiculous. Raph has been shot. Multiple times. He didn’t fucking go to the doctor then. This was fucking bullshit.
Once he feels a bit less like throwing up like a pansy, Raph’s able to straighten up, a hand wiping the back of his mouth as he inhales a shaky breath before he’s grumbling and knocking off both his boots. As much as he wasn’t fucking willing to fully give in and go to the doctor, he didn’t see the problem in fucking self medicating. He carefully, and fucking quietly, rummages around his kitchen until he can find a bottle of extra strengh tylenol, only noticing the trembling of his hands once he’s holding it. He’s shaking so fucking much that he can hear the pills rattling inside the bottle.
“... what the fuck?” Raph mumbles to himself a moment, staring at the bottle and his hand for a a moment of stunned shock, before his brows begin to slowly furrow. After a few moments Raph’s eyes harden once again, figuring he’ll be fucking fine after he takes these pills and knocks the fuck out. He grinds his teeth as he moves to open the bottle, but between him not knowing his own strength and his skeleton suddenly deciding it wants to hatch or some shit, the bottle slips out of his hand, knocks noisily against his kitchen counter, and makes a descent to the floor that Raph can’t see passed the splotches of black in his vision at the unexpected noise. “Fuck!” Somehow Raph’s own volume doesn’t fucking help anything, and Raph has to steady himself with a hand against the counter as he squeezes his eyes shut tight, the teeth clenched so hard it hurts, but that’s a fucking tickle in comparison to the sensation of his brain splitting open. Somehow this one is worst than all the other times that this bullshit headache got more intense, which Raph doesn’t even fucking get, because the bottle snapping against the counter wasn’t even that loud. But Raph is pretty sure he’s never experienced something so fucking painful in his life, and for a second, he briefly entertains the idea that he might be dying. Like having a stroke or something.
Raph blinks his eyes open despite the pain, breath shallow for a second before it stops. Because right there, suspended in the fucking air, are the pills he was trying to take. And there beside them is the fucking bottle. Frozen mid fall like a fucking freeze frame, and Raph can only stare for a few moments before he remembers Shego’s fucking glowing hands, and Van’s new form of transportation and--
“...You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.” Raph mutters poisonously for a second before he notices the taste of blood, immediately bringing a shaking hand to his mouth and confirming that yes his nose is fucking bleeding. Like that little eggo girl on Netflix. His exasperation quickly becomes annoyance then, irritation adding some bite to his second,“... You gotta be fucking kidding me.”
But before Raph can work himself up anymore another wave of pain knocks him off his feet, the splotchy darkness moving from the corners of his vision in, and fuck the floor is raising up to meet him fucking face how did that happen.
SATURDAY
When Raph wakes up he’s on the kitchen floor. His back is killing him. His brain still feels like someone is stabbing it repeatedly with a fork. And oh, the pills are still floating. A few other things too. Most of his fucking kitchen appliances in fact. His toaster decided to fuck gravity. His fucking fridge even lifted a few feet. When he tried to get some fucking water to take the fucking floating fucking pills with the water fucking floated.
The water.
The fact that Raph threw his fucking glass at the wall should be considered a mild reaction in response to that.
“For fuck’s sake--” Raph has to clutch the counter and take several deep breaths as the shards of his glass begin to float up towards the ceiling to join his fucking kitchen table, his eyes squeezing shut at the throb of pain in reaction to the sound as he bites his tongue hard enough to bleed. But did it even fucking matter? His nose was streaming like a fucking tap, anyways, his shirt was a fucking mess of it, not to mention his fucking face.
Raph has to take more than a few calming breaths to keep from going on a rampage in reaction to the pain, to this fucking-- whatever the fuck it was, to the fucking frustration of not being able to have fucking power over any of this because-- fuck, Raph hasn’t even figured how to turn this shit fucking off.
After a few silent minutes Raph opens his eyes, still frustrated out of his fucking mind, but there isn’t shit he can do about that. The pain though? Raph grabs a handful of pills from the air and swallows them fucking dry, only hoping that they’re enough to kick this supernatural bullshit in the ass as he storms his way over to his bedroom to try for some fucking sleep.
SUNDAY
Trading the pain for numbness was the best fucking idea he had.
Because the pills help with the pain. Not with the fucking floating, no that bullshit was still happening. Honestly at this point Raph has to fucking go through his house like an obstacle course. Walking down his hall and ducking under his toaster, going to the bathroom and having to shove his fucking couch out of the way. It was bullshit. And he fucking hated it.
But he was a bit drunk so it could be worse.
His nose still hasn’t stopped bleeding. Honestly, maybe that has something to do with the amount he keeps passing out. He should probably fucking go to the doctor, but considering everything he seems to touch seems to be fucking floating now, well, he doesn’t know how well that will fucking go over. Can he even drive? Will his car start floating?
Fuck, Van and her friends would have a field day at that.
Somewhere in the distance Raph can hear his phone fucking ring. And of course, his goddamn head protests at the fucking sound, making him want to curl up and fucking die from where he is in his bed, as if he’s not fucking doing that already. Even drunk, and on painkillers it fucking hurts. God, will it ever stop fucking hurting? Is this just how he’s supposed to fucking live now? Raph tries to grit his teeth and bear it because he doesn’t even fucking know where his phone is, it fucking floated up somewhere after he tried to fucking call Van or Shego or fucking anybody-- andfuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck--
“SHUT THE FUCK UP!” Raph explodes from under the blanker over his head, voice booming through the room for a second before there’s a shatter of glass. His phone doesn’t even stop ringing after it, just finishing it’s little fucking jingle among the sound of someone’s goddamn car alarm until whoever it is gets his voicemail or hangs the fuck up. And it’s only then that Raph straightens up to see what the fuck happened, pulling the blanket over his head to see shards of fucking glass floating around his room, suspended in the moonlight as a light breeze flows through his curtains. It takes a minute for Raph to understand what’s going on through his intoxication and pain, but when he does god he does.
“... you’re fucking kidding.” Raph mumbles a second before he’s moving to get out of his bed, swerving to avoid the glass and his alarm clock and his fucking blanket now that he’s not holding it down anymore, as he makes his way to his window that, yup, doesn’t have a shard of glass in it anymore. It’s just a fucking hole. A fucking hole in his house. Raph has to check his other bedroom window in disbelief. The his kitchen ones. The one to his fucking backyard. All fucking glass-less.
Raph has to stand in shock for a moment before the anger kicks in, slow but steady as he breathes, “Great. Fucking great.” And with that Raph begins to stomp his way back to his room for lack of anything else to do, annoyed beyond reason as he snaps, “I’m gonna have to fucking replace all this shit!”
“Is Raph an absolute shithead? Yes. Completely. One hundred percent. But nobody else gets to say so, ‘cause he’s like– my shithead, or something, you know?”
vanellope knew that she should have called, but if she did then raph would’ve picked up how hoarse she was, and how weak she sounded, and that her cadence wasn’t the same and van wasn’t ready to have that conversation … yet. the care ride over to raph’s now, that, that was definitely helping cut back the amount of time she needed to actually have this conversation. she would go about as slow as a grandmother which was rare for van since she usually liked to test the speed limits - they were suggestions in her book - but vanellope wasn’t feeling like herself, so things were different tonight, and she knew she wasn’t in the right space to drive. so she got a cab, payed the fare, and walked up raph’s driveway.
she didn’t even yell through the door at raph’s adamant swearing and angry questions like she usually would. a million little quips didn’t even rush to her head; something was wrong, and van knew it, and soon raph was going to know it, too. when the door that she had just drummed her knuckles upon swung open, the brunette didn’t even look up. her eyes were at his feet and she needed a second to take a deep breath in.
whatever he had said before the light turned on, vanellope wasn’t certain. her ears weren’t working right, neither was her brain or her eyes or limbs or truly anything because she hadn’t slept in a couple of days. so when her eyes flicked up to raph’s after hearing that last question, she just shook her head, chewing on her bottom lip. it was as if on instinct that van stepped further into his house, slipping past him, knowing that he wasn’t just gonna turn her away and she just had to get it out there. and she did, quietly, with her arms crossed over her chest protecting herself and “something’s wrong with me, raph …”
raph’s brows pull tighter together as van shakes her head, his gaze flicking from her bitten lip to the look in her eyes a few times as she makes her way passed him. almost anyone else would be chewed out for the casual entrance, but not vanellope. never vanellope, not seriously at least. but raph can’t even find it in him to make a teasing comment as he closes the door behind her, turning to look at her in confusion and growing worry at her stance. and then she fucking says that, and his confusion only grows.
“...what’s that supposed to mean? there’s nothing wrong with you. who fucking said that?” raph replies immediately in confusion and initial defensiveness for a moment, because where the fuck is this coming from? he knows it wouldn’t be the first time people were dicks to vanellope for no good reason, and it wouldn’t be the first time he hit someone for it either. but before he can work himself up into getting well and truly pissed he looks vanellope over and tries to make sense of what she’s saying in another way, “...or are you fuckin’ sick or something?” raph has to ask as he raises a hand up to her forehead, and then her cheek to try to feel for a fever. the idea that van would come to him if she was sick is one that he likes, at least then she wouldn’t fucking catch pneumonia and die, but... something about the way she said it makes him feel like that’s not quite the case. he frowns a second as he notes that van feels just as cool as she usually does, his eyes flicking over her as he says, “... doesn’t feel like you have a fever or anything... does feel like you need a blanket or something though, but that’s not a fuckin’ surprise...”
raph has to drop his hand from vanellope’s cheek then, head tilting as he sighs slightly, studying her thoroughly before he almost gently asks, “...what’s wrong then, huh?”
Repeating himself or being continuously reassuring had never been something Phoenix took much part in. Aside from telling people who checked on him regularly that he was okay -whether it be entirely true or not- saying the same thing again wasn’t something he saw much point in. So he didn’t comment further, didn’t defend himself on the fact that he was being honest. If it hadn’t come off convincing enough, it wasn’t something he could change -he had said what he’d said, and he’d meant it. The comment about his subject matter for his paper had Phoenix lifting one shoulder in a loose shrug, mouth twisting to the side briefly. “I only chose it because it was familiar.” He admitted, gaze on his paper again. It only stayed there for another few moments before Raphael’s questions had him setting his pen back down and replacing his writing motion with the carefully calculated tapping of his thumb against his notebook page. Two, three, two, four; he counted in his head even though his gaze was back on the other male across from him. “I’m double majoring, I like the subject.” He replied, pursing his lips before continuing. “College is about exploring, anyway, I’m told.”
Raph has to arch a brow at that comment, pausing for a second before he’s asking, “... familiar as in you’ve done a project on it before? Or familiar as in you lived it?” Raph pauses a second before he licks his lips, shifting in his seat as he bluntly says, “You can tell me to fuck off, if you want. I know it’s none of my fucking business.” And yet he was asking anyways. That seemed to be becoming a fucking pattern with him and Phoenix real quick. Raph asking questions that he had no business asking. Like why Phoenix always tended to show up bruised. Like who fucking did it. Like why he couldn’t know who fucking did it so he could find them and show them how it feels. Well. Maybe not the last one in so many fucking words, but that wasn’t the point. Raph had spent his entire fucking life happily showing no interest in anything having to do with anybody, and yet when it came to Phoenix and his shit, he suddenly couldn’t keep his mouth shut. It was annoying. He was annoying himself. But he’s luckily distracted from that irritation as Phoenix continues, furrowed brows raising as he says, “no shit?” Raph glances over Phoenix for a moment before he’s snorting softly, lips almost curving into a smile as he gestures to Phoenix with a, “when people say that they’re usually talking about experimenting with drugs and sex, not double majoring in two subjects like it’s chill.” His almost smile edges closer to smile territory as he shrugs with his, “Don’t know why I’m surprised though, should’ve expected as much from you and that brain of yours.”
Leave it to Raphael to make some comment that bordered on inappropriate, even when he was in mild crisis mode not too long before. Shego couldn’t help the huff of a laugh that left her, the sound paired with a slow shake of her head. “I own a leather jumpsuit, it’s not my fault I don’t trust you not to fucking destroy it if I ever purposefully wore it and you had to take it off.” She pointed out, the same vague sense of amusement in her tone. “I’m not exactly planning on using this for anything just yet, considering I don’t really know what the hell it is, but who knows. Royal estates may have to keep an eye out for some fucking green light in their future.” She shrugged loosely.
The explanation given to him had felt like something he would relate to, but Shego wouldn’t have been surprised if it did little in way of meriting understanding. What was there really to understand about the abrupt glowing of her hands? She nodded her head all the same at his clarification, her lips pursing in thought. “When I shut it off, though, I kinda– I dunno. I’ve been fucking around with it for a lot of the afternoon, so it’s been on more than it hasn’t, but it’s kinda like, everything else catches back up? I kinda feel a little like– stunted afterward. Like it took more than I thought it would, I get.. off. I’ve only let it happen briefly so far because I don’t like that part so much.” She shrugged again, expression dismissive. “It’s also possible I’m overdoing it, because when don’t I fucking do that, but whatever. Aside from the point.”
She couldn’t exactly help the way that a light laugh left her at Raphael’s comment to follow. A brow kinked upward in question at him as her unlit hands hung at her sides once again. “I’m not gonna harm your pretty face, Raph. It’s like one of four things I actually like about you.” She rolled her eyes, though a small smirk remained faintly present on her lips. “I honestly don’t even know what it does to anyone else. Like, I don’t feel anything, but I imagine even just looking at it that it’s probably nothing, you know, soothing or anything.”
“What the fuck? Why is this the first time I’m hearing about this? You’ve been holding out on me, huh?” Raph can’t help but ask at that reveal, brows furrowing even as his lips pull into a sly grin. He arches his brows to bluntly add, “yeah, you’re right. I would fucking destroy it, but,” he shrugs then, eyes twinkling with some amount of amusement as he adds, “...it’d be worth it though.” Raph has to snort at the comment about Royal Estates, lips pulling into a grin as he says, “that? I gotta see. Don’t fucking go fuck them up without me alright? And who says you gotta know what it is to fucking do shit with it. Did Spiderman even figure out he was bitten by a spider before he started swinging off of shit and... shooting out webs? Prolly not.”
Raph’s brows pull together in concern at that description, his previous ‘if it isn’t hurting her than fuck it’ position on the whole thing quickly being tested. He flicks his gaze between Shego’s glowing hand and her face, frown pulling onto his features before he says, “so the come down is hard.” Raph summarizes for a moment before he’s shifting in his seat to lean closer to her with a, “well, shit, Shego, you can’t keep it on forever. I mean, you probably could but fuck, people would ask questions.” He looks at her hand for another second, worry maybe looking a bit more like annoyance but, “... take it easy, alright? You’re gonna have to turn it off at some point, and when you do, I don’t fucking want you to...be fucked up or whatever. Just... be careful.”
Raph rolls his eyes at Shego’s comment, lips twitching into a smile before he puts his hand jokingly over his heart with his, “fuck, Shego, you think I’m pretty? I’m blushing. Come on, what are the other three, talk dirty to me.” Raph pauses at that, his brows arching for a second before he’s considering something. After about three seconds of consideration, he shrugs, blunt as he says, “Y’wanna try it on me then?”
theartofmadeline
tangentwithtanner
turnnoffyourmind
ellievsbear
stormborns
snowghoul
prguitarman
kaledo-art
