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afreakingdork · 1 month

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You Are My Sunshine, My Only Moonshine - Chapter 9

RotTMNT x Reader

I am constantly blown away by this chapter art by @yamin-yups

Rated: Teen and Up Audiences

Relationships: Michelangelo (TMNT)/Reader, Michelangelo (TMNT)/You, Donatello (TMNT)/Reader, Donatello (TMNT)/You

Warnings: POV Second Person, Gender Neutral Reader, Anxious Reader, Introverted Reader, Stuttering, Aged-Up Mutant Ninja Turtles, Romance, Love, Love Confessions, Falling In Love, Unrequited Love, Rejection, Aromantic Asexual Michelangelo (TMNT), Bisexual Donatello (TMNT), Pansexual Leonardo (TMNT), Lesbian Cassandra Jones | Foot Recruit, Demisexual April O'Neil (TMNT), Implied Cassandra Jones | Foot Recruit/April O'Neil/Sunita, Endgame Donatello (TMNT)/Reader, Romantic Love, Platonic Love, Panic Attacks, Sexuality Crisis, Agoraphobia, Social Anxiety, Happy Ending, Fluff

Synopsis: You’ve lost most of your life to anxiety and fear. Now, in your late 20s, you are desperate to reclaim it and during one such outing you encounter the sun personified. With his and his similarly celestially inspired family, will you finally reach your goal or will you lose yourself along the way?

This chapter contains reference to body dysmorphia. Remember that what you feel is completely valid, but we can sometimes see ourselves differently than we really are. Please keep yourselves safe.

Also available on Ao3

First 💛 Previous

“Maybe we take a break from going out into the packed public for once?” Mikey was upside-down, but compensated by holding his phone the opposite way.

It put him right side up in the video chat, but the view was extra blurry. “Is that… okay?”

“I’m the one suggesting it!” Mikey stuck out his tongue, but his reflection seemed to confuse him on which way the appendage should go. “It’s been awhile. I haven’t been able to see you.”

“Yeah… well…” Though for you it would have been predictable, Mikey hadn’t felt the firsthand effects of your setbacks yet.

Panic attacks always caused you to withdraw into yourself.

You weren’t supposed to.

There were times when it was easy to keep going.

Others, such as now, left you homebound for as long as society allowed.

The push to normalcy now included your thoughtful friend.

“Do you know after my tremors went away, I spent months avoiding art because I was afraid of how it would look?” Mikey told you casually.

You weren’t sure what he was talking about.

You tried to recall something about tremors, but came up short.

You wanted to ask more, but there was a more startling aspect than the content itself.

You couldn’t believe there was ever a period where Mikey avoided art as he had been nothing, but a loud proponent of all its merit.

“Why?”

“Because I knew my level and then… I didn’t. I knew I’d have to get back there. It was like riding a skateboard, but needing to take that time? For a second time. Chancing the bad result? It was like my healing was one thing and then by doing that it would show me just how much further I still needed to go. Like that dude with the cat and the box. I didn’t want to open it and find out. I couldn’t do it.”

“Isn’t the saying… something… about riding a bike?”

“We were skateboard tots!” Mikey rolled over and with it so did his camera, inverting the image.

You nodded lightly.

“I switched up crafts. Started new ones that weren’t so finger focused. Pour paints and candle work!” He made grabby hands at the lens as he fixed his phone angle.

“Something low key…” You hummed where you were sitting at the foot of your bed.

“Yeah, something quiet, calm, and… oh! Oh yeah!” There was another flip, but this one was out of excitement.

“D-don’t… bust through a wall…!”

Mikey appeared within a flurry of static. “Did you just make a Kool-Aid Man joke?”

“I make jokes!”

The wattage of his smile turned up to a blinding degree. “Well then I’ve got just the wall to bust through!”

“No.” Donnie glowered over his shoulder.

“Please!” Mikey bounced his plea with his head straight up to the ceiling of the garage you were currently in.

An oddity in the subway, but something you imagined had to exist based on logic, your eyes were openly roving around the tidy depot.

“Absolutely not.” Lifting out from under a hood and minding his head, Donnie craned an elbow to the engine block he was working on. “You know you’ve been banned.”

“One time!” Mikey groaned.

“No!” Donnie felt the need to rip off his leather work gloves to throw an unencumbered finger in Mikey’s face. “You were banned once after crashing eleven separate times!!”

“Eleven?!” You squeaked.

Mikey flipped back and forth between the two of you, obviously caught in who to address first. “My driving is fine!” He chose you and then flipped to Donnie. “I’ve changed!”

From the duffel that was slung around your body, you had already been clinging to the strap as it gave you something comforting to hold on to. With the new knowledge that you had almost been driven somewhere rural by someone with that kind of driving record, you now scooped up the entire sack to soothe yourself.

“Forget that.” Donnie flicked his gaze to you. “You’d need a full crash suit to survive him.” He then folded his gloves into a pair and went to check his tool box.

You wilted further.

“We’re already packed!” Mikey rounded a new argument. “This is going to be our big, no-stress, relaxing getaway and you’re making it exactly not that!”

“That’s unfortunate. The bus station isn’t far.” Donnie knelt down to get a wrench.

“And how’s that going to work!? We get dropped at some station and walk to the cabin!? You know it’s in the middle of nowhere!” Mikey stepped up to throw menace over his brother.

Donnie smelled it a mile away and lifted his head, pouring twice the malice. “Oh, you want to play?”

Mikey gulped and nodded his head once. “Let us borrow a car, the tank, a shell cycle, whatever! You’re being unfair!”

“Your planning is poor.” Donnie was slow to get on one knee. “You’re ill equipped.” To the other, he got a foot under him. “You’ve informed no one.” Rising to his towering height above his brother, he loomed. “You walk into my garage, where I am in the midst of my own personal and much needed zen in the form of refurbishing my newest baby and expect me to drop the keys of another into your hands knowing full well that you have destroyed more vehicles on more occasions than I can count on our joined mutant fingers and toes because you just so happened to suddenly decided that you needed to take a weekend trip with your friend of which whom you have a similar slapdash scheme going on with to go to our family’s cabin up north on a whim!?!”

Having watched Donnie not take a single breath, you backed up nearly the same distance that Mikey’s head had shrunk down into his shell.

“Y-yes?” Mikey peeped.

“No.” Donnie said the word firm and quiet, but punctuated it with a tap to Mikey’s plastron which caused the stiff turtle to fall over. “Now leave me to my work.”

Only a shell laying there, you leaned forward to look over Mikey without compromising your spot.

Donnie swung his wrench and moved over to a creeper with the intention to disappear under what looked like a turtle-themed moon buggy.

“You-” Your voice echoed in the garage and you tensed up.

Mikey’s head emerged from his shell to peek at you.

Donnie halted his motion, but didn’t turn.

“You… um… could… come with us?”

You watched Donnie’s lips wobble with disdain.

“N-Not a-as a d-driver! Y-you said…”

In a loud pop, all of Mikey’s limbs emerged. “That’s a great idea!!!”

In a smooth rotation, Donnie both turned and lifted his wrench with a threat.

Mikey crab walked several paces away.

“I’m disappointed.” Donnie sent a glare in your direction. “If your thought is even-” He caught a glimpse of his wrench. “-5/16ths as moronic as his then you are banned from the garage itself. Know that, would you still like to continue speaking?”

Gaze plummeting, your heart tried to escape and you screwed the whole of you shut to keep it inside.

Your entire body shook with the force of your nerves and you had to wait until your BPMs dropped to a manageable limit before you could manage speech. “You… said… m-much needed… so maybe… the trip would… well… be calming… for you too?”

There was a clink of metal hitting the ground.

Banned.

You were banned from the garage.

That was fine.

In theory, it wasn’t.

In theory, you were mortified.

Despite your best efforts, you had never been banned from anything.

Now you were.

A glaring dark spot on your permanent record.

Was Mikey a bad influence?

“You do say driving gets your mind off things…” Mikey said with a sudden supportive starkness.

You kept your gaze firmly rooted to the floor in shame.

“Also hold up!” In a slap of feet against concrete, Mikey righted himself. “You take a few of those things back, Don! I may have pushed the idea through, but it was not poorly planned or ill equipment or whatever you said! Y/N worked crazy hard on putting together everything in the short time frame I laid out!!”

You twitched.

“There’s maps, multiple trails marked, a calculated amount of water, with extra rations, flares… Like do you think this other bag is mine? Heck no! I’m not bringing anything! Both these bags are Y/N’s! They’re both stuffed with… stuff! Like-like!” You felt Mikey come over to you. “How you contacted the ranger’s station to tell them we’d be in the area? I’ve never even thought of that! We’ve never done that have we, Dee?”

Donnie continued his bout of silence that you didn’t dare look upon.

“What else…?” Mikey slapped his forehead. “I mean, come on! I can’t even remember it all!”

“I… got that satellite phone… you were pretty excited… about it.” You mumbled to the ground.

“With the backup batteries, Donald!” Mikey hummed a self-important sound. “The backup batteries!!”

The garage made it very clear that Donnie was walking over to you.

You bounced ever so slightly to garner the courage to meet his eye.

“Who did itinerary?” Donnie asked.

“Me.” Mikey remarked casually.

“I assume food too?” Donnie’s voice was heavy with judgment.

“Nope.” You could see a swoop as Mikey folded smug arms.

“That’s not quite…” You cleared your throat. “Mikey… shared his… favorite dishes that you… all make…when you… go.”

Donnie dipped into your eye line and you startled.

He’d bent at his waist and come down at a perfect angle.

You stared with warped lips.

“How long?” He narrowed his gaze.

“T-the trip?” Your gaze wobbled.

Mikey opened his mouth and Donnie threw out an arm that, by the sound, must have slapped the younger in the face.

“Yes.” Donnie kept his hand in place.

“Tonight… tomorrow… back Sunday?”

“Is that a question?” Donnie’s head tilted.

Mikey grunted, annoyed.

“No…” You got out, quiet.

“You agreed knowing full well you’d be alone with him?”

Slapped with a similar heat from the first time you’d realized that fact, you gave a tight nod.

‘We have separate rooms!’ Mikey mumbled through closed lips with surprising clarity.

“And that’s okay?” Donnie disappeared.

You chased him up to find he’d released Mikey and was waiting on him for an answer.

“It’s a no brainer.” Mikey nearly rolled his eyes.

Donnie’s brow lowered, unsatisfied.

“Yes, it’s okay because it isn’t a thing.” Mikey huffed around his clarification.

“I suppose… I’ve been persuaded.” Donnie looked down thoughtfully and you watched him trace back to where he’d dropped his wrench.

Mikey jumped into the air with a sudden bout of energy and caught your hands to spin you.

“Y-y-yay!” You stutter, stalling on the rotation.

“Cabin, here we come, baby!” Mikey cheered.

“I need my things!” Donnie barked. “And you.”

You jolted. “Y-yes?”

“You will send me triplicate copies of your plans.”

“S-sure…” You spastically patted yourself down for your phone.

“I refuse to engage with either of your antics.” Donnie’s own appeared in his hand. “I am no third wheel. I am coming because I will apparently have to deal with your whining otherwise and because I am not in the mood for the lecture from Nardo and Raphael when they return.”

“Have they texted yet?” Mikey peered over Donnie’s shoulder.

“No. Security detail means one must pay-” Donnie suddenly dropped and ducked through Mikey’s legs in one fluid movement. “-attention. This is why you weren’t requested.”

“And why didn’t they request you, hm?” Mikey pushed his lips into one corner of his mouth.

“Because…!” Donnie trailed off with widened eyes. “My talents lie elsewhere! Enough interruptions. I will drive and then you will leave me be! I am to have my zen! Is that understood?”

“Yeah, yeah, crystal.” Mikey finally did roll his eyes.

Donnie took a few steps away as you found your phone and held it unsure of how to send him the details.

“He’s totally going because he heard ‘yakiniku’ when you mentioned we were making my favorite foods.” Mikey walked over to you with a smirk.

You watched Donnie take an irritated pause before continuing on to get his things.

The ride in the tank had passed with booming music and a tour from Mikey that you only visually participated in because you were terrified to move about the cabin. The younger seemed not to notice as he explained parts with stories more than function. Donnie alternatively, had shades on that further marred his calculated expression and he said nothing as the studious driver.

Leaving the city and entering scenic woodlands, you were soon left to admire the views until you eventually deviated off the road toward the cabin. Tracking it with the little local map you had found, you busied yourself in the comfortable way that most people disliked on road trips: silence in a cozy bubble all your making.

There didn’t have to be talk, that’s what road trip mixes were for.

You only made exceptions for car games.

You liked that they had simple rules and there were little stakes to be had.

You only wished cars were safer modes of transport.

There was also something to be said about environmental impact and the culture of automobiles in America, but other than that, you found them nice.

Pulling up to what you imagined was a quiescent place, Mikey could not be restrained a second longer.

Out of the tank in a flurry, you watched through the windshield as his form screamed straight up the cabin’s steps. “He doesn’t do great on car rides, huh?”

“Sitting still for too long? Michael?” Donnie rose from the captain’s chair.

You gave a small smile and gathered up the few things you’d taken inside with you. Your actual bags were stored in an outer compartment and Donnie waited for you as a safety net as you made the harrowing steps down the tank ladder and to the ground. Landing with little fault, you joined him in getting the luggage until Mikey tore back over to grab some of the load. He talked loudly of dust that had accumulated and Donnie griped at him that it was obvious they’d need to clean.

You fondly watched the two bicker and set-up became the next directive. Throwing back plastic sheets that coated furniture, Donnie had a multitude of inventions to clear the space quickly. You had to run to the windows to release the dust tornadoes formed. Making it out mostly unscathed, you then helped Mikey hang bug nets. With the late Spring weather warming the air, soon everything was prepped and Mikey did a little closing dance number, capping off the preparatory part of the trip.

“Swimming hole time!” Mikey cheered and then turned knowingly on Donnie. “Then BBQ and prompt lights out so I can make a lumberjack breakfast first thing!”

“We’re grinding beans… we roasted…” You offered softly. “Uh… Coffee… beans… that is…”

“Oh yeah, I forgot we took that class.” Mikey chuckled. “You almost fell into that sack!”

You squashed a noise of distress at the memory.

Understanding the schedule, Donnie dismissed himself with a turned foot and headed to one of the cabin’s many rooms. You were left to look about the quintessential log cabin where the huge living space and connected kitchen then butted up against a row of doors. They spoke of many rooms that traced the back of the cabin and then up a staircase to a second floor. From what you could see, there were about eight rooms in all. The entire cabin then had a wraparound porch that extended into the wilderness. It was land that both belonged to nature and not, but Mikey had been cagey about revealing property lines.

“Welp!” Mikey folded his hands on his hips. “Your boy needs to get wet before he explodes.”

You gawked at him.

“Seriously!” He was looking out over the cabin with a vacant stare that held a sort of unhinged quality. “First the car, then stuck inside? This is not an inside trip. if I am not unleashed in the next, oh I don’t know… 2 minutes, I’m going to lose it!”

“Uh…!”

“You got those trail maps?” He turned, both looking through you and not at.

“Y-yes!”

“I color coded the one to the watering hole. Orange, obviously.” Mikey approached with a waggling brow ridge. “I saw you in the car, keeping perfect pace. It was awesome.”

“Just to s-stay b-busy!”

“Uh huh! Your smile said otherwise! You’ll meet me there then! Same way!” He patted your shoulder once with a whack before bolting out the door.

You stared after him now knowing why he’d chosen to travel in his swimsuit.

Looking down at your road trip ensemble, you still felt sure of your decision to take the few hour drive comfortably.

There was a noise of a door opening and Donatello emerged, changed into a casual outfit punctuated by purple swim trunks.

You stared at him and felt a little like a caught fawn.

Donnie took you in before his gaze dulled with understanding. “He ditched you.”

“I’m… going to meet him.”

“He always does this.” Donnie responded dismissively. “You should have seen him in time out as a tot.”

“Oh?”

“One minute in time out for him was comparative to thirty for the rest of us.” Walking around a large kitchen bar, Donnie studied the rations.

You took a few steps toward him for the sake of it.

“He’s so impatient.” Donnie murmured, poking several waters aside to find a carton of juice boxes that Mikey had insisted on. He quickly tossed the set into the fridge. “He’s not even an aquatic turtle.”

You sort of wished you had done more research past looking up pictures of their species.

“You’re losing daylight.” He emerged from the fridge. “Or are you not swimming?”

“I-I am…!” You squeezed a fist to your chest. “Are… you coming too?”

Donnie blinked slowly at you. “No, why?”

“Oh…” You shouldn’t have assumed. He’d already told you otherwise. “Sorry… your bottoms… I thought…”

“Board shorts.” He punctuated the words with an odd accent.

You gave an unsure nod.

“I’m glad their sign was translated.” He glanced down at himself.

“Sorry…” You murmured when he made no further movement and quickly left to avoid any awkwardness.

You weren’t sure what you expected.

It’s not like you wanted to exclude Donnie.

You knew that pain too well.

You also didn’t want to make him feel unwelcomed.

You were painfully aware of that too.

He hadn’t wanted to be a third wheel and you had made it a silent mission to keep that from happening.

Something else you’d experienced in the past, you’d been the unwilling chaperone on more than one occasion just to satisfy parent’s minds. The good one, in their minds, you had always been ditched and the feeling wasn’t one you cared for. Shoving past the bygone era, you were seen now and you tried to relish that.

The sun’s attention was a fickle thing, but you were getting more use to losing Mikey’s. Something you thought should scare you, instead you felt your friendship with Mikey was stronger than ever. You no longer feared losing him in the same intangible way and you weren’t sure if you should crop that up to Mikey’s feelings about you. Instead it felt as though you’d reached a better status quo where Mikey’s running off felt more like the sun moving on its predetermined rotation. It would eventually round back to you and in that way you expected Mikey’s claustrophobia even if you hadn’t known about it.

You picked a room at random and rummaged through the duffel that you placed on your bed. There was a woodsy smell that teetered on musty in a way that spoke of it being well lived in even if its occupants only came every so often. You had your own little stand up mirror, nightstand, dresser, and a closet though you doubted you’d use anything past the first. Pulling out a single slick piece of black fabric, you double checked the door was closed before changing.

The perfect swimsuit was one you hadn’t imagined you’d find. Not one for flashy things, you only wanted a muted cover that also happened to cover you. Water did unimaginable things to fabrics and you hated the way it clinged. You wanted something you could disappear in, that brought no unnecessary attention, and could be forgotten on your end. Finding it in a matter of minutes into shopping as opposed to the years it took when you were younger, the item had even been on sale.

Stepping into it and pulling it up, you shimmied into the fabric and turned for that same show stopping image you’d seen in the changing room.

What stared back was an image of allure.

No.

That was wrong.

That’s not what it had looked like.

It had covered you.

It hadn’t accentuated anything.

It was simple.

You squirmed, changing angles in hopes that it would get better, but each only revealed more.

What had changed?

You’d purchased it this week.

Were you hallucinating?

Was there something in the wooden walls?

Had the tank crashed and this was you playing out some morbid purgatory?

You pinched yourself.

A sting bit your forearm and you threw your gaze back at the mirror for the unwilling shapes it concocted.

This wasn’t right.

You wanted to swim.

There was no way you could.

Miserably turning away from your image, you rooted through your bag for a cover up. Finding one in some oversized t-shirt you’d brought for comfort, you held it and hated that this wasn’t the way you imagined it would be employed. You figured it’d be a back-up pajama top and not something to hide your shame away in. Clinging to the fabric, you hastily pulled it over your head with an imaginary clock ticking away because Mikey was waiting.

You were ruining everything.

Stumbling out into the living room, you found yourself alone.

Momentarily thrown, but shaking off how Donnie wasn’t a priority right now and the guilt that came with that, you went for your pile of maps. Finding the trail one with the orange lines, you gathered some shoes and careened down the porch.

Buzzing insects mocked your sloppy descent as you rotated the map to be on your course. Following it more than your way, you took the necessary inlet and folded its winds to a drawn T. Bushes and trees concealed you, but the splashing of what was beyond reached your ears faster than you’d hoped. A journey not long to its destination, you slowed as you came to the final bend. You could hear Mikey blabbing presumably to himself as he hooted before resounding sloushes followed. In your mind he jumped off some kind of ledge, you took a deep breath before making the final steps leading to the watering hole.

Somewhere quaint if you had the perspective for such a thing, a tree towered comfortably overtop a sizable pool. One mucked up from algae as the little stream feeding into it didn’t stir the water near enough, you watched roiling green as Mikey emerged with a flip of his wet hair.

“Y/N!” Mikey shouted happiness. “You made it! Come on in! The water’s fine!!” He swam backwards as if giving you room.

The guilt was staggering.

No, Mikey.

I won’t be swimming today.

My body looks like shit and I can’t stand it.

I’ll watch you though.

Have all the fun.

You deserve it.

Signing off your name, you slunk forward only to clip a sight of mixed purples.

Donnie craned his neck back to view you from beneath a large sun hat he’d put on. Sitting on a few rocks that made up the closest edge to you, his lids lowered in a way that said he was reading you like a book.

Hating how he did that, you squeezed the bulky hem of your shirt and walked up. “Uh… M-Mikey…?”

“A-yup!” He stopped splashing to hear you better.

“The… um… car ride… sort of took… more out of me than… I thought? Would it be alright if-!”

“You don’t have to swim.”

You blinked wide and over to him.

“If you don’t want to, don’t!” Mikey continued on. “Let’s compare: are you upset I’m swimming when you don’t want to?”

“O-of c-course not!”

“Then why should I care in the reverse?” He fell back and floated, eyes closed, on his shell.

That was right in a way.

Sweet in another.

You wished you’d put together the same reaction.

Inching closer, it felt like pouring water into an overtaxed bucket.

Another guilty drop in your damnation.

You’d seen your friend in a bad light.

Shirking all the more, you toed off your shoes and let your feet lay flat on one of the worn rocks. It put you near Donnie who’d become the moon on a sunny day’s backdrop. He shined upon the same stone and illuminated its age. The rocks were older and wiser than you’d ever be. They never worried about getting wet. They only knew how to exist, something you wished came as easily to you. Sitting down because you needed more of you to drink from the stone’s wisdom, you kept a lowered head to the water’s edge. It sloshed in a beckoning way and you imagined it too would feel good in a different way.

You really had wanted to swim.

Imaging your tears would do little to fill up the pool while also overflowing it, you heard a tepid sigh beside you.

Eyes wide and shooting up across the pond, you then turned to where you’d sat down next to Donnie.

Someone who you mistakenly forgot about during your pity party.

How was that for a third wheel?

“It’s always something with you.” He spoke softly.

“Sure is.” You gave an awkward laugh.

“That’s…” He made a little concerned noise. “… I didn’t mean it in a cruel way.”

“You didn’t have to. It is.” You threw your legs off the rock and threatened to drown your toes in the water. “It’s a cruel fate. I’m…” You remembered yourself. “Sorry. Nothing. What are you doing here?”

“My species is aquatic.”

You snuck a glance. “You’re pretty dry then.”

“You are too.”

You frowned deeply and watched Mikey pick up a sun drunk grin as he spread his limbs out to float on. “I don’t know why I feel like this. Everything was fine before…”

“With what?”

“This…” You threw a hand over yourself. “Stupid ugly swimsuit.”

You could feel Donnie’s gaze linger.

“Just trust me.” You folded your legs against yourself.

“I’m not sure I do.”

You squinted at the glistening water before looking at him.

“I barely know you.” He responded simply, waiting there.

“Oh.”

“Disappointed?”

“In what?” Your ugly side was leaking far beyond the reach of what your shirt could cover. “I didn’t think you trusted me. You may have been wrong about me being bad, but that wouldn’t make you less suspicious. So it’s not that. What’s left? The swimsuit sucks. It’s not like you wanna drool over it. I don’t want anyone too. I wanted to swim.”

Hearing your wish aloud, you pressed hard on your chest with your legs.

You could flatten out your entire form if only you were malleable.

“The water is opaque. I can alert Mikey and we’ll turn away so you can get in.”

You felt too far gone for solutions.

You weren’t worth the trouble.

Burying your chin into your knees, you stewed.

“You know how many times the others have made fun of my board shorts?”

You told yourself you didn’t care.

If that was the case then Donnie didn’t either. “Hundreds, though it might be my attitude when wearing them. I like the excuse. To have my day off and not worry about pleasantries. To not have to tailor myself to others. I can tell them to shove it. It’s my day off and how I look isn’t anyone’s damn business.”

Sounded like an odd hill to die on.

“Everyone should have those days.” Donnie craned his arms behind him and leaned back to soak up the rays he was in.

The tree overhead was clipping your light.

Donnie was free.

Mikey was free.

Head lifting a little, you pondered your friend.

He’d needed to get out and he did.

Now he was a vision, glowing amongst the pool.

In contrast there was you, wadded up and tossed away without even giving yourself the chance.

Another terrible reminder that this was the point.

This was what you were trying to avoid.

This was what you were trying to learn from.

Mikey didn’t even have to do anything to be himself.

He just was.

Instead of his usual bustle of light, he shined by matter of existence.

That was why you chased him.

You wanted that.

Staring at him until sun spots mucked up your vision, you turned the mass to Donnie.

Beside you in the same pose, he was more calculated.

He had to put on his wares.

His was an unseen struggle you hadn’t considered.

No one gleamed quite like Mikey.

That didn’t mean they didn’t shine in their own right.

Donnie’s darkened scales only threw prisms in a different way.

The cool moon’s glow.

Letting your legs fall, this time your feet drew to the allure of the water.

Just out of reach, you stared hard, making sure the pair would keep their eyes closed.

The both of them were still as if asleep, but you waited past whatever insect was chirping before you slowly tugged your hem out from under you. Emerging without more than the sound of rustling fabric, you rolled your shirt up around your waist. The next move was one harder to conceal, you threw a desperate glance at your friend.

Water rocked the resting Mikey like a babe and you wanted to feel that too.

You wanted to be nestled by the sun’s glow.

You wanted to feel weightless and have those burdens removed.

You yanked the shirt over your head and dropped it to your side.

Donnie stirred at the sound, but didn’t open his eyes.

“It’s… It’s okay… I’m not… okay… but I think I… I don’t want to care…”

He cracked a lid and stared skyward.

“It looked so different in the store.”

“How so?” He asked a whispy cloud.

“It looked… I don’t know… covering? Like it didn’t… show any bits. Like it… hid them away.”

He blinked slow and comfortable. “I’m a designer, you know.”

“What?”

“Genius Built Apparel. Where fashion meets function.”

You stared on.

Of course he was.

He also built a tank and a legion of dusting robots.

If this were any other family you’d think he was pulling your leg.

You’d seen more than enough to believe.

Most of your stare came from the cocky name.

Though even that made sense.

Donnie was a carefully constructed sphere.

Who were you to take away his gloating?

He tilted his head just enough to glimpse your face. “I’m serious. I’ve dissuaded Mikey from many a faux pas.”

You shook your head.

“May I?”

“What?” You switched to eyeing him.

“I can take a clinical eye. Examine stitching. Find your err.”

You bounced one of your legs.

You did want to know where it had all gone wrong.

You could theoretically fix it then.

Wash this all away in the water you so desperately wanted to get in.

“You won’t make it weird?”

“I don’t drool on the metaphorical clock; you were right about that, but I understand your concern. I have accosted you before.”

“Different kind of weird. That was mean weird. You were a jerk weird.”

Donnie chuffed and it rolled down his plastron.

You watched it fall into his lap before forcing your gaze back to his face in a rush. “Promise… Promise I can pull your hat down if you… do anything.”

“I won’t so a simple enough agreement. Sure.”

“Go… ahead…” You folded your arms to your sides, obviously nervous as you listened to his clothes move.

In a twist, he was examining you and he gave a faint hum.

Not wanting to see exactly how he saw you and growing miserable, you stared into the water.

You could throw yourself in and be done with it.

“Here.” He spoke.

You moved to the sound on instinct and found him pointing to your hip.

His eye was indeed one you imagined a tired scientist gave the samples he was cursed to study.

You immediately relaxed. “What?”

“This ruching here is meant to cover cellulite when the fabric gets wet. When dry it acts a similar concealment, but the way the strips are sewn are for the first purpose.”

“Oh…” You tilted your head to look.

“Thing is, it’s also leading lines.” He didn’t get any closer, but he mimed tracing the seams of the fabric that curled around your hip and beneath where you were sitting. “It’s meant to direct the gaze to certain assets.”

You blew out an annoyed breath.

“Dressing room mirrors, where I imagine you first saw this, aren’t slapped on walls without thought. They're engineered with angles and lightning to make clothes look as flattering as possible.” He brought his eye to yours. “Where did you see yourself today?”

“There’s a… mirror in my room.”

Donnie’s lip twitched with distaste. “That floor length one?”

You nodded.

“Dad uses that one to feel tall.” He sneered openly. “It tilts up from below, the worst possible perspective.”

You blinked a few rapid times.

“It took the ruching and blew it up.”

“So it’s not… that bad?”

“It’s anything, it's tasteful!” He spoke with an irritation that said that should have been obvious. “It fits your body well. Does it have a certain allure? Yes, I’ve already spoken of assets, but it is not a piece that invites unnecessary solicitation.”

“Assets, assets. What are you, an ass man?” You retorted automatically.

“There is nothing quite like sinking your teeth into that soft, inviting flesh.” He took your response and held it between his teeth.

In a blink, you saw an imaginary Donatello around your hips pointing to the fabric and on contact with the thought your face exploded.

“I say generally speaking, of course.” He clicked his tongue as if scolding you and turned away toward the water.

Hot.

You were too hot.

Run.

Throwing yourself forward, you submerged as indelicately as possible into the water.

Sinking like a stone into the silence, your burning flesh was quickly soothed by a cold lap.

A sweet embrace, you kicked to the surface and emerged with a pathetic gasp.

Never graceful, you shook yourself free of clingy drops and spun back around to view the rocks.

Donnie was staring up at the sky again and you sort of hated him for it.

Swim.

You’d swim with Mikey.

Spinning around, the other turtle was not only longer floating, but you couldn’t locate him at all. Quickly worrying that you had toppled him in your dive, you swam forward. “Mikey?”

Quieting to listen, you didn’t hear anything past the faint roiling of the water against its container.

Thinking he must have dove, you looked down to find Donnie’s earlier comment to be a correct one. With the water murky to a fault and a new fear cropped up. You had no idea what was in the water and you immediately darted for the closest shore. Something several long feet from Donnie, it was a sort of marshy landing that rocks from below steeping up to meet. They were covered in a slime that clung to your feet and had you pausing until you heard an off-toned lap behind you.

You whirled around with wide eyes and found a sea monster waiting for you.

Something matted with algae, it groaned pathetically and you sucked in enough air until the balloon was full enough to scream.

“What!? Who?! Where?!” The creature splashed with Mikey’s voice.

He’d been captured by another mutant.

You turned to get out of the water with some intention of getting to the tank.

It had to have missiles or something.

Anything to help.

You’d take a bowling ball launcher at this point.

Catching grip with one foot, you hoisted up the other. The many rocks acted like a disjointed ladder and your entire torso emerged from the water before one of your feet slid. The moment it happened felt like you were falling out of time. In slow motion, you knew your face was one of surprise. You painted an open expression where the imminent terror that you were falling couldn’t catch up as neurons to save yourself from the action.

Your mind knew, but your face didn’t know that you were going to crack your head open on the rocks you just slipped on.

“Y/N!”

Two voices.

Too far.

Something skewered your side as the first injury of many.

Hoping only to black out on that first step, you willed your possessions to your friends.

You didn’t bother hoping they would remember you.

You only hoped that they could make some use out of your worldly imprint.

No matter how small it was.

Water rushed to greet you and shoved you away.

That wasn’t right.

That was the wrong direction.

Water swayed like waves.

The equal and opposite reaction wouldn’t come until you fell in.

Why had it preemptively come for you?

Your arms dangled heavily from gravity and you forced your eyes from wherever they had gone.

The monster was right in front of you.

Its face was one of Michelangelo.

Green sludge caught in his blackened locks and his worried expression peered out from between a small part.

He had you by the waist and was holding you up in the air. “Are you okay!?”

You were a loose toy strung up.

Flopping down, lifeless, you were a doll that couldn’t close its eyes until it was laid down.

A second deafening splash came as you hung there.

Mikey’s lips were moving awfully fast.

“Did they hit their head?!” Donnie’s voice broke through.

“No! Above water the whole time! Donnie! They aren’t saying anything, I don’t-”

“Shock?” Donnie wondered, but he never came into frame.

Where was he?

Mikey jostled you as one might bounce a colicky baby.

It was pulling a string on your back and you hacked on contact.

You wheezed, forcing air in where terror had torn it from you.

You fought.

Not Mikey exactly, but the situation.

It strung your arms back.

It shoved your torso forward.

It threw your head skyward.

You gasped, alive.

You saw blue.

It was the sky.

You hadn’t died.

Mikey had saved you.

Finally.

You came down from your arching to translate your joy.

Mikey’s face slid into your vision and he was the picture of a boiled red tomato dotted with summertime spots.

He was looking at you.

He had ogled you.

He was embarrassed.

Your blood pressure plummeted twice as fast as it had when you thought you were about to die.

This was worse.

This time you heard yourself scream as you lashed out.

Water flew up as if to welcome you, to bring you where you were meant to be.

Drowned.

Returned you to that place where you weren’t an object to be viewed.

You were a person floating free.

Liquid carried life.

It supported it.

It didn’t have it.

Vertigo struck you as you moved within a blink.

In a disorientated spiral, your lids fell heavy as your inner ear tried to correct the imbalance.

There were no longer hands around your waist.

Something clicked like an engine uselessly turning over.

Weary, you realized you were standing in a safe spot in the water.

You drew up the dreary blinds of your curtain and found a muscled arm thrown out protectively in front of you.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!!!” Mikey cried, loud and desperate.

“What the hell was that then!?” Donnie’s voice rang close.

That firm limb tucked you further behind someone.

You were being shielded.

A squabble happened in front of you, but you only looked down at the jade appendage acting as your guard rail.

You touched the arm and it felt familiar.

“Don-nie?” Your voice came out synthetic.

His was the body you were behind and his face appeared in a whip of his head. “Are you alright? Can you swim? I’ll move.”

“I’m not…?” You weren’t swimming.

You weren’t doing anything.

You were standing in the water.

“What…?”

You looked past Donnie and glimpsed Mikey with a faint blush still stuck to his cheeks.

“Y-you…!” It felt accusatory on your lips.

“I’m sorry!!!” Mikey screeched.

“Turn around, dummy!” Donnie growled hot and was in motion.

You were soon ushered into a spin with an indelicate hand to your back and all but rushed over to the rock you had jumped off of.

You heard a splash of what you assumed was Mikey growing distant behind you.

You hoped that would cool him off.

“You ready?” Donnie’s voice appeared like it was newly there.

“For what?” You were already used.

What was left?

Was it time to take out the recycling?

“I’m going to lift you up. Your shirt is right there.” Donnie instructed.

“My shirt…” You were forlorn.

It was your back-up comfort item.

“Ready?” Donnie asked again.

The water rocked you and you barely bumped his firm plastron.

You nodded dumbly.

Your hips were taken in what you read as a clinical way.

You were barely bounced once, then twice, in a way that ballet dancers got momentum to lift their partners.

Sure enough, you were lifted cleanly out of the water.

Only this time you felt well handled.

You weren’t swung around like a toddler holding up their favorite doll.

A child who cared for his toys put you on a shelf.

When your knees touched down, you drank in the life of the rock and scrambled for your shirt.

All the things that had just occurred crashed into you.

Shoving your head through the hole, you yanked the shirt down your body as you were already in motion. Forest floor digging into your bare feet, you didn’t need the map to retrace your steps. You followed the single, winding, prickly path and emerged out by the cabin only to fly inside it. A sanctuary amongst the unrelenting woods, you left a rotting drip trail as you entered your room. Your door clattered from where you had thrown it open and you ripped your duffel bag to shreds to get to its confines.

Pulling on layer after layer, you could see Mikey’s blush with each piece of clothing.

He’d looked at you.

You shoved your feet into a third pair of socks.

His gaze was amorous.

Into a thermal that was very much against the season, you ran out of clothes and stormed the dresser.

Sexual.

There were oversized men’s clothes that struck you as maybe being Raph’s and you thanked their huge size.

You put shirt after shirt on.

Mikey had said, point blank, that he wanted to see how far his feelings went.

Why were you so stupid?

You screamed.

Raw and uncut.

Tearing at your larynx, you ripped a few too many layers off as they impeded your melt down.

You needed space to breathe.

You needed to be swallowed whole.

Stumbling out to that accursed mirror, the shape you found there was a frumpy one.

Smiling a teary look at it, you watched it warp your face into one of dismay and you cried.

Where had you last felt okay?

It wasn’t here.

Moving around the room you searched for it.

That intangible something that would help.

Knocking everything over, you finally got a hold of a much too large pillow and hugged it to your body.

It was large and not at all as firm as you wanted.

You needed a hard wall.

You needed that unrelenting nature.

You weren’t something to be judged with heat.

You needed a cold light the sun couldn’t supply.

The wall knocked.

You spun around with your pillow defense to find the back of a head waiting there.

“I come as an emissary.” Donnie spoke slow and methodical.

“You can-!” It wasn’t Mikey.

Your pillow fell slack into one hand.

It wasn’t Mikey.

You let it drop with a thump to the floor.

It wasn’t Mikey.

“…come in.”

You took a wobbly step to spread out your clothed legs in hopes of keeping yourself upright.

Donnie didn’t move.

“You can… come in…” You repeated, not sure if you had gotten the first phrase out.

“No.”

“No…?” You took another step and saw how Donnie was clearly beyond the boundary of your open door.

With his back to you.

Not impeding on you in any way.

“This is your space.” He spoke it like a finality.

You stared at the knot of his mask tails and tried to place what you felt.

“Being out here with us…” Donnie let the sentence hang before he lowered his gaze to the floor. “I want to… respect that much.”

“Why’d you say it like that?”

“I prefer the term ‘sanctum,’ but I couldn’t fit it in.”

“A sacred place…?”

The back of his head nodded. “My lab is supposed to be one.”

Sanctums weren’t places to be invaded.

If they were then they were violated.

He understood.

Is that what you felt?

Camaraderie?

Even his mania in the beginning had been one you made sense of.

Was that why you hadn’t complained?

No, you were rewriting history from your current perspective.

It was also the only one you knew.

It was one where you envied one man.

It was where you once feared another.

Now their roles were reversed.

You never had to explain your misery to Donnie.

You didn’t have to make him understand.

He was the moon.

You rushed towards him.

Donnie heard the footsteps and made it about half a turn before you reached him. “As… I was saying, I talked to Michael and come in his stead to-”

You collided with that unrelenting wall of plastron. Finding an odd hinge between the front of his shell and the back, you did your best to tuck into that space and weaseled under his arm. You felt it rise above you, out of your way and a rotation brought you more towards his front. There you felt him stop to take your over-clothed form in.

“I’m sorry!” You choked on tears, rooting the sound as deep against Donnie’s wet clothes as possible.

He let your misery hang for exactly one second.

Then he surrounded you in a soft moon glow.

He pulled you toward his chest and you burrowed closer to him.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I completely overreacted. It was just too much… Too much attention… the way he looked. He said… I thought he wouldn’t… I didn’t want…!”

A hand pet through the layers of your back.

Even and careful.

No further connotation other than to soothe.

Squirming to get your arms out from where you were crushing them, you wiggled them free to embrace him.

You squeezed a sigh right out of him.

“I know.” He spoke into your damp head. “I know…”

You nodded and basked in the tide. Pulled by the moon’s orbit, the waves rolled in and out with a sway. A gentle rocking, you were cast a comfortable drift by it. This was the one you had longed for from the swimming hole. Here, you floated amongst sturdy shores. Held safe, the guiding white light poured around you. One that pushed back against the darkness, it shone on you. Lucky to be in its reach, it wasn’t the type you soaked up. It instead washed over you in a cleanse. Feeling lighter and a little stifled, you extracted yourself from moisture to moisture.

Everything around you from your leaking face to the clingy pond water was soaked and you frowned down Donnie’s body. Standing in a little pool mostly created by him, you wanted to stick your tongue out at it, but you feared the bacteria clearly clinging to your skin.

“The cabin is yours tonight.”

Before you could register the words, you felt him strengthen his resolve with a puff of his chest.

“I don’t want to hear complaints otherwise.”

You wanted to pout.

“I checked the systems when we were doing our preliminary cleaning. The water will be hot. Shower, bathe, do whatever you’d like. We’ll be staying outside.”

You gave a faint nod to the wet floor.

“We’ll grill and I’ll make you a plate. Preference?”

You shook your head. “I don’t… feel like eating…”

“Bland it is.”

Now you were pouting.

“Y/N.”

“Yeah?” Your head felt heavy.

“I still have a message from Mikey to deliver.”

“I really don’t want to hear it.” Irritation brought you to look at him.

Donnie took you in with a sort of smile. “You’ll want to.”

You dropped your features in a way that said you didn’t believe him.

“He said he’s not ready to talk as he’s having his own crisis, but he’ll let you know when he’s ready to apologize.” Donnie tilted his head, almost amused.

You blinked straight out of your bitterness to stare openly.

Donnie gave a single knowing nod.

“Enjoy your shower.” With one last sweep over you as if to check you were all still there, Donnie turned and headed for the door.

Watching him go, you saw the faint amber hue of sunset.

“It’ll all work out.” Donnie tossed just as he grabbed the knob to exit.

You turned and stormed straight to the bathroom. Drowning in clothes and scum, you locked the door tight and turned the shower knobs to their highest setting. Leaving the water to warm, you started removing your outermost shirt. As soon as it hit the ground you felt possessed. You tore off your clothes with each subsequent layer removed at a faster and faster pace. You needed to be freed. You needed that ridiculous protection off of you as soon as possible. All of it soiled, you stripped down bare and left your feet for last.

The moment they were naked and pressed to tile, you leapt into the old style tub. Instantly boiled by the too hot water, you let it scorch you with clenched teeth at first until the burn seared and you adjusted the dial for something reasonable. Still a lobster in a pot, you scrubbed your skin until you thought it might flake and then doused it in suds until you couldn’t see its color. A sea of white foam, the second scrounge came through, washing the detritus away.

Pickled in the process, you emerged and greedily took up every towel in the room. It meant toeing around the disgusting mound of clothes you’d left, but Donnie had said the cabin was yours. Until tomorrow when you’d clean the place up, you instead mourned how you hadn’t even brought your toothbrush in with you. Scowling at a fog coated mirror, you cracked the door and watched the steam leak out.

Chasing it with your ear, you didn’t hear anything, but there was a distinct lemon scent.

You followed the smell into the hall where you quickly placed it was cleaner. The floor had a sheen to it that spoke of a recent mopping. The clean line ending abruptly at your door said exactly who the culprit was. Donatello had snuck back in to clean and you were thankful for it. He’d left your sanctuary untouched and instead set a stool just outside the door.

On it was a stack of comfortable looking clothes and a note.

‘Keep your room or upgrade. I recommend the one upstairs, second bedroom on the right.’

You folded the note along its lines and placed it back on the offered clothes. You then gathered the lot and took it with you along with a brave face as you entered your room. You barely looked up as you salvaged what you could from your duffel. Carrying the mostly limp sack, you then moved to follow your recommendation. It led you through the darkened cabin and up the winding wooden stairs where the door in question was closed. Knocking on it out of politeness, you found it empty and slipped inside. It was decorated similarly, but clearly different. Comfortable in its own sense, you went about your nightly routine as best you could and thanked the space for not having a mirror. Growing more weary by the second, you thought vaguely of meat as you instead pulled back the covers.

Sinking in and imagining charcoal lighting the men’s faces, you settled down into the welcoming embrace of bed.

You eventually got up and padded across a tiled floor.

Pulling out a single slick piece of black fabric, you double checked the door was closed before changing.

The perfect swimsuit was one you hadn’t imagined you’d find.

What luck, you thought, as you slipped it on.

Stepping into it, you shimmied into the fabric and turned for that show stopping image in the changing room.

It was perfect.

It covered you in all the right ways.

Finally, the piece you’d been looking for.

Smiling and striking pose after pose, you saw a hand wave above the curtain.

“Come in!” You called to it.

Sanctum’s were only to be entered with permission.

“Silly.” You looked over your pleasing image once more. “Is it still a violation if I request it?”

“I guess not.” Instead of drawing the curtain back, Donnie slipped through it.

Tucking himself a strong wall behind you, he looked into the mirror at you.

What looked back held no heat, only appreciation.

“Do you like it?” He checked with you without passing judgment himself.

“I do…” You smiled.

He gave one of his own, though subdued, and flicked his gaze down. “Look here.”

You lowered your gaze to find him kneeling behind you. With his head popped out around your hips, he was looking up at you in a way you liked quite a bit.

You felt powerful.

You were a light bright enough for him to want to project.

“This ruching here has leading lines.” He didn’t touch you, but his hands ghosted over you along the fabric’s pattern.

Your lips parted and your chest filled with heat.

A celestial body was meant to look on.

You were safe.

“May I?” He asked you once again.

You were glad and responded with a breathless, “Please.”

His mouth opened a dark orbital maw, a new moon, which then glinted into a teeth-filled waxing crescent headed in its trek to sink into your soft flesh.

You jolted the moment the teeth supposedly hit their mark.

You stared into the dark abyss and saw drifting images of sharpened grins.

You were dizzy.

A sheen of sweat to you, you tossed back a cover.

The black hovel above you took shape as logs in the cabin ceiling.

They lined up like thick thighs appearing from where board shorts had hiked up.

Begging for a taste.

Awareness struck with a sharp inhale.

Fully awake and doused with dread from your dream, you voiced your despair with a whisper.

“Oh no…”

💛 NEXT 💛

I swear I handed this to my betas over a year ago... @tmntxthings and @thepinkpanther83

#sunshinemoonshinefic #rottmnt #rise of the tmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt x reader #donatello hamato #rise donnie #rottmnt donatello #rottmnt Donnie #rottmnt Michelangelo #rise Michelangelo #Michelangelo hamato #rottmnt mikey #rise mikey #me #fanfiction #my fanfiction #tw body dysmorphia

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ch0k3herwithaseaview · 7 months

Text

@jegulus-microfic | feb 20 shiver | words: 864

yeah, so, someone said they would like a part 2 to this so i wrote it. i don’t know if it’s any good but here it is, hope y’all like it (also sorry for all the mistakes, english still isn’t my first language)

next part 👀

“He just stayed over for dinner, Sirius. It was a ‘thank you’ for helping me with Gigi” James repeated for what felt like a hundredth time.

“Oh, I know your ‘thank yous’. Don’t try to fool me, I haven’t met you yesterday” Sirius laughed through the phone. James was surprised his best friend didn’t get mad at him for spending the evening with said friend’s brother.

He was expecting the man to throw a tantrum about it, that’s why he called Moony and asked for Sirius as soon as Regulus left his flat with the dog.

“You know, it’s kind of your fault. Why would you leave your phone to your brother? If you hadn’t done that nothing would have happened!”

“So, something did happen?” James heard the cheeky smile even though he couldn't see it and simply groaned at the response he received. Sirius could be his best friend, who James loved dearly, but he could also piss him off like nobody else.

“Don’t change the subject, just- why did he have your phone? I really was terrified with the whole situation and as if it wasn’t enough I almost got a heart attack because you really didn’t have your phone and I didn’t know who got my address, and if they wouldn’t ki-“

“Okay, James, breathe” he heard from the other side. He did just that. “Now, stop spiralling. He had my phone, because I left it there on my way to the venue. He was fucking with you, you know how he is” Sirius explained calmly and James felt a little better. But then “While we’re on the topic of fucking-“

“I’m hanging up” his bestie just barked a laugh at that.

“Yeah, Reggie’s here anyways, I have to pester him now. Bye, love ya” and with that Sirius ended the call.

James breathed heavily and slumped into the couch. Excluding the Gigi incident, the evening was really nice - he and Regulus prepared the butter chicken together (using tofu instead of chicken since Reg doesn’t eat meat). They laughed at what the vet said about them not being good uncles to the dog and talked about their lives. James knew from Sirius that Regulus went to art school but still listened eagerly as the younger man talked about his latest project.

“You should come to the opening. I think you’ll like it” Regulus said midway through his dish. He also smirked when James started choking on his rice. After a moment he calmed down, whipping his face with a napkin.

“Yeah, of course, I’ll try to make it. When is it exactly?” he asked, pretending like nothing happened just seconds ago. Regulus laughed at him, sounding so very sweet again, and James tried to hide the small smile and blush that appeared on his face.

“Next Friday at 8” the black-haired man replied simply, going back to his meal. He looked so soft and peaceful sitting at the table, the older man felt a need to squish him tightly, because what the fuck - how can someone look so pretty?

With James’ internal crisis and Regulus’ quiet chewing they fell into a comfortable silence. It was new to James - usually, while eating with his parents and friends, it was very loud, everyone talking and laughing all the time. But it was nice - to just sit and enjoy a dinner together.

When they were finished Regulus took Gigi and said he’ll drop her off at Sirius’. James just thanked him again, walking the other man down the hall. When Regulus was out, he turned over his shoulder and smiled warmly.

“See you next Friday” he said and walked to the elevator. James didn’t even have a chance to reply as the younger man disappeared behind the metal door.

He took another deep breath and went to his bathroom, taking a quick shower and preparing to go to sleep. He was halfway through his skincare routine when his phone beeped. As always, he didn’t bother checking it while he’s having his alone time, but as soon as he laid his head on the pillow he opened the unread message.

Unknown

Sirius is fucking mad

Whatever he says to you - do NOT believe him

He’s delusional, I swear

It’s Regulus, by the way

James felt a pleasant shiver going down his spine. Regulus didn’t ask for his numer, but apparently took it from Sirius’ phone. Sneaky little thing he was.

James

didnt expect you to be not only a murderer but also a thief

and i know your brothers mad ive known him half my life

Reg

I’m not a thief, I’m THE thief

If I managed to steal your number maybe I’ll be able to steal some of your time ;)))

THAT MESSAGE WAS FILLED WITH SARCASM

James laughed at that.

James

yeah sure

you can steal as much of my time as you want

THAT MESSAGE WAS ABSOLUTELY NOT FILLED WITH SARCASM

The reply didn’t come right away. He could see the three dots appearing and disappearing every now and then, though. And when it finally came, James just smiled at it.

Reg

You’re being cheesy, please don’t act like that at the opening

#jegulus #starchaser #dead gay wizards #james potter #james x regulus #regulus black #jegulus microfic #marauders #the marauders

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theactualclrofblue · 9 months

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Eefo but badass, not washed up, hair up, and feminine hips, what else could you ask for? (I have no idea what this style is lmao. Apocalyptic??)

Anyway, still working on the animations! (3 😭) and I’m just going through an absolute identity crisis with my art style so it’s taking a lot longer then I want it to.

Also I could possibly make an AU with this? Idk might design Joel cuz those two do everything together. At least in my delusional world

#life series #trafficblr #ethoslab #art #etho fanart #etho hermitcraft

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skyward-floored · 8 months

Text

Febuwhump Collab Day 4 (& 22) — Obedience, “you weren’t meant to be there”

This one I wrote with two prompts in mind, and as I was going along I realized it also fits with the day 17 one as well (hostage situation) so three at once! I feel bad for Time, I’m always giving him a hard time in this au...

Warning for some injuries, some violence, and a gun that gets waved around in a threatening manner

Today’s lovely art

Ao3 link

————————————————————

Time drove down the street with the windows down in his car, enjoying the cool air that blew inside and ruffled his hair. It was a lovely afternoon, and he was glad to not be wasting it in an office.

Some kind of maintenance for the building he worked in had forced Time out of his office, and with nothing better to do, he’d been allowed to take the rest of the day off. He was looking forward to being home alone with Malon for a bit before his sons returned from school, and was already relishing the quiet they’d get to enjoy.

...Assuming, of course, that there wasn’t anything else that required his attention in the meantime.

Time sighed. Ever since supers had been (somewhat reluctantly) legalized again, it seemed like the crime rate had doubled to try and make up for it. Every other day he was stopping a bank robbery, or mugging, or any number of random misdeeds. He was endlessly relieved they were all no longer classified as illegal, and they’d fought hard for it, but... it was starting to get exhausting.

As if on cue, the music from the radio was cut off, and a news anchor began spouting off a report of an in-progress museum robbery.

Disappointment washed over him, and Time sighed and changed lanes, turning away from home and towards the direction of the museum. Malon would have been listening to the radio as well, and she would know he would go to help.

So much for our quiet afternoon.

Putting aside his disappointment, Time turned up the radio to hear the details better, mentally forming a plan for when he got the Hyrule Museum of History. The robbers had gone to the wing where the gems and older artifacts were housed, and had apparently blockaded themselves inside. He couldn’t believe they were brash enough to attempt a theft in broad daylight, at the largest museum in town at that...

But then again, perhaps they want some publicity, Time thought with a snort. There were always criminals around trying to make themselves out as bigger then they were.

The woman on the radio continued with the details, and Time suddenly jerked his head down to stare at it as she repeated the name of the building.

A robbery at the Hyrule Museum of History.

The same museum where several of his children had a field trip scheduled for today.

Time breathed in sharply and stepped on the gas, navigating towards the museum with an increased urgency. Not all of the grades were scheduled to be there at the same time, but there was at least one group that was supposed to still be at the museum now, and three of his sons had been there today.

No, calm down, he berated himself, getting honked at as he narrowly made it through a light, you know they can all handle a crisis, they’ve proved that. And they might not even be there anymore.

It was completely possible that all of their classes had finished and had already gone back to the school, or that the school groups were on the opposite side of the building from where the robbers were. Or maybe his sons had been evacuated with everyone else and would be waiting outside when Time got there, wanting to help out.

Maybe.

Time reached the museum in record time, though the trip seemed to take forever. He ducked into an alley and changed into his gear at lightning speed, then ran for the building, sirens in his ears.

There was a whole crowd of people outside, confused kids and frightened adults, police and security guards trying to maintain order through the clamor. Time left the police to their business of corralling civilians— though he made sure to scan the crowd for three familiar heads, heart sinking when he didn’t find a single one— and went through a side door, out of way of the crowd.

The officer guarding the inside jumped at the sight of him, but quickly realized who he was, directing him to where the robbers had gone with a relieved look.

“We got a report that there’s some kids missing from a school group, Mr. Deity,” he warned before Time went on his way. “It’s possible they’re in the wing the robbers sealed off, but we haven’t been able to get inside to check yet.“

Time’s stomach clenched, but he nodded, and headed for the section that housed ancient jewelry.

The halls were eerily quiet apart from Time’s rapid bootsteps, normally crowded halls foreboding and empty. He didn’t go to the main doorway of the wing, knowing that’s what the robbers would expect, and also where the police would be focusing their efforts, and instead went for one of the smaller doors.

Sure enough there were no police there, only an entrance blocked off by a huge fallen statue of some kind. Time had no trouble moving it aside enough that he could get through, and began running again, his heart in his throat.

Please, please let them be outside, please—

It was even quieter in this section, and Time didn’t pass a soul as he ran past paintings and bones, ancient armor and swords displayed proudly on the walls. Yet the thieves must have hidden a lookout somewhere, for when Time turned the corner into the room housing the most rare pieces, they were waiting for him.

There were at least six of them visible, wearing dark clothing and masks that covered most of their faces. All were armed with guns, most pointed in Time’s direction, but one was pointing towards the group of kids huddled in the center of the room.

Legend right in the line of fire.

Panic and anger roared to life in Time’s chest, but he shoved them away, forcing himself to remain collected in front of the group of criminals. Showing weakness would do nothing but give them an advantage, and despite the fact that he wanted to do nothing but charge forward and get Legend out of there, he remained where he was.

Legend locked eyes with Time, and the relief in his gaze made Time’s hands threaten to shake.

“Hm, Fierce Deity,” the man pointing the gun at the kids said, levelly meeting his gaze. His mask seemed more sinister than the rest. “The report indicated that you were not the most likely hero to show up here today.”

“Let them go,” Time demanded, the other kids watching him in frightened hope. He recognized them as ones from Legend’s class, thankfully no more of his sons among them. “These kids were just here for a field trip, don’t mix them up in this.”

The man crept closer to Legend. “They will be fine if you allow us to leave with what we came for.”

“They’re just kids,” Time said, voice darkened with anger. The man looked at him in an almost bored way, then back down at Legend. “What is it you even came here to steal?”

“That’s our business,” the leader said with a smile in his voice. “Now drop your weapon, and they will be fine.”

Time breathed out, scanning the room again before returning his gaze to Legend. His son was too far for him to reach before anything happened, the other kids as well, and even if there was a remote chance he could get Legend out of the way, it was unlikely he could protect all of the hostages.

You should have been more stealthy coming in—

“D— Fierce Deity,” Legend said in a soft, urgent voice, and Time looked at his son with increasing desperation. “Don’t listen to him, just get everyone else out of here, I’ll be—”

The gun was pressed to Legend’s head, the click of it being cocked near deafening to Time’s ears.

“Put your weapon down, or he gets a bullet through the head,” the man said softly. One of the other kids whimpered. “Swiftly followed by the rest of them.”

Time looked between the man and Legend, seconds ticking by loudly in his head. It was a nightmare knowing he had the power to stop every thief in the room, but being unable to do a thing. He had to stop them, but he couldn’t do anything, not without risking Legend, or any of the other kids, not unless he—

Legend’s lip trembled, almost imperceptibly, and Time exhaled as he bowed his head.

Then he dropped his weapon.

Legend gave him an agonized look as Time raised his hands in surrender, and though Time couldn’t see the man who was still holding the gun to his head’s face, he was sure he was smirking at them both.

Rage abruptly slammed into Time, more powerful then any of the emotions he’d been dealing with so far, and he gave the robber a look of pure hatred. How dare he mix these kids up in a stupid scheme that was doubtless just to make some money?

No lives were worth a couple of pretty rocks, no matter how rare.

“Get on your knees,” the man demanded next, a hint of glee in his voice, and Time grit his teeth and did as he said.

The other robbers jeered as he kneeled down, and closed their circle around him, one kicking at his legs to make him go down faster. A fist suddenly connected with his face, and Time flinched backwards, laughter ringing in his ears. Another blow hit him on the knee, pain bursting up his leg, and he forced himself not to react.

“You’re not going to fight back?” one of them mocked, making him gasp as he jabbed him in the stomach. “It’d be so easy, just one little punch!”

“Let them go and I’ll give you a fight,” Time growled, but the man with the gun shook his head.

“No, I’m enjoying myself too much. Leaving can wait, the Fierce Deity at our mercy is too good of an opportunity to pass up on,” he chuckled. “Rough him up boys, this could be our break into the big time if word gets out.”

Time barely had time to brace himself before the blows began to rain down, all of the robbers eager to swing a punch or two his way.

Now part of Time’s powers was increased durability, his body able to handle much more strain and abuse than any normal person. But he wasn’t invincible in any sense of the word, and the robbers all had extremely hard boots and gloves, and a few had weapons that slammed into and jabbed at sensitive points all over him.

And he didn’t dare fight back.

By the time they were finished knocking him around, Time had a split lip and bruised ribs, and he wasn’t confident his knee would hold his weight. But despite the pounding in his head and the sharp ache radiating up from his middle, Legend was still unharmed, and so were the other kids.

That was all that mattered.

Time breathed in and met Legend’s eyes for a second, his son’s blue gaze wide and equally angry and fearful as they looked at each other.

“You’ve had your fun,” Time said in a voice more hoarse then before. “Now do what you said, and let them go.”

The leader idly twirled his gun, the barrel no longer pressed to Legend’s head, but still much too close to it. “I don’t think so. I don’t want any funny business from you. They’ll come with us until we’re well on our way, and then they’ll be freed.”

The fire in Time’s stomach roared. “You said you’d let them go if I dropped my weapon.”

“Your own fault for trusting the word of a thief,” the leader shrugged, and Time nearly leapt at him then and there. “We’ll be on our way now. And if you decide to follow us before we’re gone, this little group here might just—”

Someone dropped from the ceiling and landed on top of the man.

He let out a shocked cry as he was thrown to the ground, and Time realized Wild had been the one to drop from above, fully in his costume, and Hyrule and Malon soon dropped down along with him.

Relief swept over Time at the sight of his wife and other two missing sons, both safe and sound. Despite the pain when he moved, he swung out at the nearest robber, who took his punch full on the chin and fell to the ground, immediately unconscious.

A gun went off somewhere, but the familiar sound of the bullet being stopped by Hyrule’s shield rang in Time’s ears. A shriek accompanied it, and Time saw his wife hustling the kids back and away from the fight.

“We got what we came for, let’s go!” the leader of the thieves shouted, having somehow wrestled himself away from Wild, and they all sprinted out into a hallway.

Wild’s face screwed up in anger and he bolted after them, Hyrule following close behind. Malon didn’t immediately follow though, pausing at Time’s side and putting a concerned hand on his face.

“Are you okay?” she breathed worriedly, running her thumb by his split lip. “I heard on the radio, I came as soon as I realized, but I had to find the boys first—”

“You need to get those kids out of here,” Time interrupted softly, clasping her hand for just a moment. Malon scanned over him, then nodded, her eyes worried behind her mask.

“You’re right. We can regroup in a bit,” she murmured, and Time pressed the briefest of kisses to her hand.

Malon quickly stood and went back to the group of kids, giving Legend only a short squeeze on the shoulder since she was in costume and wasn’t supposed to know him. She began ushering them out in a different direction than the bandits had gone, and Time watched them leave, relieved they were all fine.

Stumbling slowly to his feet as they trailed out of the room, Time winced as he put weight on his one leg. He’d certainly had worse, but unless Hyrule was willing to help him along, he’d probably need a doctor. Relaxing afternoon indeed.

Legend suddenly materialized at his side as he managed to stand, his face still pale from what had just happened, eyes wide as they looked him over.

Time didn’t hesitate to bundle him into a tight hug.

His ribs ached with the action but Time didn’t care, and he ignored the way his hand shook as he ran it through Legend’s hair. Legend hugged him back equally tight, and Time rested his head on top of his, relief threatening to send him to the ground again.

“Dad, I’m okay,” Legend said, his voice shaking a little.

“I know. I know you are,” Time breathed. He didn’t let go though, and neither did Legend, and Time ran another hand through his hair, still unable to get the image of Legend with a gun pressed to his temple out of his head.

If even one thing had gone differently...

Time silenced the thought before it could form, and gave Legend a squeeze.

“You shouldn’t have let them do that to you,” Legend said, his voice unusually quiet, and Time sighed, pulling back just a little.

“I couldn’t let them hurt you,” he replied, cupping a gentle hand around Legend’s chin. Legend swallowed and averted his gaze. “And I can handle a few punches. That’s nothing in comparison to what he would have done to you and the others.”

And I would endure it thousands of times if it ensured your safety.

“You still shouldn’t have,” Legend mumbled.

“But I did. And I’m okay,” Time reassured, ignoring every ache that protested the fact. “This wasn’t your fault, Legend.”

Legend only closed his eyes, and Time drew him near again, Legend’s hair brushing his chin.

“I’m okay,” Time reassured again, this time in a whisper. “We’re both okay.”

Legend gripped a little tighter at Time’s suit, Time’s hand running over his hair, and they stood there in silence for what felt like a long time before pulling back, and joining the fight with the others.

#this is after when the movies would take place but not too terribly long after #linkeduniverse #Incredibles au #lu time #lu legend #whump #febuwhump #febuwhump 2024 #day 4 #day 22 #day 17 #tw gun #tw injury #Incredibles au fic #writing from the floor

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kotelok16 · 3 months

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Hii so I’m new here and haven’t touched danganronpa in years, so I’m just curious as to what got you into komamiki? My mind is blown whenever I see a ship that’s not implied in canon, so seeing your art was like woah!!!! And I just like getting people to infodump about stuff they love 💕

Thanks a lot for the question, anon! This is gonna be a long post, be prepared

In fact, I remember very poorly the moment when I got involved in this pairing. As I understand it, I saw one piece of art and just fell in love with this couple? That is, my brain clicked and was like, "Listen, I like it, there's something in this!"

If you still asking "why" I liked this pairing, then the main reason is an interesting dynamic. Yes, yes, komamiki haters, I know about the ending of the third trial and that these two "hate each other" (as they usually write). But... Isn't there a special charm in this? Has the path from hate to love stopped being a thing? I mean, at the end of the trial, it was shown how well Mikan caught Nagito's weakness. She could have left him speechless with a precise phrase. She understood Nagito.

Isn't there some spice in the fact that you are best understood by the person you dislike now? And everyone you admire didn't even try to understand you?? (yes, Hajime tried in free-time events. I know, I don't deny it. Just for now we are talking about the main plot).

Of course, I can think too much like any other fan of any other pairing. But this dynamic is driving me crazy!

It gives me pleasure to reflect on how difficult it would be for komamiki to restore a neutral relationship to begin with after the events of the game. And it's going to be difficult, as it's going to be difficult for all the killers and victims to talk about what happened, you know? And the difficulties are ✨interesting✨.

What I also like about komamiki is that they are two broken people who can understand each other. They both need psychological (and not only) help, okay?? But in this path of recovery, they can become each other's support.

Mikan is emotional, reads the general atmosphere and someone else's mood very easily, worries a lot. Nagito is actually more detached and calm (unless we're talking about hope-). He knows how to show the emotions needed at the moment, but he does not always read the general atmosphere (and does not always consider it necessary, he is on his own mind). In total, we have two broken people, one is very emotional and reads people well, and the second is calm, which adjusts to the mood of people. And both have low self-esteem and are very, let's call it, helpful. "I will do anything, just don't hate me!" and "I will do everything to become your stepping stone to hope!"

At the same time, they can learn a lot from each other and take care of each other. Mikan, of course, as a nurse. I like to think too much that she put all her strength into Nagito's life after him waking up from the New World Program. Komaeda, in turn, is sharp-tongued, and can protect his emotional girlfriend from unwanted comments verbally. He also knows how to express admiration, I think such words won't hurt Mikan. Tsumiki can also express in words and actions the importance of Nagito's life to her. Uh, a mutual aid circle??

Will such a relationship be difficult? OF COURSE, absolutely. But do you really think that any relationship does not involve difficulties? Including healthy relationships, which are being talked about a lot now? Like, guys, psychologists identify the crisis stages that ANY married couple goes through. The question is not what kind of problems are in the relationship, but how they will be solved. But I got off the subject.

If I think again about the post-canon, then I am hooked by the idea that the Class 77 will become the world's enemy. Not without reason, let's be honest. But, you see, there is no one left in their world who would accept them, except classmates (no, Makoto, don't look at me like that-). "In this world, we only have each other." Isn't this a bit dramatic, tragic and romantic?! (tragic for the most part, but we love it here)

Uh, I think this post is already quite long, it's worth taking stock. I love komamiki, I see an interesting, complex dynamic between them. Most of the time I draw them cute, gentle, romantic, well, because I like to draw them like that. I'm interested in thinking about their relationship, but drawing all sorts of cute things gives me peace of mind. Thanks again for the question, anon! It's always a joy to talk about your favorite couple^^

#komamiki #mikan tsumiki #nagito komaeda #Kotelok talks #infodamping is healing my mind

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thelamb1429 · 4 months

Text

Soul Train

Eyeless Jack x GN! Reader

This is part of a larger series i’m working on. For now i’m just gonna post lil snippets of the fanfic just to sort of get a feel for how i want the story to go.

This is also probably poorly written/has a lot of grammatical errors because i’m currently pretty sick right now so i’m writing with a scrambled brain atm. I’ll be back to spruce things up when i feel better!

STORY INFO/WARNINGS

Reader is gender neutral

This isn’t necessarily a oneshot, but i don’t know if i plan on posting chapters here on Tumblr when I should probably just post the whole story on another platform so that my art isn’t drowning under tons of stories lol

This part includes: Mentions of death, mentions of death regarding a parent, descriptions of panic, slight mentions of murder

Every single last ounce of oxygen seemed to be sucked from your burning lungs at full force, leaving you on your knees, coughing and retching while the silent vehicle raced down the tracks. Car after car flew over the metal just a few feet from where you knelt. The moment you could breathe enough for your vision to fade back in and your ears to slowly stop ringing, all you could see as far as your eyes traced down the railroad tracks was a never ending train. You sat there for about a minute, but it seemed like the train wasn’t ever going to end.

Nina looped an arm under yours to help you back onto your feet, and you were so out of it that you couldn’t even feel the pointy accessories on her arms and hands poke into your skin. Despite the train in front of you both not emitting a deafening whistle, the rustle of metal on metal was enough to block out any words she tried to get into your head. Everything in front of you moved in slow motion as the weight of the situation set in.

Jack was probably dead now.

You could have saved him.

He probably died thinking that you would get there in time to help.

Once again you went limp in your best friend’s arms, to which she stumbled and struggled to catch your weakened body. Nina eased the both of you onto the grass as the train finally passed and the red glare of the warning lights went dark. Her eyes looked past the tracks onto the dirt road beyond, as if to try and manifest the best case scenario. She wasn’t an optimist by any means, but she knew how much Jack meant to you. You two had been friends for years now, long before you went off to college. While the decked out girl holding onto you had never even met the guy, she felt a cold chill eat away at her spine as it rushed through her nerves, making the rapidly beating heart in her chest speed up with the anxiety caused by the both of you panicking.

But she'd known death much closer than you had. You had lost many loved ones, but her little hobby brought her up close and personal with it several times a week. For once, Nina felt a determination to lead that didn't scare her off. Calling the shots wasn't something that she liked to take charge of, but this was the perfect moment for her to take the lead, to do something helpful for you. She didn't have many friends, especially none that could understand her and handle her like you did.

Maybe helping you get to Jack could help you both strengthen the bond that was weakened by the argument from the week prior to the crisis at hand.

Determined to help, Nina once again hoisted you up and looked you in the eyes.

"[Name], I know that right now you're pissed at me. And I lied to you, I deserve your anger right now. But if we have any chance of getting into that forest and saving Jack, we have to get up and do it now. That cult— or whatever the hell they are— they're dangerous and Jack has no clue.

You love him, right? Then we need to get to him and get him back into your arms, safe and sound.

So take a deep breath and get up already! I can't find him on my own. I don't even know what he looks like!"

Nina pulled at your arms, groaning with the force of exertion she put out as you seemed to stay in place, frozen from the terror of losing the only man who you'd ever considered to have a shred of humanity in him. The only man who befriended you with no ulterior motives. The only man you knew who treated you as an equal.

You weren't gonna lose him. You had to stop mourning for a death you couldn't even confirm.

Much to your best friend's relief, you started running off past the cleared tracks, leading the way towards the countryside where the forest began. Cold, bitter air nipped at both of your bodies and filled your lungs, causing your throats to ache with the icy chill that seeped into you both as you inhaled air.

Contrary to popular belief, Nina was not good at running! She was used to cornering her victims in locations that allowed for her to easily escape and march back to her hidden little cabin in the woods at a leisurely pace. When she wanted to run, she ran pretty fast, but it was obvious that she wasn't used to running for so long. Since she was trying her best to help, you attempted to slow down just a bit so that she could catch up.

After five minutes of running down the road, Nina had to stop to breathe. She gasped for air as he chest heaved, trying to get more oxygen into her burning lungs. She looked up at you, taking in the panic evident on your face when she collapsed. Her mascara ran down her face just a little when her eyes watered from the excessive running.

"Go— you..you need to find him. I'll catch up, just go", she wheezed out as a cough wracked through her body.

The encouragement was all you needed to take off running once again.

Maybe it was the adrenaline in your body that kept you going, masking the ache in your chest and your legs from the constant sprinting you were doing. Maybe it was the fear that if you didn't suck it up and run, that it would be too late. Whatever it was, it caused you to keep running so fast that it felt as if you were gliding through the forest around you.

You had no idea where exactly he was. In fact, you were going in blind. But there was something deep within the core of your very being that seemed to yank you in one direction before leading you towards another.

All you could do was repeat a silent prayer that you hadn't said in years. Not since your mom died.

All you could do was pray to whatever higher being that could exist to let Jack still be alive when you find him.

Credits for the dividers i used go to poicelain and kgymz!! <3

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badaziraphaletakes · 4 months

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In which some poor innocent unsuspecting reader submitted an ask and I respond by throwing an entire textbook at them

Like seriously i won’t even be upset if no one reads this PhD dissertation, like actually what is wrong with me omg

The ask:

I want to start by saying I love this account and really appreciate the rebuttals I see here to some of the messed up stuff the fandom’s spit out over the past few years. That being said, the most recent post about “the creepiest take you’ve ever seen,” was one I disagreed with strongly. It’s entirely normal to enjoy watching media where characters have breakdowns. It is not a desire to see a person breakdown. It is a desire to watch a good story.

(Edit: Just realized I somehow omitted to include the full text of the ask here. I apologize for the error! Will fix it soon. -Mod X)

My response:

Hi and thank you for your kind words! (Also idk why there is this huge gap in the text here, sorry haha!) If it were a necessary part of the story, or a part of the story that made sense, I would agree. But it’s not necessary (esp not at this point in the story) and therefore wouldn’t be “good”, if we are defining good art as being emotional truthful, which I imagine is a pretty uncontroversial definition.

Side note: We already saw him have this exact shattering breakdown in Uz. So that renders most of what I am about to say (and arguably some of what you have said) somewhat moot. But I’m going to continue anyway because some of the points brought up here touch on issues that I think bear re-visiting often.

It’s cathartic, it’s engaging, and it helps people who’ve been through the same thing see themselves reflected. For example, I like watching someone on tv hit rock bottom with their addiction because I’ve been through that, and seeing them finally realize they have to work on recovery and actually do it is motivating and empowering.

I’m so sorry you’ve been through that. I haven’t (although I am estranged from an entire side of my family due to alcoholism and meth addiction, which is a whole fun thing), so I can’t comment on this too much.

But addiction is not the same as an ab*sive relationship. (I do have knowledge of those, both from life experience and from my previous job in ab*se research. I edited a newsletter about family violence research for several years.) Seeing a person suffering from addiction realize they want to work on recovery, and realize that the substance they are addicted to is messing up their life, can make sense. Especially if they're in a place where they're able to work on it and have the opportunity to try to change.

But seeing an ab*se survivor “realize they need to get away from their ab*ser because they’re evil and have a breakdown about it” doesn’t make sense, because being trapped in an absive situation is not about “motivation” or what they think about the abser or even, really, about "empowerment". (Side note that word is thrown a lot to delude women into thinking our capitalist system is working for us rather than oppressing us. But I digress.) It boils down to the fact that they are in danger if they leave. The situation is not within their control.

(This next part is not directed at you, but at the general readership, in case this is helpful discussion for anyone: A lot of addictions aren’t within people's control at all either. It depends very much on the drug we’re talking about, the health of the individual, the quantity and duration of the addiction, whether the person has access to the healthcare they need to be cured, and whether there’s a way for them to get free from the broader societal dysfunctions that led to them being trapped in this situation in the first place.)

Also, with addiction, people can absolutely get past that without losing their sense of self and their identity. If they go through that kind of crisis in the process of healing from addiction, I would argue that something is very wrong. (Not with them, but with the society around them). In a best-case scenario, a person suffering from addiction would have access to the kind of mental and physical healthcare and support system that lets you get free from that without a shattering breakdown or loss of sense of self.

Besides, not everyone who has an addiction has toxic beliefs about themselves or their own identity or other people, etc etc. (Babies who are born addicted come to mind, if we want to talk about the most extreme example.) So I find the idea that addiction is down to toxic beliefs about one's self very suspect. I would argue that 95% of the time, addiction happens because your life sucks. The mental health community is starting to have this conversation about depression and anxiety - Cognitive Behavioral Therapy to work on one's "limiting beliefs" and "destructive thought patterns" can only do so much to help you feel better when your whole life is shit anyway. And it can actually make it WORSE if the victim is made to believe that their depression is the fault of their "Faulty thoughts" rather than a reasonable reaction to a shitty situation. Not necessarily saying we should throw CBT out the window altogether, but I am saying that mental healthcare will be a LOT more effective when it learns to truly take the broader societal context into account. I suspect, I hope, we'll soon be having a simialr conversation around addiction.)

And that’s doubly the case for ab*se survivors. They’re not stuck in that situation because there’s something wrong with them that they need to fix. They’re stuck in that situation because there’s something wrong with the ab*ser.

Regardless of the victim’s personal worth as an individual, regardless of whether they’re a good person or what-have-you, they don’t deserve to be ab*sed.

(I'm just waiting to hear about how some therapist tells a victim to work on their "limiting belief" that they need to stay with their ab*ser in order not to be killed, and/or tells them that fearing their ab*ser will kill them is a "cognitive distortion", and tells them to stand up to their ab*ser and/or leave, and then the ab*ser kills them. But I digress.)

And the loss of self when separating from a toxic system that’s defined your whole life is a real thing some people go through. It’s not bad consider that Aziraphale could also go through that, or to want to see that experience reflected.

I want to be very clear that I don’t have the smallest objection to people wanting to see that in a show. But a. that’s not what the person was saying, and b. they were also saying it’s necessary. IT’S NOT. I can’t emphasize this enough.

Loss of self is the worst-case scenario for how something like that goes. Nothing good comes from that. That is a side effect of ab*se (because the ab*ser’s the one who says that “Everything you are is bound up in me and you’re nothing with me"), not an integral part of the process of getting away.

Trauma is not necessary for character growth.

The way these things should go is that the person is able to gradually and mindfully work through the beliefs that are poisoning them with the help of a therapist, trusted friends, etc.

I know what I’m talking about. I worked in trauma research for over seven years. Please trust me on this one.

And again, Aziraphale can’t “separate” from them anyway. There’s nowhere he can go where they won’t find him. So his beliefs are irrelevant to his situation. And if the show implies that his beliefs “need to change” as part of the earth being set free from heaven-hell’s tyranny, or that he “needs to change” in order to be free, I will be writing a strongly-worded letter to the creators.

But more importantly, *they didn’t just say giddy.* They also said apprehensive. Perhaps they’re apprehensive because they know it could be painful to watch. Or because they don’t want to see it handled poorly.

“Giddily apprehensive” sounds an awful lot like “excited” to me. I admit it is ambiguous, though, so I’ll give you that one. I maintain that the OP expressed themselves with an exceptional lack of grace, however. And fwiw, they’d be FAR from the first person to want to see Aziraphale suffer because they are mad at him. I think I have good reason to believe that's what they're getting at here, given how many people in the poster's orbit say the same kinds of things and how many other things I've seen the OP say that are along those lines. I acknowledge I should have made that clearer in my original post.

They aren’t giving this advice (if one could call it that) to a human. They’re saying they’re excited to see a character breakdown. Character arcs like that are common and enticing for good reason.

I have yet to see a reason why I should believe that the things people say about Aziraphale are different than the things they say about people in real life.

I would point you to a couple lines down where you say yourself that we respond to characters the same way we respond to real people.

Personal growth ≠ character growth.

But what makes a good character is that they act like real people.

As an audience, character growth (even negative) is engaging.

Yes, absolutely. But we can absolutely do character growth in a way that does not spread harmful mindsets or misinformation about what ab*se and recovery from ab*se looks like. In fact, I would argue that character growth can’t happen if the writer doesn’t write the characters to behave in a way that is realistic to real life.

Characters follow the same rules, though. We respond to characters the same way we respond to real people. The same general rules of personal development and so forth apply.

The idea that “Aziraphale realizes his ab*sers are terrible” is something he needs to do for his “personal development” is highly objectionable. He doesn’t need to grow in this area. He just needs his ab*sers to leave him alone. Side note: We should give him the benefit of the doubt and assume he already does think they’re terrible and only stays with them because he is terrified. Even if this hadn’t been strongly and frequently hinted at in every episode going all the way back to S1E1 - almost every scene, in fact - we should still give him the benefit of the doubt.

Also, even if we say, for the sake of argument, that Aziraphale was a terrible, awful, horrible person - I know you’re not saying that, to be clear - even then, he still wouldn’t “need to realize his ab*sers are terrible” or “have a complete breakdown” or “lose himself” in order to grow. That's not how growth works. The best growth happens when people are at peace and safe and loved. Not frightened and confused and alone. He never chose them in the first place, he never wanted to be on their side. If he were left alone, he would just spend the rest of eternity reading his books and eating Eccles cakes and snuggling with his former-demon. That’s who he really is. There’s nothing about him as a person that needs to change. I agree a story where a person loses their sense of self after escaping from an ab*sive system would be interesting to watch, but I maintain that it does not make sense for the context of this particular story. And, such a story would NEED to make clear that the person wasn’t bad or wrong for deriving some part of their sense of self from the ab*ser and that they shouldn’t have had to have a catastrophic breakdown in order to develop their own sense of self. No one should have to go through that.

It’s not the same thing as asking for personal growth from a real human being.

Good characters do not operate according to different emotional and psychological rules than we do, though. If they didn't, we wouldn’t have millions of people sobbing about how real Aziraphale and Crowley feel to them. We would be the biggest dodos in the world if we were reacting this way to paper dolls 😄

Comparing the desire to see a character go through a dramatic storyline like that (and to come out of it strong and shining) to fundamentalist rhetoric is… just total bullshit.

You said this blog has been a good place for you and I want it to continue to be that way for you. So I want to give you a chance to revisit this part and see if you can say something more constructive. Because I've gotta admit, this really made me upset and I can't let it go without saying something. It’s not cool to call someone’s commentary “bullsh*t” like this.

I heard the line “we must die to ourselves” many, many times from the high-control religion of my childhood. It is a classic cult line. Hence why so many cults have "burial and rebirth" rituals, make people change their names, etc.

I am not just making up a comparison. This is a real phenomenon. Controlling ab*sers are the ones who’ve given us this idea that “death of the self” is character growth. It’s not. Character growth happens in spite of those excruciating emotional crises, not because of them.

Growing as a person is supposed to feel good overall. Not always easy, but on the whole, it should be a positive experience.

Also - Again, they said he “needs” to do it.

And they didn’t say anything about Aziraphale “coming out strong and shining”. You added that in. I think it's wonderful that you want to see that for him (so do I) but that’s not what this person was saying

If they'd said that, I wouldn't object to it at all. But they didn't. That part was left out. Which I think may be very telling in itself.

There are a myriad of reasons someone could have that desire, including having gone through something similar themselves.

Having gone through something similar doesn’t necessarily mean it makes sense for another character. It also doesn’t mean it’s necessary. And having been through something that went a certain way does NOT mean that it happening that way makes sense for someone else.

Deconstruction from a religious upbringing is different from leaving an ab*sive relationship

Aziraphale doesn’t have religious trauma. (I’m not going to talk much about religious trauma and deconstruction here, because it’s outside the scope of this blog, largely because - as attested by no less an authority than Neil Himself - Good Omens is not about religion. But I’ll say a little bit.)

Heaven and hell are not a “religion” in his world - they’re real. His fear of hell (and of heaven) is absolutely, one hundred percent, completely legitimate and appropriate, and NOT something he should be “reasoned” out of. Saying otherwise gives “your ab*ser isn’t actually that evil and scary”. But regardless, in either scenario, that kind of traumatic personal crisis is not a necessary part of the healing process. My heart aches for all the people whose deconstruction process was emotionally shattering. But what makes it ache even more is how for so many of them, the takeaway is somehow that that kind of crisis is necessary - rather than "dear god, i hope no one else ever has to go through that kind of hideous experience to get away from their shitty religion", which surely is what the takeaway should be (assuming there even is a lesson to be learned at all from an experience like that, which is doubtful) - and they go on to demand it of other survivors and gatekeep against people who haven't gone through the exact same thing they did in the process of getting away.

How, HOW did we get to a point where so many people’s deconstruction is a fucked-up, scarring experience that we think it’s inevitable for deconstruction to be that way????? I grieve.

I know the idea of killing one’s old self is inherently wrong to many people.

It’s not about whether it’s *wrong*. If that's valid for someone and they get where they need to be - you do you. It’s about the fact that it’s painful and it’s unnecessary to the process of growth.

Furthermore, it is the kind of thing ab*sers WANT to see happen to their victims when they leave. They want victims to think that they have to have that kind of crisis if they want to leave them. Because then they’re less likely to leave. When we encourage that kind of thinking, we are playing directly into their hands.

What should happen is that the victim should be given the opportunity to realize that all along there was much more to them than their ab*ser.

I don’t personally desire to watch Aziraphale do that, especially because there are so many wonderful aspects of the Angel he’s been since the beginning

Agreed.

But fwiw, this is giving a faint whiff of perfect victim syndrome. Even if he were an asshole, he still deserves to just have his ab*sers leave him alone, not to have some kind of shattering, soul-crushing emotional breakdown. They will always, always be worse than him.

but it’s not wrong to want to see that. People do go through it, and their stories are incredibly compelling.

I don’t disagree. For me it’s rather about the place this is coming from. OP was saying it’s necessary. There’s a difference between wanting to see a show address this issue overall because it’s interesting, and demanding that a specific character go through it because you think it’s necessary, or that their process of leaving and healing won't be legitimate (or whatever word we wanna use) if it doesn't happen.

And, as you said, it doesn’t make sense for Aziraphale. If the character is an asshole, I’d be able to see it a little more (although again, I still very much question the entire idea in the first place) But he's not an asshole. I find anyone’s thinking it “makes sense” for him to be highly questionable.

I know Aziraphale is much more than a character to many people

Speaking as a (very, very, very slightly, lol) professional writer and actor - every character should be “more than a character”, if they’re well-written. They should feel real if the writer and/or actor has done their job well. I like NG's line that "If you write someone who is utterly and completely themselves, you get people coming up to you and going 'Oh my God, you wrote my life!'

a desire to watch him go through a psychological breakdown is not some poorly concealed desire to watch real people go through that.

It may or may not be. I agree that it isn't always.

In this person’s case, though, I very much did get concerning vibes. Poorly concealed. (As an ab*se survivor, you start to know the vibe of victim-blamers after awhile.)

Regardless, though, the way we respond to characters is the way we respond to people in real life. Story is a primary vehicle through which people learn how to interact with one another and their environment. If it wasn’t, discussing media along these lines would be pointless, and I'd just spend all my time talking about how good David Tennant looks in those tight pants 😁 Or, probably, I would take up a different hobby altogether.

I wouldn’t have wasted my time starting this blog if the things people say about this story and especially about Aziraphale didn’t have real-world applications (not to mention making a lot of ab*se survivors feel very unsafe in the fandom - before we turned off anonymous asks, I got an average of two messages a day from ab*se survivors and other oppressed people telling them how this blog has made them feel so much safer in the fandom) - and if their views about the characters didn’t mirror the kinds of things they’d say about people in real life. (All the anti-Aziraphale autiphobic takes come to mind.) I flatter myself I have enough judgment that those takes wouldn't have troubled me so deeply if they weren't reflective of real-world societal problems and indicative of problematic attitudes in the people who write them.

In this case, the wording is identical to the kinds of problematic things people say about real-life victims/survivors. Yes, the person may not actually consciously want (or want at all) to see real-life ab*se victims/survivors suffer. But I absolutely, one hundred per cent guarantee you that anyone saying this has some major problematic biases/assumptions that are contributing to how ab*se survivors are maligned, degraded, and oppressed in our society. (I never want to see Disabled people suffer, but if I say ableist things, I’m contributing to it whether I mean to or not. I may not want to see women suffer, I am a woman, well more or less anyway lol, and I've identified as a feminist my entire adult life, but nevertheless there have certainly been times in the past when I've said sexist things. It's something all of us will always have to be vigilant against in ourselves. I suspect at this point I'm preaching to the choir, because you do not strike me at all as a bigoted or ignorant person, but I figured I'd re-iterate all that again anyway, because screaming it through a megaphone as often as possible is what this blog is for lol. :)

And what’s worse, they are spreading that rhetoric. I’ll be damned if I’ll let it go by without saying something.

Hope this makes sense and cleared some things up.

With love and respect,

Mod X.

#good omens #goodomens #aziraphale #good omens 2 #badaziraphaletakes #goodomens2 #ineffable husbands #cw: abuse #cw: trauma #cw: religious trauma

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