#Why I write Mikey with epilepsy | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

grizzlyofthesea · 3 years ago

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Dedication and Potential

Now that I've gotten the backstory out of the way, maybe I can elaborate on truly forming those sibling bonds. It's "fun" writing instead of "work" writing, anyway. See this post for the meanings and general theme of the titles.

Regiomontanus. Born in 1436 in K��nigsberg, died in 1476 in Rome. He put together some of the very first trigonometric tables, constructed some astronomical tables, devised an astrological house system, and facilitated the development of Copernican heliocentrism. Though the wider public may not recognize him, he is at least significant enough to have been the namesake for a crater on the Moon.

He also happens to be the namesake for a newly-created sea turtle mutant.

Regiomontanus. Reggie. Gigi. Monty. Gio. Montana. Whatever you want to call them, they're a new acquaintance to and potential family member of another group of mutants. These ones are mutant turtles, however, instead of turtle mutants; there is a distinction. The youngest of this group, Michelangelo, readily accepts Gio as a new sibling. The others, though? They didn't show it at the time, but they're a bit apprehensive.

Donatello, the second-youngest, judges Gio with particular scrutiny. He prefers to take his time when making big decisions. Mikey's quick, almost impulsive acceptance of the new mutant does not sit well with the softshell. What if they aren't what they seem? he ponders. What if they're just trying to worm their way into our inner circle so they can hurt us?

This calls for an interrogation.

Mikey is giving Gio a tour of the brothers' home--their lair--when Donnie calls the latter to his laboratory. They gladly comply. Science in all forms had always fascinated them, including the various tools used by scientists. They're excited to see what the lab has in store...only to be immediately thrown into a chair and hooked up to something that resembles an EEG. EEGs. Ew. No. They had only developed epilepsy a few years ago, and consequently had only endured a few EEGs, but they still dreaded the experience every time.

"What are you doing...? What are you doing? Let me go! Get this thing off of me, please!!"

"Don't worry. You'll only be connected for a few minutes." Donnie knew that didn't sound reassuring in the slightest, but he was trying his best. "This is essentially a lie detector--one that's much more reliable than a polygraph. For my sake...for everyone's sake...I need to make sure we can trust you."

"You could have just asked! You didn't have to hook me up to this thing without telling me what the heck is going on!!!"

"...In retrospect, that would have worked. Probably better." He sighs softly. "I'm sorry. I've...never been good about this kind of thing."

Gio takes a deep breath, then exhales with resignation. "It's...it's fine. I get where you were coming from; don't want a possible criminal to get away that easily..."

"Exactly! You get it!"

Though still irritated, they couldn't help but smile a bit. Something about Donnie's enthusiasm reminded them of themself.

"Now," he interjected, "I'm going to ask some baseline questions, then give you an interrogation proper. If you pass, you're in. I'll accept you as one of us. Oh, I have another idea--after this, if you pass the interrogation... May I perform some other tests on you?"

"Uh... Why?"

"When people like you get mutated, they also tend to develop strange powers and abilities. I'd like to see if you have, and what they are."

"Ooh! In that case, heck yeah!"

"Great," he remarked with a smile. "Then let's begin."

As Donatello promised, the interrogation only lasted a few minutes--somewhere between ten and fifteen. Though the machine's similarity to an EEG made Gio nervous, they were able to remain relatively calm and provide truthful answers to the questions asked. Thus, they passed.

"Well, it appears as though our inner circle is secure. You're in. Welcome to the family."

"Thank you...!" Gio beamed with joy...and relief that they were finally disconnected from those accursed electrodes.

"On to the ability tests?"

"Sure!"

Donnie's first move is to construct a makeshift fish tank and fill it with water. After all, Gio is a sea turtle. He supposes that their abilities would likely be enhanced underwater. When the tank is full, Gio hops in. The water is surprisingly warm, pleasantly so. Perhaps Donnie understands the agony of diving into an ice-cold pool.

"First test: lung capacity. Submerge whenever you're ready, Gio."

"Got it!"

They inhale as deeply as possible, then close their eyes and fully submerge their body. Donnie presses a button on his wristband, serving as a stopwatch, as soon as they're fully underwater. When Gio reopens their eyes, they panic. Why is everything so bright? It's like the sun itself is in here!! They resurface to escape the illumination, panting with overstimulation.

"Gio? Gio!! What happened? Are you okay?!"

"I opened my eyes, and it was just too bright in there! I don't know why! It isn't usually that bright underwater...!"

Donnie's thick eyebrows furrow with thought. "Maybe that's one of your new abilities--sensitive underwater vision!"

They climb out of the tank, then curl up beside one of its walls. "That makes sense...but at the same time, with how bright it was, it might be more of a curse... Just one more thing to be super sensitive to..."

Donnie frowns with concern, then sits next to them. "Hey, it's okay. I get it. I'm sensitive to stuff, too."

"How so?"

"This might sound stupid, but...I literally can't handle seeded fruits. The seeds just feel so gross...!"

Gio smiles. "I'm like that with stuff like tomatoes and grapes. They're too squishy, too fleshy, too slimy."

"And how about sudden, loud noises? I just want to find the source of that noise and rip it to shreds!"

"Dude, same! ...Hey, uh... This might seem out of left field, but... You don't happen to have autism, do you?"

"...Maaaaaaaaaybe. Why do you ask?"

"Because I do, and you sound a lot like me. It seems like we have more in common than I thought," the sea turtle says with a smile.

Donnie beams back. "Yeah. You might be right. ...You know, I think I have an idea as to how we might get your vision under control."

"How?"

"Maybe I can make you a pair of goggles with light-filtering properties--kind of like sunglasses. How does that sound?"

"I think that could work. ...Thank you."

"Anything for my family."

"...So what would have happened if I failed that test, anyway?"

"Simple. Lasers to the face."

"Goooot it."

The turtles stand up, then exit the lab for a pizza break. The goggles can wait a little bit. Right now, it's time to bond in a less clinical environment.

#rottmnt #rottmnt oc #rise donnie #Regiomontanus #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rise of the tmnt #save rottmnt #unpause rottmnt #rise mikey #autistic donnie #autistic donatello #rottmnt fanfiction

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zairapvrker · 5 years ago

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disabledsos day!

Author’s note: heya everyone! i took some time off of your requests, and i apologize for that, because in the past couple of days i’ve been working on this fic for this amazing and wonderful project! disabledsos was born to bring visibility to fans who are dealing with any sort of disability and spread awareness to make the community feel loved within the fandom. if you wanna read more about it, and i really encourage you to, i’ll leave the link for the original post here: https://skinnylukes.tumblr.com/post/613965381647876096/attention-5sos-fanswriters thank you so much to @skinnylukes for reaching out to me about this, i feel very honoured to partake in the project you’ve created with so much dedication and love. i tried my very best to educate myself about the disabling disease i’ll be writing about, however i apologize if some details are missing or wrong. please feel free to correct me, constructive criticism is always welcomed! and to all of you strong, amazing, beautiful people who fight everyday, i’m so proud of you all and my heart goes out to you, never give up, we’re all here for you! i keep you in my thoughts, always.

Multiple Sclerosis (MS) is a potentially disabling disease of the brain and spinal cord. In MS, the immune system attacks the protective sheath (myelin) that covers nerve fibers and causes communication problems between your brain and the rest of your body. Eventually, the disease can cause permanent damage or deterioration of the nerves. Signs and symptoms of MS vary widely and depend on the amount of damage and which nerves are affected. Some people with severe MS may lose the ability to walk independently or at all, while others may experience long periods of remission without any new symptoms. MS can occur at any age, but usually affects people between the ages of 16 and 55. There’s no cure for multiple sclerosis. However, treatments can help speed recovery from attacks, modify the course of the disease and manage symptoms. These last ones can vary from person to person and differ greatly and over the course of the disease depending on the location of affected nerve fibers. Symptoms often affect movement, such as numbness or weakness in one or more limbs that typically occurs on one side of your body at a time, or the legs and trunk, electric-shock sensations that occur with certain neck movements, tremor, lack of coordination or unsteady gait. Vision problems are also common, such as partial or complete loss of vision, usually in one eye at a time, prolonged double vision and blurry vision. People with MS may also develop muscle stiffness or spasms, paralysis (typically in the legs), mental changes such as forgetfulness or mood swings, depression and epilepsy.

“Mikey, I’m home!” you yelled as soon as you’d entered your shared apartment. Your roommate, and best friend, was almost always on the couch playing videogames but the headset he used to play made it hard for him to hear any sound outside of the yelling of his friends. That’s why you always had to be loud when you came home from work, slamming the door and calling out for him to notify him of your presence.

It had been an incredibly hard day, your stress levels were through the roof. It seemed you forgot pretty much every task you were supposed to do, remembering only when reminded, and couldn’t keep your focus. After all, you were in charge of much and with the imminent publishing of a new article, you’d blamed it on the general chaos that overtook the entire office.

“Hey, you” you nudged Michael’s shoulder as you sat down next to him on the couch, making his head turn in your direction. A smile opened up on his face upon seeing you finally home. “Hey, you’re back!” he exclaimed happily, stamping a kiss on your cheek. You giggled watching as he bid goodbye to his friends and shut the TV off. “So, I haven’t had the chance to get started on dinner-“ he started, sheepishly. “Michael!” you reprimanded with a smile on your face, slapping his arm playfully. “But I did think about what kind of take out to order” he justified, his arms up in surrender, the same amused smile you showcased on your face etched on his. You’d sighed. “And what is it?” you asked giggling. “Chinese, of course” he rolled his eyes. “Alright, but you call!” you pointed a finger at him as Michael nodded, getting up to go change out of the clothes you’d worn for the day.

Michael was quick to grip your hand to offer some sort of support as he saw you falter in your step, almost falling back down on the couch, while getting up. “Is everything okay?” the concern in his vice was clear. You squeezed his hand, waiting for the dizzying sensation of shock to pass and your sight to go back in focus. “Yeah, yeah” you reassured, slowly opening your eyes. “It’s been a long day” the smile you gave him was meant to ease his nerves, but Michael couldn’t help but worry as he watched you make your way to your room with a hand constantly pressed to the wall, in search for stability.

That evening you weren’t as talkative as usual, in fact, Michael did most of the talking. He told you about how one of the strings of one of his students’ guitar had snapped while he was tuning it for him and hit him in the face but had to laugh it off with tears in his eyes, his friends, the latest news. You just said it was a chaotic day at work, that your boss had yelled at you so much you thought your head was going to explode. He hugged you tight, offering to go and key her car if needed, which made you laugh softly. Feeling very tired, you excused yourself out of the usual Friday movie marathon. Michael smiled sweetly, saying it was okay and wishing you goodnight. He really is the best ever, you thought as you went back you your room.

The only way you could describe what happened when you woke up the next day was a nightmare. You almost though it was. You wanted to roll around to turn your alarm off, which even on Saturdays woke you up so you wouldn’t waste the day away in bed, but found you couldn’t. The motion was second nature to you, literally managing every day with your eyes closed, however the immobility of your torso made your eyes crack open as the alarm kept on going off.

Michael, on the contrary, liked to sleep in on Saturdays, so when he heard your alarm keeping on blaring he got off the bed and marched towards your room. When he opened the door he found you hopelessly trying to reach the alarm over on your nightstand but failing miserably. “Will you turn it off?” he huffed, going over to do it himself, yawning.

“I’m trying!” you snapped back, trying to sit up and failing. “I can’t feel my torso” you reasoned out loud, feeling the panic slowly set in.

“What?” Michael asked concerned, his eyes wide, as he took a seat beside you on the bed.

“I don’t know” it was safe to say you were confused. “I think it’ll go away, it may be the stress” you were trying to find a possible answer, pushing back the fear as best as possible.

“The stress?!” he exclaimed, his arms flying up. “You can’t feel half of your body and you think it’s stress?” clearly, he wasn’t as good as you were at rationalizing.

“Mike, it’ll go away” you voiced, his tone wasn’t helping you remain calm, his doubts the same as the ones you had but were trying to push at the back of your mind.

“Do you want me to help you sit up?” he asked then, offering his hands to hold onto. You nodded, slowly letting him help you with the motion.

Over the next couple of weeks, mostly spent in bed or on the couch and always requiring Michael to help you with every movement, the situation seemed to get better and worsen at the same time. The numbness was, in the span of a day, left behind in favour of wobbly legs and dizziness, you were always fatigued and tired. You had taken more days off of work in three weeks than ever since you started working. But just when you thought you had made it out of the woods, everything went downhill.

“It can’t go on like this” Michael sighed as, once again, he picked you up from the floor when your right leg had failed to support your weight while standing up from the couch. “We’re going to the ER” he stated, looking at you in the eyes.

You gulped, seeing the worry in his sparkling greens clear as day. Truth was you were worried too, but you were always used to downplay the discomfort you were in, brushing it off as if it were nothing. However, this was going too far and scaring you to your very bones. Nodding you agreed and he helped you prepare a bag in case you had to spend the night at the hospital, praying you wouldn’t have to, as silent tears made their way down your face.

Michael hated to see you like this, you were always so cheerful and bright, this was really taking a toll on you. He heard the quiet sniffles coming from you when he entered the room, finding you where he’d left you on your bed, folding a shirt into the duffle bag next to you. His heart had been held captive in a painful clench the last few days, the worry truly never leaving him and the confusion messing with his head. He took a seat next to you, putting his own change of clothes in the duffle, and taking your hands in his. Bringing them up to his lips, he left a light kiss on your knuckles.

“We’re getting you through whatever this is, alright?” he could hear his own voice faltering, watching as more tears pooled in your eyes. “I’m right here” he assured when you threw yourself into his arms, holding you tight. Next thing you knew, he was picking you up, almost forgetting the duffle and going out to his car. You made sure to turn off the lights and lock the door behind you.

The hours that followed were a whirlwind, dragging you down and down until you were sure you hit rock bottom when finally the results of all the tests and consultations with the doctors came to an end. All that you were sure of was Michael’s hand holding yours, fingers intertwined, when you were called back into the doctor’s office, from the waiting room full of other patients, and your legs failed to support you. Your best friend was the first to be at your side, followed by the doctor herself and a bunch of people in the waiting room. You couldn’t understand a thing that was going on, too many voices talking at the same time as you were sat on a wheeling chair and finally brought into the office. The diagnosis hit you like a slap in the face and you were sure you only heard half of the words that left the doctor’s mouth. “Multiple sclerosis is common at your age” “We will have to run more tests to make sure of what the complications you’ve developed are” “In some cases it is very hard to diagnose, but looking into the symptoms you’ve described and MRI we were lucky to find out right away” “Unfortunately, it was pretty quick to affect your legs, clearly causing an impairment we need to assess” “There are ways to help you regain the ability to walk independently, if you’re lucky”

She’d used the word lucky a lot, you’d noticed, while talking. Unfortunately, you didn’t feel like that at all.

Calling your family to tell them the news had been extremely difficult, knowing that they were far away and could only visit so many times took a huge toll on you. You hated to admit to yourself that the positive outlook you’d always had on life was quickly fading in favour of judgement-clouding pessimism. The first night back from the hospital you’d spent crying after days of not letting a single emotion shine through. Hearing your sobs shattered Michael’s heart and it only got worse when he entered your dark room and held you as you shook, gripping his t-shirt in tight fists and wetting it with salty tears. He’d seen you at your lowest and he was determined to bring you back.

Making you listen was hard, the wall of hopelessness you’d built around you seemed insurmountable, but Michael was as determined as ever. He wasn’t about to let you fall any deeper into the pit of anger and frustration that never seemed to leave you.

“Have you listened to what the doctor said?” he asked pushing your wheelchair through the park near your apartment building. It was a beautiful day and he was determined to get you out of the house.

“No, Mike, I was tired” you mumbled, looking over at the kids running after each other in a game of tag.

“The more you refuse to move, the more it’ll hinder your exercises in physical therapy” he reminded, stopping near a bench so he could sit down and look at you in the eyes while having this conversation.

“Yeah, and what am I supposed to do?” you snapped. “Waltz out of this fucking chair and go for a jog?” you pointed to a pair of joggers who were about to pass you by.

“Well, one day you might be able to!” he insisted, making you shake your head with a scoff.

“And what if I’m not? What if I’ll never walk again?” you wanted it to sound harsh, convinced of what you were saying, but your voice betrayed you, breaking at the end.

“What if you do?” he asked back softly, hoping that his point got through to you. And it did. You took in a shaky breath, looking away from his hopeful eyes, not bearing to see how much he’d believed in you when you didn’t.

Michael was there for you through every up and down: he held you when you couldn’t fall asleep because your anxieties and worries were eating away at your peace of mind, he was there to listen when you listed all the reasons why you believed you wouldn’t be albe to do this, always offering reasons why you could right back. He came to every appointment of physical therapy you had, he was with you every time you had to go to the hospital for check-ups or visits and was also there when it was explained to you that you had Relapsing Remitting MS, which meant that you would have episodes or spikes after periods of time without any new symptoms and it was a possibility that you could slow down the progression of the condition and manage symptoms, possibly walking on your own again if you were consistent with medication and exercising.

And while you were still worried, you couldn’t help but stare at the doctor with wide eyes. “R-Really?” you asked her, a smile threatening to slip at the mere thought of being able to stand for more than two minutes without the help of anyone.

“Really” she confirmed as an elated sigh escaped you, Michael squeezed your hand, happy to see you hopeful.

It became routine for you two, when he came home from work right about when you shut your computer off as your part-time shift ended, to immediately start exercising. He was happy to finally see you as combative as you once were, determined to fight this off as much as possible.

“You gotta!” he reminded with a laugh from his spot beside you as he saw you panting on the yoga mattress in the middle of your living room.

“I don’t wanna!” you whined covering your eyes with your arm. He chuckled, lifting it slowly as you peered up at him with one eye opened.

“Come on, it’s the last set!” he encouraged and you huffed, knowing he was right. Propping yourself up on your elbows you looked at his adorable smile and rolled your eyes. Michael helped you up, slowly walking you to the wall, and stopping a foot away from it. He eased down with you into a sitting position as you let your back rest against the wall, finally letting go of you.

“Look at you, walking up to the wall without tripping!” he crossed his arms over his chest, smiling as you silently counted the seconds you needed to keep in position for. You chuckled, seeing proudness in his eyes. Once the squat exercise was over, you stood up with wobbly legs, only one hand resting on the wall behind you for support. You smiled widely upon seeing the look on his face.

“You can stand on your own?” he asked a little shocked as you nodded. “Since when?” he smiled brightly, quick to offer his help to walk back to the couch and sit down.

“Yesterday the phone was ringing, it was my mom, I forgot it on the shelf behind my desk and you weren’t at home, so I just… tried” you shrugged. Michael scoffed with a bright smile. “I almost tripped, but I fell back on the chair before I could”

“Atta girl!” he hugged you tight. “I’m so proud” he rocked you from side to side, making the both of you giggle.

It was taking incredible effort but you saw the improvements every day, slowly there was no need for you to hang on to the parallel bars at you sides as you hesitantly put a feet in front of the other, walking the short distance. There was no need for your nurse, or Michael, to help you stand up from a sitting position and you were even able to stand while you prepared your cereals in the morning before your best friend helped you walk to the dining table.

Slowly, Michael was able to go back to his normally longer shifts at music school as you found it easier and easier to move through the house either with crutches or, on the days when you were too tired, with your wheelchair.

“Need help?” Michael asked as you were in the kitchen microwaving some popcorn for your movie marathon.

“Nope!” you yelled back, leaning against the counter as you waited for the device to beep, crutches at your side. “Okay, maybe” you second guessed once you put the popcorn into the bowl.

Michael was quick on his feet, entering the kitchen with a lopsided smile, leaning on the door frame with one shoulder as his hands went to the pockets of his basketball shorts.

“Can you take the bowl?” you smiled sheepishly. He chuckled, nodding as he complied. “Thanks” you blew a kiss his way, steadying yourself on the crutches and making your way to the couch. Michael stayed back, watching you.

“Staring is rude” you snickered, sitting down and laying your crutches down on the floor.

“I wasn’t staring” he defended, making his way over. You cocked an eyebrow at him with a smirk.

“I was admiring how far you’ve come” he added, bringing some popcorn to his mouth as he sat down.

“Sure, Clifford” you laughed, reaching for some popcorn too.

“I’m serious!” he exclaimed. “Eight months ago you barely wanted to get out of bed, now you’re walking around the house and are basically a fitness instructor” you scoffed as he giggled.

“Just wait till new symptoms show up in a few years” you sighed, pressing play on the movie. Michael snapped his head in your direction, his brows furrowed.

“Hey, no, don’t talk like that” he almost scolded.

“Mikey, it’s fine, I made my peace with it. My life is always going to be like this” you gestured to the crutches and the wheelchair in the corner, shrugging.

“No, it’s not” he couldn’t help but raise his voice a little, disbelieving of the words that were leaving your mouth. “You’re taking back the life that this tried to pry from you, you’re fighting and it’s working. You’ll be able to walk again soon and if new symptoms show up you’ll learn to monitor them and make them your bitches”

“My bitches?” you couldn’t help but let an amused snicker out. You saw the left corner of his mouth tilting up, trying to keep the laughter at bay, after all, you were too.

“Yes” he said resolutely. “I’m helping you through this, remember? Every step of the way” it wasn’t time to cry, you reminded yourself, pushing back the tears as you nodded.

“Thanks Mikey” you let your head rest on his shoulder, sitting back. He just left a kiss on top of your head, resting his cheek against it as you both focused on the movie playing.

“Michael, come here!” you didn’t like to scare him, you really didn’t, but when he slowed down the fast jog he made over to you room, panting slightly and ready to help however he could, a glint of panic in his eyes, you couldn’t help but feel the need to suppress your laughter. “Stay there” you said, watching confusion grow on his face, as he settled by the door.

“What’s wron-“ you shushed him before he could finish, slowly sitting up from your bed. Michael watched as you stood up without the need to hold onto anything, starting to walk towards him without needing any help. His mouth opened in surprise and you smiled, finally reaching him.

“Hi” you said, a feet away from him. You didn’t have the chance to see his glassy eyes, full of pride, because he was quick to engulf you in his arms and pick you up to spin you around just once, as you giggled elated. He held you tight, his face hiding in the crook of your neck.

“Are you crying?” you asked slightly amused, feeling your skin getting wet.

“No” came the muffled response from him. “You did it” he whispered, still not moving.

“It’s not the end of anything, but by the looks of it… I can walk on my own now” you said, bringing a hand up to play with the hair at the nape of his neck. “Thank you for never giving up on me”

“Thank you for not giving up on yourself” he sniffled, finally looking at you with probably the brightest smile you’ve ever seen him display over the course of the last year and a half. You smiled too, a single tear of joy running down your face which Michael was quick to dry with the pad of his thumb.

He left a sweet kiss on your forehead. “We need to call everyone!” he jumped up in joy only seconds after, making you giggle, taking you by the hand like he’d done over a million times by now and walking with you to the living room.

“You need to chill” you said, sitting down on the couch next to him.

“Never!” he exclaimed, quickly searching for your mom’s contact. He really was the best, you thought looking at the one who had been by your side through one of the toughest of times and was sure to be there for you for anything that would come your way in the future, with a sweet smile.

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