#Raphael and PTSD

[kcreadswrites]

In the feels💔

I’m so sorry for this one🥲

[whumpisgoodwhumpislife]

Accident

Masterlist

Long chapter today ! ≈1500 words. It's the 40th chapter already, thanks for sticking around for so long !

CW: PTSD, blood loss, blood drinking, light depiction of puking.

It had been an accident, just an accident.

When the knock on the front door echoed through the house, Raphael and Everest were both dozing off on the worn couch, one exhausted by his day at work and the other because the sun was still up, despite the late hour. The vampire wasn't a fan of the summer, even if Raphael had promised him that as soon as he'd be on holidays, they'd both go on a trip, somewhere. Wherever.

Everest's ear twitched as there was a second knock, louder, more insistent. His human stood up and patted his shoulder reassuringly, before walking to the door.

"Yeah, 'coming."

He knew the small vampire must be terrified, given his reaction the last time someone showed up at the door, and he tried to act confidently. But he struggled to keep his facade as he opened the door, coming face to face with two men in hunter uniforms. The dark leather clothes and the glimmering silver gears made them look intimidating, but their stern expressions were even more terrifying. Raphael frowned, but didn't have time to speak before one of them shoved his phone in his face.

"This vampire. It's on the run, we've been told that it'd been seen in the neighborhood. You don't happen to know where it is ?"

It was a picture of Everest, but the vampire was almost unrecognisable. Curled up in the cell Raphael had found him in, but covered in burns and blisters from head to toes. He took a deep breath, trying to calm down. There was no reasoning with these men. He took the little card he kept in his phone like a treasure, the one with his picture and Everest's, and the governmental stamp. The one that allowed his vampire to live. He silently handed it to the hunter, who frowned and scowled as he recognised it.

"It... You know it's dangerous, right? The moment you lower your guard, it will rip out your throat without hesitation. It's a monster."

Raphael held back a scoff at the idea. His vampire ? The small creature, blind, unable to process blood ? Sure. He took back his card and pocketed it, nodding politely at the hunter's words.

"Sure. I'll make sure to call you if you're ever needed. Thanks for the warning."

It really looked like the other man wanted to argue, but Raphael didn't give him time, closing the door in his face. His heart pounding, he waited a moment, only releasing a shaky breath when he heard the sound of an engine starting, and driving into the distance. They wouldn't come back, wouldn't dare to go against an official document. At least, he really hoped so.

When he was sure that they were gone, he finally relaxed, and returned to the living room. The couch was empty, of course. Everest must've heard, maybe he even recognised the voice or smell of one of his tormentors. Raphael couldn't imagine what kind of horrors it might've reminded him of, still shocked by the photograph they had shown him. And how it was normal. They considered it *normal* to torture even the most harmless vampire, just because of what he was.

The human brushed away his dark thoughts, focusing on the main problem. He took the stairs, his heart pounding as he checked Everest's room. It was empty, but at least the window was closed, unlike last time. Thankfully, the vampire was still inside the house. And he knew where.

There was this place, Raphael had already found him there a few mornings, after particularly violent nightmares. A little nest, hidden between the two washing machines in the laundry room. It was warm and dark, a cocoon of clean sheets. It felt safe.

He knelt there, pushing away the piles of neatly folded clothes, just enough to see the trembling shape curled up against the wall. Everest's eyes were open, as milky as always, but he didn't seem to notice the human. Raphael frowned, and called out in a low, gentle voice:

"Hey buddy ? Everything's alright, they're gone. They can't hurt you anymore, remember ? You're safe. You're safe."

Despite the calm repetition, the words didn't seem to reach the vampire, small whimpers slipping from his slightly parted lips. It was like he wasn't even there, locked up in his own, tiny world.

Raphael's mistake was only driven by his good intentions. He didn't know how to help, but he remembered that their nightly cuddles always calmed down Everest after his nightmares. So he reached out and took his arm, gently tugging him closer. And that's when he snapped.

A sharp pain, pulsing through his arm. Raphael stared blankly at the vampire, whose mouth was firmly clamped over his wrists, sharp fangs buried in his flesh. He was so taken aback that he didn't even try to pull away at first, absentmindedly noticing the blood slowly dripping down onto the white sheets. The pain brought him back to reality quite quickly though; Everest was biting down hard. There was no way he could pry him away.

"Y-you need to let go. You're hurting me, Everest. It hurts. A... A lot."

The human almost felt like his wrist was gonna snap from the pressure, if the vampire didn't drain him of his blood first. He was already starting to grow lightheaded. And Everest wasn't showing any sign of stopping, his blind eyes wide and blank, empty of all recognition.

But before Raphael passed out, the small creature started to tremble violently, retching as the blood reached his stomach. His fangs dislodged from the human's arm, who immediately scooted back, watching with a mix of relief and worry as Everest started to gag, the blood he had just ingested burning him from inside.

Raphael had never seen him in such a state, as the vampire sobbed and whimpered, blood dripping down his chin in waves. And he had taken quite a lot of it. He watched from his spot on the floor as Everest heaved in agony. His heart ached with sympathy, but he couldn't do anything but wait until he had expelled all of it.

On all four, the hybrid's stomach started to calm down, finally empty. He continued to retch for a moment, tears mixing with the blood on his face. And only then, he dared to look up at Raphael, his entire body shaking as his milky eyes met the human's.

The latter was reassured to see that he was back, but his heart broke at the sheer fear etched on his face. He was terrified. Raphael hesitantly reached out, feeling like his hand weighed a ton. He was cold. Everest must've taken really a lot of blood.

But as his fingers brushed against the vampire's arm, he flinched away with a sob.

He had bitten. He had bitten Raphael, the only human who had shown him kindness. He had bitten, like some rabid animal, losing all control.

So when he touched him, Everest flinched. This was it, Raphael was going to punish him. He deserved it, for being a monster, he knew it. He deserved everything that had happened to him. But he was so scared. He cowered on the floor, the blood clinging to his skin as he shook, his body wracked with silent sobs. The silence stretched, cold and threatening. And then...

"Hey sweetheart. It's okay, it was an accident, aight ? I'm fine. I'm not angry at you."

God, he sounded so tired. A nap sure sounded like a good idea right now, but it was unthinkable for him to leave Everest alone in this state.

"Let's get us cleaned up. I... I'm not gonna hurt you, you know that, right ? I swear I'll never hurt you."

Raphael waited anxiously for any kind of response. It was obvious that the hunters' visit had brought back a lot of awful memories to the vampire, and he was still processing the shock. And, for some reason, he was scared of him. The idea was horrifying to him, that the small creature he considered as the child he had never had was afraid of him. Thought he was going to hurt him.

That's why he was so relieved when he felt Everest's hands shakily gripping at the front of his shirt. He wrapped his arms around him, feeling the way his body quaked uncontrollably. Oh god, he was becoming really tired. The wound on his wrist wasn't bleeding anymore, but he could feel darkness creeping at the edges of his vision.

"Yeah, I think I'm gonna need to rest a bit before I get you a shower. I love you buddy, it's insane but I do. I'd never hurt you, never."

Raphael stood up, his legs wobbling a bit. His clothes were bloodstained, but he decided that he didn't care as he stumbled toward his bedroom, Everest still gripping his shirt tightly, his expression twisted in worry and guilt as Raphael collapsed on his bed. The human groggily looked up and gestured at him to come close. As the vampire nuzzled his shoulder, he smiled and spoke reassuringly, despite the fact that his words were already slurred.

"I'll be fine, just need a nap. I didn't lose enough to be in danger."

At least he thought so. He hadn't passed out, which was a good indication. He drifted out to sleep quickly enough, too exhausted to keep his eyes open, the worried little vampire curled against his side.

Taglist : @sausages-things @jumpywhumpywriter @why-not-ask-me-a-better-question @thataquaticwhumper @alyscat

@whatamidoingherehelpme @fleur-a-whump @ratsupremacy88 @whatiswhump @scoundrelwithboba

@phoenixpromptsandstuff @bacillusinfection @artfulbok

[truths33k3r4]

Indie TMNT - Chapter 2 - The News Lady - PREMIER ANNOUNCEMENT!

Hey, guys!!! Just wanted to give you all a heads up that I’ll be premiering the whole of Chapter 2 of Indie TMNT, “The News Lady” tomorrow, Saturday the 12th at 10 AM!! Feel free to come watch, as well as get an opportunity to join the live chat! There are even times that the creator of the comic herself, @indieyuugure , joins the live chat and answers questions!

A quick warning though- this chapter has WEAPONS, INJURIES, BLOOD, PTSD, AND IMPLIED DEATH. VIEWER DISCRETION IS ADVISED!

Hope to see you all there!!! :)

To God be the glory!

~ Melissa

[lets-go-hurt-someone]

I have this “Orin oopsie brainstabs Gortash instead of Durge so Gort is the amnesiac who wakes up on the nautiloid” fic in my head and I genuinely have about 75% of it mapped out and I’m kind of obsessed with the idea but I’d still have to y’know… write it all.

Why can’t it just blink into existence from my daydreams? This is so annoying

[beetleviolet]

So uh... anyone remember this post? About rottmnt Raph and Leo post invasion?

@midwesternvibes i did it.

I didn't go super deep into it because like. What do you even do in that situation lmao. And I'm not sure I did the idea justice. Idk. Might do another draft before I post it on ao3. Super proud of all my metaphors and shit tho.

(Tw: PTSD, panic attacks, crying, negative self talk, suicidal thoughts (kind of?? Blink and you'll miss it. Its a hyperbole anyway but better safe then sorry))

meteor shower (quick, take cover)

The worst part about it was that Raph had seen it coming. 

They were all jumpy. Trigger-sad and still pulling themselves back together. The crashing of pots as they spilled out of the cupboard, and everyone in the kitchen jumped out of their skin. Leo flinched a second time as Raph landed from his (admittedly embarrassing) hop. His little brother's breath hitched and hitched and he ducked his head to the floor, staring staring staring. His cane clattered to the floor. 

“Oh buddy…” Raph dropped his voice soft. Leo's eyes locked onto him. He stumbled, arm reaching blindly behind to find its grip on the counter. He fell, frame shaking. His eyes didn't leave Raph's, Raph's right eye, droning up and down his arm. Hitch, hitch, hitch hitch hitch. 

Raph took a step forward. And Leo-

Leo

Leo raised his arms, taking himself to the floor without the support. He ducked his head, limbs already starting to retreat into his shell. And Leo looked up at him, eyes big and shaking and welled up tears and and and

Beside him, Mikey unfroze, bounding forward before Raph could stop him. 

“Mike, I don't think-” He trailed off as Leo peaked up, reaching for Mikey with unrestrained sobs. He held his little brother close, only looking up to watch Raph. Again, their eyes locked. 

Terror. Panic. Horror. Fear. The hitch hitch hitch when Raph raised a hand. So he stepped back instead. Back and back and back until he was running out of their kitchen, glancing over his shoulder in time to see Leo relax, just a little. Just enough. 

Raph punched his wall. His wall, this time. Not Leo's or Leo or anything else. He breathed, hard eyes roaming and landing on a pile of stuffies by his pillow. 

He'd like to say he did anything else, but Raph fell into bed, held a stuffed cat tight to his chest, and cried. 

The plushie's name was Kitty-Kitty. Once, when they were really little, Leo tore her arm off in a fit of rage and safety scissors. Raph cried and then Leo cried and then Mikey cried, overwhelmed with it all. Leo sewed the arm back on and even added a little heart on her sleeve. The clumsy stitches had long since fallen out, but Raph had sewn them back year after year and kept it and held it close, tight to his chest as he cried like a child. He cried and he cried. It seemed the world was constantly finding new and creative ways to break his heart. (Or maybe not so creative because)

(Well)

(He'd seen it all coming)

Raph let himself drown, let himself toss and turn and wallow in the salty leftovers on his cheeks. Like a beached whale, he let himself wallow, just a bit.

Donnie once said that dead whales could explode. Maybe Raph would explode. He wished he would, just a little, if only so he wouldn't have to get back up and see that look in Leo's eyes ever again. Ever, ever again. 

But he would, wouldn't he? The next panic attack, the next mission gone awry, the next the next the next… It kept going and going. The next… what if Raph got weird again? Leo had always been the best at calming him down, bringing him back. What if Leo couldn't do it? Got too scared, was hurt too bad? Decided that it just. Wasn't worth it. 

Raoh let another wave of tears wash over him. Usually after a good cry he felt cleaned out, hollowed chest and burning nostrils, insides sanded and painted with white wash, fresh and new. Maybe it was just a bad cry, because he still felt all stuffed and overwhelmed and big and heavy and gross, insides all slime and goo and and and

Raph picked up that train of thought, dragged it through his mind palace, and threw it in the moat. 

He took stock. 

Raph was tired. His nostrils burned and any emotion was still a messy, unnamable blarehorn, though his eyes had nothing left to produce but the liquid ache that flowed like a lava lamp behind them. 

Knock-knock-knock-knock-knock

That was Leo's knock. Raph tensed. Leo's knock was usually accompanied by a greeting or a yell or the sound of something breaking. It was odd to just…hear the knocks, all hesitant and lonely. 

“You there, big guy?” There it was. Leo's voice was still gravelly from earlier, still a little quiet. Raph's heart clenched. He stacked his courage and spoke,

“Hi.” Wow. Nice one, Raphie. 

“Hey.” Leo was close to the door. Raph could imagine him, shell against the wall, his arms crossed and head tilted back so he could speak without having to face the quiet subway car, a new dent on its side. 

Maybe he had his forehead up against the cold metal of the sliding door, condensation decorating its surface, staring at the floor. Staring, staring, just a little. 

Or maybe he was just standing there like normal. Raph doubted it, somehow. 

“Listen, Raph, I..” His voice broke, a lightning strike down the middle. Lightning actually does hit the same place twice, Raph remembered Donnie explaining, more likely to, even. “I'm so sorry.” 

“‘s not your fault.” His voice was a twin wobble. Leo chuckled, 

“Heh, snot…” Raph felt his mouth twitch up. 

“...do you wanna come in?” He asked, trying to keep his voice from being all nervous and weird. Like Raph was anything but nervous and weird. Super weird. 

Leo didn't answer, but Raph heard the jerk of the handle and the door slid open. And…

Post-panic attack Leo always made Raph want to scoop his brother up in his arms and never let him go. With red eyes, shaky and distant, quiet breaths before a quick deep one, like he suddenly remembered how. Everything about him was… dialed down. Like he was too tired to keep his brightness up all the way. 

It's not that he wanted Leo to pretend he was okay, but reminders that he wasn't hurt too. And Raph couldn't scoop his brother up and never let him go. Besides the obvious impracticality, he would just make everything worse. 

But his palms turned up without him meaning too, and Leo stumbled forward and wrapped his arms around Raph's neck. Not too tight, just there. Secure. Raph's hand hovered over his brother's shell, not daring to brush the cracks, almost trembling at the thought of falling anywhere near Leo's throat. So small. Leo was larger than life, but Raph's little brother was so, so small. 

“This is lame,” Leo whined, “Hug me!” 

“You sure?” He asked. Whispered. Leo grumbled, tucking further into Raph's chest. 

“It was the Krang, not you.” Raph took a breath, a little shudder, 

“Then it was your brain juice, and not you.” Leo didn't answer for one beat, two, three,

“Then hug me, stupid.” 

“Aye, watch it!” But Leo didn't so much as flinch as Raph's arms wrapped around him, held him close. They breathed for a bit. It was the Krang, not you. Not you. Not Raph. 

Raph pressed his head down, tension whirlpooling down the drain. It was a little odd, wasn't it? Because, well,

 He hadn't seen this coming. 

[its-wabby-stuff]

It’s the Apocalypse, But We Can Still Have Fun

This image is a little outdated btw ^^

Chapter One/Two:

The bright red glow of Raph’s ninpo illuminated the hallways as the building settled. The sounds of cracking and rumbling echoed through the building, like thunder in a rainstorm. It wasn’t going to hold for long. Dust from the concrete started to fill the space, making it difficult to breathe, and harder to see.

“Help!” A tiny voice called out. It came from my right, but I couldn’t see anyone. “Help! I’m slipping!” Slipping? Oh no, they’re holding onto something. They’re about to fall. Look down. There was a giant hole in the ground, and a small hand gripping the edge. The floor was barely holding on, and just above it, a support pillar was caving under the weight. That was a loaded space. He had to move.

“Kid, if you can hear me, I need you to let go!”

“What!?”

“Let go!”

“But- I’ll get hurt,” his voice cracked.

“You’re going to have to trust me,” I said as comforting as I could, “I’ll catch you, I promise.”

A chill ran up my spine as the very nature of the world felt colder and darker as that terrible purple monster returned to the corner of my eye. Something that always made me pause, just for a second and turn my head. Nothing. Nothing was really there. They weren’t really here. It’s just a mind game, a trick of the light, something I still can’t explain. But I could hear his voice. Whispering words that carried the weight of screams. I woN,T mÆKe Įt iÑ tïMe. I hAve nØ iDęa wHErë hĒ Įs. I dOn,T kńOw Whæt I’m d°1ng. Agh, this isn’t the time. The kid wasn’t letting go- but the massive pillar was and the ceiling collapsed.

“DROP! NOW!” The little hand slipped over the edge.

[fabuloustrash05]

I mean… Splinter also used that term in the show when Raph was literally traumatized after being on Lord Dregg’s planet (an entire planet of giant bugs) XD

my favorite thing about the tmnt 2012 theme is how it foreshadows how traumatized the boys are gonna get

[ducknotinarow]

[03/7 Rasey] "The only thing that matters is you, right now, in my arms."

| 💜💜💜 --- 'I love you' Sentence Starters;

Door was kept shut to his bed room, as Raphael’s shell was resting back against the door, waiting for Leo’s voice to die down when he finally gave up on getting Raphael to listen to him. Raphael just drowned out everything and let himself try and take a moment to clam down. A phase that no one would ever use to describe the residence hot headed mutant. Man why did he have to blow up like that though? Why did he have to ruin the mood? Everyone one was fine. Splinter was at the table with his brothers. April had come by even, Von was here too. Casey was even there. It felt so nice he had to admit. This family they all seem to just become over time as weird as it was it was kind of the rare times Raphael didn’t feel so much like a mutant. But then it was over and Raphael wasn’t with his family. It had been awhile since Bishop got his hands on the turtle. But It also felt like minutes.

Everything felt like it faded away like he just blinked and in the moments his eye lids were closed? His sai were suddenly priced into the table and all eyes were on him. Raphael was breathing heavily he felt cold. His wrists were tingling almost like frost bite. Yet his heart was beating like he had been doing a roof top run, And worse the table was silent, a mixture of expressions that he could read from a glance. Confusion, pity, worry. Raphael gritted his teeth letting grind on top of another before he pushed away against the table,

Shaking with what anger? No. It wasn’t anger Raphael knew anger so well it was pretty much the one thing he knew and could see no matter what. This wasn’t anger as his hands were shaking the scene repeated in his mind on an endless loop. He could feel all eyes on him how could they not be all looking at him right now after all that? Not a single word was said by him when he left the table and made ay to his room.

Of course Leo, snapped into action first and tried to drag him back. Raphael didn’t want to go back he didn’t want to need his big brother to tell him it’s all okay that they understand. Raphael didn’t want to feel like this at all!

Letting the back of his head hit the door. How much loner was he going to be like this? When knuckles rapped on the door behind him “Fuck off Leo!” He shouted only to be told it wasn’t Leo. It was Casey. Raphael thought for a second before he opened the door to his room just a crack, wanting to make sure Leo wasn’t somehow using Casey as a Trojan horse. But from what he was able to see? There was no trace of the leader. Likely sent away by Casey or tapped out with Casey. Raphael thought about shutting the door again anyway and to his dismay Casey must have known that he was thinking about it as Casey shoved his foot into the opening of the door and took hold of the side. Telling Raph with out a word needed he wasn’t going to shut Casey out. Raphael deflated letting his arms cross over his plastron as he stepped back for Casey to come in shut the door behind him. leaving just the two of them in the dark space.

Raphael hated it, he felt small he felt weak. Even just his mind could get to him. It wasn’t just because of Bishop getting the better of him but it was the cause. It was what he felt was taken from him. He felt like he couldn't breath he couldn't control what went through his head. Sometimes he couldn't even tell what was real anymore. Expecting to wake up and still be back at the EPF.

When he felt hands claps to his shoulders, Raphael noticed he had broken into a sweat and was breathing oddly as he looked up to meet Casey's deep blue eyes. Even in the dark Raphael could see the ocean like shade of them. Casey dealt with Raph's current state the most since Von got him out from Bishop's hold. "i'm fine" Raph insists to the unasked question he can see burning in those eyes. Taking everything in him not to tear away from Casey right now. "I just..I need a second we can go back to the others." Raphael hated this everything. He swore his eyes was in pain but how could it? He didn't have that eye anymore after all. Shudding as he recalled the vague memory of it getting pulled out. "I'm fine I gotta be fine" Raphael said to Casey but he clearly wasn't speaking to Casey. "I ain't fuckin' broken! He didn't break me! I can still-" Still what he didn't have much of a clue himself. Raphael just didn't want to hold this, in truth? Fear. Anymore it felt so foreign. He was Raphael! He didn't do this shit! He was reckless and impulsive. Always doing the crazy stunts so much even Donnie called him out on act's being more his thing. So why was he so shaken over all this still! Even getting use to seeing with one eye, he taken time to train with the handicap. Raphael hadn't go topside since so all his and Casey hang outs been in the lair and sewers lately. Raphael was sure this get together was even for him. Which made things worse.

"I..I jus'" when he felt Casey arm's circle him Raphael's mouth finally stopped trying to get his words together.

"The only thing that matters is you, right now, in my arms."

Raphael felt some warmth in his face at those words keeping his head lowered. But he did let his hands rest on to Casey's forearms. Raph wasn't exactly scrawny a mini tank at best, he grew to be able to see over Leo's head. Yet compared to Casey? Whole could tower over him and shield the turtle like this. Letting his hands slide up to Casey's biceps before resting on his shoulders. Letting Casey step in closer to Raph. Big strong arms moving to hold around the turtle, his self slightly rest back against the brick wall. Raphael stayed like that for a few more second as he just really took in how tall Casey was.

Raphael knew Casey was taller than him, and more board even. It’s easy to tell just when they stand near one another but, right now? Raph felt small. Not in a bad way either, where he felt the need to puff up his chest and stand tall to come off bigger than he really was. But small in a way that he tucked his head just under Casey’s chin and rested his forehead against Casey’s large chest. Cool scales resting to warm skin. It felt nice.

The whole hold felt nice he meant. Raphael let his face bury into Casey's chest just for a moment. Wishing at the same time that Casey didn't have to do this for him. He shouldn't need this, when had he gotten so weak?

[stellaspectral]

Hello! How are you! I have literally binged all your work on ao3 in the space of a few hours! I am besotted!!! You write angst like it’s no one’s business!

Lucky me I see your requests are open!

Okay I was wondering if I could request 2007 or bayverse , either Raph or Leo with an established relationship!reader

who had a life altering event happen, ( for e.g being involved with the turtles got her in danger ) and the trauma completely changes her , she becomes cold, secretive ( bonus point if reader becomes vigilante to get revenge ) as a way to cope. how Would the turtles react to that? How would they mend their relationship?

up to you whether it’s straight up angst or angst to comfort!

I know this is a lot so please disregard this if it’s a bit out there, or take what you want from this and make your own spin! I’d frankly read your grocery list!

A/N: Hey there! 👋 Thank you so, so much for your incredibly kind words about my work! Hearing that you binged it and enjoyed the angst has really made my day 🥰

For this request, I’m going with Bayverse Raph. I hope you enjoy it! 💖

The Space Between a Touch (angst)

❤️ Bayverse Raphael/Female Reader ❤️

CWs: Angst, depictions of PTSD and trauma aftermath, past kidnapping, self-destructive behavior, light swearing, some violence and fighting. All characters are aged-up.

The change didn’t happen overnight. It was a creeping frost, starting in your eyes and slowly encasing your heart.

Before, your laughter used to echo in the lair. You’d spar with Leo, teasing him about his seriousness, play video games with Mikey, and assist Donnie with ideas for his inventions. At the end of the day, you’d curl up against Raph’s side, his massive arm a familiar, comforting weight.

That was before.

Before the ambush, before Karai’s blade had sliced too close. Before you’d been grabbed, used as bait.

The memory of the knife’s edge against your neck, the feeling of rough hands dragging you, the chilling pronouncements and threats from Shredder—they play on a loop. You were a vulnerability, a weakness they exploited. And that knowledge has become your armor, keeping everyone out.

Mikey will hold out a controller, his eyes hopeful and pleading. “Just one round? For old times’ sake?” The flashing colors on the screen and the upbeat music feel garish now. You shake your head and tell him you’re busy. The lie tastes like ash in your mouth as you walk away, his smile faltering.

Donnie still shows you his latest gadgets, his explanations enthusiastic, but you no longer offer suggestions. Your mind, once buzzing with complimentary ideas, feels … blank. Static-y. He’ll look at you, searching for that spark. And when he doesn’t find it, his voice trails off, a quiet disappointment settling in his eyes.

Leo approaches you with a different tactic. He finds you in the dojo. Not meditating, not practicing. Just standing in the center, your arms wrapped tight around yourself as if trying to hold the splintering pieces of your composure together. His footsteps are deliberate on the tatami, giving you ample time to acknowledge him.

You don’t turn.

“We need to train,” he states, his voice devoid of its usual older-brother warmth, replaced by the clipped, focused tone of a leader assessing a critical situation. It’s not a request. He moves to stand a few feet in front of you, his expression unreadable. “Now.”

The words are like stones dropped into a frozen pond. For a moment, you almost expect them to skid across the ice you’ve built around your heart. You finally meet his gaze. The Leo before you isn’t the brother you teased; he’s the warrior, the strategist—and he’s looking at you like a problem to be solved.

Training. As if a few katas could erase the phantom feel of steel against your skin. As if a perfect block could undo the way your own body had betrayed you by freezing in terror.

“Why?” The word escapes you, a broken shard of sound, barely a whisper. It’s more than you’ve said to any of them in days.

Leo’s jaw tightens almost imperceptibly. “Because out there,” he gestures vaguely towards the city beyond the lair, “they won’t care if you’re not feeling up to it. They won’t wait for you to be ready. Shredder knows your face. He knows you’re with us. You think he won’t try again?”

The implied threat, the reminder of your vulnerability, stabs through the numbness. It’s the very thing that haunts you. You slowly unwrap your arms, your fingers stiff. “Fine.” The word is flat. You don’t reach for a weapon. You simply settle into a basic defensive stance, rigid and shallow.

Leo observes you, his gaze sharp, analytical. He doesn’t comment on your lack of a weapon, nor on the reluctance radiating from you. Instead, he mirrors your stance. “Defend yourself,” he orders, and then he attacks.

His fist comes at your face. A deeply buried reflex from countless hours spent in this very dojo makes you raise an arm. Though it’s too slow, too hesitant. His knuckles connect with your forearm, not with full force. But enough to send a shockwave up your shoulder. The thud echoes the dull ache that has taken permanent residence in your chest.

He doesn’t pause. A leg sweeps towards yours. You stumble back, ungainly, your feet feeling like lead. There’s no grace in your movement, none of the familiar rhythm of sparring. He’s peeling back the layers of your composure, one precise strike at a time.

“Again,” he says, and launches another flurry.

You try to parry, to block, but your limbs feel disconnected from your brain. The commands get lost in the haze. Each impact, even a glancing one, sends a fresh jolt of memory through you.

Rough hands gripping your arms, pinning you.

The glint of steel too close to your vitals.

You flinch, and the movement leaves you open. Leo’s foot connects with your side. It’s controlled, a training tap, but you gasp, doubling over slightly. The air rushes out of your lungs, and with it, a sliver of the ice around your heart seems to crack, releasing a fresh wave of chilling fear.

“Focus!” Leo barks.

His words strike a nerve. An animal—that’s what you feel like. Trapped. Helpless.

“I can’t!” you yell. A choked sob escapes you, a sound you instantly try to swallow. But it’s out. Hanging in the air between you, more damning than any outcry.

Leo stills, surprise and concern flickering in his eyes.

You can’t fight him. Can’t fight this.

You can’t go back to who you were.

“I … I can’t,” you whisper, the admission tearing through you. Before you rush out of the dojo, out of the lair.

Of course, your change in behavior hits Raph the hardest.

When he reaches for you on the couch, you flinch, the phantom weight of Shredder’s hand a cold press against your skin. It’s a reminder of helplessness, of being held against your will. At night, you lie rigid, your back mostly to him, feigning sleep almost immediately. You feel him hesitate, his breath warm against your hair, his hand hovering as if unsure whether to touch you, to bridge the gap.

The feeling of Raph’s plastron against your back, the rumbling chuckle that vibrated through you when you said something particularly cheeky. The surprisingly gentle way his massive, three-fingered hands would cup your face—those are memories now. Sepia-toned and distant, from a life that feels like it belonged to someone else.

The closeness you once craved now feels like a brand, and the frost inside you deepens. Preserving the pain, ensuring no one can get close enough to make you vulnerable again. Your armor is strong, unyielding.

And utterly, terribly lonely.

A chasm has opened between you and the brothers. You see the worry on their faces, the way they exchange glances when you turn away. You hear the hushed tones of their conversations, though the words remain just out of reach. But the fear whispers insidious lies, telling you that distance is safety.

And so, you remain encased, a prisoner of your own memories.

You don’t visit the lair much anymore. Instead, you train at home. At the gym. Becoming faster, more ruthless. You patrol on your own, taking down Foot soldiers and other criminals with a fury that would make even Raph pause. You’re protecting them, you tell yourself.

You won’t be the weak link again.

You’re rarely even at your apartment long enough to talk to Raph when he visits. And sometimes, you disappear for hours on him, often returning well after midnight. You offer vague excuses: “Needed air” or “Just a walk.”

But Raph sees the new bruises overlaid on top of the fading ones. He sees the cut above your eyebrow you try to hide with your hair, the way you move with a carefully concealed stiffness that speaks of fresh pain.

And tonight, something in him snaps.

You barely have your keys out of the lock when his enormous frame fills the narrow hallway of your apartment, blocking your path. He crosses his arms over his chest, his shadow engulfing you. The dim light from the living room throws his features into sharp relief, and the usual gruff fondness in his eyes is gone, replaced by a simmering, dangerous stillness.

“Where were you?”

“Out,” you mumble, trying to sidestep him.

He doesn’t move. Instead, his hand reaches out, his fingers brushing against the fresh scrape on your cheekbone you hadn’t even realized was bleeding. You flinch violently, recoiling as if burned.

His hand freezes, then slowly retracts, a flicker of hurt crossing his face before the anger resettles. “Out gettin’ this?” he presses, his voice tightening. “And the one you’re hidin’ over your eye? What about the ribs I know you’re favorin’?”

“I can handle myself, Raph,” you say, your voice harsher than you intend.

“Handle yourself?” He takes a step closer, and you instinctively brace, your back hitting the wall. “More like handling gettin’ yourself killed. There’s a difference, you know.” His eyes, usually a warm green, are narrowed, boring into you. “You think this is protectin’ us? Runnin’ around like a maniac, pickin’ fights you can barely walk away from?”

“I’m not weak anymore,” you spit out, the old fear twisting into a snarl. “I won’t be a liability. Not again.”

“A liability?” He scoffs. “You think this ain’t makin’ you one? What happens when you don’t come back one night, huh? What are we supposed to do then? What am I supposed to do?”

His voice cracks on the last question. You see the deep worry lines etched around his eyes, the exhaustion in the slump of his shoulders that he usually hides so well.

“You think we don’t see you? The way you keep pullin’ away?” he continues, his voice dropping again, thick with pain. “Leo’s beside himself. Mikey keeps tryin’ to get you to smile, just once. Donnie … he just looks lost.” He shakes his head, his gaze dropping to the floor for a second before snapping back to yours. “And you … you look at me …”

He hesitates.

“You look at me like I’m … like I’m him,” he says, his voice barely a whisper. “Like I’m gonna hurt you.”

The accusation hangs in the air, heavy and suffocating. His eyes search yours, desperate for a denial. For any sign that the you he knew—the you he loves—is still in there, somewhere beneath the ice and fury.

You open your mouth, but no words come out. The shame of his statement lodges in your throat, a bitter pill. Because sometimes, in the dark, when a hand reaches for you—even his—the terror is so blinding you can’t tell friend from foe.

His expression crumples, just for a second, the sight more devastating than any roar of anger. Then, the hardness returns. “This ain’t strength,” he says, his voice flat, final. “This is you dyin’ slow. And you’re draggin’ us all through hell with you.”

He turns then, not waiting for your response, leaving you alone when he departs for the lair. The cut on your cheek stings, a reminder of the battles you keep choosing. And for the first time since everything went to shit, you wonder if this is a battle you can actually win.

Or if you’re just ensuring everyone you care about loses.

Donnie confirms your late-night habits one night. As if Raph didn’t already know. But he dreads his brothers’ reactions.

You’re not here, of course. You’re out somewhere in the city’s sprawling darkness, chasing the adrenaline that numbs the ache, oblivious to the fact that your carefully constructed secrecy is crumbling—because Raph knows his brothers aren’t going to let it go.

Donnie swivels in his chair to look at his monitors. “I’ve been tracking the use of my tech,” he says, tapping some keys. A map flares to life on the main screen, your recent patrol routes shown in red lines. “As well as unusual activity on police scanners and reports for the past few weeks.” He pauses, looking over his shoulder at his brothers. “She’s been going out alone. Not for walks. She’s been hunting.”

Despite already knowing, Raph’s blood runs cold, then hot. The protective fury that defines him surges, so potent it makes him tremble. Not at you. For you. And at Karai, Shredder—at the world that broke you.

Leo’s breath hitches. His eyes, usually so focused and analytical, widen as he stares at the patrol routes—your patrol routes—illuminated in damning red across the city map. The sheer recklessness of it, the isolation, hits him like a blow to the chest.

“Alone?” he murmurs, the word laced with a dawning horror and a sharp sting of guilt as he remembers your shattered cry in the dojo.

Leo thought it was a momentary break, a surrender to fear. He hadn’t grasped it as a declaration of this self-imposed, dangerous exile. His mind races, replaying every interaction, every sign he missed or misinterpreted. His gaze flickers to Raph, seeing the barely contained storm in his brother’s eyes, and then back to the screen, a muscle working in his jaw.

He should have seen this. He should have known. The strategic part of his brain screams about the tactical disadvantage, the unnecessary risk. But beneath it, he aches with a profound sense of failure.

Mikey goes utterly still—before his head snaps up, his eyes wide with an emerging, terrible understanding. “Hunting?” he echoes, the word small, almost childlike. He pictures you out there, alone in the dark, facing down the kind of threats that make even their seasoned team move with caution.

The image of the you he knows being consumed by this cold, violent purpose is hard for Mikey to comprehend. A knot forms in his throat, tight and painful. “No …” he whispers, shaking his head slowly, as if denying the truth will make it somehow vanish. “Not … not by herself. She wouldn’t … she knows better …”

But even as the words stumble out, he remembers your averted gaze at his game invitations, the way you recoiled when he tried to sling an arm around your shoulder. He’d thought you were just sad, lost in a funk he could eventually coax you out of with enough persistence. He hates he was so oblivious.

“She could get really hurt, guys,” Mikey says, his voice filled with a visceral fear for your life. “We gotta find her. Now!”

“What are we waitin’ for?” Raph slams a fist into his palm. “Donnie, you got a lock on her?” His voice is a low growl, the protective fury he feels for you practically radiating off him in waves.

“I’m working on it,” Donnie replies, fingers flying across his keyboard, his brow furrowed in concentration. “Her tracker signal is faint. She must be deep in the old warehouse district by the docks. And—oh no.” His voice drops, a note of alarm entering his tone. “Multiple heat signatures converging on her position. Foot. A lot of them.”

Leo’s face is grim, his earlier guilt solidifying into steely resolve. He meets Raph’s furious gaze, then Mikey’s, and finally Donnie’s. “Gear up,” he orders, doing his best to remain calm despite his rising panic for your safety. “We go in fast, we secure her, and we get out. No unnecessary risks, but she’s our priority.”

This isn’t just a rescue mission. It’s about bringing you back from the brink.

From the abyss you’ve thrown yourself into.

You’re crouched on a rain-slicked rooftop, the city’s neon glow reflecting in the surrounding puddles. The wind whips your hair across your face, stinging your eyes, but you welcome the bite. It keeps you sharp, keeps the ghosts at bay, if only for a moment.

Below, a van pulls up to a darkened warehouse, figures clad in familiar black outfits spilling out. Foot. Too many. Caution tries to pierce through the anger that’s become your constant companion. You ignore it. This is what you do now. This is how you prove you’re not a liability.

You drop silently from the rooftop, landing in the shadows of an alleyway, your breath misting in the cool night air. You move with a speed and ferocity that is born of a reckless disregard for your own safety. The first two Foot soldiers go down before they even register your presence—a swift strike to the temple, a brutal knee to the gut.

You move through them, a whirlwind of focused rage. But they keep coming.

They’re more prepared tonight, or maybe you’re just pushing your luck too far. You narrowly avoid a kunai, the metal grazing your arm, drawing a thin line of blood. Spinning to meet the next attacker, you grit your teeth against the sting. You block a punch, counter with an elbow, but another soldier comes at you from the side.

You duck, but not fast enough; the weapon connects with your ribs. It steals your breath and sends a jagged bolt of pain through your side. You stumble, a gasp escaping your lips. For a horrifying second, the faces of the Foot soldiers blur, morphing into Shredder’s visage. Panic lances through you.

No. Not again!

You fight back with renewed desperation. You take down two more, but you’re outnumbered, outmaneuvered. A blow to the back of your head sends you sprawling onto the pavement. Stars explode behind your eyes, and the world tilts precariously. Rough hands grab your arms, hauling you to your feet.

“She’s the one,” a gruff voice snarls, too close to your ear. “Karai will be pleased.”

Your heart plummets. This is it. This is exactly what you were trying to avoid, the scenario that’s haunted your nightmares. You’ve failed. You’ve become the weak link all over again. Despair washes over you, so potent it almost extinguishes the fight in you.

Just as a pair of Foot soldiers begin to drag you towards the warehouse, a familiar roar cuts through the night.

“GET YOUR FILTHY FUCKIN’ HANDS OFF HER!”

A massive green shape hurtles out of the darkness, slamming into the two soldiers holding you with the force of a battering ram. You fall to your knees as they’re sent flying. Before you can even process it, another green blur, smaller and faster, clears a path around you while another deflects incoming attacks.

From the rooftops, shuriken fly with pinpoint accuracy, disarming several more soldiers. You look up, then look around you.

Raph. Leo. Donnie. Mikey.

They’re here.

They found you.

They came for you.

Leo lands beside you, beating back a blow aimed at you. “You okay?” he asks, his voice tight with controlled urgency, his eyes assessing you quickly for injuries before flicking back to the remaining Foot.

You can only stare, the word “Fine” dying on your lips. The fight is still raging around you, but for a moment, everything seems to slow.

Raph is a force of nature, tearing through the Foot with a righteous fury that makes your own recent efforts look like child’s play. Mikey is a vibrant, chaotic blur of orange amidst the grunts and sounds of combat. Yet every move is precise, protecting your periphery. Donnie uses his tech-enhanced staff, sending out small electrical charges, creating openings, and controlling the flow of the fight.

You watch them move as one, a perfectly honed unit. Protecting you.

The armor around your heart cracks.

They dispatched the remaining Foot soldiers with brutal efficiency. The clash of metal fades, replaced by their heavy breathing and the distant wail of city sirens. But your world has narrowed to the colossal figure dropping to his knees in front of you.

Raph.

His eyes are wide, frantic, scanning you from head to toe. The fury that propelled him through the fight is still thrumming beneath his skin, but now it’s overshadowed by a desperate concern that makes his features almost painfully vulnerable. “You hurt?” he asks, his voice a hoarse rasp.

His hands, the ones you’ve flinched from—the ones you imagined were Shredder’s in your nightmares—reach out. They hover for a heart-stopping second. Then, with an almost agonizing tenderness, one hand gently cups your cheek, his thumb brushing your jaw. You don’t recoil.

You try to nod, to form words. But a choked sound is all that escapes. The fight, the fear, the sudden appearance of your saviors—it all crashes over you.

“Hey, hey, look at me,” Raph murmurs, his other hand coming up to gently take your arm, examining the graze from the kunai. “We gotcha. You’re safe now.”

His gaze locks with yours, and in their depths, you don’t see accusation or disappointment. You see the raw, unfiltered fear he must have felt, the pain his own words inflicted on you earlier. And beneath it all, an unwavering, stubborn love.

A single tear escapes, tracing a path down your cheek. Then another. You try to stop them, to maintain some semblance of the hard shell you’ve cultivated. But it’s useless. The crack widens, and the pent-up emotion floods through. “Raph …”

He carefully pulls you forward, and you don’t resist. You collapse against his broad plastron, your face buried in the crook of his neck. His arms wrap around you, strong and secure, holding you together as the sobs wrack your body.

He smells of rain, sweat, and the faint, familiar scent of the lair.

Of home.

“Shhh, it’s okay. I got you. We all got you.”

He just holds you, murmuring against your hair, the rumble of his voice a soothing vibration near your ear.

Through your tear-blurred vision, you see the others. They’re all here. They came. Despite everything, despite the walls you built, they came.

The mending won’t be easy. The shadows of what you endured, and what you have become, will linger. But as Raph holds you, his brothers stepping closer to form a protective circle, you feel the first, tentative thaw around your frozen heart. The journey back to being yourself will be long—

—but you won’t be walking it alone.

[antinousletmehit]

𐙚 ⋮ Aphrodites gamble sequel ꒱ ‧₊˚

୨୧┇ the amount of trigger warnings the sequel will have is too much to put on here, I’ll do it later. BUT basically, this sequel is basically the plot of the Trojan war but instead of mene and Helen, it’s Tele and pandora/y/n. This sequel doesn’t “need” to be read, so remember you can always click off if you feel uncomfortable.

୨୧┇TW: implied sa, physical abuse, violent language, suggestive jokes, sexual threats, physical threats, description of gore and dead bodies, branding, pregnancy, ptsd attacks, Raphael is a warning.

────୨ৎ──── ────୨ৎ──── ───

╰─ ♡ Main series:

୨୧┇Chapter one

୨୧┇Chapter two

୨୧┇Chapter three

୨୧┇Chapter four

୨୧┇Chapter five

୨୧┇Chapter six

୨୧┇Chapter seven

୨୧┇Chapter eight

୨୧┇Chapter nine

୨୧┇Chapter ten

୨୧┇Chapter eleven

୨୧┇Chapter twelve

୨୧┇Chapter thirteen

୨୧┇Chapter fourteen

୨୧┇Chapter fifteen

୨୧┇Chapter sixteen

୨୧┇Chapter seventeen

୨୧┇Chapter eighteen

୨୧┇Chapter nineteen

୨୧┇Chapter twenty

୨୧┇Chapter twenty one

୨୧┇Chapter twenty two

୨୧┇Chapter twenty three

୨୧┇Chapter twenty four

୨୧┇Chapter twenty five

୨୧┇Chapter twenty six

୨୧┇Chapter twenty seven

୨୧┇Chapter twenty eight

୨୧┇Chapter twenty nine

୨୧┇Chapter thirty

୨୧┇Chapter thirty one

୨୧┇Chapter thirty two

୨୧┇Chapter thirty three

୨୧┇Chapter thirty four

୨୧┇Chapter thirty five

୨୧┇Chapter thirty six

୨୧┇Chapter thirty seven

୨୧┇Chapter thirty eight

୨୧┇Chapter thirty nine

୨୧┇Chapter forty

୨୧┇Chapter forty one

୨୧┇Chapter forty two

﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍

╰─ ♡ extra:

The crew as cats pt2

Post-war scenario 1

Post-war scenario 2

Post war scenario 3

new cursed kid

[glitchedoutpxie]

Reasons you should read my fic #3 ✨

My psychoanalysis of the Bayverse turtles: cognitive archetypes.

Splinter: my kids are completely fine!

... The kids in question:

Raphael:

Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD)

Why it fits?

Signs: intense fear of abandonment, explosive emotional outbursts, black-and-white thinking (“you’re with me or against me”), self-destructive tendencies (in my fic, he throws himself into gang fights as an outlet), difficulty regulating anger, fluctuating self-image (doesn't think he's worthy of fighting next to his brothers)

Raph’s entire persona is fueled by emotional volatility. He lashes out to push others away before they can leave him. His aggression masks a deep fear of not being wanted or respected (as per his confession in the first movie when the tower was falling).

He’s either the family’s shield (blocking Shredder from stabbing Leo in the first movie, pushing Donnie out of the tank canon's way in the second...) or its scapegoat (trying to walk away from them); there’s no in-between in his mind. His solo mission to the police station in Out of the Shadows reads like a BPD spiral: impulsive, reckless, desperate to reclaim autonomy. Similarly, in my fic, he goes solo vigilante and instigates fights in gang territories, right after Master Splinter confiscates his sai.

Leonardo:

Complex PTSD (C-PTSD) and Obsessive Compulsive Personality Disorder (OCPD)

Why it fits?

C-PTSD:

Signs: hypervigilance (always watching and planning), guilt or shame if he fails to “keep the family together”, stoicism as a coping mechanism, difficulty relaxing or trusting others to take the lead

Leo often acts like the “parentified child.” He may not lash out like Raph, but he internalizes responsibility, tends to isolate under stress, and operates on rigid moral frameworks.

His perfectionism could be a trauma response: “If I do everything right, nothing bad will happen.”

OCPD:

Signs: fixation on rules or discipline, “my way or the highway” mentality (in my fic he immediately alienates Rosie when she questions his methods), reluctance to delegate, struggles to forgive or forget mistakes (especially his own)

OCPD is about control, order, and perfectionism. BUT!! It’s personality-level and not about intrusive thoughts like OCD. Leo wants things done right. He’s rigid about rules, resistant to change, and can become angry or distant when others “mess up.”

Michelangelo:

Attention Deficit/Hyperactivity Disorder (AD/HD)

Why it fits?

Signs: high energy, difficulty focusing, emotional sensitivity, hyperfixations (pop culture, pizza, music), impulsivity, trouble with structure, 0 speech filter

Mikey is exuberant and fun-loving, but he often struggles with timing and appropriateness. Not because he doesn’t care, but because he gets overwhelmed by stimulus.

He fidgets, blurts things out, and often gets underestimated because his hyperactivity masks his emotional intelligence. He picks up on others’ moods fast, even if he can’t articulate his own (in my fic, this makes him the mediator between Rosie and his brothers). His “class clown” role often hides deeper insecurities, like fear of not being taken seriously.

Donatello:

Obsessive Compulsive Disorder (OCD) + possibility of Autism Spectrum Disorder (Level 3?)

Why it fits?

OCD:

Signs: obsessive need for precision, thrives on logic and structured tasks, backpack full of categorized ready-use tools (classic sign of compulsive preparation),

Donnie’s OCD shows in the need to get everything exactly right. He overanalyzes, double-checks, and is constantly monitoring his brothers' vitals, most likely because his brain keeps looping worst-case scenarios: “If I don’t fix/predict this, everything will break.”

Donnie is constantly tweaking gear, even mid missions. He has his own lab space (not shared) that he trusts no one else to handle. It’s less about order for its own sake, and more about staving off imagined disaster.

Autism:

Signs: hyperfixation on tech and science, bluntness in speech, possible sensory sensitivities (headgear and headphones), routines and logic as safety nets

Donnie thrives on systems. He prefers predictable interactions, and his passion for machines isn’t just interest, it’s regulation: he goes straight into solution-mode under emotional stress. Technology makes sense; people don’t.

HOWEVER!! while he does show social awkwardness and intensity, it is not to a level that impairs his daily relationships + his intelligence is fluid as opposed to the more rigid thinking of those on the spectrum. He prefers machines to people, but still gets people. He teases Mikey, understands Raph's aggression, and even mirrors Leo's leadership cues. His focus on data could have resembled autism more if it was shown to impair his social communication, but it rarely does.

“Masks Off” Bonus!!

Rosalind Sacks

model: @ninakrasnolutskaya on Instagram

C-PTSD and Persistent Depressive Disorder (Dysthymia)

Why it fits?

C-PTSD

Signs:

- Hypervigilance: noticed footsteps behind her before confirming them

- Emotional numbing: doesn’t trust her own emotions or perceptions, disassociation under threat (saw Leo's reflection in the window and her first instinct was to dismiss herself as hallucinating)

- Fear of abandonment: Her memory flashes (her dad handing her tape vs. his casket) show unresolved grief and internalized loss.

- Internalized shame/guilt from her father's legacy

- Freeze + fawn responses: when meeting the turtles, when the ceiling collapsed...

Rosalind doesn’t ask for help. She hides, she runs, she minimizes herself. That’s trauma conditioning. Even her social interactions (like giving her place in line to the father with the toddler) scream suppressed empathy and practiced invisibility. She doesn't want to "burden" others.

Depressive Disorder (Dysthymia)

Signs: hopeless worldview (she’s surprised when things go right); lack of self-worth, emotional flatness (even during the subway chase, she’s shown as emotionally muted, no screaming, no asking for help), she's functional (working, grocery shopping...) but not living.

Rosie’s carrying shame and responsibility. She doesn’t fully allow herself to feel joy or safety because it feels temporary or stolen. That’s not just trauma, that’s the slow grind of long-term depression.

You can see this analysis in practice throughout my fic here on wattpad and here on ao3 (⁠ ⁠◜⁠‿⁠◝⁠ ⁠)⁠♡

[foreverl0stinmymind]

Headcannons for the obey me! Characters:

mental health edition. (Some of what I say is mental disorders, some is just headcannons on how they're mentally fucked)

Autism and ADHD are included, because they affect how your brain functions, and can make you more sensitive to other mental health issues.

Lucifer:

This man has autism, guaranteed. Also, he most likely has depression and anxiety. Probably turns to hurting himself to cope, so yeah. Also, I get the feeling he's insecure about his body, and his personality. Like he genuinely just hates himself. Also, C-PTSD is almost definitely a factor into his behavior. Nightmares about Lillith, as well.

Mammon:

ADHD. Probably also mild anxiety. I think he has PTSD from the war, like most of his brothers. He hides that behind jokes. This may be controversial, but I don't think Lucifer's punishments have caused him any trauma. He understands that Lucifer is just trying to make him behave, and keep him safe/out of trouble. He also hates himself. Mild depression, but not as bad as Lucifer's.

Levi:

Autism. All of the autism in n the whole world is in this man. Also, absolutely fucking loathes himself, the cannon makes that clear. Weird little other thing, I feel like he has very light trauma from Asmo touching him/showing him things he doesn't wanna see. But more trauma from the war.

Satan:

This man is mentally fucked. Like, severely.

BPD, autism, and self-confidence issues. Also, daddy issues. Though Lucifer works hard to make it clear he sees Satan as his own person, Satan just sees himself as a spare limb of Lucifer's, which saps his mental health.

Asmo:

NPD. Though I could also see slight anorexia issues.

Beel:

PTSD from the war, and Lillith dying. Also, I headcannon him with emotional eating as a way to cope, which is why he eats so much. ADHD.

Belphie:

Depression and apathy. He doesn't give a fuck about anything anymore. Slight trauma from the attic.

Diavolo:

ADHD. Also, I think his mental health suffers from being forced into a powerful position too young, and he copes through his jokes.

Barbatos:

Autism. Also, I see all of his effort to serve everyone around him as a way to try and prove to himself that he has value. He works so hard so that he can KNOW he'll be missed if something happens to him.

Simeon:

Anixety, my dear. Also, he's probably got mild C-PTSD.

Luke:

I think being treated as a child has a larger negative effect on him than he shows.

Solomon:

NPD. Anxiety and depression. Also, his cooking is a mental disorder in and of itself.

Thirteen:

ADHD and autism. Insomnia as well.

Raphael:

Anxiety. Also, autism.

Mesphitophles:

NPD. Also, I think he feels he needs Diavolo's praise to have value.

[devildomwriter]

you said the brother's seven sins are based on their PTSD symptoms can you elaborate on it, please?

I’m not sure how I phrased it but when I mean is much of their personalities can be attributed to PTSD.

Lucifer’s need for control stemming from a situation where something traumatic happened that he had no control over.

Mammon’s need for instant gratification (serotonin) through things like gambling. Hoarding treasure to make sure he has a little financial security. Kleptomania is also a more uncommon symptom is some people with PTSD based on specific traumas.

Leviathan shells himself away in his room and becomes obsessively passionate to the point of blocking out the real world. He’s also self deprecating and afraid of socialization.

Satan’s fits of rage, lashing out before he can be hurt, learning things obsessively to avoid feeling inferior or like a burden. The need to constantly put down the person he feels inferior to.

Asmodeus being obsessed with gratification, validation, and recognition of others.

Beelzebub eating no matter the situation. Food is a big coping mechanism for most people and he’s eaten so much his stomach is a bottomless pitting meaning he needs to keep eating more and more.

Belphegor sleeps to avoid the waking world, school, socialization, generally everything. He also redirected his trauma of the war on humans because he needed something to blame and couldn’t otherwise cope.

Simeon wrote his trauma and loneliness down and created an ideal world with the brothers, one that he could control. He also acts as though nothing has changed since the war, still treating them exactly as he did, even calling them by their old nicknames.

Diavolo is bubbly and friendly because he’s deeply lonely and wants friends. He has people pleasing tendencies not only due to the pressure of his position but because of the rejection and strictness of his own father.

Mephistopheles is prickly and angry towards the brothers because they take Diavolo’s attention and Diavolo was the sole reason he was born and who he was raised to stand by. All that he is is meant for Diavolo.

Raphael is quick to defend himself with spears, likely trauma from war. He’s hyper observant and generally tries not to react to things or give away what he’s feeling. He’s built a metaphorical walls around himself.

Solomon never gives away what he’s feeling, avoids talking about himself, manipulates others before they can manipulate him, and has desire for dominance, power and control. He also seeks validation and praise for his work, especially from a human, since the human world rejected him as a child.

Thirteens’s trauma is based solely on Solomon’s cooking and she does what she can to avoid, lash out, and take revenge through her various pranks.

Michael collects mementos and reminders of his friends, storing them safely away and immediately recognizing when something was missing. He also maintains strict control of the friends left in his life likely keeping an eye on them to make sure he’s not left or betrayed again.

[angelmichelangelo]

Any thoughts/opinions on TMNT 2007, either in comparison to other iterations or about the characters/relationships in general?

oh boy have i got some thoughts on TMNT 2007 !

straight off the bat i’d say it feels so set apart from all of the other ninja turtles movies we had/have at that point. they’re a little older (i can’t remember the canon ages but wasn’t it pretty much fanon for a long time that they were at least early 20s?) and starts their story off kinda at their end.

2007 was also supposedly a continuation of the 1990s movies. whether you want that to be solid canon or not (personally i don’t) but either way, they’re kind of in “retirement” stage of their lives with everything with shredder already happened and this is kind of just the aftermath of that.

the relationships in this movie !!!!! oh my GOD it’s just near to absolute perfection. i usually don’t always super love the classic raph/leo tension just because sometimes it feels a little overdone and can really take away the shine from other aspects of the movie, but i really do like how different it feels here.

raph is so obviously not coping with having so much of his family dynamics changed. and i think that’s why the whole aspect of the movie being set after all of their biggest most heroic adventures works well, because in a way, this movie just highlights how much their lifestyle has impacted them. imo raph struggles with having leo so far from home. he’s going through a little bit of separation anxiety, can’t regulate his emotions properly and lashes out bad.

leo obviously takes this all the wrong ways. he’s going through something too so he’s blind-sighted to the fact that raph isn’t intentionally trying to piss him off. they’re back butting heads maybe because it feels most familiar in a way that hasn’t been since leo left.

b-team in this movie is just. chefs kiss. so much to unpack here, too.

donnie who is finally being highlighted for how much he does for his family behind the scenes, normally quietly bumbling along, now here he is, trying to keep a sense of normality and feeling under appreciated!! which rightly so!! he kind of just gets this shit load of responsibility thrusted onto him when leo leaves and raph distances himself. he’s treading water in the deep end, barely afloat but rarely does he really lash out because he wants to do good, and keep peace (mostly for mikey’s sake, I would argue)

and mikey. oh mikey. easily one of my favourite interpretations of mikey in this movie. he’s kind of mellowing out and maturing in a way that i think hits leo with full force when he comes home from south america. all because he’s had to grow up and pick up the pieces left behind in the wake of their family kind of slowly crumbling apart.

they’re all hurting in this movie but mikey’s hurt is so painfully obvious and so masked when he’s putting up with a job he really hates, barely seeing much of either brother he has left because of their schedules and feels cooped up. he trips over himself with just pure glee when he sees that leo is finally home. he’s still that kid at heart, despite everything, that truly believes that his big brother can mend this. it’s a really bittersweet thing to think of him just hoping his life would fall back into place again after it being so out of sorts for so long.

TMNT 2007 isn’t a perfect movie by any means. whilst i adore the way the turtles have been written, is still falls into the trap of making don + mike background characters towards the last half, giving leo + raph the limelight once again, and sometimes leo does act a little out of sorts but i could just pin that down to him having some sort of PTSD, so it remains high in my ranks regardless.

it’s not perfect but it’s still really really good. the animation holds up pretty well. it paved the way for 2012 in regards to CGI turtles. the voice acting is something i don’t see hyped up enough. nolan north as raphael?!!! i feel like as a fandom we definitely sleep on that fact way too hard

the plot is original and fresh and it’s clear that this wasn’t just a cash grab, but a real love letter to the franchise and to the fans:) the people that made this cared for these characters and this world and it shows :)

the fight scenes are really fun and easy to follow. the leo raph rooftop scene is just incredibly done. whoever wrote that.. please always be involved in tmnt wherever you are.. honestly pure fire some of those lines

nobody feels like a caricature of themselves here, which often happens with tmnt when a new universe is introduced, just to establish their character roles. i really love the thought of them in the wake of the fight and after the dust settles and they’re trying to cope with their feelings and problems separately because they don’t know what else to do. they need a million hugs, please, i would love to see more of this that isn’t just the last ronin. show me the turtles in their 30s trying to adjust to their lives changing drastically as they’re getting older and recognising their trauma, finally. i would eat that up!

in anyone hasn’t seen TMNT 2007 (which, i’d assume most of my followers probably has) then i would absolutely recommend it !!

forever mourning the mikey centric sequel we were supposed to get before the studio shut down and forever sending wishes up that there’s someone out there with enough money and a dream to bring it to life in some way shape or form (i’ll take a comic. a mini series. anything lmao)

TMNT 2007 will always have a special place in my heart :)

[redsrooftopprincess]

Nightmare, Part 2

Part 1

Warnings: Reader death, graphic description of blood/throat trauma, PTSD, panic attacks, marijuana

You walk him upstairs like you usually do, following him up the fire escape to the rooftop. He has a few hours left on patrol, but he's working this side of town tonight, which meant he was able to stay with you a little longer. He was grateful for any time he could get with you. 

You give him a hug, and a peck on the cheek, and hand him a thermos of coffee. ("Don't give me that look, the weather report said a drop of twenty degrees. Take the damn coffee.")

It's a practiced routine, you worry over him and he pretends like he doesn't love every minute of it. Like a housewife saying goodbye to their husband. No. Not like that. Shut up, brain. 

Something feels different tonight. He can't place it, but it makes him uneasy. He hugs you a little longer. Hesitates before jumping the rooftop. Something in him is screaming to stay.

But you seem fine, and the night's been slow so far, and if he finishes his rounds early he can stop by before heading home.

...

It's ten past two in the morning. He's reaching the end of his run and about to loop back around when his phone buzzes.

There is a limited number of people who know this number, so seeing a text from "Unknown" sets him immediately on edge. 

When he opens the message, everything stops. 

The city is silent, imperceptible. Suddenly, nothing exists but the screen in his hand. 

No text. Just a photo of the two of you saying goodbye, earlier. 

Two hours. He's two hours out. 

He forwards the photo to Don and hits his brother's number, starting the sprint back. 

"Sup," says Don, distracted. 

"Get to Y/N's apartment!" 

"What?"

"NOW!!!"

"Raph, what's going -" 

Raphael hears the vibration as the photo comes through. 

"Shit."

Raph hears a crash as whatever his brother was working on is tossed aside. Seconds later, a loud alarm pours through his earpiece as Donnie alerts everyone to an emergency, but Raphael can't hear it for the blood roaring in his ears. 

"How far out are you?" 

"At least an hour and a half get OVER there Donnie!!!" 

The line goes dead, and as he scales to the adjacent rooftop his phone buzzes again. It's a photo of you, asleep on the couch, shot from just inside the window that leads out to the fire escape. 

He forwards the photo to Don and keeps moving. His lungs are burning, but they could be on fire and he wouldn't feel it. The only thing that matters is getting to you. 

He doesn't stop. He doesn't even slow down. It's been over an hour and he is running on pure adrenaline. 

They'll get to you in time. They have to. They have to because the alternative is unthinkable. 

His phone buzzes again. He glances at the photo and stumbles. A familiar silhouette consumes your sleeping form, a Kabuto topped pillar, bladed pauldrons. 

No. 

Gods, no. 

He's still twenty minutes out. 

He makes it there in ten. 

Leonardo is waiting for him at the fire escape, and places a hand on his chest as he tries to move past him into the apartment. The scent of iron hangs heavy in the air around the open window.

"Raph..." he says softly, holding his gaze. 

No...

He bats his brother's hand away and pushes past him into your apartment. 

The sweet, sickly smell is overwhelming as his feet touch down on damp, sticky carpet, twisting his stomach.

The couch is soaked in blood, the blanket he knitted you last Solstice heavy, dark, and saturated. A large hand-shaped bruise is around your crumpled throat, tipped in puncture wounds from a bladed gauntlet that have long since stopped bleeding. Your eyes are open and clouded, your face a mask of terror, and the blood that paints your body, dried and flaking at the edges, scatters with the breeze from his arrival. You were dead before the first message. 

The scream that rips from his chest, sends him bolting upright in his hammock. Disoriented, he tumbles from his bed, hands flexing against cold concrete as he tries desperately to find something solid, real, to hold on to.

A dream. It was just a dream. He assures himself. They're fine. They're fine and safe and sleeping peacefully in their apartment. Just a dream. Saki is dead. You know he's dead. You SAW him die...

He's come back before...

A sob rips through him. The panic has him by the throat, and he can almost feel Japanese steel, frigid against his skin. His head is spinning. He's gulping air and and he still can't breathe. Fuck. He can't breathe. 

He's vaguely aware of his door being thrown open and a pair of strong hands, pulling him to sitting. They come up to rest on the sides of his face. He fights it. He has to get to you. Something is holding him here and he has to get to you. 

The hands tighten their grip on him, almost shaking him. "Raph. Hey. You're okay. You were dreaming." He feels someone grip his shoulder and his wrist hard, a bust of endorphins pouring into his veins with the activated pressure points. 

"Raph," the voice says again, firmly, the sound and pressure finally enough to break through, "Raphael." Deep blue, familiar eyes slowly come into focus. "Breathe," Leonardo says, gently, seeing his brother's eyes begin to focus, "It wasn't real. Just breathe..."

Raph inhales quickly and deeply, breaking through the surface tension. He closes his eyes and covers his face with a trembling hand as he pushes himself away from Leo and back against the wall. "I'm good," he says, gasping, voice cracking, ignoring the hot tears streaming down his face as he tries to think of anything other than the look on yours. "I'm good."

Leonardo sits back on his knees and waits patiently for instructions.

Nightmares are pretty normal among the Hamato clan. Even the Patriarch is not immune to the occasional nightly demons. Under normal circumstances, comfort would be encouraged. In their case it's as necessary as disarming an enemy. They are skilled assassins that walk headfirst into danger every night. Whether by distraction or disassociation, a nightmare or flashback could be fatal.  Lethal. In that state, they pose a danger to themselves and anyone around them. 

They each have a general protocol for episodes like this, something to ground them and bring them back at least to reality, if not stability. Mike typically needs physical comfort, Donnie distraction, Leo needs someone else to call the shots, their father, their presence and a very hot cup of tea. 

Raphael needs to feel in control, especially after being rocked this hard, so Leo's only job, now that he's broken through the panic, is to accept orders. 

Ninety seconds. One-Twenty, and Raphael is still tense and shaking. Staring at the ceiling, unwilling to close his eyes for fear of seeing yours. "Do you want me to wake up Mike?" Leo asks gently. Phase Two. 

Raphael doesn't look at him, but nods. Leo is on his feet and out the door in one fluid movement. He strides quickly down the landing to his youngest brother's room. The door is already open, and Mike is standing there waiting with a packed bowl and a lighter. 

"How bad?" He whispers

"Bad," Leo whispers back, taking them from him, "I think it was Y/N." 

"Shit," Mike sighs, "All hands on deck, or...?"

"Not yet," Leo shakes his head, "let me get him calm first. Just make sure D knows."

Mike nods as Leo turns and makes his way back to Raphael's room. 

Something you said once comes to mind about knowing you were in a really bad place when you could feel the meds working. Over the next half hour he feels his mind quiet, but the underlying urgency remains.

Raphael looks at his older brother with exhausted, bloodshot eyes, "I gotta know they're okay," he says with a voice like sandpaper.

Leo nods once and leaves the room, returning minutes later with a tablet from Don, and a cup of coffee courtesy of dad. He sits beside Raphael on the floor and sets the coffee between them. A few taps and a nanny-cam live-feed comes up on the screen. 

It's the middle of the afternoon and you're just waking up to get ready for work. As you walk by the entertainment center, you notice the glowing green eyes of the small turtle statue surveying the living room, indicating the live feed is active, and you stick out your tongue and cross your eyes at, who you assume to be, Donatello. 

Raph can't help a shaky laugh. 

You're okay. You're safe and alive and okay. Fuck. He let's out a breath he's been holding since before he woke up.

He watches you putter around the living room and kitchen for a while in silence, scanning every corner and shadow for anything out of place.

Leo watches him intently. "You love them, don't you?" He asks quietly after several long moments. 

"Yes," Raphael says, too tired to even attempt denial.

Leo nods, brow furrowed, watching his brother watch you. There was always a chance that it could happen, however slim. That one of them could fall in love. There was a part of him that craved it just as much as the others did, and an equal part that prayed it would never happen to any of them. 

In their line of work, emotions are dangerous. Strong emotions, like love, can be deadly. They pose risk. Liability. Leverage. Something beyond the dangers of someone merely knowing they exist. Something easy and accessible for their enemies to use against them. 

Their bond with each other and their father is dangerous enough. They're lucky in that they and many of their friends are skilled in getting out of trouble. But you're a civilian. And always a little too ready to pick a fight. Used to being able to hold your own in an everyday bar brawl, but still a civilian, and their enemies aren't tired drunks.

The gears in his head are already turning as Leo begins to rework present strategies to allow for this new development. They'll need a plan to keep you safe at home. On the street. They'll need a plan if you get captured or injured. They'll need a plan if the worst should happen...

But, one thing at a time. Raphael's peace of mind is top priority. He'll be worse than useless on patrol until he's sure you are, and will continue to be, safe. 

"Why don't you post up outside the bar tonight. Keep an eye on things. Walk them home." Leo says, looking down at the feed of the the now empty living room. You'd left down the hall to grab a shower. "We'll double up on their side of town for the next week or so. Make sure one of us is in reach at all times." 

Raphael nods, eyes not leaving the screen, grateful that he doesn't have to ask. He's still on edge, but he can hear you singing in the shower, a song he sent you last week that he thought you might like, and it will get him through the next few hours.

He'll be waiting when you get out of work. He'll be quiet as he walks you home. You won't understand why at first, until he holds you just a little tighter. A little longer. Limbs heavy with equal parts relief and remorse. 

Tonight you're okay. But tomorrow you might not be. You've become a part of his dark, violent world, and, selfishly, he can't let you go. His only light in a world of shadows. Everything in him clings to you desperately, despite everything in him screaming at you to run. You're here because he wants you here, needs you here. If the worst should happen, if that light should go out, there will be no way to pretend it isn't his fault. 

...

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[getindumdums]

You guys ever think about how the episode where Rise Raph was “Weird” for an episode? (“Man Vs. Sewer”) And how out of place it seemed? I mean what made my boi like this?? Cause, looking at the previous tmnt iterations, it was probably a concept in which the writers were trying to combine “Leatherhead” with “Raphael”. A character you don’t see in rottmnt.

Cause Leatherhead is an alligator. A gentle sweet soul. Raph is an alligator snapping turtle. And a sweet soul. They are both, ridiculously huge in stature. Towering over the turtles.

And they both get weird.

The whole concept of Leatherhead is that he is a character that is very sweet and kind. He started out as a baby alligator. But due to the oddity of his mutation, succumbs to “animal instincts” as a mental defense mechanism. Acting like how a provoked alligator would. And accidentally hurting the ones he loves because of it. I find the fact he and Raph were both originally baby animals that were mutated to be a potential connection.

Is this what’s up with Raph? An odd mutation that makes Raph lose himself when he can’t handle something? His instincts taking over to protect himself? An odd mutation caused from perhaps an interrupted process designed to make them be weapons of war? Or would allowing the full mutation have made the turtles more feral, monstrous? Perfect to destroy all of humanity.

I want to say that 03 Leatherhead had more of an impact on this choice. 03 is specifically very kind. And the brothers welcomed him in their lair. Excitedly and basically called him brother.

In 03 it seems to be more in his “nature” that he needed help to get through with. But be an allegory for trauma for ptsd (I think). In 12 he was tortured from the beginning implying a combination of trauma and the nature of his mutation. Either way, trauma makes this “defense mechanism” worse, as in 03 after being tortured by “Bishop”, his episodes become worse.

I think 03 wrote a very compelling episode, and I think Rise could have taken the episode in a different direction if this was their idea. Regardless, it has some interesting implications.

Because, what would happen to a turtle who gets “weird” after being possessed by the Krang?

His episodes would get worse.

In rottmnt.

Raph IS. Leatherhead.