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#dark corner
writinandcrying · 1 year
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Dark Corner | Part 2 - Michelangelo x GN Reader
(platonic friendship to something more? who knows, not me!)
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Angst. Tw hinted depression, friendship loss, harsh decisions, unrequited love, anxiety, moods swings - mainly due quarantine, and uh- acceptance? melodramatic a little bit lols (i suck at summaries pls act like this is sexy enough to seduce you to read this fic)
songs that helped me write this
Hearing Damage - Thom Yorke
Apesar de Querer - Rodrigo Alarcon
Breezeblocks - Alt J 
Snap out of it - Arctic Monkeys
Why We Can’t Be Friends? - The Academic
Eventually - Tame Impala
Chp. 2 - And then it vanished
(Part 1) | (Part 3)
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“Just rip the bandaid off”
The sudden sound of the weights thumping down floor woke you up for spiraling thoughts, yet, your body hadn't a single reaction out of it, it was normal to get used to abrupt, rapid movements when talking about Raphael, as he grabs his gym towel heading towards the exit, he looks back at you, even without glasses, even with the stinging sensation in the corner of your eyes due unshed tears, you can draw out a mix of angry and disappointed expression.
“If you can’t handle it, then rip the bandaid off”
And that’s what you did.
One thing you knew for sure; Your brain is a bitch. Your memory sucked ass into remembering nice moments: the sensation of kisses, the last good bone- crushing hug you had, the last time your mom said she was proud of you. But agonizing, painful memories? Those were on a loop constantly. 
Every strong emotion made Raph’s eyes shine like gemstones, vivid, vibrant, now varnished with disdain, it was beautiful; you hated how you were the reason his golden irises were so gleaming and captivating.
That was 6 months ago, at least you think it was, quarantine sure proved something: time is indeed an illusion that doesn’t make sense. It seems like it was longer than that, although the pain made you grounded as it was yesterday. The last conversation you had with Raphael felt like a sore goodbye on both ends. You wish you could forget it, trick your brain into thinking it’s a happy memory so it can toss it away into the nearest trash.
Looking back at it, you should have fought back. Argued, yelled at him even. You should've made your point about how you didn’t want it to let go. But you were so tired, god- the lifeless sensation of how your body felt back then still phantoms you, it was honestly ridiculous, how a simple phrase could drag you back into the shadows back then. Or maybe you were never truly out of it, just constantly living in the dark, both hyper-aware and oblivious. You didn't know anymore-  a sentence, a reaction, someone else even, those could easily remind you how dark your mind could dive, So yeah, you clearly didn’t have any more strength to fight back, who would have known that being in constant fight with your own self would be so arduous? Maybe only you will know how much it took it from you, how desperately you wanted to hold onto it. And maybe that was the problem, there was nothing to hold on to anymore.
During that night, you didn’t know how long you remained glued on the concrete ground after Red left their training room. How long you stared at the gray walls, the foundation of the lair was unsettling cold. It made you feel more isolated than ever, you found yourself unable to control random shivers traveling through your body. You felt small, pathetic. Tears quietly slid from your cheeks to the very end of your chin. You felt invisible, literally, you could identify what the lair residents were up to by your own lack of sound, vague questions and noises that made you feel even more distant and undeserving to be there. You don’t know how long you remained motionless; sitting and staring at nothing, wishing it was different, but not really sure how to change the future.
You don’t know how you managed to drag yourself to the entrance of the lair, you found yourself there at some point of the night, turning back one more time. You loved that place, even if it took ages to get used to the sewer’s damp smell, you still loved it. you have always seen it as home. Sure, it was actually an abandoned intersection of a reservoir sewage station, yet filled with bits of love. Sewer sweet sewer, In every corner, from the dōjō to any repaired piece of furniture, graffiti or neon sign, it was laced with care and devotion. A house could be made of wood, cement or bricks and it was made for shelter, a home means safety, comfort and belonging, a shelter and much more, The lair is a home. was.
Tears ran down your cheeks as you glanced at the Christmas lights above the homemade living room, you remember how you helped them place it there 2 christmas ago, the boys decided not to take it back, it gave a inviting cozy glow, which matched so gracefully with all the wonderful times you had there. 
It's strange to desperately have the desire to stay and run away at the same time, pressing your lips tight, inhaling deeply- you were not going to sob your way out of it. Gripping hard at your backpack straps, you know you were going to miss how they made you feel, especially him. Dealing with the lack of it, how it became a foreigner feeling once again was one of the toughest parts during this whole fiasco of…. whatever was left remaining between the two of you, only some fond memories lingered, for a while those were the source of warmth during silent nights, but lately, it was a fuel to a abyss you could not stand being in it no more.
When your friendship with Mikey first started, you initially thought ‘that's it, that's something to treasure forever.’ How can two people be so close one day, to complete strangers in a course of some weeks still perturbs your mind and heart to this day.
Mikey wasn’t home when you arrived that day, your first intention was to talk out your last text messages, You weren’t sure how the conversation would start, or if it would even flow at all, you truly missed the times you could just talk about anything to him finding a topic to bond over was as easy as breathing air. He’d be busy. He needed to train, or out with his new friends. As usual,you were always the understanding friend, you knew everyone has their daily duties and hell, being the overbearing clingy friend? No, thank you. 
You and Mikey were different, at least you thought so, it was ok to be vulnerable with him, and him to you, you shared how you always held back truly connecting with others, afraid of how dependable you could become. You’ve seen it firsthand how much that could hurt, Mikey made you feel that you could trust, that you could rely on him, and for once you believed it. 
The first time you felt the unsettling vibe of not being so welcomed anymore was heart wrenching, even by now, you thought you would get used to it. It happened too many times for you to “not receive an invitation”, to be forgotten over hangouts, to being left out of jokes. You knew way too well the thin line between hanging out and being invited over pity.
That’s how you ended up talking to Raphael, maybe wasn’t the starter choice, he was a good friend, sure, but not the greatest with words. Leo and Don would have tried to understand your end at the time. but Raph was closest with Mikey. He saw how sometimes your unspoken, pitiful- whatever the hell this”friendship” is could gut his little brother. Mikey had intense feelings just like Raph, he understood him, and at the end, he would choose his side over yours.
You looked at the lair one last time, trying to preserve what you know you couldn’t have anymore: the warm welcomings, laughing until 5 in the morning, Mario Kart competitions, you name it. As you choke out a cry and walk towards the exit, what were good memories are now too painful to be felt and be remembered, although you already knew that it would haunt you constantly.
Only if you knew a certain turtle, who’s very fond of the color purple, watched and listened to it all in his lab. All of it. All 6 months of it.
Donatello’s top 5 regrets was not coming after you when you ran out crying, if he only knew this would drag into months on end, he would tackle you in a hug and tell you that you are indeed going to be missed, the time he wished to respect your privacy, looking back now, he knew it was a bad move on his end, Donnie was too used to observation and theories, that in this moment the situation needed a bit more action.
When you first befriended the turtles, there was an unspoken contract that they would track every move of you, for your safety and theirs as well.Donatello still had trackers on your personal turtle device, all of their humans friends had turtle-watches, not only for safety or rapid contact, but it also tracked vital signals, indicating any problems or disturbances about their friend's health.
So, when Donnie didn't see both of you and Mikey hanging out weekly, he didn’t think much of it, maybe you were just busy. But,when your signals started to point signs of bad nutrition, he got worried. When it showed a barely fictional human being, followed by hasty, god-awful goodbye (the courtesy of his older brother) he got obsessed with checking on you at least 4 times a week.
When your tracker suddenly shut down, he knew it was bad.
A different sound emitted from Donnie’s lab one quiet morning, a sound that if you have paid close attention, never went off before, this could have gone unnoticed because well, It’s Donnie. Every month he was working on something new, so maybe that was it, right?
By the way the second youngest flew out off the living room couch and, almost knocking Leo as he passed by, it truly showed the severity of the distinct sound.
"You have been away from your lab for 15 minutes and there's already a "situation?" Leo stood by the lab door, watching his brother's fingers work frantically while his eyes didn’t leave the monitors. 
"Yes, i'm overachieving" Donnie replied, Leo cautiously approached, truth to be told, he wasn’t fond of Donnie’s lab. Sure, it was great for secret sharing, strategy talk, toaster fixing area, yes. However, the possibility that any sudden movements there might result in catastrophe made Leonardo feel uneasy to say the least. His movements were always precise inside his brother's favorite Lair spot. Don finally guided Leo's eyes with a short nod after a intrigued "So?" left his lips, a main notification wouldn't budge from the screen, your tracker wasn't on anymore.
The leader reached for his katana instinctively, ready to head towards the door. He felt a firm hand hold his bicep  
"Pump the breaks, I don't think that's necessary", Leo raised a brow, Donnie  was already familiar enough to understand how his brother was once again, questioning what on Earth he was on about - "I have been... monitoring them." Casting his eyes down, Don doesn't like to call it stalking, neither does his older brother, due the circumstances of their reality, they needed to keep an eye out, just to be to safe, That's what they would always say in the back of their heads. "I think they disconnected themself"
"Can you handle this?" Leo asked looking back towards the door to check if anyone was around. Donnie told him what happened that day, infuriated was a nickname for how the oldest felt after hearing about it. 
Raphael didn't had any right to treat you like that, but he also knew if they argued about this, Michelangelo would find out, and the possible outcomes of it weren't pretty. He did make sure to be somewhat transparent about his knowledge over the secret quarrel, glancing towards Raphael if someone questioned your sudden dissapearance.
Truth to be told, Leo had no idea what to do. Figuring emotional, sentimental matters isn't his strong suit, and talking with Master Splinter would only raise red flags all around the situation. So they kept the situation under the rug. only if he knew what was going on between the two of you would drag it for months, he truly wished he had done something sooner. 
"Yeah," Donnie remembers clearly how crushed you looked back then. Was it fair to visit you? To make you relive all those unpleasant memories? 
"I hope so." His carapace met the cushion of his favorite chair followed by a drawn-out sigh as silence settled between the two brothers.
Honey colored eyes turned back into the monitors, Donnie knew briefly how you managed to get by these past months. From monitoring subway stations you caught towards work, to hijacking the local market surveillance cameras. he was glad that you were indeed getting by or so it seems. Again, he doesn't like to call it stalking. It's not like he watches you 24/7, maybe, 16/7? Weekly checkups? Just to make sure you are alright, that's what friends do, right?
Donnie felt a light hand over his shoulder, followed by a pair of sorrowful yet sympathetic Imperial blue eyes, "Tell they have been missed." A half-smile graces Leo’s features. There was mutual sentiment between them. Just because you were mainly Michelangelo's (former) best friend, doesn't mean you didn't leave a print on everyone else.
 "Shall do." Donnie responds with an uncertain smile as he stares back into the monitors. Quickly gathering his gear, it was already nighttime. Soon enough they all needed to headout.
Don sneaked towards the garage entrance by Leo's guidance, he had exactly 48 minutes before patrol, he could be at your place in exactly 9 minutes and 36 seconds, 7 minutes if there was no humans luckering on closest manhole’s alleys to your place, Don lips grow thin and firm, is 38 minutes and 24 seconds is enough to cover a 6 month silence between all of you?
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(next) | (previous)
comments and feedbacks are welcomed!! and thank you @melancholysway for being so helpful into making this scenario possible!
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mumblelard · 1 year
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(via mary ruefle)
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play-my-game · 8 months
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mysterieuxclairdelune · 10 months
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I am jealous of those who think more deeply, who write better, who draw better, who look better, who live better, who love better than I.
-Sylvia Plath
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drdickzinner · 8 months
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strokeofserenity · 4 months
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Slyvia Plath
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poetic--elixir · 7 months
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Truth is like fire; to tell the truth means to glow and burn.
— Gustav Klimt
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fairydrowning · 8 months
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Grief is the only proof that I love and I love well. Love and grief are actually intertwined with each other and as "Akif Kichloo" once wrote, "the opposite of grief is not laughter or happiness or joy. It is love. It is love. It is love."
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journen · 7 months
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How Ghost eats a taco, based on Samuel Roukin's explanation on his livestream. 🤣
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juiche · 10 months
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I wanted to draw the winter soldier for years but never dared to, I thought I’d definitely mess it up. Late to the party as always, but I finally dared to do it 😊
This one is based on a photo that Sebastian Stan took by chance prior to the Civil War film, having no idea what’s about to come :> I thought it’s wonderfully angsty 😌💅
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secondbeatsongs · 5 months
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hey, don't cry
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tumblr is the new pdf! ok?
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writinandcrying · 1 year
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Ok so I’m almost done with dark corner part 2!!! I know I posted so long ago but I’m finally in a good mental state (ish. Lmao anyways better than before!! Progress baby!) to finish it. For those who don’t know, Dark corner (if you haven’t read it, it’s in my masterlist!) it’s based on a irl experience, so it was really hard coming to terms with.. well. The true outcome and everything else that was going on unrelated to it, I sort of had to put my feelings aside for months this year, that’s why it took me so long to process and eventually write it out
(Plus I’m really trying not to be extremely gloomy and depressing but. Unfortunately I’m failing BDBFJJSS but Eitherway I’m so excited to post it lmao, I might still take a while, I’m in the middle of it lol I can’t stop adding stuff I might have to make it a part 3)
Also for those who commented this on AO3:
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First of all please forgive me I mainly use my phone for writing and I HATE that ao3 doesn’t have an app!!!!! I forget things easily and do not check my email for notifications sooooo yeah checking comments it’s hard. But oh my god I love you guys SO MUCH like seriously appreciate every single comment 🫶🏼 later on when I finally finish part 2, will also update on ao3, and properly reply to you guys
that’s the update, see you soon!!
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attleboy · 3 months
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[coughs this up like a hairball] it's an angst!! sorry that i made her suffer. you know i had to do it to em
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agelesslibrary · 1 year
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Poets are the painters of human experience, capturing the colors of their heart in verse.
— agelesslibrary
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{Juansen Dizon, I Am The Architect of My Own Destruction page 24/ Anaïs Nin, The Diary of Anaïs Nin, Vol. 6: 1955-1966/ Alice Hoffman, The Red Garden/ Anaïs Nin, from The Diary of Anaïs Nin, Vol. 5: 1947-1955/ Haruki Murakami: Norwegian Wood, page 276/ Michael Ondaatje/ Catherynne M. Valente, The Orphan's Tales: In the Night Garden/ D.H. Lawrence, from The Complete Works; The Plumbed Serpent/ Jean-Paul Sartre, from No Exit/ Alice Notley, from In The Pines: Poems; "In The Pines,"}
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nongiftedpoet · 19 days
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How does a poet become… a poet?
And what makes a poem… a poem?
- nongiftedpoet
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