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Raph had never felt insecure about his appearance in the way that he thought he was ugly.
He had always partially disliked his size, not because he was afraid of being fat (that shouldn’t be an insult, it’s a descriptive word and in Raph’s opinion all people were beautiful—except for the mean ones), but because he was never small enough to be taken care of. He was too big to be seen as anything other than a threat to people he hadn’t met. When he snuck around the Hidden City, people—specifically women and girls—skirted away or looked at him warily. It wasn’t their fault, he knew, they were doing the right thing, and being a woman was scary in a world made for men. Sure, the Hidden City didn’t really have a patriarchy in the same way topside did, but the danger was still there, and the drips of patriarchy and victim blaming came down and poisoned their society in a way too.
All in all, Raph didn’t blame them.
But it still hurt.
It hurt that his brothers never let him be the little spoon in turtle piles. It hurt that he sometimes had to be excluded because he was ginormous. It hurt that he had to suppress all his emotions for fear of hurting his siblings.
It meant that he could be a good protector, though. That he could be strong when they weren’t, and take blows that they couldn’t.
April cradling his head when they cuddled was also very nice; even if she was small she still made him feel like he had someone looking out for him in that big sibling way—-sometimes, other times it felt like she was another one of the crazies he was trying to keep alive.
But now?
Now he looked at his appearance and was filled with dread and disgust. His plastron was cracked, and some spikes had been painfully torn off his shell. He had been stabbed through the shell, too, and the only reason he was still living was ironically because of the possession. There was a hole there, and it was so, so painful. Everything was bandaged, since Leo hadn’t been in commission they went to a Hidden City hospital in a last ditch attempt, and it had worked (No, Raph would not question where the money donnie got to pay for that came from, actually). He had never thought he’d feel self conscious about scars, he thought they’d be cool and tough looking.
But they just made him look more dangerous. More like someone no one could trust or approach. He only had a few that were healed enough to expose, and they hadn’t faded fully. The places where the Krang tentacles and parts had been where he was possessed had immediately healed over as soon as he broke free from his possession, some leaving pale green marks on him that refused to fade. To this day, he doesn't know how he—or any of them—were alive. He liked being tough, and he knew he had anger problems, but this was…
He didn’t like people thinking of him and his careful anger management (repression) as a soft teddy bear, but he also didn’t like being thought of as dangerous either.
But the worst part was his eye.
The white scars from the possession lead up to his right eye, which was…
Was…
Ruptured. By the Krang.
Originally it was been red around there, blood slowly trickling from it, and falling slightly down his face (Donnie had been in too much constant shock to notice until he looked back and threw up at the memory of all the gore), but then they realized the eye was gone,except for the bits left that needed to be washed out, and.
And
It looked ugly.
The scars looked ugly. The eye looked ugly. He looked like someone who no one would want to approach. He knew the scars would fade into at least light green or white instead of the pinkish hue they were now, but still, they would mar his body forever. He would never be the same. He wouldn’t be able to see properly, either, and who would want someone with that? Who would want him like this? In any kind of way?
When his eye socket stopped being swollen, he might wear some kind of eyepatch. He’d see what he could do with clothes to cover up the scars. He’d stay away from the Hidden City where people would either look at him with twisted respect or fear. There would be no pity, he looked far older than he was, and even then he was turning eighteen in two months.
He was broken, and he would never see or be seen the same way again.