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Raph is the type of brother who will, no matter how small your cut or bruise is, give you ten bandages, five kisses, an ice pack, and a hug.
If he was a human, this guy's definitely becoming a nurse.
Y’all should like. Send me dresses to draw b10!Raph in.
. . .Cuz like. I wanna draw b10!Raph in a dress.
So like.
Ya know.
They got what they deserved.
Tumblr cronched my already bad quality pictures and the animations were lowk overkill but oh well
REPOST THIS TWEET AND ATTACH YOUR FAVORITE RAPH PICTURE GO!!!
By Design, By Blood, By Betrayal: Chpt 6
The silence in the office was heavier than the shadows. Big Mama didn’t revert to her human form; she stayed hulking and bristling, her serrated legs carving deep gouges into the expensive mahogany floorboards as she stalked toward Raph.
“My champion,”
she hissed, the word dripping with a venom that had nothing to do with her biology.
“My darling, precious turtley-boo.”
Raph instinctively hunched his shoulders, trying to make his massive frame smaller.
“Mama, I—the brooch, it snapped. He was too fast, I was trying to stop him—”
“You were talking to him,”
she screeched, a sound like grinding metal. She loomed over him, her shadow swallowing him whole.
“I watched you on the monitor, Raphael. I watched you catch his stolen trinkets. I watched you steady him like a clumsy dance partner instead of crushing his skull against the desk!”
“I was protecting your things!”
Raph’s voice was small, trembling with a desperation to be understood,
“The glass—he almost broke the display—”
“Things can be replaced!”
She lunged forward, a sharp leg stopping just millimeters from Raph’s throat.
“Obedience cannot. Loyalty is not a suggestion, Raphael. It is the price of the life I gave you.”
She reached out with a clawed hand, snatching the broken silver brooch from his palm. She squeezed it until the metal groaned and the cloaking gem shattered into dust.
“You let a street rat mock me. You let him fill your head with his poisonous little observations.”
Her eyes narrowed, all of them focusing on him with terrifying precision.
“Do you think he was right? Do you feel like a dog on a leash?”
“No, Mama,”
Raph whispered, his eyes stinging.
“I’m your champion.”
“Then prove it.”
She gestured toward the shattered window. The cold night air swirled into the room, carrying the faint scent of the city and the distant, mocking echo of the thief's laughter.
“He hasn’t left the grounds yet. Bring him back to me. Not the jewelry. Not the keys. Bring me his shell.”
Raph looked at the window, then back at the woman who had raised him in a world of gold-plated cages. The "ghostly sensation" in his chest—the weird pull he’d felt when he looked at the blue-clad turtle—was still there, humming like a low-frequency alarm.
“Go,”
she commanded, her voice dropping to a lethal, quiet purr.
“Or don’t bother coming back to the penthouse at all.”
Raph didn't wait for a second order. He vaulted through the broken window, his massive weight causing the fire escape to groan under his feet. As he leapt into the darkness of the New York skyline, he wasn't thinking about the stolen diamonds. He was thinking about the way the thief had looked at him—not with fear, but with a pity that hurt worse than any of Big Mama’s threats.He had a job to do. But for the first time in his life, Raph hoped he wasn't fast enough to catch his prey. After hours of searching, Raph became so exhausted he passed out. The staff brought him back in and reported his condition along with his third failure to Big Mama.
The luxury of the penthouse was gone, replaced by the suffocating damp of the Battle Nexus holding cells. Raph sat on the cold stone floor, his massive frame hunched over as he gingerly touched his side. Big Mama’s "discipline" hadn't been a lecture; it had been a demonstration. She had sent four of her top yōkai guards to "spar" with him while he was forbidden from fighting back.
"To remind you what happens when my shield becomes soft,"
she had purred, her silk heels clicking away from his bruised form. Raph squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block out the memory of her cold, multi-eyed glare. He forced himself to think of the better times—the way she would pat his head after a victory, the expensive oils she gave him for his shell. She had to be hard on him. He was her champion. The world was dangerous, and she was just making him strong. The blue thief—Leo—was a liar. He didn't understand the burden of being a leader.
Two weeks later, the roar of the Battle Nexus crowd was deafening. Raph had just finished pulverizing a massive, multi-armed gladiator, his breath coming in ragged gasps. As the portcullis rose to let him back into the shadows of the tunnels, he heard her voice over the intercom.
"A marvelous performance, my turtley-boo! Though... a bit slow on the finish. Perhaps we shall skip dinner tonight to keep you lean for tomorrow's bout."
Raph’s stomach twisted, but he nodded toward her private box, his face a mask of loyal stone. He wandered deep into the bowels of the arena, seeking the quiet of the secondary drainage pipes to wash the grime from his scales. A sharp whistle echoed off the damp walls.
"You know, for a champion, you look like you’re having a really rotten time."
Raph spun around, his fists glowing with red mystic energy. Perched atop a rusted overhead pipe was the slider, tossing a familiar-looking gold coin between his fingers. He looked exactly the same—smug, relaxed, and entirely unimpressed by the lethal surroundings.
"You,"
Raph growled, though the mystic light around his hands flickered. That strange, soul-deep tug was back, pulling at his chest.
"I should turn you in. Mama is still looking for you."
"’Mama’ is busy counting her ticket sales, big guy,"
Leo said, dropping down to the floor with a light thud. He walked closer, ignoring the fact that Raph could crush his skull with one hand. He stopped a few feet away, his gaze softening as he took in the fresh scars and the dullness of Raph’s shell.
"Still playing the part of the loyal soldier? Even after she tossed you in the pits for a mistake I made?"
"It wasn't your fault, it was mine,"
Raph snapped, though his voice lacked conviction.
"I failed her. She’s helping me improve."
Leo snorted, leaning against the damp wall.
"Improve? Rich, look at this place. It’s a butcher shop with better lighting. I’ve been trailing her shipments for a week. She’s not just 'leading' people; she’s selling them. She’s got a cage waiting for anyone who stops being useful."
"Shut up! You're a thief! You live in the trash!"
"I'm free,"
Leo countered, his voice suddenly sharp and serious.
"I don't have a brooch pinning my skin down, and I don't have a mother who puts me in a ring to get stabbed for sport. I came back because... honestly? I couldn't stop thinking about that look in your eyes when you caught that pouch. And maybe I envy the fact that even have attention. But you’re not a monster, Rich, even so, she’s turning you into one."
Raph lunged, pinning Leo against the wall by his collar.
"Stop calling me that! You don't know me!"
Leo didn't fight back. He just looked up at Raph, his red-eared markings vivid in the dim light.
"I think I do. Better than she does. Because when I look at you, I don't see a champion. I see a vulnerable turtle, forced to be the muscle."
Raph froze. The word hit him like a physical blow, more painful than anything he had endured in the arena. His grip loosened, his breath hitching in his throat.
"That’s not… I’m not..."
"Don't you feel it?"
Leo asked softly.
"The pull? The feeling of your heart about to be pulled out from your chest?"
Before Raph could respond, the sound of heavy boots echoed from the tunnel entrance. A squad of Big Mama’s staff was approaching.
———————————
END OF
CHAPTER SIX
(Previous)
(Next)
By Design, By Blood, By Betrayal: Chpt 5
“Fading Adrenaline”
Leo hit the fire escape landing with a metallic clank, his legs compressing to absorb the shock before he vaulted clean over the railing. He slid down a rusted drainpipe with practiced ease, dropping silently into the dark alley below. The distant, furious shriek of Big Mama still echoed from the penthouse window, but Leo was already blocks away, blending seamlessly into the night.
He moved like a shadow across the New York rooftops, his heart hammering against his ribs—not from the adrenaline of the escape, but from the memory of the giant turtle. He couldn't shake the weird, ghostly tightness that had gripped his chest when he looked into the big guy’s eyes.
"Richie Rich,"
Leo muttered to himself, leaping over an alleyway gap.
"What a weirdo."
He checked his jacket pocket, feeling the reassuring weight of the velvet pouch. At least the heist was a total success.
His destination was a dingy, dimly lit underground warehouse on the edge of the docks—the hideout of the dragon yōkai mob boss he occasionally fenced goods for. Leo slipped through a broken window pane, dropping onto a catwalk before stepping into the main office where the boss sat counting cash under a flickering bulb.
"Look who decided to show up,"
the boss grunted, barely looking up.
"You get the merchandise?"
"Please. Who do you think you’re talking to?"
Leo smirked, tossing the heavy velvet pouch onto the desk with a dramatic flourish. The diamond vault key and luxury watches spilled across the wood.
"Big Mama's personal collection. Intact, beautiful, and completely un-smashed. You're welcome."
The boss picked up a watch, examining it with a greedy glint in his eye. He tossed a meager stack of bills toward Leo. It was barely a fraction of what the haul was worth, but Leo didn't complain. He just took the cash, slid it into his pocket, and gave a mock salute.
"Pleasure doing business, bossman. Try not to spend it all in one place,"
Leo said, turning on his heel.
Once he was outside the warehouse, the adrenaline completely faded, replaced by a heavy, familiar dread. The excitement of the surface world was over. Now, he had to go back.
He took the long way around, cutting through a quiet, graffiti-lined alleyway near an apartment
complex after buying more meager groceries. A sharp whisper suddenly cut through the night air.
"Leo! Over here!"
Leo jumped, snapping his head toward a fire escape ladder. Sliding down was April O'Neil, clutching a baseball bat and looking at him with a mix of relief and intense worry. As his only real friend on the surface, she was one of the few people who knew what he truly was.
"April? What are you doing out so late?"
Leo asked, stuffing his hands into his pockets to hide the stack of fence money.
"Looking for you!"
April hissed, marching up to him and jabbing a finger into his chest.
"You missed our movie hangout. Again. Do you have any idea how dangerous it is for you to just wander around the city alone at night? If the authorities or some weird yōkai see you—"
"Hey, relax, Ames. Your boy is totally fine,"
Leo cut her off, flashing his trademark cocky grin to brush off her concern.
"Just got a little caught up. You know how the night life is."
April’s eyes narrowed, looking past his bravado. She noticed the slight tear in his jacket collar from where Raph had grabbed him, and the faint scent of expensive, high-society perfume clinging to his fabric.
"You were doing it again, weren't you?"
she asked, her voice softening into something heavier.
"The thievery. Leo, you can't keep risking your neck like this. It’s going to catch up to you."
Leo’s smile faltered for a fraction of a second. He looked away, his jaw tightening.
"I don't have a choice, April. Someone has to keep the lights on down there. Someone has to buy food. It’s fine. I’ve got it handled."
April sighed and shook her head, placing a supportive hand on his arm.
"Just... be careful. Please. You don't have to carry everything by yourself."
"Always am. See ya, April,"
Leo said, giving a quick wave as he turned away, slipping into the shadows toward the nearest storm drain.
He dropped down into the damp, cold labyrinth of the sewers. He walked the dark tunnels reluctantly, his feet dragging with every step closer to home. He loved Splinter—he really did—but the lair was always so quiet. So lonely. For years, Leo had been the one scavenging for food, fixing the pipes, and making sure they survived while Splinter remained locked away in his room, drowning in his own grief and old television reruns.
Turning 17 had given Leo the freedom to go out on his own, but it hadn't freed him from being the sole provider.
He slid open the rusted turnstile door of the lair. The main room was pitch black, save for the blue static glow of the TV humming from behind Splinter's closed bedroom door. The sink was piled with dishes. The cupboards were mostly empty.
Suddenly, the bedroom door creaked open. Splinter stepped out into the main room, shuffling in his faded robe. He blinked sleepily under the dim light, looking at Leo. Splinter was entirely unaware of Leo's dangerous nighttime exploits; he simply assumed his son was out living a normal teenage life with his human friend.
"Ah... Leonardo,"
Splinter muttered, his voice raspy.
"You are back late. I assume you were... out with April… again?"
The air between them instantly grew thick and incredibly awkward. Leo tensed up, his hand automatically gripping the stolen cash inside his pocket. He hated lying, but he hated the truth even more.
"Uh, yeah. Yeah, Pops,"
Leo lied smoothly, forcing a tired smile.
"We just lost track of time. Watched a double feature at her place. Sorry if I woke you."
Splinter nodded slowly, looking past Leo toward the kitchen, completely missing the tension in his son's shoulders.
"It is fine. Just... do not stay out too late. The surface is unpredictable."
He paused, clearing his throat awkwardly, as if wanting to say more, but the distance between them felt like an ocean.
"Goodnight, Blue."
"Goodnight, Pops,"
Leo murmured.
Splinter shuffled back into his room, clicking the door shut behind him. The blue glow vanished, plunging the lair back into darkness.
Leo sighed, tossing his jacket onto the battered couch. He felt completely exhausted, the weight of his secret life crashing down on him. As he walked toward the kitchen to put away the meager groceries he'd bought with the fence money earlier, his mind drifted back to the giant snapping turtle in the office.
“She loves me! She raised me!”
the big guy had yelled, so desperately defending a monster.
Leo leaned against the kitchen counter, staring blankly at his own green hands. He had teased the guy for having a "golden leash," but looking around his own dark, empty home, Leo couldn't help but feel a strange twist of envy. At least someone was standing in the room with Richie Rich. At least someone noticed when he failed.
Leo shook his head, clearing his thoughts, and began to wash the dishes in the dark.
———————————-
END OF
CHAPTER FIVE
(Previous)
(Next)
burden of guilt
I wanted to draw another page, but I ran out of ideas :p but since that's the case, I want to share my thoughts. I'm sure Leo's guilt is just fucking insane, and it started growing from the moment they had to face Shredder for the second time "if I hadn't trusted Big Mama, we might never have met Shredder again, we could have found another way to defeat him, I could have found another way!" and when Splinter made Leo the leader, he clearly did everything he could to sabotage himself. I saw spoilers for the movie and already thought Leo was sabotaging himself, and after watching, I was convinced of it. saving the world didn't help Leo get rid of his guilt at all, but only made it worse, and the crack in Raph's shell and his scar are the main reminder of how wrong Leo was and how things could have ended even worse. I also think Leo could avoid Raph for a while
sooooo I got really into drawing on my new tablet haha. what do you think? I haven't done a full render in a long time, depression hits hard, you know
