#or that's just my excuse to draw raph with lashes

[cupofcappuccy]

here’s a scenario to draw if your bored at some point

I cannot draw Raph for the life of me 😭

[luckton-moved]

Raphael and Denestia: A Tragic Love Story

i decided to type out a summary of one of my favorite oc backstories for future reference, and so people could read it. this is pretty much the things that led up to the plot of my story/upcoming webcomic, a forest on fire. it’s extremely long (over 2000 words) and therefore in a read more. please feel free to read it if you’d like !

(tw: parents, hospitals, sickness, death, violence, alcohol mentions, fires, overall relationship issues and family issues. the usual stuff.)

Raphael and Denestia: The Story

A violent teenage delinquent, Raph Maxton grew up on the wrong side of town in late 1958. His mysterious girlfriend of several years, Denise Buckland, had what he didn’t: a large house, a substantial amount of money and, most importantly, a level head. The two were in love. Denise loved Raph and found him amusing, teasing him in good spirits but always meaning well. Raph loved Denise, often pretending she was royalty and calling her “Queen Denestia of the Elite Socialites”, which always made her laugh. The two weren’t without problems though, often fighting and breaking up, but getting back together. It seemed like trouble was always inevitable, with Raph constantly getting in trouble with the law and often disappearing, leading Denise to believe he was with another girl. 

Although Denise was one of the wealthier students at the high school, Denise did not enjoy being around the other students. Even so, she would rather not be at home, as her adoptive parents would always treat her as if she was more of an object and less of a person; they ignored her interests as they showered in the glory of having their precious, beautiful, happy daughter, Denise. Raph’s home life was also very undesirable. His mother had left; whether she was dead or alive Raph did not know. He often fought with his alcoholic father and said father’s petty young girlfriend. The only person in his house that he could really stand to be around was his older brother Charley: a smart, messy haired young man who always aspired to be something great. Charley did always have a sickly countenance about him, though, and he soon succumbed to an unknown illness. 

Raph, of course, absolutely lost control when his brother died. He got into more fights, at home and at school, then after school and in the streets. He began lashing out at his friends and isolating himself more, progressively becoming more bitter and violent as time went on. Denise became worried as he stopped taking care of himself, often forgetting to eat and frequently not returning home. Denise had barely noticed it, but he was also having trouble catching his breath sometimes and coughed more often.

One time, Denise and Raph were walking through the forest near their hometown when Raph suddenly doubled over coughing. He insisted he was fine, but once Denise saw blood, she rushed him to the hospital, insisting that if he would just come with her, she would cover all the bills and costs with her parents’ money. He finally, reluctantly, agreed and when they arrived, he was quickly taken away into a room. When denise was finally able to enter the room, she did.

Once Denise stepped inside, she saw that Raph looked…bad, to say the least. He was paler than usual, and looked very weak. He looked… pathetic. Denise stood there in silence for a little while,thinking, before Raph broke the silence with, “are you gonna say something, or are you just gonna stand there and stare at me like a broken marionette?” He laughed hard and then coughed. Denise knew he didn’t have too much time left. She didn’t sit down.

Denise wanted to ask him why he didn’t tell her she was sick. She wanted to ask him why he didn’t tell her anything. So she did. Everything she wanted to say to Raph spilled from her: how worried she always was, how much she cared about him, how angry she was at him for never taking care of himself, how much she hated when he pushed her away, you name it. She wasn’t worried anymore. She was mad. 

Raph was mad too. He shot back at Denise, asking her why she was mad if she cared so much, telling her how difficult it was to even get up in the morning (let alone take care of himself), and wondering why she never took the time to understand him. He asked her why now, of all times, was she fighting with him about something they could have possibly talked about. He didn’t want her there if all she was going to do was argue with him more.

So Denise left, running down the hallways of the hospital, holding back tears. She went home. There was nothing left for her to do at the hospital. It wasn’t until her parents were talking about Raph at the dinner table two days later that she realized she needed to go back. They said that the town delinquent, Raph Maxton, had finally succumbed to whatever karma he had accumulated. Denise excused herself from the table and left the house, running at full speed toward the hospital.

When Denise entered, Raph was, somehow, even worse off. He was arguing with a nurse about why she wouldn’t just let him go already, but he was even weaker than before and looked like he probably couldn’t physically do anything to her if he had the chance. When Raph saw Denise, he shooed away the nurse and focused on his girlfriend. Amidst all his pain and anger, he chuckled. “Well, look who was just dying to see me.” He broke into a fit of coughing. Raph was dying.

Denise sat down. She apologized to Raph, but he waved it off. He didn’t blame her for being irrational; he was being irrational too. They smiled at each other for a long minute. Denise and Raph began sharing and reminiscing about the times they shared, laughing and joking about their past as the world melted away and only they were left. 

After about fifteen minutes, Raph quieted. He looked out the window and commented on the view of the forest below. He told Denise that he hated it in the hospital, that he wishes he was outside taking a walk with her, just like they had been before the whole ordeal went down. Denise looked at Raph, his tired eyes longing and his smile soft. She realized that he wasn’t as tough as he appeared. She didn’t want to see him die. Denise excused herself so she could walk the halls and think for a few minutes. When she returned, Raph was missing. 

Denise ran down the stairs and outside. How could she have been so stupid as to leave Raph alone like that? She called his name. No answer. She called his name again. And again. And again. She ran into the forest, now screaming his name.

Denise had been searching for only a few minutes when she found him crumpled near a tree, but by then, Raph was already gone. She cried for a long while, but realized that it wasn’t her fault. She decided to put him in a more rested position, then left him. 

Denise was faced with another problem: she was lost. She turned left and right, though the night had turned dark and she couldn’t see. It seemed as if the entire forest was watching and laughing at her. She could almost hear the awful taunting of the forest, mocking and jeering at her. It was driving her mad. She began to run, trying to find any trace of light or civilization in the inky blackness of the night. She felt the ground give way beneath her and she fell into an icy cold river, never to return.

A spirit woke up and looked around. He was in the heart of the forest, a large clearing surrounded by aspen trees. He stood up. In the center, a large, thick, twisted tree with dark leaves loomed in front of him. Its roots seemed to spread far and wide, all across the forest. It seemed like it was staring at the spirit, judging him. Somehow, the spirit felt as if it wanted him to do something. He looked at the ground below, grass and flowers beginning to grow to crown his feet, as if he was the one commanding them to do so. Small purple flowers sprouted slightly in front of him and spelled out four simple letters. ‘RAPH’. Hm, the spirit thought, was that his name? No. His name should be longer than that. He squatted down. “Raphael,” he said aloud, “That’s a name, right?” He wasn’t addressing any person directly. He touched the flowers and they wilted. He touched them again and they sprouted good as new. He traced a messy ‘AEL’ in the grass at the end of the word, purple flowers popping up as he did so. He smiled, satisfied, and left. Maybe he could find out just who he was.

A different spirit woke on the other side of the tree. She stood up and stared at it, feeling its powerful energy drawing her in. She was afraid of it. She then realized that her feet were not touching the ground, and looking down she realized they weren’t even there. A name, Denise, was traced on the ground in blue flowers. As the spirit read it, she was hit with numerous images of her life before she woke up there. She fell to her knees and began to cry, the grass and plants around her legs, including the name, turning black and dying. She sat there for a long time, but something told her the tree was still calling her. She stood (more like floated) up again and stared at it. She flashed her middle finger at it and flew off. She knew that she couldn’t be called what she was before, that she was a new entity now, so she needed a new name. Rather than picking something out of the blue, she settled on a nickname her boyfriend had called her what seemed like centuries before. Denestia.

Raphael was having a little fun, drawing flower patterns on trees and running from the spirits of said trees while laughing. Something then movd out of the corner of his eye and he turned. He saw her: Denestia. It didn’t matter that he had never seen her before. He thought she was beautiful. He decided that she would be more fun to fool around with than some simple tree spirits, that she was a little more mysterious and needed to be found out. So he approached her and held out a hand, grinning. “My name’s Raphael, and I believe you’re looking for me.”

Denestia had been searching the forest for a sign, any sign, as to why she was placed there in the first place, when she was met with a cheeky, freckled smile and a line she recognized as one used every time her boyfriend saw her. She blinked. The spirit in front of her was pointy eared and sharp-toothed, but she’d recognize that stupid grin anywhere. Raph. She leaned forward and hugged him, burying her head in his shoulders. “Raph, I’m so sorry.”

Raphael was still holding his arm out when the other spirit grabbed him. His grin faltered. “I-I’m sorry, have we met?” Denestia pushed herself off of him and looked at him.  His smile was awkward and he was looking her up and down, but there was not a speck of recognition in his eyes. He did not remember her. She stared at him for a second, then turned her head away. “Oh. I thought you were someone else.”

Raphael smiled and put an arm around her, stating that it was fine and that it happened a lot. He re-introduced himself and asked Denestia for her name, which she reluctantly gave. He began to float alongside her and ramble about the different parts of the forest, casually slipping in flirts which went unnoticed by Denestia. He had decided to give her a tour, under the impression that she was new in the forest. Denestia listened to him, staring at him and trying to come to terms with the fact that no matter how much he acted like it, he was not the same Raph she knew. From the looks of it though, he was still completely smitten with her. Maybe things couldn’t go back to the way they used to be, but they could possibly get pretty damn close.

They’d been trying for years, and still Raphael and Denestia hadn’t figured out why they’d been placed under this curse, a curse that turned them into spirits of the forest and restricted them from leaving except for short periods of time, invisible or disguised as human. They needed to find something, or someone, to break the curse. It was Raphael’s idea to try to destroy the heart of the forest. So they tried. They started a fire.

8 years since the fire and they still had gotten nowhere closer to the destruction of the heart. The only thing the fire had brought was burnt trees and orphaned creatures, one of which Denestia adopted as her own, naming them December after the month of the fire. They could shapeshift into a wolf or a human at will, and their body and mind matured at twice the speed of a normal human. They loved Denestia as a mother, but somehow hated Raphael with a passion. 

Raphael often went invisible and went into town, partially to find the way to lift the curse, but mostly to annoy the fluffy-haired mayor’s son and his friends. Until a new girl moved into town, a new girl who could see Raphael, even though he was invisible…

Raphael and Denestia: Descriptions

Raph Maxton (pre-curse): A heavily freckled boy, 5′8″ (172 cm), redhead. Often greases hair back, the natural curl annoys him. Pale and somewhat skinny. Cracks many jokes, often at inappropriate times. Has a very, very dirty mouth. Often very bruised up or injured. Aggressive and violent. Unpredictable in a predictable way. A liar. Has a self conscious side, never shows it.

Denise Buckland (pre-curse): A slightly dark-skinned girl, soft black-silver hair, 5′6″ (167 cm). Wears hair down, despises having product in it. Average weight. Purposely gives of the impression of nonchalant, often cares way more than thought. Sad often and barely ever smiles. Blunt and sarcastic a lot, but just never learned how to express herself. Often cares so much she forgets to understand.

Raphael (during/post-curse): Same height. Smooth purple skin, but still splattered with numerous white freckles. Pointed ears. Black whites of the eyes and purple irises (slitted pupils.) Dark purple hair and pointed tail, hair is still curly. Hands with long, sharp fingernails/claws. Doesn’t lie as much. Seems more relaxed, has less to worry about so nothing to get super aggressive over. Calmer, gentler, has a soft side. More dorky and awkward. Shows silly side more often and cracks even more jokes as before. Remembers minimal from pre-curse. Can heal plants. Can also kill plants.

Denestia (during/post-curse): Same height. Smooth bluish-grey skin. Dark silver hair. Black whites of the eyes and red irises (slitted pupils.) Sharp teeth. Sharp clawed hands. Feet are gone, legs fade off into translucence at the shin. Can turn living things rotten with a touch if she wanted. Thinks the curse is her fault. Unhappy but not too upset. Still loves Raphael. Plotting revenge. Awkward at conversation, still having not learned anything about expressing herself. Likes flowers. Sings sometimes. Remembers almost everything from pre-curse.

[mad4turtles]

TMNT 2012 ~When Time Resumes~

A/N~ ...I have no excuses for this. I've recently finished the Paramount War arc in OP, and filled with both feels from that and TMNT spoilers, this was created. That's pretty much it.

I apologize in advance for this. Trust me, this hurt me too. Like, ouch.

Basic Synopsis: A war breaks out between the Foot and the Hamato's in New York's Central Park, a war said to finally put an end to the feud that had raged for so long. Allies from far and wide rush to aid the turtles in their desperate plight, but even so, fate has other plans.

I OWN NOTHING.

Again, I'm terribly sorry. I couldn't help myself.

It all happened so fast, too fast; it left Donatello's head spinning as he shut his eyes, his mind reeling, trying to catch up with what had just occurred.

He remembered falling to his knees, exhausted and in pain from a blow that would've been fatal had it not been for his shell. He remembered spitting out blood, coughing and wheezing, commanding his body to move through the blinding pain in his gut, to get back up and fight because this was a war dammit, he couldn't afford to go down, not when his family needed him now more than ever. He remembered hearing Shredder's voice, deeper and raspier from his mutation, bloodthirsty as he mocked him, mocked his brothers and his father for their weakness. He remembered a rage bubbling up within him at those words, remembered trying to get up but stumbling and falling onto his back, panting heavily.

He remembered thundering footsteps drawing closer, he remembered an icy fear gripping his heart as he realized what was going to happen, tried and tried and failed to grab his staff and defend, to run away, to move, to live, to move dammit move –!

"DONNIE!"

– and he remembered a sickening crunch, something warm and wet splattering across the ground and his face, dust billowing through the air before finally settling.

Slowly, Donnie opened his eyes again, and looked up – and he froze.

Leonardo was there. His big brother was standing above him, facing him, arms spread out wide, feet planted in the earth like immovable stones, blood dribbling from his lips and nose as he hacked once raggedly, tears pricking his eyes, burning as he stared down at Donnie, but not with hatred –

Behind his leader stood Shredder's bulking form, glowing neon eyes once alight with the flames of anger and vengeance now dancing with a vile mirth as the monster peered down at the pair of turtles. A dark chuckle escaped the crevice of what used to be lips, and with absolute horror settling in every fiber of his being Donnie understood why.

There was a hole in Leo's chest. There was a gaping, bloody, scorching, honest to god hole in Leo's chest.

Shredder's jagged fist had smashed through Leo's carapace and tore through his plastron, and the monster was laughing as Leo's arms started to quake, more blood dripping onto the ground painting the grass red –

Time slowed to a crawl. Donnie's voice was stolen even as his jaw fell open, unable to tear his eyes away from the wound blooming like a bloody rose in the center of his brothers' chest, until another weak cough finally made him lift his eyes to meet Leonardo's.

And all he saw was pain. In his eyes, in the clenching of his teeth, in the quake of his arms and the weakening of his stance, Leo was in pain, Leo was hurt, Leo was going to die –

Because of me.

"No," Donnie whispered, barely, his hand shaking so badly as he reached out to his brother because this couldn't happen this shouldn't happen Leo can't die he can't he can't they were supposed to beat Shredder why was this happening?

"Foolish creature," Shredder spat over Donnie's quiet pleas, and when he pulled his fist from Leo's back the motion was sharp and vicious, Leo's restrained grunt of pain barely audible over the sound of screams around them –

Wait, screams? Who was screaming? It wasn't Donnie, and Leo refused to scream –

"LEO NO!"

Time resumed, and Donnie's heart plummeted.

Mikey.

Oh god, Mikey.

And Raph. And April, and Casey, and Karai, and Splinter –

They were all here. Their friends, their allies, their family, they all saw what happened even amidst the chaos around them, mutants and Foot Bots littered across the battlefield that had once been Central Park. They'd seen it all, and Donnie still couldn't tear his eyes away from Leo as he swayed unsteadily on weakened legs, so he was instead forced to listen to their screams.

"LEONARDO!" he heard Raph wail from afar, and then April was sobbing, Casey cursing loud without restraint. He heard the Mutanimals let out collective screeches of despair and wrath, heard Mikey let out another shrill and desperate cry for his older brother, heard the shouts of their other allies –

The only warning he had that Karai was near was the glimmer of metal in the moonlight before the serpent girl leapt at Shredder, fangs bared as she tore into Shredder's shoulder violently with her blade. The mutant ninja master let out a howl of pain as he staggered away from Donnie, away from Leo, whose eyes had become cloudy, unfocused, his arms falling limply to his side.

"You monster! You beast, you killed him!" his sister screeched, arms transforming into snakes that bit into Shredder's armored flesh without mercy, tears pouring down her pale face, heartbroken and enraged. "You killed him!"

Shredder tore Karai off him, throwing her to the ground with a bellow of barbarity, but then Splinter was upon him with a ragged roar of his own, claws and teeth lashing as he hissed and spat like a rat possessed, not at all the Sensei, the father, that Donnie had known –

Leo fell to his knees, snapping Donnie's attention back just in time for him to catch his brother in his arms when Leo pitched forward limply. There, Donnie held him, unable to look down at what remained of Leo's carapace, but his hand hovered over it anyways. He didn't know what he was expecting to see when he drew his hand back again only for his three-fingered palm to be painted a dark, sickening crimson.

Donnie wasn't a doctor. He excelled in many things, but he only knew the basics of medical care; anything beyond that would be left to Splinter or even Rockwell. But even with his limited knowledge, it was clear that Leo, no matter what anyone did, could not be saved.

There was a hole in his carapace; if not the severe blood loss, the fact that his spine, his ribs and any other organs in-between had been destroyed would certainly kill him. He had only minutes, if not seconds, left.

Leo was dying. Leo was going to die, and there was nothing – nothing – that anyone, not even Donnie, could do to stop it.

And it's all my fault.

"…Leo?" Donnie's voice was quiet, pleading as he stared down at his brother lying limp against his chest, one arm draped around his shoulders as if Leo were holding him, trying to console him, when Leo was the only one dying.

"…Leo? Leo, say something." Donnie wanted to shake him, raise him out of his dazed state, but he fought that urge. "Please, Leonardo, say something –"

"Donnie," Leo croaked at last, and Donnie stiffened; never before had he heard Leo sound so weak, not even when he'd recovered from a three month coma, and a part of Donnie wished he hadn't said anything at all.

And yet, though every wheezing breath he took rattled his body, though every word he spoke was labored and low and gravelly with agony, Leo kept talking.

"Donnie…I'm sorry…for being…such an idiot. But this…is as far as I go…"

Donnie's breath hitched, brown eyes blowing wide. And suddenly, a seething anger rose from the pit of his chest, his teeth grinding together as the tears finally pricked his eyes.

"No, Leo, this is not over!" He cried, clutching his brother as tight as he dared, not caring about the blood pooling on the ground beneath them. "It's not over, not yet, don't you dare give up on me now don't you freaking dare! We – we can still save you, we can still fight, you can still live!"

Don't lie to yourself, Donnie. Don't lie to Leo, the condemned boy lying in your arms. He knows it, you know it, every single damn person still fighting on this battlefield knows it –

'Shut up!' Donnie inwardly hissed, blotting out the cruel voice of reality ringing in his head as he squeezed his eyes shut. "T-There's still a chance we can save you, Leo! T-There's still time!"

Aren't you supposed to be the smart one? You're no doctor, but even you know when it's too late. Leo's fading, fast, and you can't stop it –

"W-we can get help, Rockwell will know what to do, h-he can help!"

It's too late, Donnie. Leo's finished. Leo's going to die, so just accept it. Stop lying to him, stop lying to yourself, just stop it –

"It's not too late!"

It's over –

"It's not over!"

He felt Leo's grip tighten around his shoulders and he stopped, eyes snapping open again, and he turned as much as he was able to find a dulling blue orb staring up at him from the corner of a tear-filled eye. Bloodied lips were curved upwards in a slight smile, a sad, resigned one that told Donnie all he needed to know.

It wasn't that Leo had given up; the bruising grip on his shoulder was enough to prove that he was still fighting, clinging onto the fraying threads of his life even now. But he knew, knew that Donnie couldn't do anything, knew that no one could help him now, knew that this was it, this was as far as he could go…

He knew. And it tore at Donnie's heart viciously.

"…Donnie…promise me something…" Leo managed, trembling voice just above a whisper, and despite the sounds of battle raging all around them, Donnie could only hear him and him alone. "…promise me…that you won't blame yourself…for this. Don't – don't let…a-anyone blame themselves…for my own stupid mistakes…for my own recklessness..."

Tears began to drip down Donnie's face, and he bit back the sobs threatening to burst.

"I have…so many regrets, Donnie." A weak, bitter laugh escaped him, followed by an even weaker cough that shook Leo's body. "I regret…not being a better leader…being a better brother…not being there for all of you…when you really needed me."

"Stop, Leo, stop," Donnie implored, letting the tears cascade down his face as he bowed his head, wanting more than anything to bury his face into the crook of Leo's neck as he did when he was younger, to shield himself from the horrible truth the world had thrust at him without mercy, to feel the warmth of his older brother, his best friend, his protector. But even now, that warmth was dwindling. "Leo, you were always there, always, you –"

"I'm sorry…I was never there…for you, Donnie…when you needed me…please…forgive me."

Donnie's shoulders shook with his efforts to withhold his own agony. "Leo…t-there's nothing to forgive! Stop it!" he shouted, begged. "You're an amazing leader, the greatest I've ever known, I'm proud to follow you, to call you my big brother! Don't you dare say you're sorry!"

How could he not have known? How could any of them not have known how Leo felt, how Leo had always felt? How could Donnie not have known that his own big brother thought so little of himself, thought he was nothing, that he was wrong, that his own family deserved better than him? Didn't he see that they could never have wished for more than Leo, that Leo was all they wanted? Couldn't he see that they were the undeserving ones?

"…I have so many regrets…" Leo said, using what little strength he had left in his voice, making sure that Donnie heard every word.

"But saving you…making sure you lived…putting myself on the line, again and again…is not one of them!"

Time stopped a second time, the world around them falling into silence.

There, in that moment, it was only Leonardo and Donatello, two brothers, arm in arm, amidst the chaos of battle around them, the grass beneath them stained crimson, the words of the older piercing the heart of the younger with a keenness sharper than any blade.

Memories flashed before Donatello's eyes, fleeting moments of their early youth; Leo, barely four years old, chasing away the hidden terrors that plagued their darkest dreams with only a smile and a comforting word, little arms enveloping them in a warm embrace, accepting the burden not even his young shoulders were ready to bear without a word of protest.

It'd been this way since then – the older protecting the younger ones readily, without hesitation, without fear – and even years later, Leo still refused to think of himself first, letting the needs of his brothers outweigh his own, laying down his own safety, his own life, for their sakes, knowing that one day it would cost him a higher price than any of them were willing to pay.

Oh, Leo…

Leo was getting heavier against him now, colder, weaker, his grip around Donnie's shoulders slackening. There was no time left.

It's over. It's really over.

"…that's it…I can't…raise my voice anymore…too weak…" Leo all but rasped, his head lolling against Donnie's shoulder. "...could you…pass on…what I'm about to say…after I'm done?"

Donnie said nothing, couldn't say anything lest he succumbed to the sobs that wracked his throat. Instead, he nodded.

Leo took a breath, as deep a breath as he could take.

"…Dad…Raphie…Mikey…April and Casey…Karai…all our friends…and you, Donnie…thank you, for following me…fighting alongside me…even though…I wasn't the leader…you deserved. Thank you…for caring so much…about this dumb older brother."

Donnie felt something wet drip down his shoulder, heard Leo's breath hitch and felt his shoulders as they started quivering, and he knew Leo was crying. Leo was crying, Leo was scared, Leo was dying and he didn't want to die, he didn't want to leave them he wanted to stay he wanted to live –

"…aishite kurete…arigatō!"

Donnie choked on a gasp.

Thank you for loving me.

'Leo, please, don't go' he wanted to beg, to scream as Leo's arm finally slipped from his shoulder, a long sigh escaping his lips as he began to slip from Donnie's numbed arms, but his voice was trapped in his throat. 'Leo please, hang on, please, you can't go, we don't want you to, I don't want you to I won't let you Tang Shen please don't take him away from me please Leo come back –!'

Leonardo's body landed on the grass with a thud that seemed to echo with finality across the desecrated gardens.

Time resumed, and Donatello looked down at Leonardo's still form. Time resumed, and there was a peaceful smile frozen across Leonardo's lips even as death claimed him with gentle hands. Time resumed, and Donatello was alone, his brothers' life painting his hands cerise.

"…Leo. No…"

Time resumed, and only silence met Donatello's whispered plea.

Time resumed, and Donatello threw his head back and screamed.