#Sewer Crypt leonardo

[poppysinpebbles]

Sneak peak of Sewer Crypt chapter three or four👀

Raph huddled against himself, tence. Instinct that always sounded vaguely like his master blaring alarm bells in his head. It felt like his heart was beating so hard that he thought it might make his plastron beat too, like how it did in cartoons. The metal floor was uncomfortablely cold, which was weird because he usually liked the cold. His shell pressed against the thick bars behind him as he glared from his corner at the boy, no, the man across from him who seemed irritatingly calm, relieved even, maybe? Raph couldn't tell. He could, however, tell that he was injured. The tangy sweet scent of blood was driving him up the wall, especially since that very man had interrupted his meal a few hours ago and now he was starving. But he knew better than to try anything. The large, callused hands of his cagemate gripped the handle of his katana tightly, professionally.

Raph snapped his eyes away from the handle bound in blue and back up to the aged face of his brother.

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First chapter here.

[tworoadsandapenny]

What You Wish For: Chapter 6. Hindsight Is

Splinter's turn. Father/son relationships are a favorite writing topic of mine, so I very much enjoyed writing this chapter. Is enjoyed the right word? That would seem cruel given the content.

Yet here we are.

~*~*~*~*~*~

The light was gone.

The farmhouse, normally boisterous with activity and laughter, was silent and still as the night. The place where his children would come to be themselves, away from the worries of the city, had now become a crypt, encasing them in their own misery.

Splinter stood by as his children moved about like ghosts, barely talking or engaging with each other at all. Time was needed to let them grieve and work through this pain in their own ways, but that didn’t make watching them stumble through their despair any easier.

Leonardo was usually quite good at brightening their spirits in such dark times.

A mournful sigh blew past Splinter’s lips as he stoked the fire. He tamped his emotions down as far as he could, turning to his son sitting beside him. “Sit close, my son, and warm yourself.” Michelangelo had come in from the barn feeling as cold as ice, and with Splinter’s spirit as frail as it was, he couldn’t help but fret and worry. “I shall fetch you some tea as well.”

“No, I’m OK, Sensei.”

No, he was not OK. He was in pain—the kind splinter couldn’t take away with medicine or words of comfort. Splinter’s eyes glanced from his son near the fire, to Donatello who sat on the couch with a gadget of some sort splayed out on the coffee table. Both looked exhausted beyond all measure, and while Splinter knew it wasn’t the lack of sleep that was stealing their energy, he also knew he hadn’t seen either of them eat since coming home the other night.

“My sons, you need to keep up your strength.” He didn’t need to look to know both his children sent their eyes to the floor. Best he chose his words carefully. “I understand your pain. Loss is the worst of all burdens to bear… but we must—“

“We know.”

Splinter’s eyes snapped to Donatello, who held his hands in fists, clearly attempting to keep a plethora of emotions in check. He noticeably felt the disrespect as potently as Splinter, immediately trying to soften his objection.

“Please, Sensei. We just… we know.”

The old Father held his tongue, a pang gripping his chest at hearing the brokenness in his son’s voice. A long silence stretched, tension mounting like pressure in a volcano. Finally, April—who had been sitting quietly beside Donatello, passing him parts and tools as he tinkered—stood, deciding now was a good time to make some tea. Just in case.

As she headed for the kitchen, she glanced around the room. “Has anyone seen Casey?”

“He’s in the barn, with Leo…”

Splinter felt the way the name burned his youngest son’s tongue, but he said nothing of it. “What about Raphael?”

April suddenly realized, “I haven’t seen him since we got here.” Which was several hours ago.

“He’s probably out blowing off steam somewhere.” Don offered, not taking his eyes from the objects in his hands.

Splinter glanced out the window, unable to see anything but the front lawn and a great expanse of trees. “Perhaps that is best for now.” While he understood his son’s need to vent his grief alone, the fear curling his fur demanded he keep all his children within arms reach. Where he could protect them.

“Be careful, my sons.”

“Hai, Sensei.” Leonardo bowed, turning to take off with his brothers. It was their first mission topside—his first time leading!—and his excitement radiated like a heat wave. Which is why it caught Splinter by surprise when his eldest stopped, turned, and took his hand, looking him square in the eyes. “Don’t worry, Sensei.”

Apparently Splinter hadn’t been hiding his concern as well as he’d thought. But his fears were persistent and abundant. This was the first time they were leaving the safety of the sewers without their Father as a guardian, and Splinter’s heart refused to quiet it’s frantic pounding. If something happened to them…

But Leonardo squeezed his hand tightly, determination blazing in his eyes. “I’ll protect them. I promise.”

And to his own surprise, his heart stilled to a calm rhythm. Splinter nodded, placing a hand on his young son’s shoulder. “I know, my son. I trust you.” It was the pride that welled in Leonardo’s spirit that made Splinter smile. He watched his son rush to catch his brothers, fear ever present, but ebbed in the wake of such intense conviction.

They had each other. They would be alright.  

Grief settled in his stomach like a block of ice, freezing him inside and out. Splinter took his seat near the fire, resolved to keeping watch until Raphael returned.

April returned from the kitchen with a tray of mugs, handing them out to each turtle, refusing to take no for an answer. As she handed Splinter his cup, he looked out the window worriedly. “It’s awfully cold out there. Are you sure we shouldn’t go find Raph?”

Splinter followed her gaze, but all his eyes could see were visions of his son flitting before him.

“Don’t worry, Sensei.”

He needed to find focus, so he could be there for his remaining children. But memories of Leonardo refused to be ignored. They played in front of him like a parade, sending chills to the tips of each hair on his body, and pain like a knife staking his heart.

“I’ll protect them. I promise.”

Focus.

“If he is not back by nightfall, we shall find him.”

April took one last forlorn look out the window before conceding and taking her spot beside Don.

Mikey huddled near the fire, pulling his blanket tighter around himself, not speaking a word.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Splinter wrung the water from the cloth, watching numbly as the blood dripped into the basin. The cloth was soaked with clean water once again, ready to continue it’s task. A slight tremble of his hands went entirely unnoticed as he returned his focus to the table. With a feather’s touch, he drew the clean rag over the red stains, rotating in small, focused circles, to pull the blood away. Every crack, every crevice, every divot would be spotless. Immaculate.

As his son would wish.

A tear rolled down Splinter’s cheek as the visage of his son’s face flashed before him. Those big blue eyes that were always looking to their father for approval. Looking to make him proud. Those blue eyes that held so much fear of failure.

Had his son known how well he’d done? Had he known how much his family respected and appreciated his efforts?

Had he known how proud Splinter was of him?

A hitch in his breath had Splinter pausing, clutching the cloth tightly as he tried to reign in his emotions. Now was not the time. His younger children were all on the verge of breaking, and the last thing they would need is to walk in and see their Father sobbing over their fallen brother.

Breathing deep, Splinter wiped the tears from his cheek and continued his task. The more blood he wiped away, the more scars became visible. And Splinter knew the origin and event of each one. A long gash along the back of his son’s head brought a particularly horrific memory to mind: thunder crashing, glass falling like snow, and his son—his brave Leonardo—thrown through the window into a broken heap upon the floor. It had been the first time Splinter felt the true terror of his children’s mortality. The first time one of his son’s had been mortally wounded. The first time he’d almost had to contend with the fierce pain of losing one of his precious boys to an enemy’s sword.

Almost.

His hand ran gently over the scar, caressing his son’s head as he always did when they slept. “yoku nemuru, musuko.”

“Why do you do that, Dad?”

“Hm?” Splinter turned to a young Leonardo—no older than six—hiding behind the curtain of their makeshift bedroom. The poor child’s worried eyes fell on his younger brother, starring as Raphael’s chest rose and fell in an unsettlingly quick rhythm. Splinter stretched his arm out, inviting his son to his side, and slid his hand around the small shell. “Do what, my son?”

“You put your hand to his head and tell him to ‘sleep well’.”

The earnest confusion in his eyes brought a slight smile to Splinter’s lips. “Can a Father not dote on his children when they are sick?”

Leonardo’s eyes widened, as though he was afraid he’d been disrespectful. “No, I just… you do it to Mikey and Donnie too. Even when they’re not sick. Why? Is it like a prayer? Does it keep them safe?”

“It is similar, I suppose.” Splinter looked back to his younger child, head dripping with sweat as he continued to breathe rapidly. Thank heavens he’d managed to get the medicine in time. With any luck, that would be the last time he’d have to break into a pharmacy this winter. “It is said that those who know they are loved, sleep sounder, for they need not fear being alone. So I simply tell your brothers to sleep well.”

“So… it’s like ‘I love you’.”

Splinter chuckled lightly. “Yes.”

Leonardo hesitated, fidgeting with Splinter’s robe a moment before looking up to his father with bright blue eyes. “Do… Do you say it to me when I sleep?”

Surprised, Splinter looked down at this son—such intense worry on such a young face—and caught his eyes, staring at them intently. “Every night. Without fail.”

Leonardo, shrinking away at the seriousness in his Father’s tone, averted his eyes. Feeling Splinter pull him closer, the young boy suddenly shot his arms around his Father’s waist, clinging tightly. “I love you too, Dad.”

The joy that spread through Splinter’s spirit was almost overpowering. It was an unexpected moment of tenderness, but he embraced it as tightly as he embraced his son.

“Leo?” Donatello poked his head through the curtain, glancing at Raphael as he stepped in. “Is he OK?” He asked timidly.

“Your brother will be alright with some rest. No need to worry.”

That was enough for Don. He didn’t seem to want to look at Raph while he was sick, turning away rather quickly. “Leo, Mikey still thinks you’re playing hide and seek. If you don’t let him find you, he might wander off!”

“I’m coming!” Leo stepped from his Father’s lap, about to follow his younger sibling, but paused by the curtain. He stepped back to Raphael’s side, placing a gentle hand on his fevered head, and whispered, “Yoku nemuru, otōto.” Then followed Donnie out the room.

Splinter smiled after his children, silently thanking the universe for gifting him with such a family. While it warmed his heart to hear his children speak their love for him, it was exponentially greater seeing them show it to each other. He rested his hand once more on Raphael’s head, stroking it lovingly as he watched his son sleep.

Truly, he was blessed.

The tremble of his hand was impossible to still as it rested on the dome of Leonardo’s head, caressing the cold skin. Emotions too powerful for him to combat rampaged through his body. Splinter grit his teeth, attempting to keep the pain in, but to no avail. A tear slipped from his eye, followed by another. And another. “Sleep well, my son. For you are so loved…”

Quiet sobs wracked the old Father as he held the cold body of his eldest child.

How could he have let this happen?

~*~*~*~*~*~

Splinter swept up the last of the dirt from the tatami mats, carefully placing the practice weapons back on the wall and clapping his hands together to rid them of the dust. Ordinarily, such chores were for his children, but they had been forced to leave in such a rush, Splinter was left to clean up after them. Not that he minded, his sons were very diligent in their chores, for the most part. And while Leonardo had offered to clean it when he returned from their mission, Splinter decided to do it himself.

They would be weary after their late night battle, he would rather have them come home and rest.

Glancing at the room one last time to make sure all was in place, Splinter closed the doors to the dojo and headed for the kitchen. It had only been an hour-and-a-half since his children had left, and yet for some reason his nerves were panicking at their absence. Odd, considering they were usually gone for most of the night.

Very odd, indeed. But nothing a cup of tea couldn’t cure.

Plucking his tea from the cabinet, splinter boiled some water and steeped his beverage, enjoying the quiet of the evening. It was quite peaceful without his children mucking about and shouting at one another. Not that he minded their presence, but it was admittedly nice to have some time to himself. Just what his tense nerves needed in order to relax.

Settling down in front of the television, Splinter turned the channel to one of his favourite shows: a medical drama called “Greys Anatomy”. He wasn’t a fan of hospitals, particularly now that he was bound to the form of a giant rat and would likely be killed upon entering one, but relationships were a passion of his, and this drama provided many of those. And while the writing sometimes lacked imagination, he thoroughly enjoyed watching how each life affected the others.

Similar to how his boys touched the world, even from the shadows.

As the show began, Splinter idly wondered what jobs his children would have taken were they to be allowed in the public eye. Donatello would have made an excellent doctor, or engineer, or scientist. Perhaps NASA would have scooped him up and taken him away to—

Splinter’s tea cup fell to the floor, shattering into pieces with a crash as loud as a gunshot. He clutched his chest, not even noticing the broken glass, as a pain like a raging storm swept through his body. What on earth was—

No… He knew this pain. Emptiness. Grief.

Loss.

Something had happened. Dear heavens, his children! Were they alright? Where were they!?

“Sensei…”

Splinter looked up to see an apparition standing before him. “…Leonardo?”

“I’m sorry, Sensei.”

Splinter felt dread pounding on his chest. “My son, what has happened?

But the apparition only knelt before him, bowing it’s head in respect.

“My son…?” Splinter couldn’t form words. He watched as the ghostly form of his child bowed a moment longer before standing, a sad smile about his face.

“Thank you for everything,” It squared it’s shoulders, waving a goodbye that pierced Splinter like an arrow. “Dad.”

As suddenly as it had appeared, it vanished. And with it went Splinter’s heart.

He fell to the floor, cutting his hand on a piece of broken glass as his tried to remember how to breathe. This pain… this raw, scraping pain… could it really be…?

“Leonardo…” Splinter breathed the name on a choked plea, eyes searching the room, frantically begging to see his son once more.

Fear pounded heavily in his heart as he ran for the telephone, dialling Leonardo’s cell. No response. He tried again to the same effect. And again. He tried all his children’s phone numbers, but none would answer. Calm. They would be home soon. Everything would be all right.

But even ten minutes of waiting had proved to be agony. He could wait no longer. In his desperation, he grabbed his cloak and cane and headed for the door, but had only made it a few steps when there was sound over by the garage entrance. He moved with speed he shouldn’t possess and met the Shellraiser as it’s doors opened. “My sons!”

They were home. Not to worry. Nothing but a figment of his imagin—

Michelangelo stepped from the vehicle first, his whole body quaking and his face stained with tears.

“Kodomo, what has happened?” But the youngest didn’t look at Splinter. Didn’t look away from his brothers as they walked from the vehicle, carrying something between them.

No… No, let it not be true.

“Leonardo?”

The two lay their eldest before their Father, Donatello’s face a wash of grief and despair, and Raphael looking almost… hollow.

Splinter knelt beside the body, needing to feel the cold skin beneath his fingers to truly believe the sight before him. It could not be… His heart pounded, his throat closed, and his eyes stung. This could not be! But his pleas fell on dead ears, the cold stillness remaining beneath his fingers, devoid of pulse, warmth, and life.

“No…” Splinter placed a hand on Leonardo’s chest, consumed by it’s inactivity. No breath. No measured lungfuls of air as he did while training. No steady, controlled respiration as when he meditated.

Nothing.

Splinter’s gaze drifted to his child’s face. The blue bandana, smattered with flecks of blood, still adorned his head. His brows rested, eased from their tight posture which so often framed his eyes. No longer lined with worry.

He looked so at peace…

“Oh, my son.” Splinter caressed the cold cheek before him, millions of desperate prayers overrunning his mind. “My Leonardo…”

Gone. Forever.

Splinter closed his eyes, drawing in a careful breath as the pain of the memory washed over him.

Had he only known. He would have stopped them. Would have kept them at home. Would have forbade them from leaving the lair and kept them close. Safe.

The sight of his eldest child, covered in blood and pale as the moon, would forever haunt his days. His children’s faces, consumed with fear, denial, and anguish, bobbed at the surface of his consciousness, striking at every unguarded moment.

The pain was ever constant. As it would always be.

Wafting the memory away, Splinter leaned forward, pressing his hands on his knees to anchor himself as he stood. His joints ached and his body was weary, his old age terribly apparent in the limp of his walk and the ever-growing hunch of his back.

He was tired. In the three months since his son’s passing, Splinter had scarcely slept. Every time he closed his eyes, the nightmares would take him. Visions of Leonardo, dying in his arms and pleading for help. Of his younger three children suffering a similar, gruesome fate. Of being left alone, watching his family fall before him. Truth be told, such nightmares were hardly new. Splinter remembered vividly how terrified he’d been the first night his boys took off for the surface unaccompanied. He’d paced and meditated and cleaned incessantly, trying anything to keep his mind from jumping to the worst of scenarios. The first time one of them had come back injured, Splinter had spent the entire night watching over them as they slept, silently thanking every deity in existence that it was only a broken bone and not something life threatening. Even today, he was still haunted by his children’s first encounter with Saki, and how close they’d come to death.

But this… this nightmare was a new beast entirely. Because this one was real. This time it hadn’t all worked out in the end. This time, his son was taken. And there would be no relief of waking to find it all a dream.

Leonardo was truly gone.

A wave of sorrow crashed over him, and all Splinter could do was brace himself and breathe deep, waiting for the pain to ebb.

Had he only known…

Walking from the room, Splinter made his way to the main living area of the lair. The silence was maddening. What was once a vibrant space, full of life and excitement and the crazy antics of his children, was now lonely and destitute. Much a the cabin had felt when they buried Leonardo…

His children were not coping well with their loss. Of course it would take longer than three months to ease their grief, he knew better than to try and force his own ways of dealing with loss on them. But he longed to have his family back…

What he wouldn’t give to see Michelangelo smile and light up the room. To have Donatello rush around explaining his newest, brilliant creation. To hear Raphael in the throws of a hard workout while bantering back and forth with his brothers.

To see his Leonardo, practicing katas and honing his already exceptional skills.

Splinter sighed deeply, allowing the tear in his eye to fall before wiping it quickly from his fur and squaring his shoulders. His eldest was gone, his physical presence never again would grace the halls of this home. But his younger three children were still here. Their smiles, their dedication, their passion… he could see those once again. Given time… they just needed time.

Splinter gasped, his back arching as a sudden chill shot down his spine. Danger. His children were in danger! Aches and pains were suddenly irrelevant as the Father rushed through the lair, knocking on doors. He started with Donatello’s lab, bedroom, the dojo, Michelangelo and Raphael’s bedrooms, even Leonardo’s.

Empty. His home was empty.

His children were gone!

~*~*~*~*~*~

Previous < - > Next

I know it's a bit repetitive, but I thought that was true to form when it comes to grief. You be the judge.

End of Line.

-TRAaP

[poppysinpebbles]

Sewer Crypt

Chapter One

What would happen if Raph, Donnie, Casey, and April were never cured?

My idea from Here.

The night air was chilly, especially up on the rooftops. Perhaps too chilly for mid june, but it didn’t bother him, not anymore anyway. In fact, he loved it, reveled in it actually. The bite of the cool breeze in his throat tasted like power. It tasted safe. Safe as this side of the city. The stars were bright here and he was glad for it. The telltale light pollution of civilization disgusted him, it reminded him far too much of the burn of sunrise. But this part of the city had been taken by his kind long ago.

Never had he actually found the darkness of night all that dark. Whether or not that was the result of his dimly glowing eyes or just the abilities that came with the transformation was beyond him. At the moment, It didn’t matter either way because it allowed him to watch his newest batch of ghouls run around the street like roughhousing children. He enjoyed watching them, it took his mind off things.

He’d always been a natural at controlling ghouls. Even back when he was a little fledgling surviving off spiders and rats. He still had his baby fangs back then. That thought brought a smile to his face, one that quickly faded when his mind provided another memory from back then. The time he’d invited his brothers to join him. He was quite naive at the time and he wished he could go back to give his younger self the cold, hard truth and maybe a slap to the face. His hand reached up to his bicep to fiddle with a long, red piece of fabric tied around his sleeve. A habit his master encouraged. It probably made him easier to manipulate, whatever, he didn’t really care all that much.

Pulling his hand away quickly, he reminded himself he still had one of his brothers and two of his friends. Sighing loudly he glanced at his watch and a not so quiet cuss rang out. Taking a deep breath of air, he let out a bone chilling screech that echoed across multiple blocks. His ghouls took action immediately. Scrambling through open doors and windows and into sewer grates and manholes. There were even some clambering into ventilation shafts at the top of buildings. It looked like chaos, and it was, but they all had one goal in mind; to get out of the open. The time was 4:30, far too close to dawn for his comfort.

He himself hastily made his way to a manhole, jumping off the building he had stood on. He hated taking the sewers, they were filled with painful memories from… less complicated times. His hand wandered to the strip of red, tattered fabric just as his mind wandered to old memories. Memories of laughter, memories of fighting, of crying and hugging, of joy, of playing and injury, training and youth, memories of brotherhood.

"Raphael!" A voice yelled way too close behind him. Startled, he whipped around to see a pair of familiar glowing eyes.

"Donnie?" His voice sounded shakier than he anticipated. He blinked away tears he hadn’t realized were there and cleared his throat. His brother's annoyed expression morphed into pity. He hated that. "What the hell, man? You scared the shit outta me!" His voice had a lot less bite than he wanted.

"Look where you are." Donnie’s voice came out unimpressed and somehow it was worse than pity. "I’ve called your name like twenty times!"

Raph glanced around the environment and quickly realized where his brother's worry had come from. He was in his old room in the old lair, muscle memory must have taken him here when he wasn’t paying attention. Weird. He’d think after thirty three years his body would know not to go here anymore. It was the exact same as it was all those years ago, minus the thick layer of dust that seemed to coat everything, he also noticed that his extra mask was nowhere in sight but he decided not to think about the implications of that.

"Oh, whoops! Muscle memory am I right?" He forced a smile onto his face which Donnie immediately gave a look to.

"That’s probably the single worst fake smile I have ever seen." Raph decided Donnie’s deadpan was definitely worse than pity.

He chewed the inside of his cheek and kept from meeting his gaze. Had he always found it this difficult to lie to his purple clad twin?

"Sorry." He eventually managed to sigh out.

"Don’t, just… don’t. Let’s just go home." Raph couldn’t help but wince internally. He hated making Donnie worry, he was his only brother who didn’t see him as some death obsessed, bloodthirsty monster. Probably because he was one, too.

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Next

[poppysinpebbles]

First chapter Here.

[poppysinpebbles]

I'm gonna make it. I'm working on a fanfic. I'm gonna call it Sewer Crypt.

First chapter Here.

Could you imagine an au where Casey, April, Raph, and Donnie never get turned back to normal? And it's set in the future? During some sort of vampire apocalypse? And they became Dracula's top four generals or something? And Leo and Mikey have to fight against them? But low key they're mentally ok? But at the same time we all know Dracula is an abusive boss? So they're not actually? And they all miss each other? Could be interesting👀 Might make it👀