Whumptober: Hide & Seek

Whumptober: Hide & Seek

Leonardo jumped another roof, grinning even as he heard Raphael curse his name. Behind him, his brothers struggled to keep up with him on their run, sometimes lagging far enough behind that he had to slow down to keep them close. God, it was good knowing he was still going on strong for somebody with a bad knee.

Still, he probably should give them a rest. He slowed to a stop and turned to them, grinning, while they crouched down, panting.

“Well,” he began, almost thoughtfully to tease them, “Now that we’ve had our warmup, I think it’s time for the actual training to begin.” When he paused, he got multiple yells between gasps, saying that the run was hard enough. He only smiled. What else was he supposed to do as a big brother? Nodding when they quieted down, Leonardo went on, “Thankfully for you, the training isn’t anything hard. Today, we’re playing a game.”

They cheered for just a second, right before Donatello caught on. “Wait a- What game are we playing?” He sounded suspicious, and Leonardo feigned being hurt by that.

“Hide and Go Seek, of course. I’ll be the seeker for this round. You all get a 1 minute head start, starting… Now!”

On his call, they all took off in separate directions, surprisingly running. He felt pride swell up that he couldn’t hear a single footstep from them while they ran away, then sat back and waited, counting the seconds as they ticked by. While waiting, he drew one of his katanas and worked on sharpening it. If he was going to give them a head start, he might as well do something useful in the meanwhile.

After his mental timer went off, Leonardo shot up and sheathed the blade, excited. They better have hid well, because he was on his way.

Leonardo took off after them, completely silent as well. He strained to listen for even the shortest breath or a faint heartbeat that might give them away. The hunt was still thrilling, even as he got older. It always was, he supposed. It was something that got your heart racing when somebody came too close to your hiding spot, as long as it was all in good fun.

To his left, he heard a sharp intake of air, and frowned slightly. Wouldn’t they have hid further away? Unless they were panicking, then he could totally-

It took him a second to realize that that was not one of his brothers. The breaths that whoever it was took were too deep and nasally with a low growl under them. Leonardo turned to the source of the sound, braced for an attack.

As he turned, the source of the sound pounced, claws digging into his arms and ripping up skin and muscle. He grunted and tore away, then glared at his attacker. Of course it was Razhaar. Nobody else had the audacity that he had, somehow. Really, it was a wonder that the dumb dog had survived as one of Shredder’s henchmen with an attitude like that.

Leonardo drew his blades and darted around Razhaar, slashing at his joints specifically to try and take him down as fast as he could. What? He wasn’t going to just leave a game that he had planned.

Razhaar reeled for just a moment before he lunged back at Leonardo and danced around him to avoid getting hit. The pair ended up circling each other, wondering who would be the first to try and attack again. When a long moment passed where neither of them engaged again, it was Razhaar who jumped back into action. Leonardo raised his blades, ready to block the hit and then dart away, but his enemy had faked the move, suddenly twisting to the side and digging sharp teeth into the blue banded turtle’s shoulder.

Leonardo bit back a yelp, instead cutting into Razhaar’s side and darting back. He was still part of a game, and not too far from the starting area. His family would find him soon if he didn’t lead the attacker away.

He wrinkled his beak in annoyance before he turned and ran in a random direction. It didn’t really matter where, as long as it was just away.

As he looked around for a hiding place to collect himself, he found a rooftop that, apparently, with the New York rent prices, had rich enough homeowners to have a large garden situated on top, complete with large, thick bushes and tall grass. That would work well enough.

Silently apologizing to whoever took care of the garden, Leonardo squirmed underneath one of the bushes and curled up as small as he could go, effectively hiding himself under the leaves and branches. It would probably be best if he called one of his brothers now, while he still had the chance, he realized. It was probably decent to let them know now that the game was over.

He reached for his phone and called Raphael, tapping the case while he waited. The first call was declined almost immediately. Which was fair, considering he had no clue what was going on, but it still created a twinge of annoyance in Leonardo.

So he called again, getting declined a second time, and continued to call until the red-clad brother finally picked up.

“Leo,” Raphael groaned, “This is really a new low for you. Are you giv-”

Somewhere above Leonardo, Razhaar jumped down, sniffing a couple times to try and find him.

“What’s-?”

“Shh!” Leonardo hissed, scooching further back and turning on mute. The last thing he needed was for Raphael to hear what was going on.

Razhaar came closer, laughing victoriously. “I smell blood. I know you’re close, freak,” he growled, and Leonardo could hear something shift as the dog mutant looked for him.

He was getting too close to where Leonardo had camped out. He needed to do something, and fast. Looking left and right for another hiding point, his gaze eventually drifted to the edge of the building, then down to the grappling hook on his belt.

He had a plan.

Leonardo started running when Razhaar tore through the bush’s branches with a snarl, fumbling for the tool as he rapidly approached the edge. As he came to it, he turned to give his enemy a two finger salute, then jumped, twisting midair and firing the grappling hook with a prayer that it would hit its mark.

The hook caught the building and sent Leonardo swinging over the road. He grinned, biting his tongue to keep from cheering when he almost ran up the side of a building and rolled into the shadows of a low built sign. Once hidden, he rummaged around in the little medical bag for a roll of gauze so that he would finally stop leaving a blood trail everywhere he went.

After a moment, he remembered that Raphael was still, in fact, on mute. Cheeks burning in shame, he pulled his phone out after finishing with his wounds.

“Hey, sorry about that, got held up.”

“‘Got held up’?” Raphael repeated indignantly, “’Got held up’? How ‘held up’ do you have to be to leave me for ten minutes?!”

“I’m sorry! I just-”

The oldest cut off, breathing hitching. Somebody was there with him. He was still being hunted.

“Come out, turtle,” A familiar voice growled, the sound of blade sliding smoothly out of its hidden sheath following shortly after, “Perhaps your death shall be swift.”

Leonardo took a shaky breath, then lowered his voice to a deathly whisper, right before hanging up. “I’ll call you back.”

I know that bisexual 2012 Leo is quite beloved but may I raise you: Aromantic-Asexual Leo?

He, like his brothers, had been a bubble child for 15 years with little to no contact with other people. When he met Karai, he either had a mad burst of the teenage hornies, or he didn't realize that what he was feeling was platonic affectionate, not romantic

I feel like sometimes 2012 Leo would do that one thing dads do where someone will be talking with him and then he'll just randomly drop the most jaw-dropping toe-curling heart-wrenching piece of his Dad Lore™️ that they'll ever hear and nobody will believe them when they're told that it happened to him

I ONLY LOOKED AWAY FOR A MINUTE, PRESUMING THIS WOULD GO UNNOTICED

I FEEL LIKE I GOT JUMPSCARED

I’m in too deep- and no one can stop me… ANATOMY OF THE TURTLES! You are 100% allowed to use this as reference or add on if you think there is something I may have missed. Please credit me if you repost this anywhere thats not a simple reblog. I worked hard on this and I hope it shows! 

DIOWAJIODP THE CASEY’S- Cassandra flat out refuses to translate because she thinks it’s hilarious and 12 Casey has the same problem as 12 Raph: He can’t translate because he would change everything just because he thinks it’s funny.

THE APRIL’S. RISE APRIL WOULD TRY SO HARD TO KEEP UP WITH THE SHEER AMOUNT OF LANGUAGES THAT THE LEO’S ARE PICKING UP, AND 12 APRIL IS JUST CONFUSED

Oh god though, the moment Rise Leo realizes that he can’t make puns and quips to his brothers anymore, the curse is Not Fun Anymore and now it’s both Caseys’ and 12 Leo’s problem + probably Rise April, meanwhile 12 Leo isn’t too bothered by it because he still has a way of communication with his brothers, unlike Rise Leo.

Needless to say 12 Leo gets tired of Rise Leo’s crap very fast but both Casey’s still find it funny.

Okay I think I’ve seen a post like this before but I love the thought that the 2012 TMNT boys speak perfect, beautiful, flowing, textbook Japanese and just break into it when they get really upset, so sometimes you just hear Raph arguing that “pineapple does NOT go on pizza what are you doing Mikey-” in Japanese, using one of the best accents you’ve heard (you’d think he’s a native speaker)

And then there’s just. RoTTMNT. They speak English. They picked up a few languages here and there and then dropped them, besides Leo who decided he was also going to speak Spanish.

In a crossover, 2012 Leo yells something at Rise Leo in Japanese, expecting that their Splinter taught them it as well. Rise Leo just shrieks something back in poorly pronounced Spanish and now both of them are confused

Whumptober: All Work and No Play

Leonardo was usually the one who got captured or hurt. Of course, Donatello only thought it logical, as much as it distressed him. Leonardo was the oldest, the leader, and now, their sensei. Taking him down would most likely destroy the rest of them as well. A simple, but efficient, way of taking what remained of the Hamato clan off the face of the planet.

Somehow, Donatello managed to overlook the fact that, being the person who knew the most about medical things and the smartest of the group, a bright red target would be painted onto his shell, too.

The first month in enemy hands was brutal and violent- Well, more violent than recently. He was tortured almost everyday, only given a week or two at some point to recover before they brought him back, shoving him underwater and pretty much trying to tear him to pieces. Eventually, he gave up, desperate for the pain that clouded his mind to stop. What they wanted was for him to build for them. No information on where they were hiding, not their weaknesses, nothing that he would have expected. They just wanted him to build them weapons.

At first, he had complied as best he could, working through the agony caused by injuries. Almost immediately after starting, he tried to be half hearted about his work. He didn’t work as well as he could, he went slower and pretended like he needed more than he actually did. Of course, those attempts to slow them down were quickly put to a stop. His head still felt scrambled from that chair, he could still feel the metal gag in his mouth and the restraints around his wrists as electricity coursed through his body-

It was bad. He didn’t like to remember it.

Knowing what they had done in the beginning, sometimes he would completely stop or go on strike. They knew he was afraid, though. They could tell, they always did. Stopping wasn’t a privilege he got. When he tried to just not work, they starved him until he started doing what they said again. “You work if you want to eat”, they had said.

So he did. He worked long days and even longer nights without sleep, constantly telling himself “they’ll come”. Every night as the lights went out so that he had to work in near blackness, he told himself again, “they’ll come”.

For a long time, they didn’t. Obviously, he didn’t blame it on them. He knew that they had to be looking everywhere for him, the same that they would do for any one member of their clan, but everyday that nobody came, his hope diminished just a little more.

Just a little more, every time they would hit him again or drown him.

Just a little more when he went yet another night without sleep.

He was locked to the desk, of course. They didn’t want him trying to escape when they weren’t supervised, but that posed some… Problems.

Such as when things blew up.

The fire was so close to his face, and he couldn’t breathe through the smoke. Heart beating a jackhammer, Donatello grabbed a wrench from the flames, crying out when the fire wrapped around his hand greedily, trying to tear away the flesh to eat. He tore his hand back out almost immediately and began beating the chain, growing more and more frantic by the second. The fire was still growing, still reaching out and trying to take him for its never ending appetite.

Donatello had broken himself out from the chains, and the guards came in almost immediately after, allowing him to reel backwards while they put the fire out.

Because he broke the chains, he was punished for it.

He sat at a scorched workstation, fidgeting and tinkering to make up for his lack of ideas that would most certainly get him injured, when he realized that somebody was behind him.

"You're still not dead?" They asked, sounding like they were mocking him.

“No Mx.” He couldn’t tell their gender and, honestly, didn’t want to risk offending them. He knew what that would do for him.

They scoffed, “Good, keep it that way.”

He was scared to death when they hovered behind him, clearly not leaving any time soon. Eventually, he started bouncing his leg to try and soothe himself, but stopped working in the process.

A hand connected with the back of his head and sent stars flying across his vision. He went back to work.

Shortly after, they finally left him alone, and let out a breath of relief.

They’ll find me, he told himself again.

%%%

Surprisingly, they had given him a break.

It was unusual, and sent his nerves into a frenzy, but he was in no way ungrateful for the rest period. He wasn’t quite sure when the last time he slept was, and with no coffee, he was barely functioning. So, he took the break as a chance for a nap, even if it meant waking up to pain for sleeping over his break time.

God, he was tired. Everything hurt, and he just wanted to be home where Leonardo would eventually mother hen him off to bed, or Raphael would drag him out of the lab by the edge of his shell, or even have Michelangelo come running in and messing with his experiments. Anything would be better.

With a groan, Donatello realized that he couldn’t sleep. Homesickness was getting the best of him, and the hunger gnawed on his stomach, keeping him from any real rest. So, he tried his hand at lockpicking. He certainly had the things for a makeshift lockpick, if he just tried hard enough he was sure that he could get out-

As he began, somebody appeared behind him again, and he briefly wondered if he was clocking out for long enough that they could get in without him noticing.

“Don't do that,” They warned with a low growl.

Donatello flinched. “Sorry Mx.”

“I know what you were doing,” They ventured further, voice rising a bit in an accusatory tone. He couldn’t deny it, it only meant that he would probably get sent back to the chair.

Instead, he let them hit him harder than before, and bit his tongue to keep the cry from escaping him.

He was so, so tired. He thought he might die from it.

Suddenly, there was something crashing behind him, and his adrenaline got going, screaming at him to go go go there’s a fight get up right now.

The genius obeyed the frantic call of his body, standing up and spinning around to face the source of the sound.

Or, at least, he tried to.

When he went to get up, he crumpled to the ground, dropping to his knees with the only thing holding him up being the chain that held him by his wrist. New pain blossomed there and, honestly, he couldn’t force himself to care.

The crashes stopped and somebody called his name. There were hands on him, warm and calloused, friendly. A few clangs followed the calls, and then the hold on his wrist was released. Instead of hitting the floor, he fell into waiting arms, holding him off the ground.

“Donnie? Donnie, wake up. Please, wake up.”

He knew that voice. That was a friendly voice. That was one of his brothers.

“Hey, come here- Please, keep your eyes open, you can’t close them now.”

Oh, yeah. He would’ve loved to, but he could barely do just that. Before, he had such a hard time sleeping. Now, he couldn’t stay awake. Sleep tugged at his mind and the longer he had his eyes closed, the more he slipped. Rest sounded really nice. Maybe he would…

“Donatello Modesto Hamato, open your eyes right now.”

Oh, that was his full name. Not just Donatello, or Hamato Donatello, or that switched around, but his full name, with the middle name he assigned himself. He had really liked that name, it came from the same era that his first name did. Not the point- That was his full name, which meant something important was happening.

Slowly, Donatello cracked his eyes open, squinting in the harsh light. He could see blue and brown and green, behind that was orange and brown and green. Those were good colors. He was almost certain that if he looked up, he would see the same color combinations, except with red. “Wha’s happenin’?” He mumbled instead of looking up, tempted to squeeze his eyes shut again.

“Get up,” The blue said urgently, “We need to go now.”

“Alright,” Donatello didn’t try to get up, even though he agreed to getting out of there.

Somebody hooked their arms under his and lifted him up, then let him lean against them, trying to go fast and forcing him to stumble along in an attempt to walk. He frowned. That wasn’t very nice. His legs were asleep and he was tired. Wasn’t it rude to wake somebody up like that?

“C’mon,” The same person who called him by his full name whispered in his ear, “We’re going home now.”