Whumptober: Digging Your Grave

Whumptober: Digging Your Grave

This was just his luck.

He didn’t regret doing what he did, but it had certainly ended badly.

They had gotten surrounded on a patrol. Normally, that wouldn’t have been something they were worried about, if fighting the ambush hadn’t been like fighting a hydra. If they took down one bot, two more would come in its place. They had ended up getting severely overwhelmed in the fight, unable to hold their own in the fight, much less watch each other’s shells.

It came down between letting his brothers stay and tear themselves apart, trying to stick together so that nobody would be lost, or letting himself fall victim to the ambush by faking finding an out and getting them to leave.

Obviously, the choice had been easy. He had yelled to them that there was an out to their left. The sign would collapse with enough effort and separate them, keeping the enemies in and them out.

Leonardo lied. He told them what the plan was and that he'd be right behind them, that he'd duck in right before the sign fell and join them behind the wreckage. They had believed him, too. Certainly with some hesitance, but he got them to leave.

And they hadn't expected a thing.

Or, well, maybe they had, but he didn't hear anything about it until they were safely inside. They were safe, and all he had to do was fight for his life.

But, he sent his backup away and was now surrounded by the remaining enemy forces, people who wanted to kill him. They tried their best, too. No matter how hard he fought, there were always more, always one rising up when another fell. He was nearly killed there.

He didn’t die, though, as much as he would have loved to have been killed in that fight. Instead, he woke up, wrapped up in thorny ropes and dangling by his ankles over a spike trap. Death would have been better. Cuts, big and small, stung as sharp edges from the rope cut deeper into his skin, but he couldn't really do anything about it. Struggling would just waste energy and he would injure himself. Even if he did manage to free himself from the bindings, he would most likely fall to his doom on the pointed metal below him.

However, if he stayed where he was, that would be giving up. He would die, slowly and… Well, maybe less than painfully.

Leonardo looked around, examining his surroundings. The building was horribly bland, with not much view besides a few cracks and holes in the ceiling to look outside. It was just concrete walls and, where the floor hadn’t been torn up for the trap beneath him, cement. He was hung in the middle of the room, too, so that he couldn’t really swing anywhere near one of the walls and try something from there.

They really hadn’t wanted him leaving, huh?

%%%

A couple hours passed. Maybe more, maybe less. He didn’t know. All he could see was the light of the sun every now and again, and that wasn’t even reliable. Leonardo had spent quite a bit of time struggling, planning, anything that would help get him out of the situation.

The strain on his ankles from being held up was doing him no good either. If- When- He got out, that would be something he’d have to deal with. Being held up by his ankles had to be straining his body and tearing through muscles.

(“If” was a bad word. “If” was pessimistic and it meant that you were giving up. He was not giving up, not so soon.)

Leonardo shivered as a draft blew in through the cracks in the walls. He was vaguely aware that it had gotten darker in the already dim building, the sky turning a darker and darker blue. Almost a full day had passed since he woke up as a captive. Another breeze came in, and with it, another round of freezing wind. It occurred to him, ever so suddenly, that that might be a bad thing. Instinct would kick in eventually, and then-

That might be a bad thing.

Heart jumping into his throat, he thrashed around, stings in multiple places turning into burns as blood trickled down his body in a steady stream. Pain would help him stay awake. He needed to stay awake. Maybe it would be a long and painful night, but he had gone longer without sleep, and he didn’t dare risk closing his eyes in his position for anything longer than a blink.

So… Yeah. Apparently it was really cold where he was, too. That was great. Absolutely perfect. Sleep deprived, hung up at God knows where, without any form of escape.

Throughout the night, he thrashed and kicked, forcing the spikes on the ropes deeper into his skin so that the pain might keep him awake. It never lasted for long, of course, not unless the cuts were in a large quantity, but at least it helped a little. By the time the light filtering through the cracks had turned light blue, Leonardo was bleeding sluggishly from various places, breathing just a little harder from the workout he got trying to stay awake. He hadn’t needed the cuts, apparently. When he moved enough, pain shot through both his ankles, and he could almost safely assume that something in both of them was either strained or torn.

It was at that moment that he realized that this was going to be a very slow death if he stayed.

He couldn’t really afford to die, so.

Leonardo kept looking.

%%%

Well, it was settled. There really was no way out of the trap he put himself in. In hindsight, maybe he suicide mission wasn’t the greatest plan he’d had in a long time. Sure, he was a fool half the time, bleeding himself dry for others, but it wasn’t like he had another choice, right? He never had a choice. Sometimes it ended up like this, but if they had stayed where they were, all of them would have died or worse. Who would he be if he let that happen? Plans like this were his specialty. He always got back in the end, anyway.

The second day went about the same as the first. Bleeding, hurting, vain attempts at finding an escape route. Tired. When night came, the process of keeping himself awake went on, endless pain if it meant staying awake and, more importantly, alive.

%%%

The third day was the same as the others. Only, he was fading faster. Obviously, he knew he was going to die eventually, and it was probably going to be a young, untimely death, caused by being born into war. He just hadn’t thought that it would be like this. Maybe in battle, stabbed or shot or completely torn out of existence, even accidentally. Not strung up in a trap, or captured by an enemy. Terribly slow, dragging on and on. Agonizing, but only emotionally.

By the time he realized what was going on, Leonardo had completely ceased struggling unless he was trying to keep his eyes open. In its place came more silent plans that wouldn’t work, meaningless efforts to keep going and get out. He sucked in a shaky breath and swallowed until it stopped hurting. Conservation of his energy meant nothing at the moment.

After all, he wasn’t going to make it.

Whumptober: Hurt & Comfort

It was well known amongst them that they were, in a sense, children of war. Born in blood and fire, from the very beginning they were destined to always be running, fighting, trying not to die in the worst situation. Nothing would ever save them unless they found a way to finish their battle for good, and only then would they be free of their burden by birth. Somebody would have to die for it. Be it on their side or the other, many would die for the required bloodshed.

Sure, it would mean that they would all have good stories to tell (if they didn’t have a premature death), but were all the awful things that had happened to them really worth it? Was taking on more responsibilities than more adults could fathom worth scars and nightmares that never seemed to end?

Could their lives ever even be good, after everything that happened to them?

…No. Never. The things of the past would always haunt them. Being stuck in a crashing, burning ship. Watching each other almost die in their arms a hundred times over, nearly dying themselves. Being hunted, running running running- because they knew that they’d be killed instantaneously if they stopped. Seeing the world fall apart, torn to pieces by something that they didn’t, nor would they ever, understand.

Leonardo remembered late night conversations, composed of hushed voices that just barely rose above whispers, as though they were afraid of something hearing them and using their weakness against them.

“Why are you awake?” Donatello had murmured to him one evening, when everybody else was asleep and they had been left alone.

“I was having a hard time sleeping. You?”

“Yeah, I couldn’t stop thinking about today, how close we all were to dying. Leo- Are we… Are we in a war? Really and truly, are we fighting in a war?”

He remembered how he had frozen, thinking only of how his younger brother couldn’t know, how it was so obvious, then realizing that the other was still in denial.

“Yes,” Leonardo had breathed after a long, hesitant moment.

His younger brother had looked down, and he could only imagine the distraught look on his face as he realized the full seriousness of their situation.

From there, too, the conversations had only grown longer, deeper, almost always ending in someone’s tears, their grief smothered by the never-ending vacuum of space.

Space, which had once intrigued him so, now left him with bile rising in the back of his throat and his heart dropping into his stomach. And, of all the things in the world, after all the awful things he had seen was-

%%%

“Put your little weapons on the ground, now!” Armaggon commanded them, holding the unconscious body of the “blue” turtle tightly. He smirked as they all followed suit, setting down various weapons to avoid further injury of their leader. Some crew they were. “Now, what's gonna happen, is I’m gonna take your ‘leader’ with me, off of this ship. From there, I’ll take him wherever I please. As long as you don’t interfere or chase me down, you can go anywhere you like. After all, I only really need him. The rest of you are, well. Optional.”

He could see the hesitance in their eyes, hanging like a clingy child that just wouldn’t let go. That was not an unfamiliar feeling. In fact, he saw it quite frequently. Usually when the prices for his… Wares, suddenly went up. (It was hard to catch the bounty, what could he say? He needed to pay for tools and maintenance somehow.)

“How about this? This is a dead or alive bounty. If you come after me, I’ll kill him. Got it? Dead. D-e-a-d. Donezo. It doesn’t really matter to me, anyway,” That sounded like a better offer. It seemed to be, too, since hesitance was suddenly replaced with fear.

As he backed up in an attempt to retreat to his ship, none of them moved any closer. Good. As far as he was concerned, none of them mattered besides for the pay, and if he ended up with some bloody shells, well. Who would care?

The ragtag crew left him alone even after he dumped the body onto his ship and left. Should he be concerned that the turtle still wasn’t awake?

…Nah.

Maybe when their “leader” woke up, he would have a little fun with him, just to get some revenge for all the trouble he caused. Maybe he’d do it to the rest, too, just to mess with their heads.

%%%

Leonardo was not unfamiliar with getting his air stolen straight from his lungs.

Well, not after the whole space thing happened. He was used to it now, and that was what mattered.

It didn’t make it any less terrifying. 

As it turned out, the bounty hunter who had captured him was quite the sadist. Something about a “long route” and “having some fun”.

God, it was hard to think when you couldn’t breathe.

Eventually, the door shut, and the first thing Leonardo did was take a gasp of air, trying to clear away the stars that danced along his vision. Slowly, the smothering feeling of his lungs collapsing in on themselves started to fade. When had that started? It… Probably wasn’t good that he didn’t know. All he knew was that his chest was heaving, and the room was practically frozen, and he was alive.

Maybe, at the moment, that was all that mattered.

He needed to just keep breathing.

%%%

Apparently, that was not the worst of what was going on. The long way actually meant: “Never going to the person who put a bounty on you, just going to torture you”. Which, at this point, was really just too achingly familiar, but still. It wasn’t fun, that was for sure.

As if the endless days and nights weren’t bad enough, the bounty hunter (who’s name still slipped Leonardo’s mind, somehow) decided to blackmail Leonardo’s ship.

Leonardo’s friends and family.

His brothers.

Oh God.

That was- So many things to unpack. The thought was selfish, but Leonardo was just happy that he didn’t have to see their faces whenever it happened.

(Not that it mattered. Half the time, he could hear their responses and imagine it well enough. The other half of the time he didn’t even need that.)

Slowly, he realized that maybe he was going insane. After all, this was (probably) worse than anything he had experienced on Earth. This was the endless vacuum of space, and in some places, was blacker than the woods near the farmhouse.

Armaggon would finish with him eventually, and then he would either be delivered live to the customer, or killed and have his empty shell dropped at somebody’s feet.

Fantastic.

%%%

As it turned out, apparently, Armaggon’s big plan was not, in fact, to ever deliver Leonardo to the customer. Instead, he was thrown into an escape pod and just.

Sent out into space.

…How long, exactly, could he survive without food or water?

Did it- Did it matter, at that point?

After all, there was pretty much no chance of him getting back to the rest. Only God knew where he was (if there even was one anymore. If there was, they certainly did not look kindly upon him), much less people who could help.

Maybe he didn’t deserve the help. He was just a burden to them, always needing help or going missing. 

Maybe. He should just stay out here.

Vaguely, Leonardo knew that he was screaming. He thanked the wrathful god watching that nobody could hear him.

It could have been hours that passed. Or maybe days. Certainly not weeks, before a light went through his little window that he had to look through at the great nothing. Moments later, he was on a ship. When had that happened? Instead of the frozen metal of the escape pod around him, there was an emergency blanket. Somebody was pushing something closer to him. It was unusual, and far too unfamiliar, but. Nice. It was nice.

%%%

-getting lost in the black. As it turned out, he really hated space now. Which, kind of sucked, since that was a popular theme in the shows that they watched.

Leonardo had considered running a few times, sure, but that would mean leaving the others alone and, if he didn’t take these hits for them, who would?

this isn’t made to like, belittle the Rise fans at all btw, as I am one of you. Just thought it was funny because that’s always people’s first reaction

Whumptober: This Is Why We Limit Your Caffeine Intake

Donatello was finally almost done with his newest project. It had taken months of planning, weeks of collecting the finest materials, and sleepless nights. So many excuses to stay in his lab just a little longer, just a little longer, until he was pulling yet another all-nighter. It would all be worth it in the end, though. Besides, the insomnia wasn't that bad, he had all the coffee in the world to help with that.

As Donatello finished up his- Fifth? Sixth?- Cup of coffee, somebody knocked on the lab's door.

"Come in," he called, setting the empty mug down and reminding himself that he needed to refill it soon, before his mind started to slow down.

The heavy metal door slid open with a groan- Something else Donatello needed to fix- To reveal Leonardo, who leaned against it casually, not wanting to come in without permission.

"Don, it's time for morning training."

It was already time? The genius thought that he would have at least another hour, maybe two. "Leo, please, I'm so close, I-"

"Donnie, we've been over this."

"But this is actually it! Like, I'm almost done."

"You've been in this lab far too long. It's high time you come out, even if it's just for an hour," When Donatello frowned, Leonardo kept going, "You can come right back and finish this, but you need to come out for training."

Frustration welled up in Donatello, white hot and boiling inside him, but he nodded anyway. It wasn't his place to complain about something that was almost set in stone, even if it made him unreasonably angry. He set his tools down and took the welding mask off, then stood and followed right behind Leonardo begrudgingly. The world was tipping ever so slightly, he noted, less than alarmed. It blurred at the edges like an old, fuzzy photo. It was probably just his caffeine intake, though, and it would be over as soon as his oldest brother let him go back to his lab.

But instead of finishing up his most recent project, he was on his way to the dojo, where he would be for at least half an hour.

Donatello crouched down on the sidelines, allowing Raphael and Leonardo to go at each other's throats first.

Per usual, the fight was fast and efficient, the older pair darting around each other and bouncing off their attacks so that they barely ever touched the ground. Of course, in the end, it was Leonardo who won. He helped Raphael up, murmuring something to him, then sent him to sit next to Donatello and Michelangelo.

As the second oldest sat down, Donatello got up, ignoring the way the world tipped to one side or the other when he took a step. He drew his bo staff and tapped it on the floor with a small smirk right before crouching down again. Leonardo mimicked his position across from him and said something in Japanese. Oh, that wasn’t right. Usually, he knew what his “All-Things-Japanese”-loving brother was saying when he switched languages, but at the moment, his brain wouldn’t work to translate it for him.

Oh well, it probably wasn’t important anyway.

His mind wandered back to the lab and the work that was waiting for him, calling his name. The training would be over soon enough, anyway. He’d probably go down soon, and then once Michelangelo went, they would be released to go do their own thing. Hopefully, from there, he would finish before they went for a patrol.

Then he was laying on his back on the floor, heaving like a fish out of water. Leonardo was in front of him, eye ridges furrowed in concern, but he could barely see his oldest brother. Well that wasn’t right. He could usually hold his own for longer than that against the older pair, considering that he was one of the strongest because of the things he had to carry around on a day to day basis. Instead, he was on the ground, exhausted and sore even though the battle hadn’t gone on longer than five minutes.

“Again,” Leonardo was saying, and Donatello’s mind reeled. Again? He fell, he went down, the blue-clad turtle had won, wasn’t that enough for him?

Donatello bitterly considered that it wasn’t entirely impossible that his brother didn’t just want to show off. He was one of, if not the, pettiest of them all. If Donatello thought back far enough, he was fairly certain that Raphael still owed Leonardo money. It was fifteen dollars originally, plus the ten percent interest rate, gathered over the time of five years…

Yeah, Leonardo still held that over his head. Not to mention all the favors that he could call in at any second.

He went at Leonardo again. At first, he thought that he was just doing better in battle, then realized that his oldest brother was going easy on him.

Well, easier.

Typical.

Even with the prodigal son going much slower than before, Donatello still got knocked down fairly quickly. At least that time, he wasn’t forced to do it again. Instead, Leonardo helped him up and sent him back to sit down. If he said something, Donatello didn’t hear it, too busy trying to figure out what was going on. It would be over soon, if he could just get let go.

God, did he hate morning training.

Michelangelo went quickly after him, clearly eager to try and best Leonardo. He did well, for a while, but made the mistake of leaving himself too open when he went to try and taunt the oldest. Leonardo made quick work of him, darting in to knock him down and holding a blade to the youngest’s throat once he was on the floor.

After training, everyone was dismissed, and left alone to do their own thing. Still, Donatello could feel Leonardo watching him, burning a hole into his skull while he went back to his lab.

Donatello made sure to lock the door once he got inside, then returned to his lovely work.

%%%

He was finally done. The finishing touches had been added on, and he had done a couple test runs to make sure that it worked perfectly, but it was done. Donatello yawned and spun around in his office chair, then stood up. Almost immediately, he had to grab onto something to keep from falling. That- That wasn’t good. He really needed sleep, didn’t he?

Oh well, he would talk with Leonardo first, apologize about continuously avoiding training, then head right to bed. It was about time for a nap, anyway.

Donatello took careful steps out of the lab, feeling more than just dizzy. He kept a hand on a wall or whatever furniture was near to stay upright, because without it, he was certain that he would fall and not get back up.

Guessing that it was the place where he would most likely find Leonardo, the resident genius wandered over to the dojo, and, sure enough, his oldest brother was there, sitting cross legged but definitely not meditating.

“Leo?” That single word was hesitant, just in case Leonardo didn’t want to talk at the moment.

Leonardo looked up to him, head tilted. “Yeah?”

“Hey, um-” The world was tilting again, and Donatello swayed on his feet. “I just wanted to, uh-”

“Don? You’re looking a little sick, are you alright?”

Donatello was not alright. He certainly didn’t feel alright. Maybe Leonardo had been right about him staying in the lab too long, he had been right all along, he always was. He-

The world was still spinning, but it was also blurring and he was falling. The falling stopped, and the world was black, instead.

%%%

Leonardo sighed softly, looking Donatello over for any signs of illness. Of course he had passed out. He was going to get sick at that rate. Leonardo was the oldest, he was their big brother and now caretaker, after Splinter-

After Splinter left. He was responsible for them, he was supposed to make sure that they were taking care of themselves when they didn’t feel up to it. If somebody got sick, that was on him.

Suddenly, he was very grateful for shooing Raphael and Michelangelo away. They’d worry if they saw him like this, and he really didn’t need somebody worrying over him when there were more important things to worry about.

Like Donatello waking up suddenly and trying to sit up.

Leonardo reached forward and latched onto his shoulders, gently pushing the purple-clad turtle back down. He’d probably fall back, anyway, if he got to sit up.

“Good morning,” he greeted softly, “You want some tea?”

“Eugh… I need some coffee,” Donatello mumbled.

“No,” Leonardo said, more forceful than he wanted it to be, “No you don’t.”

The second youngest huffed, but didn’t argue with him. “Wha’ happened?”

Oh, just you working yourself to the bone, Leonardo thought, and hoped he didn’t say. Instead, he said, “You collapsed.” Donatello blinked, and he kept going, “In front of me. Almost as soon as you came into the dojo.”

“Oh,” Donatello breathed.

“How long have you been awake?” He had him there, half asleep and ready to talk. He might as well push for an answer, “We’ve talked about this, you know why I don’t like you pulling all nighters.”

“About…” The genius paused to count with his fingers, then looked back to Leonardo. “Five days? Maybe, I’m not entirely sure.”

“Five?” Leonardo wheezed, unable to believe his ears. “Donnie, see- THIS is why I cut off your coffee every now and again. That’s not- That’s not healthy?” He sighed and stood up, glancing at his currently bedridden brother. “You. Take a nap, you’ve earned it. I’m making you tea, like it or not.”

“That’s not-”

“Too late,” he waved Donatello off, then carefully slid the shoji shut behind him, heading off to the kitchen.

Leonardo considered what to make for the exhausted turtle, rummaging through the stores of loose leaves he had picked up, before finally deciding on lavender. From what he heard, it was good for relieving stress. That might help. He set up the kettle and left it to boil before readying the mug. Honey would make it taste really good. He should add some. Well, Donatello probably wouldn’t be awake by the time he got there, truly drained of everything he had, but the thought was nice, at least.

He prepared the tea in mostly silence, then carried it off to Donatello’s room, careful of its temperature. Just like he thought, when he got there, the younger was passed out, burrowed under covers and snoring softly. Leonardo smiled and set it down on the nightstand in the room, then turned off the alarm he knew Donatello had set. Like shell he was going to let him wake up an hour later after the stunt he pulled.

Finally satisfied with his work, the oldest pulled back and left the room. Maybe he could call off a patrol and evening training. They’d deserved it, and were long overdue for a break.

There’s lots of controversy about how 2012 Donnie and Rise Donnie would react meeting each other but I love that there’s one thing we can all agree on: They would absolutely arrange playdates for their robot sons. In the case that the two Donnies hate each other, it’d just be like when your parents and your friends parents are mortal enemies, but you two are besties, so every time you go for a playdate the parents end up glaring at each other while you have the best time of your life

OH NO /pos

Any language that isn’t English? >:) So theoretically, they could be watching some old episodes of Space Heroes that 12 Leo has downloaded on his phone, and Rise Leo can just lean over and loudly say something in old Latin, and 12 Leo just CHOKES on barely contained laughter which is REALLY CONCERNING TO EVERYONE because he’s barely emoted in the time that he’s been around them and 2012 boys already know that making him laugh is HARD

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