Mentions Of Torture - Tumblr Posts

Guess what, ya’ll! I’m still alive! And I’m back with some very good content hehe~ Anyway, I wrote this piece a while back, but I only now decided to post it :’). I hope that ya’ll enjoy it, though!

~ A Special Occasion ~

Whumpee would rather have to endure a violent beating to the kneecaps than to be here. Be watched at like this. Humiliated. Whumper thought it to be a wonderful idea to dress him up in a neat tuxedo. They actually tried! A bit too hard in Whumpee’s opinion. Now every single soul in the building has their eyes on him. Because a Whumper-only party is the place to be, right? The hungry stares from the others scare the little one to no end. He doesn’t dare look anyone in the eyes, too afraid that they will swallow him up whole just like that. But Whumper’s warm, strong body towers over him by his side. They’re not touching him, not with a single finger. But they make it clear enough that this boy is theirs.

He already knew they were up to no good, when he heard the news that he will join his captor to a ‘special occasion’. But before he could utter the words “please, I don’t want to go”, Whumper was already helping him put on his clothes. There was never a choice to begin with. And now they are making their way through a swarm of people, the eyes of the others filled with the need to torture the boy for hours on end. He has seen that look before. One too many times.

Much to Whumpee’s disliking, he occasionally gets prodded by teasing elbows, making him wince softly. The audience is unable to see under the expensive looking tuxedo he’s wearing, but his body is covered with bruises and cuts. Whumper was in a particularly happy mood last night, which in turn caused them to visit their favorite boy until the sun was coloring the streets with its bright rays again. His body feels sore and awfully tired now, but sleeping is not an option. Not when the predators are about ready to attack their prey.

Whumper’s unorthodox, sweet voice fills the quiet room, as they are greeting their fellow evil minds. The others don’t say anything back, obviously too preoccupied with this beautiful little thing being near them. An elbow finds its way to Whumpee’s bruised rib, making him stop dead in his tracks. His body doubles over, as pain suddenly shoots through him. Whumper stands behind him, a subtle grin on their face. “What’s wrong, hmm?” they hum. Whumpee’s eyes widen in an instant, afraid that he just made a mistake. He tries to recollect himself as much as he can and answers.

“N-Nothing!”

“Keep walking, then.”

And that he does. They continue to move on, now thankfully almost being at their destination. Well, more like Whumper’s destination. Whumpee is never allowed to drink alcohol. His brain will get all fuzzy and stupid, and it’ll filter out the pain. But they want him to feel all of it. Every single sharp knife tearing his tender skin open, every nail violently getting pulled out of his fingers. It would be a waste to hear playful chuckles instead of raspy cries for help. That’s why he may never drink alcoholic beverages. They finally reach one of the waiters on the other side of the room, holding up a tray with glasses of champagne on it. Whumper lifts their hand up, grabs a glass, an entertained smile on their face.

Whumpee stands next to them, present to serve just as decoration. There’s not much he can do anyway. But the adorable, panicked expressions and involuntary flinches whenever someone makes a sudden move cause such happiness in Whumper’s body. They could have never asked for a better boy than this one. Whumpee watches as his captor downs the champagne in mere seconds and grabs another one right after. His hand is grabbed by them suddenly, leading him to a fancy looking seat in the corner of the room. They gesture for him to sit down on it. Whumpee obeys, as he should, and looks up at them with worried eyes. Are they going to just leave him here to suffer in silence? “Stay here, Darling. I’ll unfortunately have to leave your side for now to get the necessary pleasantries out of the way. But I promise that I’ll tend to you afterwards. Oh, don’t you worry about that.” The smile on their face never left. If anything, it got even wider after their statement. Whumpee’s blood runs cold, as Whumper turns their back on him to join the others. He’s alone now. Alone in a room filled with people.

One might think that this is a good thing. But he knows that even though their eyes are not on him, they can see everything he does. How his chest heaves up and down heavily as fear starts to set in, how he’s anxiously fidgeting with his fingers. There is no chance for him to escape while they are not paying attention. However, this is not even what bothers Whumpee the most. No, it’s the terrifying realization that his captor just gave the other Whumpers the approval to do with him whatever they want. They did so the very second they turned around and left. It’s almost as if they threw a sheep in the lion’s den.

To Whumpee’s surprise, though, no one seems to approach him. The others occasionally glance at the poor thing sitting all by himself, but none of them actually come closer. It confuses him, but who is he to go and complain about it? A swift smile appears on his face, feeling happy that he can finally take a break and just feel safe for once. This feeling is soon replaced by worry once more, as his bladder starts to act up. He looks around for Whumper, but he’s lost them out of sight. The very last thing he wants is to wet his pants right now. He has done so many times before. And all of those times ended horribly. Whumper loathes it when he makes a mess.

But what can he do? He can’t just go to the bathroom without permission. Whumper will make him regret doing that for sure. His mind weighs off all his options and possible horrifying outcomes, but eventually gets up to look for the restroom, completely disobeying his captor. Whumpee finds himself in multiple different hallways before finding the correct one, causing a relieved feeling to wash over him at last. He may very well could have gotten lost in this massive building, but luckily his eyes are now meeting the doorway to the restroom. He walks inside, empties his bladder, and quickly walks out again to return to the seat before Whumper notices he’s gone. If they didn’t already. Now almost nearing the end of the hallway, silently praying that he won’t take a wrong turn again, a tall figure approaches him. His heart skipped a beat, begging words almost rolling off his tongue already, as he thought it was Whumper.

After a careful look, however, he realizes that it’s not his captor. A deep sigh escapes him, but gets drawn right back in, as the figure is now mere inches away from him. They chuckle, their breath reeking of alcohol. “I didn’t see you when I came in just moments ago,” they come even closer towards Whumpee, causing him to take a step back. “You don’t seem to be one of us. Are you perhaps lost, little one?”

Whumpee takes yet another step back, pure terror now taking over his body. What if they take him? Whumper will make sure he will never hear the end of it if they have to retrieve him from someone else. Or feel the end of it, rather. He’s not sure what’s scarier. The figure continues to come closer, now reaching out a hand to grab onto his chin. They move his face around to take a good look at him. “Not a single ounce of defiance left in you,” they smile, their head tilted in delight. “Would be a real shame if someone were to just take you, wouldn’t it?” Shivers run down Whumpee’s spine. “P-Please, I-”

“Whumpee,” a new voice fills the hallway. Not questioning, not searching. But just low enough to let Whumpee know he is in trouble. He looks behind the one now hovering over him, only to see Whumper standing there. The figure sighs, and turns around to look at the person who, to their annoyance, joined them. “Who the fuck dares to interrupt-” they quickly swallow their foolish words, seeing the all too familiar face. Whumpee takes this as the perfect opportunity to run back to his captor, hiding behind them. He finally feels safe. The stranger looks at them with wide, fearful eyes. “I-I-I-I didn’t k-know he was y-yours!” they stutter, any sign of intoxication suddenly gone. “Oh, I’m sure that you didn’t spot us when we walked in,” Whumper’s voice sounds awfully sarcastic. That has never shown to be a good thing. “I j-just got here! I s-swear!” panic visibly starts to set in for the stranger. Whumper chuckles and turns around, their eyes falling upon what’s most precious to them. “Darling, be a good boy and return to your seat,” to this, Whumpee nods, and immediately does as he is told. He definitely doesn’t want to aggravate them more at this point.

After a short while, Whumpee thankfully manages to find his way back to the main hall. Not long after he takes a seat, a bloodcurdling scream fills the building, where just moments before many chatting voices could be heard. Whumpee jumps up, facing the maze-like hallways where he just came from. It is definitely not Whumper’s voice that’s screaming in agony like that. It must be the drunken stranger that approached him before. Whumpee wonders what Whumper must be doing to them. The screams then cease, whereafter Whumper returns to collect their little one. Droplets of red have appeared on both of their hands, as well as their tuxedo. They grab him by the arm and lift him up from the seat. “We are leaving,” Whumper says sternly. Both of them then walk off towards the exit. “W-What happened back there…?” Whumpee looks up at them with doe eyes, seemingly seeking for answers. “I had to teach them some manners, is all. One simply does not touch what is mine.” Whumper’s grip around Whumpee’s arm tightens considerably after that. The stranger definitely angered them. Whumpee isn’t even sure if they are still alive as of now. He can’t help but feel proud of his captor for protecting him like that. It leaves a warm feeling all over his body. “Thank you. F-for protecting me.” A chuckle then escapes Whumper’s mouth. “Did you truly think for even a second that I was doing you a favor?”

The atmosphere suddenly changes. Whumpee frowns, now feeling confused more than anything. They did that to protect him, right? Why else would they do such horrible things to someone they don’t even know? “I wasn’t trying to keep you safe, if that’s what you’re thinking,” Whumper says, seemingly reading the little one’s mind. “I abhor it when other individuals touch my property. It is unjust.” So, they did it just as a vengeful act? Whumpee’s head spins, as the gears in his head work overtime. “Besides, you are in big trouble, Darling. You were foolish enough to leave your spot, even though I had told you to stay put. You are not very obedient after all, it seems,” a wide grin appears on Whumper’s face. Regret overwhelms Whumpee. “I’m sorry, really! I-I won’t do it again! Just, please forgive me!” he pleads, but alas, it is in vain. “Pets should be punished when they misbehave, no?” Whumpee cries and thrashes in Whumper’s grip, but there is nothing he can do to save himself now. His skin crawls, as he realizes what horrors await him when they get back to the place he was forced to call ‘home’.

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.”