whumpay

[whumpay]

My sister was watching the fifth season of the 2012 Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles and imma be real with y’all I forgot how devastating the mutation apocalypse was. That shit was emotional hit after emotional hit. DONNIE BEING A ROBOT?? You’re telling me. This man is now a robot? Like FOREVER???

So you’re saying he’s immortal. He’s going to have to watch all of his brothers die because he’s a freaking machine!?!? WHAT

Safe to say I have some strong emotions on the subject, and what better way to deal with them then whumping Donbot during Whumpay <3

Tw: Suicidal thoughts, and questioning reality

(Side note: one of these days I’ll figure out how to use italics and bold text on Tumblr- cuz this fic has some heavy italics- but today is not that day 🫡)

2,644 days.

7 years, 2 months, and 3 weeks.

That’s how long it’s been since Mira’s death.

His metal feet sunk into the sand, small bits getting stuck in his gears and wiring. He knew he’d have to clean it out later, the process would be long and tedious, requiring high air pressure and rusted tools, but right now he didn’t care.

He’d been alone far too long to care.

Donnie (was he still Donnie?) remembered the others. Their faces. Their voices. He remembered the way things were before the apocalypse.

Before he was metal. (Before his flesh was turned to steel, his veins to wires, his tendons to gears- before he became nothing more than a robot with a conscience.)

He couldn’t remember his own face. What did he look like? He knew he’d been tall, otherwise the metal body wouldn’t be tall. Did he have any scars? Moles? Mikey had freckles. Raph had that crack in his plastron. Leo still had the scuffs from Shredder throwing him through a window. (It was Shredder, right?)

What did he have?

…

He couldn’t remember his voice. He could hear the robotic, automated voice he was programmed with, but it wasn’t his voice. Even though he thought it was genius at the time, it wasn’t his. But it had been expressive, it sounded just enough like Donnie that he’d been happy with it.

He remembered the fear before he died, everything going black before he was looking through eyes that weren’t his own. He remembered.. he remembered his death. (Was it his death?)

Donnie remembered a lot of things. That’s the thing about being a robot, you can’t really forget. He used a data chip big enough to house the entire internet. He still remembered everything like it was yesterday.

Sometimes it still felt like yesterday.

Other times, he was reminded of his agonizing (not agonizing, he couldn’t feel, how could it be agonizing-) existence. Alone in a desert. Everyone he loved, dead. But he was still here.

(Who was he?)

Sometimes he wished he could die like the others, pull out a few wires, melt some circuits and be done.

He knew that wouldn’t work. He’d tried before, and all it did was cause unnecessary pain. (He can’t feel pain, he’s not real, he can’t feel pain-)

Sometimes he didn’t move- he just sat there, watching his memories like a slideshow.

The first day he met April.

The farmhouse.

Going to space.

Casey. His not-quite-friend not-quite-enemy. Someone he should’ve spent more time with, maybe gotten to know a little more. (He would’ve laughed. He spent too much time with him- his skull. It sat on the dashboard for years before Raph blew it up.)

He remembered Splinter. Sensei. Hamato Yoshi. His Father.

He remembered his voice, the way he’d hum when he pretended to be deep in thought. (Was it pretend?) He remembered his whiskers, every life lesson, every training session, every time he showed up when they needed help. He remembered the emergency cheese phone, the rat king, the deaths.

Donnie remembered his hugs. He wished he could feel them again.

(He couldn’t feel anything.)

The sun was blinding, bright and beating down onto his scuffed body, and Donnie walked. He knew the metal was heating up but he couldn’t feel it. He didn’t care.

The antennas twitched on his head, his arms swinging by his sides. Gears whirred, the worn metal groaned and creaked, but he wasn’t dead.

(He wanted to be dead.)

There was something so painfully mundane about his immortality. Days stretched for years but years felt like days. Everything blurred together. The people he’s met, the things he’s done. If he hadn’t installed an internal clock, he would’ve lost time years ago.

…

He missed his brothers.

Yes, he missed Splinter and April and Casey, but his brothers were… they were everything to him. It was them. The four of them. Against the world. They were everything to each other. Their rock. Their shoulder to cry on. Their biggest supporters. Their biggest bullies. They were family. They were each others flesh and blood.

(He wanted desperately to be flesh and blood.)

One by one they had all dropped, each of them passing in their own time.

Mikey had been the first to go. What was it… 15 years ago?

They were all crushed. He was the youngest. The baby of the family, the glue that kept them together, the person who kept a smile on their faces. He shouldn’t have died first.

But he did.

Donnie remembered Raph and Leo the night they found him. They were both crying ugly tears, yet they had been so silent Donnie almost didn’t notice.

They never cried.

They held each other then, giving each other the comfort Donnie couldn’t provide. He remembered sitting there, consumed in his own version of grief but unable to show it. He knew Mikey was gone- that he wasn’t coming back, and it hurt more than anything in the world. But he didn’t feel like it. He couldn’t feel it.

(He just wanted to feel it.)

He did his best to comfort his older brothers but.. there’s only so much to do when your hands are made of metal, and your voice is full of static.

He remembered for a few months how they doted on him. He was the youngest now. Donnie was the baby. Of course they never said it out loud, they didn’t want to take that title from Mikey, but Donnie knew. He knew that’s what they thought.

He didn’t want to be the youngest.

(He didn’t want to be alive.)

Leo had been next. The mutation wasn’t.. optimal for a long life span. It didn’t help that the grief had been suffocating, too much and too prominent with every movement he made. He’d been in a lot of pain before his body finally shut down.

He passed four months after Mikey did.

He remembered Raph the night they found Leo. He didn’t cry, not this time, and he didn’t scream. He was resigned. He’d turned to Donnie and clapped a hand onto his steel shoulder, giving him a grim smile.

“It’s just me and you now, D.”

(Donnie wanted to cry.)

Raph hadn’t gone for another few years, stubborn as always, even in death. He passed 12 years ago.

Maybe that’s why he was here- walking. The anniversary of Raphs death was the hardest. This date forever commemorating how he lost his brothers. Forever a reminder of Donnie’s solitude. His crippling immortality.

(Why couldn’t he let himself die that day?)

He looked up at the sight of a familiar structure, concrete and beautiful, a small body of water. The first place they had all stood, together, after being reunited.

He’d made it.

He was never sure how long it took to walk here, but he didn’t care.

(He couldn’t feel it anyway.)

In front of him stood a mural, the last thing Mikey had made before his passing. On it was the four of them, past and present. Or- past and past.

In one, they were all turtles. Splinter stood beside Leo. April next to Donnie. Casey leaning an arm on Raphs shoulder. Mikey was skateboarding right front and centre, he was in the middle of the picture. The heart of the team.

On the other side was them now. (But it wasn’t now, was it?) They were all standing in the same position, but Casey was gone, now replaced by Mira. Beside Donnie stood open air, and Leo’s body took up the space Splinter would’ve.

Donnie stared at the wall for a while. His eyes flicking between the two pictures. He wanted to go back to when times were simpler. He wanted flesh. And blood. He wanted to feel.

He wanted his own memory and his own thoughts. Not a computerized copy.

(But they were still his, weren’t they?)

(He was still Donnie.)

…

(Right?)

The lenses took in every detail, every paint chip, every mistake of Mikey’s brush, carefully fixed by another layer of paint. He wanted to cry.

(He couldn’t cry.)

He wanted to scream.

(His voice box rusted a long time ago.)

He wanted to rip himself apart. He wanted to take off the metal and find himself underneath.

Donnie.

He wanted to be Donnie.

…

(Who was he?)

If you want to see the properly emphasized version, you can also find this on Ao3

https://archiveofourown.org/works/65392465

[whumpay]

@whumpay Day 8 - Immortality

Storytime

-

Patreon | Ko-Fi

[whumpay]

Whumpay Day 7: Psychic Link

A/N: I'm so sorry, the last couple days were hectic in the best way and I never got around to posting! I'll catch up over the next couple days, currently at Day 9 today but I'll just post Day 7 for now since I'm still pretty tired haha. Still going strong though, thanks for all the support so far! xx T/W: Psychological torment, mental health reference, derogatory mental health labels, violence, military and experimentation references, heavily hinted character death.

For most of my life I had thought I was crazy.

There was just no other explanation for it. No logical reasoning why I would suddenly get these random horrible visions. Nothing that could explain the overwhelming collection of voices whirring through my head at the most sporadic of times, of streams and streams of mental thoughts that didn’t belong to me, pulsating across my mind, begging to be heard.

I was insane. No, I was ill – adolescent-onset schizophrenia, they’d said. They were all hallucinations. The visions, the voices, the thoughts – none of it was real.

…except they were real.

I’m just…different. I have an ability that most normal people don’t. The ability to see glimpses of someone’s future once a particular decision has been made. The gift to hear the thought-streams of others in my vicinity, or those emotionally close to me, to sense their feelings and emotions. Even their sensations and their pain. It has been so overwhelming – but it’s my gift. This psychic link. The constant questioning of what is real or not, what is wrong with me, what to even do about it. None of the meds had worked properly. I’d lived with it as best as I could. Despite it all, I had actually managed to do well at school. I had even been on track for a valedictorian. My dream had been to go to vet school, to make a positive difference to society. I had been determined to do that.

…until everything had come crashing down around me.

Somehow they had found out about me. They had drugged me and taken me from the residential hospital. They had been impressed with my ability. They had officially classified me as a sigma – a mentis – with supernatural abilities that predominantly affected the mind and mental perception. That had explained the visions, the thoughts, everything – and they had said they could help me if I helped them.

So I did just that.

True to their word, they have helped me, in immeasurable ways. Now I can actually control that psychic link to a much greater degree than before. I can tune in and out of particular thoughts or mental dialogue as needed. Yes, the training is rigorous. Yes, I’m forbidden to go anywhere without express permission. Yes, I’m not allowed to ever see my family again – but it’s all for my own good. At least now I have a purpose. Now people listen to me and believe me when I tell them what’s going to happen. There’s no more laughter, no more mocking and no more sickening labels. 

‘Schizo’. ‘Psycho’. ‘Freak’. ‘Paranoid’ – no more of that now.

I am never going to be that kid again.

I am going to show them all what I can do, what they have taught me. What I can do for the Greater Good – they trust me and they value me. I belong here. They have told me that so many times. That my skills are a beneficial asset to the Branch, that as long as I work with them, I’m doing a great service. I’m keeping us safe from our enemies. I’m allowing them to keep teaching us the right ways to maximise our skills, to reach our full potential!

I’m especially useful to them now.

Seeing and knowing the enemy’s next move.

Immediately identifying friend from foe.

Able to one-up my opponent every time in combat.

Seeing into the minds and intentions of captured interrogated spies.

Keeping lesser subjects in their place by swiftly shutting down any escape attempts.

…but there’s still one part of the psychic link that I still can’t control. No matter how much I train, or how much I try to ignore it. Not their overwhelming collective emotions– and definitely not their collective pain.

None of them can look me in the eye now. My former ward-mates who were also taken, my former friends. Some of them still don’t listen to reason – that we’re better off where we are and that fighting is useless.

That there is no escape for any of us.

I can be on the other side of the building, but I still feel it. I still see it. I still hear it.

Just like now.

“No—no not again! Please! D-don’t do that to me again!”

The dread.

“I-I don’t want it, I don’t want it, I don’t want it!”

The questions.

“A-am I gonna die here? I-I don’t wanna die!”

The mental cries for help.

“Someone, help me! ANYONE! PLEASE!”

Their helpless terrified sobs.

“No no no nononono!”

The crippling sense of fear.

“Don’t come near me—d-don’t inject me with that! No! NO!” 

The burning agonising pain.

“STOP! IT HURTS! MAKE IT STOP!”

And…the screaming.

“AGHHHHHHH!” 

My knees give out from under me. My hands scrabble at my head, panting. 

“Sh-shut up…”

The voices grow in a macabre deafening chorus. I can’t breathe. My chest tightens. Panic takes over me. More screaming—

“SHUT UP!” 

My own pleading desperate shriek is barely heard over their own. I try to tune it out. I try to ignore it, but I can’t. It’s impossible—

“Mentis.”

I jerk my head up. My superior stands in front of me, staring down at my curled up form with a cold gaze. I instantly remove my hands from my ears and pull myself to my feet, inclining my head. The screams are now a distant echo in the back of my mind.

“S-sir, I—”

“It’s not working is it?”

“...I don’t think so, sir. I-I’m really trying but—”

“Not hard enough.”

He cuts me off with a harsh wave of his gloved hand. “Report to the Training Centre in one hour. We’ll make sure to intensify our methods to get that weakness of yours under control.”

I feel myself paling at his suggestion, but I can’t argue.

“Y-yes, sir. I’ll report for reprogramming.”

“Good – now get along with your duties. The controls are none of your concern.”

“...understood, sir.”

As I turn to walk away, yet another fresh scream rips through my mind.

M-Mom—I want my mom! NO! NO! HELP ME! MOM! HEL—

…it suddenly cuts off, abruptly silenced. That means only one thing.

Expired.

…I barely register the tears that finally come.

…

[whumpay]

Day 9 - Magic Overuse

CW: whumpee's POV (eventually), passing out, fever, fever chills, magic exhaustion, illness caused by magic exhaustion

River Hill-Donovan seemed like a regular guy on the surface, but in reality he was anything but. He came from a rather famous family, and always felt like he had multiple big shoes to fill.

His grandfather, Liam Hill, was one of the best detectives the city had ever seen, and even though he had retired a decade ago, the police department sometimes still sought his advise. Fortunately, one of his aunts, Echo, was already working on following in his footsteps, having just made detective and thus being well on her way to live up to her father's name.

Then there was his other aunt, one of the sweetest women on the planet, and one of the city's more prolific superheroes. She had the power to turn into any animal, even mythical ones. River however...his powers only really allowed him to talk to and understand animals, which came in handy when gathering information...but that was about it.

His mother was twice as famous. Also a prolific hero, capable of manipulating the very air around her, the mention her alias alone capable of striking fear in any perpetrator with a base knowledge of heroes. But she was also a prolific rock star, often away on tour, leaving River with family or friends, since a tour life was no way to raise a child.

River could sing. He'd definitely inherited at least some of his mother's talent. Only he also had stage fright, and preferred to only sing in the shower. He did have one song on one of his mother's albums, but he liked to pretend that song didn't even exist.

And then there was his father, who everyone wanted him to be like.

River never knew his father. At least, not consciously. He died a hero before River managed to maintain any memories, but he'd grown up hearing stories about how great he was. The famous Blaze, aka Saturn Hill. A prolific hero, even in death, most known for his proficiency in fire magic.

River had his suspicions that everyone expected him to be like his father when they tried to talk him into learning magic, more specifically, fire magic. Only the problem was...River could only just manage the basics, and never really advanced in any type of magic.

So there he was, the son of two powerful heroes, with a barely useful passive power, and a basic grasp of some elemental magic. He tried to join the Sidekick Programme like his parents before him, in an attempt to improve on those basics, but it just didn't quite work out.

He quit the programme, and instead decided to assist one of his best friends with her ghost-hunting business — Which was more a "ask ghosts why they're still around and help them find closure" business, but ghost-hunting rolled better off the tongue according to his friend.

Elaine Carter-McLaughlann didn't seem like she had a lot in common with River, but underneath the surface, they were actually a lot alike. She, too, lost a parent at a young age, both of which were famous and prolific, so she, too, felt the unspoken pressure of living up to their legacies, while also sharing barely any personality traits, and only having a passive power to try and attempt that.

She had a slight interest in magic, but without an innate talent for it, she had to rely on totems, wards, shrines, sigils and herbs. Which finally gave River a leg up, as he could create something out of nothing with spells and incantations.

When things got hairy (which thankfully wasn't often), River used his stronger magic to protect Elaine. And when that wasn't sufficient, they could rely on a number of their other friends, though the first one to usually show up was Ethan Knight, aka Lightbringer, yet another child of prolific heroes with big shoes to fill, though Ethan was a bit more successful at it, having obtained the leadership position of the current Sidekick cohort.

Despite being younger than both River and Elaine, Ethan couldn't help but to feel responsible for them, given his position in the Sidekick Programme and the fact that his powers were marginally more useful in regular crime-fighting. Which was exactly why he tended to be the first to respond whenever they found themselves in distress.

Fortunately it really wasn't that often, but still often enough that Ethan worried about them when he lost contact with them in the midst of a calamity. Especially if he couldn't re-establish contact until after they had dealt with the source of the calamity.

River caught his breath a bit as the distant roaring finally died away, and concrete debris and glass shards finally stopped flying at them from all directions. He looked over his friend, who besides a couple of scuffs seemed unharmed.

Thank the Elements...it wasn't all for nothing.

She was talking about...something. River recognised her voice, but he couldn't quite process what she was saying. Not a good sign. Time to sit down.

He carefully lowered himself, hands groping around a bit until he managed to perch himself on the curb. Elaine joined him, still talking. Something about sleep. Sleep sounded really good right about now.

"You...okay?"

River wasn't even shure if that was exactly what she said, but that was the part his brain managed to translate. Now how to reply simply?

"Just tired..."

Nailed it.

Elaine started talking again, but River could barely hear her over the ringing in his ears. Another voice joined the conversation, and River vaguely recognised something familiar, something radiant keeping the darkness at the edge of his vision at bay.

And suddenly he was lying down. Someone was holding his face. He weakly pushed them away, or at least he thought he did. He gasped for air, opening his eyes, but only seeing blurry shapes.

"River!"

Hands returned to his face, gently cupping the sides of his head.

"Are you okay? You passed out!"

Obviously not...

But River couldn't really form any words. He managed some sort of groan, and then the darkness returned.

When he next woke up, he felt cold. So cold. His whole body shook, the tremors so bad he felt like he was about to fall. He held on for dear life, one hand clutching the...soft ground beneath him? The other squeezing something solid and warm.

Something cold brushed past his face, and his breath hitched. He turned his head away, whimpering a bit. What was happening? Was this what dying felt like?

"River...River! River!!"

River snapped out of his daze, finding several people staring down at him. Their faces were blurred, but he recognised Elaine's voice, and Ethan's too as he spoke up next.

"Breathe, buddy. Just breathe. We got you."

River realised he was clinging to his hand for dear life when he squeezed back to show his support, while Elaine dabbed his face with a cold, wet cloth.

"W-what's happening?" River croaked, still shaking.

"You used too much magic," Elaine said, "Your aunt is on her way to help, so just hang in until she gets here, okay?"

"A-auntie Sin?" River whined.

"Yeah, she'll be here soon," Elaine said.

"The doctor is gonna give you something to help you calm down so you can rest." Ethan added, squeezing his hand again, "We'll stay right by your side, okay?"

River nodded weakly, grateful to have his friends at his side. The edges of his vision were darkening again, but knowing he was in good hands, he decided not to fight it. Instead, he leaned into their touch and slipped away again.

@whumpay

Saturn & Sinnera (the shape-shifting aunt) belong to @dr-abitat-blog

Ethan/Lightbringer belongs to @illustriousshadow

Masterlist Main account

The kidssss! These blorbos are planned like 20 years in the future or so, but I already love them so much <3 I've included a picrew of Elaine, River and Ethan respectively

Also I redid this piece like twice, which is why there's a sudden POV switch (at least that's what it feels like to me) Because at first it was mostly banter between Elaine and Ethan and River dying in the background didn't feel whumpy enough, so I scrapped a huge part and replaced it with this.

[whumpay]

I was so disappointed with the aftermath of Stiles possession. Not only did it feel kinda rushed, it was just an “oh the bad guys gone and now Stiles is totally fine time to move on!” type of situation. Like no. I know they exorcized void, but give me something!! Please!!

Since I am a writer and deranged, I took the Whumpay prompt “Psychic Link” to create this short drabble about possible after affects from his possession, so yk

SCOTT MCCALL IS NOT AN ASSHOLE IN THIS!!! WE LOVE SCOTT!!

Tw: Mentions of losing time/slight dissociation

Stiles never felt the same after void.

He knew, logically, that he was gone. They’d banished him. But sometimes he wasn’t so sure.

Most of the time he felt normal, he went about his life like usual, helping out the pack where he could. Sometimes though.. sometimes he said things- did things, that he couldn’t control. School presentations ending in detention, instigating a fight at one of Lydia’s parties, snapping at Scott for no reason. He remembered it all, but it didn’t feel like him, rather it felt like he was a passenger in his own mind.

He tried not to worry, coming up with excuse after excuse when his friends asked if he was okay.

“I’m just tired, don’t worry about it.”

“I had a bad day- sorry for snapping.”

“I pulled an all nighter, I don’t think my brains working at its top capacity if you know what I mean.”

“Dammit, I forgot to take my meds.”

Was he telling the truth? Mostly, he was just distorting the actual affects of said actions. He didn’t want to worry his friends- void was supposed to be behind them all. Void needed to be in the past, or Stiles would start freaking out.

The dreams started pretty soon after the behavioural issues. Confusing and quick, flashes of things Stiles didn’t remember, yet seemed too real to be fake. Sometimes he dreamt that he was higher than life, watching the world from a birds perspective. He had dreams about flying, feeling the wind on his body like it he was actually there. These dreams made him wary, some part of him thought they could still be linked. With what they did to the Nogitsune… it was possible, but he still wasn’t convinced.

Things got concerning when he started losing time. It was never like it was before, losing hours or days, waking up in places he didn’t recognize. No, this was smaller, subtle.

The first time he was walking with Scott on their way to practice. He blinked, and suddenly he was a couple feet further than he had been. He brushed it off, thinking maybe he had just zoned out for a second. He convinced himself that he was fine. Void was gone.

It kept happening. He never lost more than a minute, but every time it happened he grew more and more concerned. Stiles knew he should tell someone, but how was he supposed to say it? Hey guys, I know we exorcised Void but I think he might still be here. Oh no, it’s not a big deal, I just black out every once in a while. Oh, also I can’t control what I say or do sometimes. No no, you don’t need to worry ‘cause it’s really not that bad, I’m just letting you know. Anyway, what’s up with you lately?

Yeah. No way.

He was going to deal with this by himself if it killed him.

..Okay, maybe not, because saying that never ended well for anyone. He’d deal with this until it got worse. Like, Void possessing him levels worse. Hopefully it would never get to that point, and Stiles could just move on with his life and forget about everything that happened with the dumb Nogitsune. Right?

Wrong.

Stiles had been at the wolf house, taking a day to hang out with everyone. Everyone wanted some time to just be teenagers (Derek not included). They brought snacks, watched movies, and caught up with the normal things in life. Someone mentioned Isaac and things got quiet for a second, the air tense with his recent departure. Shortly after that the chatter resumed, if a little less excited than it was before. Stiles had excused himself, heading to the kitchen to get some water. He blinked, and suddenly Scott was in front of him, shaking his shoulders and calling his name.

“-iles? Stiles! Dude! Can you hear me?”

“Yeah, Jesus Scott, you wanna stop screaming my ear off?” Stiles said, pushing himself out of Scott’s hold. The Alpha looked sheepish for a second before he asked quietly.

“You alright dude?”

Stiles shrugged, giving him an easy smile. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Scott didn’t look impressed with that answer, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. “You were just holding a knife.”

Stiles stopped, his smile dropping. Fuck him.. “Yeah well, it was a nice knife.” He said, trying desperately to deflect. He knew he should tell him- but come on, cut a guy some slack!

“Stiles.” Scott said, sternly. “What’s going on?”

He paused, fidgeting with his hands as he looked around the kitchen. He could see the knife he presumed he was holding set onto the counter, it was a chopping knife. Of course. He looked behind Scott and that’s when he noticed the rest of the pack. Derek was leaning against the wall, Lydia had her arms crossed, standing next to him. Kira was standing behind Lydia with a worried expression. Of course, their eyes bore into his. It felt like he was suffocating. They weren’t saying anything but he could feel the disappointment, the worry, the fear.

He pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes for a second before he finally responded. “Look- maybe..“ he paused, sighing. “Okay, I know we got rid of Void, the ritual worked, right?”

He saw everyone’s uneasy expressions, Derek pushed off the wall with narrowed eyes, his mouth pressed into a tight line. Somehow Stiles felt like he was judging him the most.

“Well,” he continued, looking at the wall beside him. “I don’t think we got rid of all of him- I dunno, maybe there’s some after effects from getting possessed that no one told me about.”

The silence was deafening, he could feel everyone’s eyes on him like he was a frog laid out on a dissection table. He shifted on his feet, looking down at the floor. Scott was the first one to break the silence.

“Stiles.. why didn’t you tell us?” He sounded hurt, like someone had just told him that his dog was dead. Stiles shrugged, absentmindedly picking at a loose thread on his pants.

“I didn’t think it was a big deal, I didn’t want to worry you.” He said, finally looking up. Lydia moved forward, a sad expression on her face. She held out her arms and pulled him into a hug, tucking her face into his neck. He wrapped his arms around her waist. Even though the hug was unexpected, it was nice.

“Of course we’re going to worry, you’re our friend.”

He pretended that word didn’t hurt, turning his head into her hair just enough that it wasn’t weird. His hands tightened around her before he slowly let go, mourning the loss once she fully pulled away. She held her hands on the side of his face, giving him a look that spoke volumes.

“We handle this kind of stuff together, right? You should’ve told us. We could’ve figured this out so much sooner.” Her voice was kind but clearly upset, clouded with emotion Stiles couldn’t quite understand.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled. Their eyes were still locked together but she sighed, pulling her hands away with a small smile. “Good. Next time I hope we don’t have to find you holding a giant knife.”

“Let’s hope there is no next time.” Derek piped up from the back. His arms were crossed over his chest, but his face was relaxed, giving Stiles a knowing look.

Scott clapped a hand onto his shoulder, giving it a firm shake. Stiles looked at him with a half smile, putting a hand over his. He was glad he finally told them, he felt.. better in a way, like he didn’t have to carry this burden on his own. He felt light, but he was tired and so, so drained.

“We’re going to deal with this together. Alright?” Scott said firmly. His voice was reassuring and left no room to argue. Stiles rolled his eyes but his smile got just a little bit brighter, giving the hand under his own a pat. He nodded at his best friend in understanding and relief, he really should’ve done this sooner.

“Together.”

You can also find this on Ao3 :P

https://archiveofourown.org/works/65344081

[whumpay]

@whumpay Day 7 - alt Empathetic Healing

For tigrislilium

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Patreon | Ko-Fi

[whumpay]

Day 8 - Immortality

CW: vampire whumper, vampire whumpee, slavery, tragedy, minor character death

There used to be forty of us. We used to laugh and cry together. We lived together, as brothers, one big family.

A big family knows many riches, but on the flip side that also means many losses. Two of us were lost at sea, I used to think it was a cruel fate, but now I realise they were blessed.

We lost another just a day after landing ashore. He was the most blessed, for he got to see the beautiful landscape before he passed, and we could depart from him with the proper rituals and return him to the earth.

But the rest of us?

We were cursed.

Cursed to slowly wither away, like the decaying manor around us. Cursed to watch the ivy overtake the walls and the roof, being able to do only so much to bring it to a halt. Cursed by a perpetual sickness that seemed to affect our memories, until the dwindling numbers were too glaringly obvious to ignore.

There were five and twenty of us left.

When I doomed them all.

...

"You chose this, Ian. Now stop crying."

I blink the last tears from my eyes and wipe them away as I steel myself. The motion smudging the blood around my mouth across my cheek.

Did I choose this?

I look back down at the lifeless form of my last brother, André, a fearful expression still on his face, as if a ghost inhabits the corpse to haunt me.

He was the last of five. The last five of which we both knew wouldn't be sufficient to sustain us. Master wanted to feast on them, to fill up properly and "get it over with" — I begged him not to.

I realise now the mercy Master was offering, which I foolishly declined. A swift, painless end, surrounded by their last remaining loved ones. But instead I begged to prolong their suffering. To lose them slowly, one by one, until there were none left.

And I was still hungry.

Master is right. This was my choice. Just as it was my choice to serve him for eternity, when there was only five and twenty of us left — four and twenty once I was no longer one of them. I should have known, even with what little information I had, that it would never work. But I was so desperate to serve Master...

"Get rid of it."

"Yes Master..."

I resign myself to the order, not like I have much of a choice. I gently pick up André's lifeless body, cradling his frail form. His blood is still warm, soaking into my clothes, and it still smells edible. The nagging hunger in my stomach becomes painful, and I almost consider taking a last bite...

"Don't do that."

I stop myself. I have no choice. Master is giving me a disapproving look. I know why. He doesn't have to spell it out for once. If he isn't able to eat, then I'm not allowed to either. Especially not after I killed our last source.

My last brother...

I take André to the forest behind the manor. There are indents in the dirt between the roots of the trees where I have dug four graves in the last two weeks.

In order for Master to have enough to eat without immediately killing my brothers, I starved myself. But a starving monster stops at nothing to feed, so one by one, they each met a terrifying fate. Slaughtered by my hands...

The dirt sticks to my clothes where André's blood had seeped in. It doesn't smell so appetising anymore. Whilst I dig, I think of the brothers I buried before him. Some I remember as if it were only yesterday, others I can barely recall the name.

When Master offered eternity, I never considered that would mean that I would outlive all my brothers. Only now, as I gently lay André to rest and fail to remember the proper prayer, the reality of what I've chosen hits me.

No matter who I may meet in the future...

It will always end like this.

With them in the dirt, and I unchanged. Forever a monster. Cursed to walk the earth until the end of time.

I can feel a lump forming in my throat, as if I'm about to cry, but on the surface nothing happens. Because Master told me not to cry.

And Master’s all I have left, for the remainder of eternity, so I better obey, even when I don't have a choice.

I take a last look around the area. At fresher and older graves, all unmarked, most not even visible anymore. I look back down at André and begin to shovel the dirt back into the hole I dug for him. Trying to bury this chapter of my life with him.

The first chapter of what's going to be a very long series of events.

@whumpay

Masterlist Main account

Meow meow hour again

[whumpay]

WHUMPAY 2025

This will be marked off as 'muzzled' as that is the main focus!

Hope you enjoy this! And sorry for any grammar errors made!

Credit: @whumpay

——————————————————————————————————

Silence by Force

Quick note: This is not canon to the main story of DILLH. And while EPF does make an appearance and is the main villain in this, they may or may not change in the main story of the DILLH fic

Prompt: Muzzled

Fandom: Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles + my OC’s

Warnings; Muzzled, pinned down, blood, implied abuse, etc

Summary: Caden should’ve listened to Leo when he told him to be careful around the EPF. But he didn’t listen and now he had to face the horrors of what humans can do to him…

——————————————————————————————————

When Caden awoke, he was met with the curious and unfamiliar eyes of people he’d only briefly encountered. They wore strange clothing—suits, from the looks of it. How was that possible when it was the middle of an apocalyptic era?

No matter. Caden recalled what had happened, and he was pissed—pissed at himself for being stubborn and ignoring Leo’s advice. Leo had been around longer than he had; he knew the EPF and had had run-ins with them from time to time. And even though the EPF was helping out the Resistance during this war…

They still got the jump on Caden. They led him away from prying eyes, far enough that no one would hear him scream as he was chloroformed by a man named John Bishop. He knew Leo didn’t like Bishop—not just because the older slider kept glaring at him through the mindscape, but because Caden could feel Leo’s overwhelming hatred toward him.

And Caden ignored the signs. He was an idiot. And now…here he was, somewhere unknown, somewhere alone. Normally, Leo would’ve told him to calm down by now, sensing his rising panic. But there was nothing.

He couldn’t hear Leo in his head, and whenever he tried to pull himself into his mindscape, his head throbbed with such intense pain that he couldn’t focus. Maybe whatever chloroform they had used was tainted with some kind of mysticism?

Was it blocking Leo from getting to him? He didn’t quite know or understand the situation, but he didn’t have time to think. Not when the door opened, and strolling inside was John Bishop, wearing sunglasses and a fancy tux.

Caden let out a snarl of annoyance as he lunged toward him. Maybe he could run past and escape.

But he only got so far before he yelped and collapsed to his knees. Looking down, he noticed his legs were chained to the ground. He could probably cut the chains, but then realization dawned on him—they had taken the katanas, leaving him with nothing to defend himself.

He clicked his tongue, instinctively going to move his hands to try and rip off the chains with his barehands. But he couldn’t move them, making him perk up, widening his eyes in surprise as he turns his head over his shoulder.

His arms were tied behind his shell. Restrained. Unable to move.

Great…

“What a fascinating specimen you are.” John Bishop spoke up, admiring the mutant turtle who glared up at him. The human strode closer, crouching down to Caden’s eye level as they stared at each other, waiting for one of them to make the first move.

Where was Leo…? He could help Caden out right now.

“Hm… despite living in such terrible conditions, you seem rather healthy...” Bishop noted, placing a hand under Caden’s chin and tilting his head up.

A mistake.

Caden hissed and swiftly moved his head away, snapping his jaws open and biting down on the hand that touched him. He didn’t know what else to do—there was no way he was going to be touched like some lab rat.

Bishop let out a surprised and annoyed yell, using his free hand to punch Caden. The young mutant grunted at the hit, releasing Bishop’s hand from his mouth as blood stained his teeth.

Caden eyed Bishop, who clutched his bleeding hand, looking both puzzled and flabbergasted. Caden narrowed his eyes, spitting out the metallic taste of blood to the side.

“Fine then…you want to be a wild animal.” Bishop scoffed, standing up and walking away. As Caden eyed him suspiciously, another human walked in once the door opened, revealing what looked to be a muzzle of sorts.

A muzzle…they were going to muzzle him?!

“No! Get away!” Caden both hissed and pleaded, watching as another human walked in afterward, the door closing as they advanced toward him. His heart raced in utter panic as Caden tried to move as far back as he could, but he was yanked forward, groaning as they roughly pinned him down to the floor.

“Let go!”

They ignored him, holding his head still as he tried to move it in any direction he could. He felt the contraption being wrapped around his head and mouth, and he let out a broken sob of fear when they finally let go. The clanging sound of the muzzle echoed as Caden scraped it against the floor.

“This should teach you some manners,” John Bishop stated, smirking down while Caden looked up at him, eyes slightly glossy as he sat up.

His breaths came in sharp, muffled bursts as he struggled to get used to the cold, suffocating weight of the muzzle. He thrashed his head, trying to shake it off, but the leather straps dug painfully into his skin. The men who had restrained him backed away cautiously, eyeing him like he was some feral beast.

John Bishop wiped his bleeding hand with a pristine white handkerchief, not bothering to hide his contempt. “You mutants really don’t know how to behave, do you? Savage and primitive, like animals that need to be broken.”

Caden growled lowly, the sound vibrating through the muzzle. His heart pounded against his plastron, but the fear was starting to meld into anger—a burning, choking kind of fury that made his vision blur. He wanted to fight back, to rip the smug expression from Bishop’s face, but the chains held him in place, dragging him back to reality.

“Now...” Bishop continued, flexing his wounded hand. “We’ll see how much fight you have left when your spirit’s crushed. You mutants...you turtles think you’re superior just because you’ve survived out there. But strength means nothing without control. We’ll see how long it takes before you’re begging for mercy.”

Caden wanted to spit a retort, to tell him that he’d never break, that Leo would come for him, but of course he couldn’t say that. They had no clue of his and Leo’s situation. No words came—just a muffled snarl.

A hand landed on his shoulder, squeezing painfully, and he snapped his head toward the new figure—another human in a lab coat. This one eyed Caden with a clinical curiosity, as if he were nothing more than a specimen.

“Sir, should we prepare him for the extraction process?” The lab tech human asked, adjusting his glasses.

Bishop nodded, not even looking at Caden. “Yes. Start with blood samples and a full physical examination. See if there’s anything unique about his mutation. We’ll keep him isolated for now. Make sure he stays restrained.”

Caden’s pulse quickened. Extraction? What did that mean? Panic clawed at his throat as he jerked back, trying to pull free from the chains. The scientists approached with syringes and sterile equipment, their gloved hands reaching for him.

He squeezed his eyes shut, teeth grinding against the muzzle as he willed himself to pull into the mindscape—to just feel Leo, even for a second. He needed him. He needed that familiar presence, that sense of safety.

Nothing. Just that agonizing, hollow ache in his chest.

“Stop fighting.” One of the humans muttered, gripping his arm with surprising force. A needle pressed against his skin, and Caden froze, trembling as the syringe pierced his muscle. The cold liquid burned its way through his bloodstream, making his limbs feel heavy and unresponsive.

“Good.” Bishop muttered, watching as Caden’s struggling waned. “Let the sedative do its work. Once he’s compliant, we’ll begin the tests. Maybe this one will be useful after all.”

The last thing Caden saw before his vision faded was Bishop’s cold, satisfied smirk. He wants to…

He wants to go home.

[whumpay]

so this is not technically something I wrote fresh, but something I've never posted publicly. this grew out of some "AU within an AU' talks about what would have happened if Donnie and Leo had a "twin sense" during the events of the room fic.

I'm posting this today for @whumpay 's first supernatural prompt, "Psychic Link"

cw: starvation and kidnapping mentioned

---

When Leo’s connection first disappeared, Donnie hadn’t been too worried. Sometimes, especially times like these, when he felt like the world was against him, Leo portaled somewhere far away, where their “twin sense” (as he insisted on calling it) didn’t reach. In ways, the quiet was nice, and Donnie got some work done.

And then he didn’t come back. And the quiet was no longer nice.

———

It comes back at the same time the Rockies come into view on the horizon.

It starts as a faint pulse, the vague suggestion of someone’s else’s feelings. The way it used to be back before they fully awakened their powers, when Donnie still denied the “twin sense” even existed. But it grows, slow at first, then increasing exponentially, until it cracks through into full, startling clarity.

Donnie gasps, and the wheel in his hands jerks.

In hindsight, he should have stopped driving the moment he felt it.

“Dee!” yells April, and then someone is hitting something, and “AUTOPILOT” flashes bright red on screen, and he can barely register what it means because he can’t focus on anything right now but

cold

hungry

exhausted

scared

exposed

alone alone alone 

“No!” he shouts. Hands grab him and pull him out of the chair and away from the dash. “No! I’m here, Leo, we’re here!”

People are talking and shouting around him. The tank slows and stops and no no no, they have to keep going, they have to get there right now-

“Here, Donnie.”

Someone is holding something out to him. He takes it in his hands, belatedly recognizing it as his hoodie. Cold, so cold his teeth keep chattering. Exposed, they’re looking at him, watching him.

He yanks the hoodie on and wraps his arms tight around himself. He’s sitting on the floor and he rocks back and forth.

“Donnie, talk to us,” says a voice. Raph’s voice? “What’s wrong?”

Donnie laughs once, high and hysterical. What isn’t wrong?

“Come on, Dee. We’re here, just talk to us.”

Donnie scrubs at his eyes. He’s crying. He doesn’t know whose tears they are.

“H-he’s cold,” Donnie explains. “Leo.”

“Okay,” says Mikey’s voice somewhere above him. “What else?”

Donnie swallows hard. “Scared. H-hungry. Really hungry.”

“…Do you think,” says Mikey softly, tinged with hope, “he got out? And he’s lost in the mountains somewhere?”

“No,” says Donnie quickly, shaking his head. “Watching him, watching me, exposed, trapped-“

“He’s still trapped,” Raph repeats. “They still have him.”

Donnie nods quickly. It’s not an actual thought, that’s not how it works, they can’t talk to each other. But he knows that if Leo had escaped, these feelings would be different.

“Okay.” Raph lets out a deeply held breath, then asks, “Would eating help? We can get you a snack.”

Donnie nods again, sharp. It won’t fix things for Leo, won’t nourish his body. But it might bring him some relief, if only for a little while.

They move him to the bench seat. Wrap a blanket around him. Press a big bag of trail mix into his hands. He eats it fast and greedy - he hasn’t been keeping up with three meals a day since Leo went missing, but now he makes up for it, now he’ll eat as much as he can if it helps Leo feel better for even one minute.

And he presses these feelings back through the connection.

warm

full

safe 

covered

together together together

He doesn’t know if it gets through. Leo’s misery is a deep abyss, trying to pull them both down. But he reaches through it to take Leo’s hand, and pulls.

[whumpay]

I’ve been on that Whumpay grind, and I’m back again (to no one’s shock or surprise). I dunno about you guys, but I love rescue fics. I also love the teenage mutant ninja turtles.

When I saw the prompt “Muzzled”, I knew exactly what needed to be done.

I’m pretty sure I hyperfocused so hard I blacked out lmao, but here we go

Tw: Swearing (it’s always Raph), mentions of injuries and blood

Leonardo wasn’t prepared for this.

They had been looking for weeks. Two hellish weeks. They had checked under every rock, every nook, in every cranny. They ransacked every abandoned building they came across, every tunnel in the sewers. Hell, they even broke into the Shredders lair.

They. Looked. Everywhere.

They were getting desperate, snappy. They barely slept, barely ate. Master Splinter had tried to keep the two of them inside for one day- just to rest.

He never tried that again.

It had been the beginning of the third week when they found it. Raphael had almost run straight by the building, but Leo stopped. He noticed that on the gps there was no building in this location. Not only that, but they couldn’t see an address. The structure was way too new to be off the grid, and it was easy to realize something shady was going on.

From an outside perspective it was just a storage building. Unassuming, grey brick, a blue roof made of metal, and a ten foot high chain link fence that circled the property. For a few hours they waited and watched, silently. It bustled with just enough activity that they almost left, wondering if they were making something out of nothing. That was until it hit him that the people coming in weren’t the same ones coming out a few minutes later. Leo knew it shouldn’t take hours to check your storage compartment, unless you weren’t. That’s when Raph spotted the man, an officer circling the perimeter.

“What the fuck is this? Protected storage?” He snapped, huffing with frustration. They had been up in the trees, hidden from view but still able to observe the compound.

Leo didn’t react, scanning the property for guards. It didn’t take long to realize that it was armed to the teeth with soldiers and guns.

“There’s something sketchy going on down there.” He mumbled.

Beside him, Raph snorted. “No shit, fearless.”

They fell silent once again, and Raph shifted on his tree branch. He was almost.. apprehensive. Scared.

“Do you think… Mikey and Donnie are in there?” He asked softly, looking at his older brother. Leo’s eyes hardened, his fist tightening on the branch in hand. He hoped so, he really hoped so.

“Theres only one way to find out, right?”

Raphael looked confused for a second before he smirked, cracking his knuckles with an evil looking glint in his eye.

“Tonight?”

“Tonight.”

———————————————

It wasn’t hard to break in. They slipped past the guards easily, taking them out with practiced precision. They were methodical and silent, hidden within the shadows. They made their way into some sort of elevator. They’d already stolen a keycard from one of the high ranking guards, ensuring access to every level. The first floor they landed on seemed to store old and unused lab technology. They had a laugh about how Donnie would love this, before they fell silent, the weight of what was at stake resting heavily on their shoulders.

The next floor was a lab, extensive and huge. It seemed to go on forever, door after door leading to more rooms than they could count on both hands. But it wasn’t the size that worried them, it was everything else. Tazers and cattle prods, trays full of scalpels and bone saws, dissection tables, test tubes numbered from 1-578. Then there was that room, full of giant tubes containing some sort of green goo. What they held.. well, it looked like mutants. They were probably made from scratch, floating within the green liquid.

They gave each other a look then, certain they were in the right place, and yet so incredibly scared of what they might find.

The floor below that looked like a training room, one they didn’t bother exploring.

However, the floor below that one… well, it was nothing short of a prison. Cells lined the walls in every direction, and Leo’s skin crawled with disgust. It was inhumane, unsanitary and it reeked of blood. Some cells were empty, some weren’t. Even if he wanted to save every mutant captured, he knew there wasn’t any time. He was on a mission. He needed to find his brothers.

It was one of the last cells, furthest away from the elevator, practically hidden in the darkness. They would’ve walked past without a second glance if they hadn’t heard it, a high pitched whimper, the sound of chains rustling. Then, a voice.

“Leo..?”

It was scratchy, barely above a whisper, but Leo would recognize that voice anywhere. His heart had plummeted to his feet as he rushed to the bars, grabbing at them desperately.

“Donnie!?” He whisper shouted, trying to peer into the dark cell. He could make out two silhouettes, one of them sat up against the wall, his arms hanging next to him, limply. Laid out on his lap there was a second figure, presumably asleep, curled up close to the first. With what little light they had, Leo could make out green skin and shells on both of them.

Next to him, Raph had froze, staring at the scene in front of him with wide eyes. His sais hung limply in his hands, mouth parted in horror. He stepped forward and his face tightened, twisting in guilt and worry. He had stabbed his sai into the lock mechanism, twisting it roughly until he heard a click. Raph didn’t waste any time before he entered the cell, dropping to his knees next to the two figures. Leo followed soon after, first checking to make sure no one heard the commotion. Once he deemed it was safe, he joined them inside the poor excuse for a room.

Raph had pulled out his t-phone to turn the flashlight on, and almost dropped it immediately after.

Donnie was muzzled. Leo hadn’t noticed until now- how, he wasn’t sure- but he was muzzled. Like a wild animal. He gasped from his place behind Raph, his hand covering his mouth as he glanced over their bodies. He didn’t want to look too closely just yet, scared of what he might see. What he had gathered from the once over was enough. Leo wanted to throw up, but he knew he needed to keep it together. He was the leader for Christ’s sakes! But… god.

Leonardo wasn’t prepared for this.

It was quiet. They all stood there- or sat, in Donnie’s case- and stared. Raph couldn’t look away from the muzzle. Leo was scanning Mikey’s shell, mentally noting every new dent and scratch. Donnie’s eyes flicked between his two older brothers, like he couldn’t believe this was real.

They sound of a low groan snapped them out of their silent trance. Michelangelo shifted from where he was in Donnie’s lap, letting out the same whimper they heard earlier. Leo didn’t think his heart could break anymore, but here he was, his heart breaking.

“Oh god..” he mumbled, finally dropping to his knees on the other side of Donatello. He hesitantly grabbed Mikey’s shoulders, rolling him over. He almost puked at what he saw.

His little brother had bruises covering his skin and his beak looked broken, evident by the blood dripping down his face. What really pissed him off was the collar around his neck, metal and about an inch thick. It looked too tight to be comfortable, but, it did explain why the youngest didn’t have a muzzle. Leo swallowed harshly, tapping Mikey’s shoulder.

“Mikey, can you hear me?”

His brothers eyes fluttered but didn’t open, and Leo frowned. He grabbed his shoulder, careful about any bruises or scrapes, and gave him a light shake.

“Come on Mike, we need to get you out of here.”

Finally he seemed to stir, cracking his eyes open ever so slightly. Donnie immediately pushed the t-phone out of Mikey’s face, before he gingerly brought a hand to his forehead, swiping his thumb over the skin a few times. Mikey looked up at Donnie with confusion and maybe concern, before he looked around. He saw Leo first and did a double take, his eyes widening in shock. Then Mikey was sitting up, far too quickly because he nearly fell over in the process, but it was clear that he didn’t care, throwing himself into Leo’s arms. Donnie reached after him, his arm hovering in the air as he watched the two before it dropped onto his lap.

Raph had long since started looking around for the chains they’d heard earlier. Once spotted, he didn’t waste any time before breaking both of them with his sai. He let out a small puff of air, sitting back onto his heels. At least they weren’t tied down anymore, he thought bitterly.

Leo didn’t care about anything but the turtle in his arms. He held his brother tightly, the relief was finally hitting him. He could feel Mikey’s tears soaking his shoulder, but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t shedding some of his own. The younger turtle was trembling, his face was tucked into Leo’s neck and his body felt cold, but Leo didn’t care. He was here. In Leo’s arms. That’s all that mattered right now.

“Not to burst your bubble or anything, but we need to get out. Like, now.” Raph snapped, already helping Donnie to his feet. Leo noticed that the muzzle was still on his face, it must’ve been too dangerous to take it off right now. Raph wouldn’t leave it unless he had too.

Leo nodded from his place on the floor, shifting Mikey into a princess carry soon after. He stood up, pulling Mikey close to his chest. His younger brother still hadn’t said anything, and that fact alone was starting to worry Leo.

“Alright, you got Donnie?” A quick nod of confirmation from Raph was all he needed before they set off. They were careful, doing their best to be quiet. Donnie stumbled a lot, clearly dizzy and weak, before Raph wordlessly offered him a piggyback.

It was smooth sailing from there on.

They made it to the elevator and hit the main level, all of them standing in silence. Raph and Leo were relieved to have their brothers back, but worried about what happened. Mikey and Donnie were still reeling from their imprisonment. They didn’t see any guards- they were all still tied up and gagged- and made it across the property within a minute.

The first step outside of the gates felt like a huge weight lifted off their shoulders. Leo let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding, and Raph was quick to call their father. He let him know that they found their brothers and that they were heading home.

They made it back about an hour later to a panicked April and a concerned Splinter. They still didn’t know what happened to them, they weren’t sure they ever would, but they were home, and that was good enough for Leo.

You can also find this on Ao3 :3

https://archiveofourown.org/works/65316250

[whumpay]

Wasn't really coming up with anything for the other Whumpay prompts for Trapped so I decided to do the alt prompt: Buried Alive

(credit: @whumpay )

cw: buried alive, hurt no comfort

---

Leo wakes up with a sharp pain in his left arm, a throbbing in his head, and no idea where he is.

It's pitch-black and silent. There's thick, earthy smell in the air, and the feeling of hard wood under his body. Not the medbay, then, or his room - even if his brothers just dumped him in the floor, he'd be feeling metal or concrete, not wood. And it'd be pretty mean of them to just dump him in the floor anyway, after...

After...

Augh, what even happened? Leo's thoughts are all scrambled. He thinks they were investigating a building Donnie had been getting weird readings from... They split up, and...

His memories end there. Someone must have gotten the jump on him; being drugged would explain the pounding headache. Leo groans aloud, and it echoes back oddly.

That... probably isn't good.

For the first time, Leo cautiously lifts his uninjured arm, and hisses when he immediately smacks his elbow against something only inches away on his right side. He straights his arm out to feel a wooden wall, going up only about eight or nine more inches before he hits a right angle.

His heart speeds up.

Slowly, he drags his fingers along the low ceiling, feeling the grooves of the planks and the small gaps between them. It's a few feet across, and then another right angle going down.

That solves the mystery of the smell, because it was never a mystery at all: it smells like dirt because that's where he is.

Underground.

Leo's breath hitches, and he slams both hands against the roof of the coffin. Predictably, it doesn't budge; worse, grains of dirt and silt rain through the gaps into his tiny prison. He can't just smash through it; he has to think.

He takes a deep breath, in through his nose and out through his mouth, and then resolves not to do that again. He isn't sure how much air is left-

Terrible line of thought! He quickly puts that away and focuses on taking stock.

He can't move much, but he can just reach his hip - but of course the pouch containing his cellphone and other supplies are gone. Why would whoever did this to him let him have that? Furthermore, his swords are gone, too, and making a portal without them is something he hasn't figured out yet.

So that's that plan shot, too.

Leo lets his arms fall dejectedly, and that's when he feels it against his wrist: the communicator Donnie hid in all their arm wraps. Whoever trapped him wasn't smart enough to find that.

"Oh, yes yes yes yes yes yes yes," Leo whispers to himself, raising his wrist again and tapping at the communicator with his other hand. It lights up in response, and he sighs in relief.

(Seeing the sides of the coffin does not make it better; Leo tries not to think about it.)

"Guys!" he shouts into the communicator, heart thudding. "Please say you can hear me."

"Leo!" echo four different voices immediately, and Leo finally feels some of the panic ebb away. They sound faint and staticky, because the reception is probably bad, but Donnie's tech does its job.

"Leo, where are you!?" Raph's voice demands. He sounds more panicked than Leo has heard him since the invasion.

"Iiii was really hoping you guys knew that," Leo admits.

"To be more precise, we know where you are," comes Donnie's voice, crackling through the speaker. "Your tracker is still functional, and pointing us to a campsite in New Jersey."

"Jersey!?" Leo grimaces at the coffin. Ew, is this Jersey dirt getting on him!? "Ugh, of all the indignities!"

"Welp, at least we know he's okay," says April.

"What's going on over there, Leo?" Raph demands, cutting over any further chatter.

"Oh, well, nothing much. Just, uh... Hey Dee, remember you said you'd bury me alive if I touched your new Atomic Lass figure?"

"...Yes...?"

"I think someone beat you to it."

He cringes back from the sudden microphone peaking, caused by all four of them yelling at once.

"Are you saying you're underground!?" Mikey shouts.

"Yeeep."

"Like..." April sounds like she doesn't want to finish the question. "Like a cave, or...?"

"Oh no. This is definitely a coffin situation. And they didn't even leave me a bell to ring!"

There's a bang that sounds like maybe Raph hit something. Then a shushing noise, before Donnie is speaking again.

"Leo, listen to me. We have your location and we're on our way; T-minus eighteen minutes. What you need to do while you wait for us is conserve air."

Leo's throat feels very dry. "Sure."

"The best thing you can do is take a deep breath and hold it for awhile," Donnie continues. "And, I know this is difficult for you, but keep talking to a minimum."

"Harsh but fair," Leo mutters.

"What did I just say!?"

"What Donnie is saying," April cuts in, "is hang tight, Leo. We're on our way. We'll have you out of there in no time."

Leo nods, even though she can't see. They're on their way; he just has to stick it out for eighteen minutes.

He can do that! Easy peasy! Maybe he'll even take a little nap. Sure... in this hard cramped box that smells all wrong and is too dark and has no support for his back and...

Leo takes that deep breath and holds it.

He can't hold his breath like Donnie or Raph, but he can hold it longer than a human. He's not sure if the silence is better than the sound of his ragged breathing echoing off the wood. He dims the communicator light so he doesn't have to look at the ceiling.

The comms occasionally crackle with the faint sounds of his siblings talking to each other, but none of them are talking to Leo so he doesn't catch much. He lays back and closes his eyes, and wonders if the black of his eyelids is better than the oppressive darkness of the coffin.

He just hates being trapped. And he hasn't been more trapped than this since...

He's not sure when he let out the breath he was holding, but at some point Raph says, "Heeey, buddy. Are you doing okay?"

"Yep," he manages through his strangled throat. "Solid."

"You're just breathin' kinda heavy in there..."

"Nope," he says pathetically. "Must'a been some other turtle."

"...You sure?"

"I'm sure." Leo giggles, stressed and tense. "Just discovering some new fears in real time- tell Dee I don't want to know the word for this one."

"I know. It's about six minutes now. We'll get you out."

Leo falls silent. He tries to hold his breath again.

The six minutes feel interminable; with no way to tell time, he can rely only on his own unsteady counting to keep track. The cramped, stuffy void seems to suck time away with it, just like how time had seemed in-

"We're here!"

Leo lets out his breath again, relief flooding him. Any minute now, he'll be free of this hell.

"This has gotta be the spot," Donnie is saying.

"Ground's been disturbed recently," April agrees. "Let's dig, boys!"

Leo relaxes and waits, listening to the sound of his family on the communicator as they labor at digging. Any minute now, he'll be hearing them above him for real.

Any minute now.

Any

minute

now

...?

"Guys!" he calls out. "Why can't I hear you up there?"

"We're only a few feet down, Leo," says April, panting. "That bitch and her lackeys buried you all the way down."

"Yeah, I just... think I should still be hearing something by now..."

"Just give us a- minute, okay?"

Leo falls silent, waiting for another minute, and another, and another...

He still can't hear anything. His heart rate spikes again.

"Guys, I really think I should be hearing something-"

"We gotcha, Leo!" calls Raph over him. "We can see it now! Let us just clear off the lid..."

They can see it? But then they'd be right on top of Leo, but it's just as silent and dark as it has been.

His heart plummets. He knows before they say it.

"...What-"

"No!"

"It's empty!?"

"I-I don't understand- His tracker is functional; this is where he should be!"

And for a first time in awhile, Leo remembers the dull pain in his left arm.

He reaches over to feel his bicep, fingers rubbing over the skin. They come away with something tacky and smelling of iron.

He clears his throat.

"Dee," he says, and the other end of the communicator falls silent. "Where... where did you put the tracker on me?"

"In your upper arm, left side," says Donnie. "Why?"

Leo can only laugh.

[whumpay]

@whumpay Day 6 - Muzzled

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Patreon | Ko-Fi

[whumpay]

Whumpay Day 6: Muzzled

T/W: Solitary isolation, vampire whumpee, degrading treatment, muzzled, shackled, imprisoned, discrimination, references to murder

Adam (POV) belongs to the lovely @illustriousshadow and Xander and Ian (referenced) belong to the awesome @whumpsmith x

They call it solitary for a reason.

Alone. Isolated. Confined.

Locked in a single tiny cell, kept shut up in the dark, away from everything and everyone. Caged behind reinforced walls and power suppressing fields, chained and muzzled like you’re less than human. Treated like you’re a constant threat, a walking breathing danger to everyone around you. You only end up here if you do something wrong – so horribly unforgivably wrong that you deserve to be here.

…except I didn’t do anything wrong.

I never asked for this. I never fucking asked to be straight up slaughtered, then brought back to life as an immortal fucking vampire. I didn’t willingly lie there and let him change me and yet everyone treats me as if I wanted this hell of an existence. One look in their eyes and I know they despise me, or worse, pity me. I don’t want their pity. I want their understanding. I can’t help how I am. I’ve only had a couple months to adjust to my new form, my new life, my new powers…and my new thirst. People had helped me. They’d given me the space, they’d given me the benefit of the doubt, until I could finally rejoin my old team. It was all going well – so well – until the perp cut himself.

…I don’t fully remember what happened, but that was what landed me here. It didn’t matter that he was a bad guy. It didn’t matter that he would’ve probably straight up killed someone if I hadn’t got to him first. None of it mattered. What mattered was I ‘lost control’. It was my fault. Mine.

All mine.

They had no choice, they told me. Screw that. They could have stopped this. They could have stopped them from taking me. I don’t even remember if any of them tried. The longer I stay down here, the more I question my mind, my sanity, my reason for even living. Every day is just the same bleak existence in the dark. Shackled to the wall, the cuffs raking my white skin raw with bruised black bracelets around my wrists. My jaw locked shut day and night, permanently held closed by that horrible horrible muzzle. I hate it. I hate it so much. Every single one of those cold leather straps digging into my face, numerous metal wires wound together over the front of my lower face. I can breathe. I can curse. I can scream until my throat is raw – but that’s about it. It hasn’t come off since the day I arrived, since the day they first forced it over my mouth. A ‘precaution’, they’d said, even after filing down my fangs whilst they’d held down and sedated me. Bullshit. I have no hope of biting through it and no hope of biting anyone. I can’t eat or drink through it either. 

…I don’t actually remember the last time they gave me a proper blood meal.

I swear they’re starving me. An eternity will pass before they finally come down to me, fully armoured and armed to the teeth, barking out threats of what they will do to me if I so much as I hiss at them. The twirling batons, the pulsating tasers, the additional chains used to hold me in place as they jam the needle into my arm and give me a small bag of blood through an IV drip. Not enough to tide over my thirst, but just enough to keep me alive. Now and again they will also toss a bucket of freezing water over me and call it a shower. The chains never come off. I stay confined to the cell, completely alone otherwise.

...how long have I even been down here now? Days? Weeks? Months? I have no idea. Time just drags by. This is what I have to look forward to for the rest of my life. The slow dragging passage of time. Having to watch the people I care about die before my eyes. Unable to die myself. They won’t even let me try that down here. They can’t take any risks.

…Oh fuck, I’m starting to lose it. The thirst is becoming overwhelming. I can feel my muscles spasming, my throat closing up, my heart pulsing as I barely manage to pace back and forth through the dark. I haven’t seen the light of day at all for…way too fucking long. Not a single shaft of light makes its way down here. Fitting. Vampires are meant to be ‘creatures of the dark’. If nothing changes soon, I might just lose it entirely. I might just go full on feral – and what would stop me? I’ve got nothing to lose. They say I’m ‘awaiting trial’ – but I already know it’s just a formality. They’ll find me guilty before the defence has a chance to breathe and I’ll be shipped straight back here to live out the rest of my life.

…why has no one come to even visit me?

Logically I know why. The clue is in the name, dumbass. ‘Solitary confinement’. No visitors allowed. Yet there’s another part that thinks…they just don’t want to. They don’t care anymore. None of them do. The look in their eyes when I lost it – it was like they were looking at a monster.

…maybe that’s exactly what I am. They’re better off without me. They hate me. They all do. They could never look at me the same way again. That’s why they didn’t fight when they dragged me off here. That’s why they’re glad I’m not—nngh, no! NO!

I thrash my head about with a furious hiss. No, they’re not—they’re not LIKE that! Right? Or am I just being stupid? I don’t—I-I don’t KNOW!

For the first time…a small sob makes it through the muzzle – and I hate myself for it. I’d held strong until now. I hadn’t shed a tear, but now…they’re finally starting to break me. My friends’ faces flash before me. Kris and Xan – my bros – they fought for me right? I vaguely remember a glowing green barrier and the two of them being hauled off yelling my name…or maybe I just imagined it. Maybe that didn’t really happen.

Then there’s Jasper – I saved his boyfriend. He should be grateful he—he must have said something to support me? And then there’s Evan – he has influence, he’s got to be standing in my corner, same with the other sidekicks! And Ian! He’s literally the only other person who knows what it’s like to be this kind of creature! If anyone can help me, it’s him! He still cares about me…they all do…right?

…unless they don’t anymore.

That thought makes me screw my eyes up even tighter, leaning against the cold wall. I even end up slamming my head against it, just to try and silence the rampant horrible thoughts tearing through my head.

Shut up! Shut up! SHUT THE FUCK UP!

Another growl. A fierce hiss. I slam my head against the concrete, over and over and over and over—

Bzzzzzt

A pained hiss rips from my lips. My body crumples to the ground, convulsing from the electricity pulsing through the cuffs. The shock temporarily paralyses me, rendering me weak and helpless. I can’t move. I can’t even speak. I can’t do anything as the doors in front of me slowly open. The guards step inside, staring down at me with repulsion. 

“We’re good to go. It won’t try anything while it’s like that.”

I barely register their words as they yank me into a sitting position, checking the tightness of the chains. “Fetch the blood bag. We need to keep it alive until the trial.”

I can already feel my grip on consciousness fading. The guard’s unforgiving eyes bear into me. His lips curl upwards into a sickening smirk.

“Enjoy this while you can, creature. It’s only gonna get worse from here..."

[whumpay]

Day 6 - Muzzled

CW: shapeshifter whumpee, minor whumpee (17 and a half I think lol), dehumanisation, muzzle, cage, basement, implied kidnapping, rescue (also implied, heavily)

Harvey hated muzzles.

They made him feel small, weak, and insignificant. And worst of all; bad guys tended to use them all the damn time. And sadly, Harvey had a lot of experience with that, so every time it happened again, it re-opened old wounds that never quite healed in the first place.

And why were bad guys inclined to go for a muzzle to keep him restrained?

Because Harvey is a lycanthrope.

Not a werewolf, mind you, but a lycanthrope. The preferred term for people able to shapeshift into a wolf at will as the other implied they were only half human or half wolf, while they considered themselves fully both.

But enough about that. Back to Harvey and his predicament. Muzzled. Alone. Caged. In some cold, dark basement. Forced to stay in his human form as the cage was too small for him to shapeshift, and the muzzle too tight to fit his snout.

And if the current restraints weren't enough, then there was also the memories that resurfaced. Memories of bright, tiled floors, white coats, flashing lights, and pain. Searing, intense pain that would make anyone go crazy.

Harvey shuddered at the memory, whining as he was trying not to break out in sobs. He hugged himself, curling up into a small ball in the corner.

His face was covered in scratches from his attempts to loosen the straps of the muzzle. But the buckles were padlocked, and there was no slipping out either. The faux leather pressed so hard against his skin it was beginning to leave marks. Painful indents that made his head pound, the only relieve being the cold iron bars, even if they didn't do too much to alleviate the pain.

Harvey sniffled. He couldn't even wipe his nose with that stupid thing on his face. Another reason to try not to cry. But the main one was that the bad guys that put him in here could return any moment now, and he didn't want them to know how scared he was.

He had to be brave. He didn't want to disappoint Frostbringer, his mentor, or Dua his fellow sidekick, or his handler, detective Mark Hales, or his mom...

Oops.

There go the waterworks.

The thought of his mother was unbearable, and he couldn't stop himself from sobbing anymore. He wanted to see her so bad. He wanted her to hold him close and tell him everything was going to be okay. He just wanted to feel safe again.

CRASH!

Harvey promptly stopped crying, save for a last hiccup. Something was happening upstairs. That loud crash was just the first of many. He could hear people screaming, things shattering, furniture breaking, a vicious growl cutting off a scream with a sickening snap, and then...

A howl.

A howl so loud and deep it seemed to shake the house down to its very foundations, where Harvey sat. He recognised it, scrambling to the corner of the cage that was closest to the stairs.

"MOM!"

@whumpay

Frostbringer belongs to @illustriousshadow Dua & Detective Mark Hales belong to @dr-abitat-blog

Masterlist Main account

I cut it off here because otherwise I'd spend the entire day on banter and I just don't have the energy rn

[whumpay]

Hi!! Sorry to bother but could you add iteration tags for when someone posts about tmnt too if it's easy to do for you? I've seen bother 2012tmnt and rottmnt writers do this challenge and thought it could be helpful :) have a nice day!

Hi! I can try to when the specific version are tagged on the original post!

[whumpay]

Whumpay has my going crazy, so to all the Donatello whumpee fans out there, this one’s for you.

Donnie deserved to crash out after the events of The Fourfold Trap and Leo should’ve apologized. Hence, we have this

(Uses the prompts from day 2, and day 15)

Tw: Swearing (it’s Raph), and mentions of injuries

Donnie slumps in his chair, staring at the remnants of his latest failure. The liquid was pitch black, bubbling in front of him, mockingly.

He groans, putting his face into his hands. This was the fifth failure of the night. It was supposed to work- why haven’t any of them been working?

He forces himself into an upright position, shoving the black sludge to the far side of his desk. His head is pounding but he doesn’t care, he has to find a cure to the brainworm. He forces his hands to stop shaking as he grabs a pipette, trying a different combination of chemicals. He’s meticulous, careful and calculated. Every drop feels like torture, the calm before the storm. He adds the last ingredient and waits with bated breath. For a second it looks like it’s going to work and he stands up, planting his hands on the table. He’s laughing, it’s working- he’s done it!

Of course, it didn’t work.

The mixture turns cement grey, bubbling like the last one had. He groans again, slamming his hands onto his desk. He was so close. But of course- of course it wouldn’t work. Why would it work? All he does is fail. With an angry shout he punches his desk, once, twice- he only stops when his hand starts throbbing.

His eyes burn. His head hurts. He’s so tired- he hasn’t slept since their kidnapping, too preoccupied with finding a cure to the brain worm. He wasn’t even sure he’d bandaged his burns, he just didn’t have the time. He lets out a bitter laugh, the remnants of another experiment gone wrong glaring at him. Gloating. Screaming. He’s a failure. All he’s done lately is fail- he couldn’t make the cure, he couldn’t save his brothers, he couldn’t beat the brain boggler, all he could do was fail.

He wants to cry, but he doesn’t. He’s not sure he can. Instead he takes a deep breath, running a hand over the top of his head. He can do this. He can do this.

He gives his hands a shake, cracks his neck, and metaphorically rolls up his sleeves. He won’t rest until he gets this right and finds a cure. He can’t. He has to do this for Leo. For Splinter.

————————————————————

It has been a few days since the kidnapping. Mikey had been shaken up for the first day or so, but bounced back quickly compared to the others. Raph still had the occasional headache (especially when he didn’t drink enough water) but it looked like he was on the road to a full recovery. Mikey had decided to spend most of his time annoying said brother, playing pranks on the older turtle whenever he could.

Currently, Mikey sat in front of the TV, cross legged and smiling at an episode of Crognard The Barbarian. Raph sat on the couch behind him, comic in hand. The two had been bickering up until a few moments ago, leaving them in a not so silent, silence.

Leo emerged from the dojo, stretching his arms above his head with a small sigh. He’d been spending most of his time with Splinter, meditating, and talking about Karai. This was the first time he’s been out since this morning.

“Has anyone seen Donnie?” He asked, and Raph snorted, shaking his head.

“Not since we got back.” He said snarkily, refusing to take his eyes off his comic. “He’s been cooped up in his lab, something about finding a cure? That ringing any bells?” Raph looked away from the comic, giving Leo a pointed look. The eldest narrowed his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest. Whether or not he did this out of frustration or guilt he wasn’t sure.

“Really?” He frowned, glancing at the large doors to his side. “Did he at least grab anything to eat?”

“Nope,” Mikey said, popping the p. He leant back on his hands, still looking at the TV as he answered his brother. “I brought him some pizza earlier, he might’ve had that.”

Leo frowned harder before he let out a sigh, once again glancing at the door. “Doubt it.”

Raph snapped his comic book shut, staring at him with narrowed eyes. “Well maybe if you hadn’t yelled at him-”

“Oh- so this is my fault now?” Leo scoffed, his arms falling to his sides. “He knew how much it meant to sensei, he wasn’t trying hard enough!”

Raph stood up, glaring hard at his older brother. “Trying hard enough? Do you- do you hear how stupid you sound!? Of course he was trying, you idiot!”

Leo rolled his eyes, adjusting his feet. “He wasn’t trying enough.” He said it with finality, a hard tone that didn’t leave any room for discussion.

Raphs forehead vein made an attempt to burst out of his skin, but he did his best to stay calm.

Leo furrowed his eyebrows, taking a few steps forward. “That’s all I told him- it’s not like I told him to make it his whole life!“ Leo was getting angrier by the second- look, he knows Donnie was trying. But they didn’t have time- they needed a cure as soon as possible.

“His- are you kidding me, fearless?“ Raph marched towards him, his fists balled. “I mean seriously, how do you not see how much of an asshole you were.”

Leo stood his ground, clenching his fists. “She needs this cure. Splinter needs his daughter. I was only trying to give him motivation-“

“Motivation!?” Raph snapped, laughing loudly. “Are you that obsessed with her that you thought bitching out your brother was the best idea for motivation?”

Leo spluttered, holding his hands up in front of him. “I did not bitch-“

“You kinda did, bro.” Mikey’s voice cut in, giving Leo a dodgy side eye. “Donnie was always working on that thing. What you said was not cool, dude.”

The two older turtles stopped, staring at the youngest. Raph held a hand out, gesturing to Mikey. If he had an eyebrow to raise, he would’ve done so. “You know it’s bad when even Mikey admits it.”

Leo stood silently, staring at the ground. His fists clenched and unclenched at his sides, a mixture of anger and guilt swirling in his mind. He wasn’t- Donnie should know that he wasn’t trying to be harsh. He was just stressed, and he felt like Donnie could be doing better.

“Well, what do you want me to do about it?” Leo frowned, looking up at the shorter turtle. Raph crossed his arms while Mikey piped up from the floor. “Apologize, duh.”

Leo sighed, rolling his eyes. “Fine.”

“And take him some more pizza!”

————————————————————

Donnie had barely slept, the pizza Mikey brought over long since forgotten on the floor. He was hunched over his desk, his eyes drooping every so often. He was no closer to creating a cure than he had been a week ago, and he was starting to get extremely frustrated with himself.

That’s where Leo found him. Muttering quietly, shaky hands reaching for pipettes and test tubes, beakers lined up on his desk, all filled with the same orange liquid. Donnie was evidently doing multiple experiments at the same time, trying to cut his time short.

Leo sighed, glancing around the room. His eyes landed on the uneaten pizza and he frowned, his fingers twitching under the plate in his hand. He shifted awkwardly, waiting for Donnie to notice that he was there- usually, the sound of the door opening would’ve been enough. Today, the taller turtle was none the wiser, far too wrapped up in his experiments to notice. Leo very quickly got fed up with it and cleared his throat, walking a little closer with intentionally loud steps.

Donnie jolted, his hands seizing. He nearly dropped the test tube he was holding, just barely steadying himself enough to avoid a spill. Once he was calm, Donnie set the tube onto a holder, placing his hands on the desk, his head bowed forward in frustration.

Donnie was turning as he spoke, pinching the bridge of his beak as he did so. “Raph, I already told you, if you want me to get out you’re gonna have to-“ he paused, finally realizing which brother he was talking too. He locked eyes with Leo, eyes widening slightly before they hardened. “Oh. It’s you.”

Leo tried not to feel hurt, but the stab of guilt in his chest made that difficult. He walked forward a few steps, gesturing to the plate in his hand. “I brought pizza.” He tried, gently. Donnie eyed it up before he turned back to his desk, waving a hand over his shoulder. “Put it on the side.”

Leo frowned again (he seemed to be doing a lot of that-) before he set the plate down next to the one Mikey had brought him. “Are you gonna eat it?” He questioned, crossing his arms in a classic big brother move. “You haven’t even touched the stuff Mikey brought you.”

“I’ll eat later.” Donnie’s tone was dismissive and cold, hardly paying attention anymore. Leo didn’t know why that made him so mad.

“Come on Donnie, just one piece won’t hurt.” He tried bargaining, taking another step towards the turtle. He was a few feet away and still, his younger brother refused to look at him.

“Oh, but it will, right?” He snapped, narrowing his eyes at the beaker in front of him. “If I eat, I’m not working on the cure.”

Leo winced, opening his mouth before closing it. He let out a loud sigh, giving Donnie his best mom look. “You know that’s not what I meant.”

“Then what did you mean?” He snapped, turning to look at Leo. “You wanted me to try harder- I’m trying harder! What, now you’re mad at me?” He scoffed, letting out a short laugh. Of course- of course, because Donnie couldn’t do anything right.

“Of course not! I’m just worried about you, you haven’t eaten, you don’t sleep-“

“You told me to try harder!”

Leo fell silent, his eyes widening with a sudden realization. Donnie paced in front of him, tugging at the skin on his head with a manic look in his eyes. The steps seemed to echo off the walls, a deafening sound to Leo’s ears.

”You want me to work on the cure, I’m working on the cure. Now you don’t want me to work on the cure? Make up your mind!” He said angrily, gesturing as he spoke. “You don’t get to say I’m not working hard enough then tell me I’m working too hard, that’s not how it works!”

Leo shook his head, firing back a response. “Yes I can! I can when you’re not taking care of yourself! I’m your older brother, and your leader!”

Donnie let out a loud laugh, one that seemed to reverberate around the room and drown out any other noise. When he finally calmed down, he refused to look at the other. He was seething, and his arms were tense at his sides.

“I can’t win with you! I’m expected to have all the answers and when I don’t, I’m told to try harder. I am trying! I’m trying my hardest! I do everything! Everything! You may be the leader but you don’t have half the responsibility I do! You act like you do, but you don’t/ you guys don’t even acknowledge 90% of what I do! And you want me to try harder!?” He whipped his head around, staring into Leo’s soul. He was sure at that moment if looks could kill, he’d be limbo dancing with the devil. Leo watched his younger brother stalk forward, jabbing a finger into his plastron. “How would you like to figure all this out? To be in charge of all the technology, all the vehicles, all the first aid? How would you like to be the first person everyone goes to for their problems, and the first person blamed when something goes wrong?”

Every stab of his finger felt like a knife through his heart, the weight of everything he’d done settling in like a dark cloud. Choking him, suffocating in the guilt. He was cut off anytime he tried to speak, forced to listen. Something he wasn’t used too.

“You- you tell me to try harder, like I’m not telling myself that everyday.” The jabs were losing heat, barely more than a firm poke at this point. “I know I need to find the cure. I know how much this means to Sensei. I know that we’re on a time crunch. I know because I tell myself every single day.”

He stopped, choking on his words for a moment. Leo went to open his mouth but Donnie gave him a look, clearly saying ‘I’m not finished’.

“I.. give everything to this family. Everything. And what do I get back? I’m told to try harder.” His voice is quiet, barely more than a whisper. His hand has long since dropped to his side, eyes locked to the floor as he spoke. “So go. Let me try harder. Let me redeem myself. Thats what you want, right?”

Leo wasn’t sure if he should cry or punch himself in the face. The silence enveloped them like a blanket, and for the first time in a long time, he took a long look at his brother.

The first thing he noticed was the untreated burns, blistering and swollen on the side of his head. Next were his eyes. Bloodshot. Drooping. He could see the unshed tears gathering in the corners, fighting a battle they were bound to lose. He noticed the dark circles under his eyes that stretched so far you could see them below his mask. He could see how sickly he looked, pale, almost deathly so. He looked like a shell of what he’d been even a week ago- how had Leo not noticed?

He looked around at the lab next, it was a mess. There were papers thrown all over the floor, burns, dents and scrapes on every surface. Broken parts of past machines were scattered everywhere, wires were stuffed in questionable places, and there was a box on the floor overflowing with gears. The broken toaster sat on one of his shelves, next to some hand drawn blueprints of the battle shell. With every small detail Leo felt his heart breaking, his breath catching in his throat. His eyes burned with shame, how has he never noticed before?

He finally looked back at his brother, his eyes landing on the burns once again. He felt a swell of emotion in his chest, nearly choking him with the intensity, and he realized with a start that he never answered his question.

“God- no, Donnie. I’m-“ he took a breath, closing his eyes as he collected himself. When he opened them he saw Donnie’s eyes. Narrowed. Tired. Disbelieving. “I shouldn’t have said that, okay? It was stupid, I- I realize that now. I don’t ever want to see you putting work over your own well being. That’s not what I meant.”

Donnie stayed silent, his red rimmed eyes scanning over Leo. He didn’t believe him, that much was obvious, and Leo knew that somehow he had to fix that.

“I know you don’t believe me, but just- take a break. Get some sleep. Eat something. Spend some time out of your lab, this’ll all be here when you come back to it.”

Donnie shifted on his feet, glancing back at the desk, his eyes were searching- for what, he wasn’t sure. Finally, after a terrifying minute of silence, he turned back to his brother with a small sniffle, clearly trying not to cry.

“You’re not gonna let me say no, are you?” He spoke softly, like all the fight had drained out of him, leaving him exhausted.

“Nope.” Leo said, giving his brother a small smile.

Donnie let out a wet laugh, one hand coming up to cover his mouth, the other resting on his desk. He gave it one last look before he turned around, crossing his arms over his chest. He stood in front of Leo, shifting on his feet with another sniff. Before he could say anything, Leo had his arms wrapped around him in a tight hug, the unsaid words obvious between the two. I’m so sorry. I never meant to hurt you. I’d do anything to make this better.

Donnie froze, his body going stiff before he slowly relaxed, wrapping his arms around his carapace. The tears fell freely after that, soaking his mask and Leo’s shoulder. At some point they ended up on the floor, Donnie half in Leo’s lap but of course he didn’t mind. He sobbed, he knew things weren’t gonna be okay. He still had to find the cure, he was still the tech guy, but right now.. he was just Donnie. Being comforted by his older brother, like he used to when they were tots.

Right now, they were Donnie and Leo. Brothers before teammates. Brothers before ninjas. That’s all they needed to be.

You can also find this on Ao3

https://archiveofourown.org/works/65259853

[whumpay]

Day 5 - Incapable of Disobeying

CW: vampire whumper, vampire whumpee, intimate whumper, manipulative whumper, implied (future) character death

There's a lot of upsides to being a vampire: Eternal life, eternal youth, enhanced strength, enhanced speed, being at the very top of the food chain...

But depending on your situation, and especially your sire, being a vampire could also have a lot of downsides. Especially when the bond between a sire and its fledgling was so powerful, it made it impossible to purposely disobey any direct command given to you.

It's a lot of power to hold over someone, so of course the majority of vampires who were in the business of making new vampires, tended to be power-hungry assholes who got off on being in control.

And Lord Colin Gethin was no exception.

Ian had always known his sire was controlling. After all, he raised him just how he wanted him to be and act. And Ian had always obeyed. He wanted to obey. He knew no other way of living. And he was perfectly happy that way.

Until his choice was taken away.

In hindsight, Ian had made a completely uninformed decision. He had no idea what to expect when Lord Gethin offered him eternity, and of course Lord Gethin kept him in the dark until it was already too late.

Ian had never felt more betrayed. His illusion of how great his master was shattered in an instant, and just when he considered disobeying for the very first time...he was no longer able to.

It took him a while to notice. Resenting himself for still following his every command when he so desired to do anything but. Until one day, Lord Gethin explained, how strongly they were bonded now that they were both the same species.

"It's an ancient kind of magic that granted you eternal life and eternal power." he'd said, "And that kind of power comes at a price. And that price is perfect obedience to the one who granted you all this. Perfect obedience to me."

"That shouldn't be possible," Ian had replied. He knew it was, he just really thought it shouldn't be.

The grin on Gethin's face said more than enough.

"Come to me," he said.

And Ian did.

"Kneel."

Ian's knees smacked against the cold, stone floor as his body moved before he even could begin to consider resisting.

"Rest your head against my leg."

Ian wasn't sure anymore if it was magic that compelled him to obey, or whether he did so willingly. Being allowed to be so close to his master had always felt so comforting. All the doubt washed away as Gethin tousled his hair and Ian melted completely against him.

"It should be possible." Gethin said, "Isn't it so much easier to forego thinking and just obey? Aren't you so lucky, Ian?"

"Yes, Master. Very much so." Ian said dutifully.

"Good boy."

Ian thought he might explode, the praise making him feel so happy. So wanted. So loved.

"Now how about Ilgen for tonight's meal?"

Ian's bubble popped again. He wanted to pull away, but Gethin hadn't told him he was free to move yet, so he was forced to kneel beside him, leaning against his leg while he played with his hair.

"W-we fed from Ilgen just two days ago..." Ian quietly said, "If we feed from him again so soon...he won't last the night."

"I'm aware."

The whole room seemed to grow colder, and a chill ran down Ian's spine.

"His blood is sweet, but his face...not so much anymore." Gethin said, "I simply wish to enjoy his taste one last time."

"P-please..."

"Don't mumble, Ian."

Ian swallowed. The comfort of Gethin's hand on his head had turned to a terrifying threat. His voice wavering as he dared to speak up.

"P-please, Master..." he said, "Please, spare him..."

Gethin was quiet for a moment, as if he was contemplating Ian's request. And then he gave his final answer.

"No."

Ian's breath hitched.

"Fetch Ilgen."

Ian had no choice but to get up. Not even able to throw Gethin a pleading look as he marched towards the door and pushed it open, the hinges creaking loudly into the abandoned corridor. Ian wasted no time and headed up towards the servants' quarters, tears flowing quietly down his cheeks as he knew he was going to drag one of his former brothers to his doom.

And he had no choice but to obey.

@whumpay

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Ian is still my pathetic little meow meow <3

Would you believe I actually wrote this day in Minecraft first?