#Febuwhump2024

[febuwhump]

FEBUWHUMP 2024 PROMPT LIST

this year's prompts were chosen through a suggestion poll (in which we recevied 2,281 prompts) and a subsequent vote, where over 1,000 people voted for their favourites. the top 29 make up the core prompts, and a mixture of the next most popular - and this blog's personal favourites - have become the alternates

i’m so excited to see what you all create with these prompts, and hope they’re inspiring enough to trigger a whole month’s worth of creativity for you! if you have any questions, please check out the blog's faq before sending an ask, or check out the previously asked questions on the blog!

please note: this year, notifying the blog of completionist status will happen through a google form that will be released closer to the end of febuwhump.

full write-up of prompts and rules under the cut:

FEBUWHUMP 2024 PROMPTS:

DAY 1: helpless

DAY 2: solitary confinement

DAY 3: "bite down on this"

DAY 4: obedience

DAY 5: rope burns

DAY 6: "you lied to me"

DAY 7: suffering in silence

DAY 8: "why won't it stop?"

DAY 9: bees

DAY 10: killing in self defence

DAY 11: time loop

DAY 12: semi-conscious

DAY 13: "you weren't supposed to get hurt"

DAY 14: blood-stained tiles

DAY 15: "who did this to you?"

DAY 16: came back wrong

DAY 17: hostage situation

DAY 18: too weak to move

DAY 19: "please don't"

DAY 20: truth serum

DAY 21: unresponsive

DAY 22: "you weren't meant to be there"

DAY 23: presumed dead

DAY 24: "i'm doing this because i care about you"

DAY 25: waterboarding

DAY 26: "help them"

DAY 27: left for dead

DAY 28: "no... not like this"

DAY 29: not allowed to die

ALTERNATE PROMPTS:

is there a specific day’s prompt you don’t want to fill? here are ten alternatives you can switch them out for!

ALT 1: human shield

ALT 2: "i love you"

ALT 3: found footage

ALT 4: human weapon

ALT 5: cpr

ALT 6: immortality

ALT 7: last words

ALT 8: killing game

ALT 9: lightning strike

ALT 10: last man standing

RULES:

SOFT RULES:

prompts should be answered in the form of whump

creators can produce whatever kind of media they want

you don’t have to complete all the prompts! you can create however much you want to

you can use the prompts after the event ends and can complete them in tandem with any other event

you can post on any platform you want, however this blog will only be sharing those posted on tumblr

if you want to be featured on the hall of fame then you have until the 3rd of March to inform this blog that you completed all the days

if you have questions consult the faq before asking

HARD RULES: (specifically for being featured on the blog)

when uploading febuwhump content to tumblr, please use the tags:

febuwhump (i’ll also be checking febuwhump2024)

the relevant day’s tag e.g. febuwhumpday1, febuwhumpday2…

nsfw (if relevant)

and any trigger warnings that may be important!

you can also tag the blog, @febuwhump

i cannot guarantee your work will be archived on the blog because I have no idea how many participants there will be. a random selection of works tagged in accordance to the rules above will be reblogged every day of february.

[cupcakeslushie]

Febuwhump Day 17: Hostage Situation

The first faces Donnie sees in days, when that wretched helmet finally comes off, belong to his brothers. But before the relief can really take hold, he registers the words playing through the speakers…..

“—just too much trouble to come for you. You understand, right Donnie? You got yourself captured. You can get yourself out.”

“I have to say, the quiet has been nice! Much easier to relax without you around.”

“Who knows, maybe you’ll fit in better with the Purple Dragons! They can get more use out of you than we ever could!”

Part 1 || Part 2 || Next

[linecrosser]

Febwhump 2024 - Day 25 - CPR (Alt Prompt No.5)

[whumpinthepot]

@febuwhump 2024

Day 2. Solidarity Confinement

[whump-side]

FEBUWHUMP 2024

DAY 2: solitary confinement

[kabie-whump]

♡ Febuwhump Day 18: Too Weak to Move ♡

@febuwhump

Content: Intimate whumper, hand feeding, captivity, hair pulling

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

"I'm back~" Whumper sings as they enter Whumpee's cell, a tray of simple food in hand. "Time to eat."

Whumpee says nothing, but Whumper pays it no mind.

"Brought you good stuff today, dearest. You were so well behaved yesterday I figured you deserve it. Real fruit and everything."

Still nothing as Whumper sits cross-legged on the floor in front of Whumpee. Whumpee is slumped against a wall, chin tucked to their chest, barely noticable shivers wracking their bruised body.

"What, nothing to say? Giving me the silent treatment?"

Silence from Whumpee save for quiet shuddering breaths.

"Rude."

Whumper moves in close, grabbing Whumpee's hair and yanking their head back. They stare at Whumper with half lidded eyes, a faint whimper escaping their throat, but otherwise they don't move a muscle.

"Oh. Did I play too rough yesterday? Do you need me to feed you?”

Whumpee still says nothing, but Whumper can see the flash of distain in their tired eyes. Oh, they hate that idea. Perfect.

"Don't worry, love, I'll take good care of you. Now open up."

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

[strawberry-whump]

@febuwhump altprompt #7 - last words | Doctor Who s01e13 The Parting of the Ways | @whumpbot-brian

writ. Russell T Davies | dir. Joe Ahearne

Christopher Eccleston as the Ninth Doctor | Billie Piper as Rose Tyler

[corazondebeskar-reads]

no one could save me but you

dark!Joel Miller x f!reader

originally for Febuwhump 2024 Day 2 - solitary confinement | Febuwhump masterlist

words: 1.9k

summary: You're under the care of Dr. Miller at an inpatient mental health facility. He has a vested interest in your "recovery."

warnings: dark, dark!Joel, dark!pyschologist!Joel, unethical healthcare practices, bad representation of mental health facilities, medical malpractice, corruption kink, innocent!reader, virgin!reader, manipulation, past suicide attempt, sexual abuse, abandonment trauma, inappropriate touching, non-con, abuse of power, look it's a fucked up mental hospital fic—if any of that is potentially triggering skip this one, dead dove do not eat

dividers by @saradika-graphics

“I’m sorry, ma’am,” the handsome doctor with the kind brown eyes tells your mother. 

Miller, she thinks he’s called. Maybe Josh? John? A good Biblical name; she knows that much. 

“She can’t have visitors. It’s like I said on the phone. She’s a danger to herself and others,” he says, brows knit and a frown turning his pink lips. 

“Won’t she get worse being all alone?” Your mother pleads. 

“I promise you she is rarely alone. It’s just that we can only have trained staff with proper safety precautions around her right now. We’ll call as soon as that changes.” Or as soon as he’s bored of you. 

At the end of the night, Dr. Miller enters your room and your hopeful look wilts before it really even has a chance to bloom. 

“Again?” you whisper. 

He squats down next to where you’re sitting on the floor. “Sorry, sweetheart. I called a few times, but no one picked up.”

This is the sixth weekend in a row that no one has bothered to visit you. And it was really starting to wear you down. 

Enough that your little tantrum had you stuck in this stupid room all alone. Now they give you extra pills, and you succumb, numb and dumb in this soft little world, but it doesn’t change the fact that you’re so lonely.

Except at eight pm. You can always count on Dr. Miller to stop by and check in before lights out.

You look up at him with sweet sadness dripping from your eyes, which you wipe on the back of your sleeve. “Thanks anyway,” you say. 

��You been good today?” he asks, reaching over to neaten your sweatshirt where it’s slid down your shoulder. 

“Yes, Doctor.”

He smiles. “Good girl. I know you can get through this,” he says, and it warms you, maybe too much.

You bite your lip and look down. 

“What is it, sweetheart?”

You debate fessing up, but he’s been nothing but kind and gentle with you, and the haze you can’t seem to shake makes you bask in the warmth of his attention. Plus, he said you should tell him if anything changes with your mind or body, in case you react badly to the meds.

“I think something’s wrong with me,” you mumble. 

“Why’s that?”

“It… it makes me feel funny when you say that.”

“When I say what? When I call you a good girl?”

You flush and stare at the plain, endless white of the room. But you nod. 

“Supposed to make you feel good, honey. You’re bein’ a real good girl. Might even be able to start takin’ you outside sometimes.”

“No,” you whisper, voice harsh with shame. “A different kind of feeling. Like a real one.”

“All feelings are real. You mean like a physical one?”

You nod.

“Oh, that’s normal. You feel hot and kind of tingly?”

“Yes, Doctor Miller.”

He beams. “That’s great. That’s huge progress, sweetheart. ”

Sometimes, he can’t believe his luck. A pretty little thing like you nearly kills herself to get out of a betrothal made by zealot parents and falls right into his lap. Well, not literally. Not yet, anyway. 

He’s still building the doctor-patient rapport, so to say. 

You’re so confused; it’s making you a little dizzy. “I think I need to lie down,” you tell him. 

He stands up and offers his hand, which you take, but it’s a mistake. His skin is hot and a little dry, the coarseness brushing against your own. His fingers wrap tight around your hand to pull you to your feet, and you realize no one has touched you in three months. Not in any way. No handshakes, no high fives, no hugs. 

Your lip quivers. You think you’d be embarrassed if that was a feeling you were capable of right now.

“C’mon, let’s get you comfortable,” he says. He doesn’t let go of your hand even though the bed is just a few steps away. 

When you’re settled and have pulled the blanket up to your chest, he sits on the edge of the bed.

“Now, I don’t want you worryin’ yourself about that feeling. It’s supposed to happen, sweetheart. And feeling it means you’re feelin’ something, which is what we’re workin’ towards, right?”

“Yes, Doctor,” you whisper.

“If it’s really botherin’ ya, I can teach you how to make it go away. Or I can teach ya how to make it better.”

You look up at him with those wide, trusting eyes, and he’s hard as a fuckin’ rock. He takes your hand again, rubbing his thumb back and forth. 

“Are you—do you mean—” you stammer, panic rising. “I’m not—”

“I know, sweetheart, but I think that’s part of the problem.” He hasn’t yet gotten you to eschew your parents’ programming, not that your mother knows he’s trying to, but he’ll break you of it one way or another.

“It ain’t bad to feel that way. It’s natural. But I think you’ve felt this way before, hmm?”

You nod, looking at the white knit blanket where your hand lays in his. 

“Wanna know what else I think?” he whispers conspiratorially. 

You look up at him, biting your lip. 

He takes it for permission. “You were so scared of gettin’ married because you were afraid he’d know you liked it.”

You shrink under his analysis. This is wrong, wrong; you should not be having this conversation at all, let alone with a strange man. But… he isn’t strange, not really. He’s your doctor. If you can’t trust him, who can you trust?

“So how do you fix me?” you ask.

“A lot like this. Talkin’, like we always do. Could try some exposure therapy, get you used to your own feelings. If you’re okay with it, we could try a little right now.” 

“What?” 

“We’ll start real slow, like how we eased you into group.” Come to think of it, he’s pretty sure you’ll have relapsed a little after this long in solitary. Well, nothin’ he can’t fix again. “But today’d just be me seein’ where your comfort levels are at so we know how to move forward.”

It makes sense, you think. It makes your stomach feel like a washing machine, but in theory, it sounds reasonable. He knows what he’s doing, after all. “Okay,” you whisper.

“Okay. You want me to get gloves on, or are you okay with my skin touchin’ yours?” He’s slowly peeling the blanket back.

“S’fine,” you say, fists clenching the sheets as you try not to seize onto your dignity. 

He scoots back on the bed. “Just gonna lift up your gown, okay? Nice, deep breaths like we practiced.” 

You focus on a spot on the wall just past his shoulder and inhale slowly through your nose, exhaling in a huff from your mouth. 

He’s drawn the gown up and nudged your legs apart a little. “Slower, sweetheart, take it nice and easy.”

His hand moves between your legs and you flinch, almost snapping your knees shut. His other hand rubs up and down on your calf. “S’alright, you’re okay. I’m not going to go inside just yet, okay? Just want you to see what it’s like to have a hand close.”

He gently, but firmly, cups your mound, and you suck in a breath, jerking in place. 

“That okay?”

You have to take a few more deep breaths and think about it, feeling the weight of his palm against part of you that no one’s ever known. “It’s, um. It’s nice. Warm.” 

“Just keep breathin’ nice and slow for me, okay?” 

He’s looking at you with those beautiful brown eyes, the ones that have made you feel seen and heard for the three months that you’ve been here. The ones that got cold and empty when you told him how the hospital had treated you, how your parents had reacted. 

What your fiance had said when he found out. 

The ones that were warm and clever, little crows’ feet at the corners and a pinch between his brow as he studied you. 

And you relax a little, taking a slow breath that filled you to the brim, letting it wash away as his hand began to rub wide circles between your legs. 

“That’s it, honey, you’re doing great. Well beyond my anticipation, actually.” Well, his expectation. His anticipation was a whole different metric that had his heart pounding. 

“Let’s slide your panties down and see how you react to skin contact, okay? Same thing, just without clothes in the way.”

You bite your lip but nod, wide eyes watching as his thick thumbs hook into either side and tug. You raise your hips a little, allowing him to dispose of the white cotton with ease. 

“Doin’ so well for me. Such a good girl,” he murmurs, stroking one finger up and down the seam of your cunt. 

You whimper, so he stills.

“S’matter?”

“N-nothing,” you say. “Just… it’s so intense.” 

“Want me to get you used to that or do we need to stop for today?”

“No!” you cover your face. “I mean. No, it’s okay, I’m okay.”

It’s good that you’re hiding, because you miss the flash of a smirk. He resumes his gentle stroking as your breath goes ragged.

“Doctor Miller, I feel weird,” you mumble. 

“Yeah? You feel it right here?” his other hand traces fingertips over your pelvis. 

“Uh-huh. It’s… it’s so much. I don’t know,” you choke off a gasp as the tip of his finger nudges open your labia, just the width of a breath, but it makes you dizzy.

You clutch at your temple. “Is this because I’m crazy? B-because my head’s so messed up?” Everything feels like it’s spinning. 

“No, sweet girl. It’s supposed to feel like this. You’re supposed to feel good.” 

“I-I-I—” but you can’t get it out, the last syllable reaching a squeak as he traces just inside your lips. 

He pulls away. “Alright, you’ve pushed through enough for today. You did so well, honey. Tomorrow, I’ll show you somethin’ real good, okay? It should help ya, clear your head a bit.” 

You whine as he stands up. “Doctor, please, I feel… it hurts.”

“I’m sorry. It’ll fade in a moment. You’re not ready, darlin’. Remember how hard it was the first time you went out to the rec room? And it didn’t feel good after?”

You nod. 

“It’s kinda like that. You gotta acclimate. Don’t worry. I’ll help you every step of the way.”

“Doctor,” you start hesitantly. 

“Yeah?”

“When can I get out?”

“Like outta the hospital or outta this room?”

“This room,” you say, lip quivering. You’re so, so lonely, and you know he’s about to go home for the night and leave you here with no one, nothing.

He sighs. “It’s not fully up to me.”

“But you-you said I’ve been so good,” you say, tears welling.

“Don’t cry, honey. You’ll get out, it’s just… ya gotta keep showing me you’re gonna be good, okay? Ya scared some ‘a the others.”

“I didn’t mean to, I won’t do it again,” you say, unable to stop the burning tears from spilling over. You hadn’t. All you had done was throw one book across the rec room at the end of visiting hours, unable to hold back the heartbreak of being left alone again. 

“I know, sweetheart. I’ll see what I can do. Be good, now,” he says, jacket rippling a little as he sweeps out of the door. The lock clunks, and you lay back, lost in his overwhelming wake.

*title from "Wicked Game" by Chris Isaak

[serickswrites]

Obey

Warnings: captivity, torture, restraints, asphyxiation

"Obey me and I won't hurt you again, Whumpee," Whumper purred in Whumpee's ear. "I'll even let you breathe as much as you want."

Whumpee's chest heaved as they gasped for air. Whumper had been strangling them for the better part of an hour. "Anything.....I'll," gasp, "do anything." Whumpee gasped again.

Whumper smiled down at Whumpee, their fingers loose around Whumpee's throat. "Say please."

"Pl-Pl-Please," Whumpee whispered. They would do anything, anything, to get Whumper to stop.

"Very good, that's right, beg me," Whumper snickered as their fingers closed tightly around Whumpee's throat.

Whumpee struggled in Whumper's grasp. Struggled to breathe, struggled to take a breath. But it was no use, Whumper's grip was too tight. They couldn't get a breath in. And as black spots peppered their vision, Whumpee let themself go limp, let their hands soften in their restraints.

Just as Whumpee felt the edge of their grip on consciousness, Whumper released their grip. Whumpee coughed, gasping desperately for air. "Y-Y-You....li-li-lied," Whumpee finally managed to say.

"You believed me. That's not my fault. Why would you believe the person who's been torturing you for the last several hours? Why would I be honest?" Whumper sneered down at Whumpee. "Face it, Whumpee, even if you obey me, your life is mine to do with as I want."

Whumpee opened their mouth to argue, but they were silenced as Whumper closed their fingers once more, cutting off all of Whumpee's air.

[febuwhump]

febuwhump september special: 20 prompts that didn't make it into febuwhump 2024

as per popular request, here are 20 extra prompts submitted by febuwhump followers at the beginning of the year that didn't make it through the popular vote for this year's febuwhump event.

there are no rules, no win conditions, no ao3 collection: just 20 prompts to spark inspiration that i particularly liked and was disappointed not to see get used.

and if you tag the blog @febuwhump or use the tag #febuspecial the blog will share a random assortment that it comes across!

a perfect opportunity to create something this september!!

plain text prompts under the cut:

DAY 1: amputation

DAY 2: body modification

DAY 3: bear trap

DAY 4: warzone

DAY 5: trust fall

DAY 6: missed connections

DAY 7: spinal injury

DAY 8: cannibalism

DAY 9: blood oath

DAY 10: bones

DAY 11: missing person’s report

DAY 12: apocalypse

DAY 13: blunt forced trauma

DAY 14: sharp objects

DAY 15: thunderstorm

DAY 16: noose

DAY 17: explosive vest

DAY 18: cosmic horror

DAY 19: lost child

DAY 20: crybaby

[cupcakeslushie]

Febuwhump Day 9: Bees “Human” Weapon

“Weapon? I have a whole arsenal now!”

I figured I would continue this prompt! Next

Poor Jace is off camera peeing his pants. Like Kendra wasn’t scary enough before she brainwashed a 3-D printer for any weapon imaginable.

[linecrosser]

Febwhump 2024 - Day 1 - Helpless

- unable to help -

[whumpinthepot]

@febuwhump 2024

Day 8. “Why wont it stop?”

—

Whumper presses the button on Whumpees shock collar, but it malfunctions and doesn’t turn off. Instead of a little zap like Whumpee is used to, they’re being electrocuted until whumper can find some rubber gloves to safely remove the device. The damage done is probably severe, and almost kills Whumpee. Its bad enough that Whumper considers using a different form of punishment from then on.

[whump-side]

FEBUWHUMP 2024

DAY 1: helpless

[kabie-whump]

♡ Febuwhump Day 27: Left for Dead ♡

@febuwhump

< Prev

Content: Guns, death threats, kidnapping, low-key suicidal whumpee

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

As dawn lights up the abandoned warehouse they’ve been sitting in all night, a newly stitched-up Whumpee tilts their head at Whumper with a smug little smile. “Told ya they wouldn’t show.”

“Why do you look so pleased? Your friends abandoned you. Left you for dead.”

“Cause I win.”

“You’re chained up. Completely at my mercy. I’m the only reason you haven’t bled out yet. You haven’t won shit.”

Whumpee sighs. “Can you just let me have this?”

“No.”

Whumper packs up their things, not missing the way Whumpee tenses expectantly when they pick up their gun to put it away.

“You’re not gonna shoot me?”

“Do you want me to?”

“Nope.”

“Then shut up.”

Whumpee continues to run their mouth for the entire drive to Whumper’s place. Whumper turns up the radio to drown them out. Whumpee sings along.

They really would do the responsible thing and gag their captive, but it’s a long drive and they just don’t want to make any stops.

At Whumper’s hideout Whumpee is deposited in a cell while Whumper goes to their room to pass out. Whumper doesn’t visit them again until the next morning.

“You’re healing quickly,” Whumper says as they reapply bandages to Whumpee’s wounds. “I’d like for you to fill your end of our deal today.”

Whumpee puts their shirt back on, wincing as they lift their arms above their head. “What deal?”

“You know. I don’t shoot you. You give me some info on your friends.”

“I didn’t shake on that.”

“I’ll get my gun, then.”

Whumpee flops back on their bed. “Okay.”

Whumper pauses, incredulous. “‘Okay?’” they mimic. “What is wrong with you?”

“I accepted my fate the second you grabbed me. Just make it quick, please.”

No wonder Whumpee’s team didn’t come for them. They’re a walking disaster. “You’re not in a position to make demands.”

“Then shoot me?”

“Wouldn’t you rather just answer my questions?”

“Not really. I don’t know what gives you the idea that I’d tell you anything.”

“Aren’t you mad at them?”

“Sure, yeah. But not enough to let you hurt them.”

“God. You are just…” Whumper shakes their head, at a loss for words for once. Something about Whumpee drives them crazy, but the thought of putting a gun to their head makes Whumper cringe internally. There’s potential here. They can’t waste it.

“The worst? Yeah, I’ve heard that one.”

“Pathetic.” That’s the word.

Whumpee shrugs, drawing blankets around their body and curling up as well as they can without disturbing their stitches.

“I’ll give you three days to think about it. After that… Let’s just say you’re going to tell me what I want to know whether you want to or not.”

“Can’t bring yourself to kill me, huh?”

“Shut the fuck up.”

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Next

@the-art-of-trepetnoi @unicornbeck

[reagi-df]

Febuwhump Day 13: You weren’t supposed to get hurt

Old sketch design for my forgive me au but I’m gonna use it anyway

Donnie stares down at the screen as he types away, he's surrounded by the quietness of the lab. He's exhausted but he needs to finish what he started. It's been a rare few quiet days from having to go against any major Kraang players and he's taking this time to really get things sorted for when the time comes and he wakes up properly.

His fingers slow down on his keypad, eyes automatically looking up to his monitor showing the vital signs. Everything is stable for the moment and Donnie is grateful for that.

“Knock knock”  jolting, Donnie shoots his head around and sees Raph standing there. Even though his body doesn't have any eyes, he knows from how his head is tilted he assesses Donnie. 

And he doesn't like it.

“Raphael, what can I do for you at this hour”  he's glad his mask hides the bags under his eyes.

“Raph could ask you the same thing” the sounds of Raphs metal feet hitting his floor as he walks closer, Donnie lets his ninpō ripple under his skin as he subtly swipes away the taps connected to the chamber.

Raph cant see.

“Why are you still up?”

“Have a lot of things to do. Projects to finish. I need to make sure our defences are up and running frantically, even if the Kraang are being strangely quiet it won't last forever and I need to make sure we're ready” Donnies hands are flying about his keypad as he speaks.

A heavy hand rests on top of his own, stilling him. Donnie looks down at the metal digits, observes the grooves and scratches that litter his brother's metal casing. A sharp prain runs through him at the thought of not seeing his oldest brother's flesh hand again but he knows it's too late now. Even if he tried it wouldn't work.

And he doesn't want to go through that again. 

“You need to let me buffer out your hand again” he says absently.

Dragging his tiered eye up to these dimmed lit eyes of his brothers he hears Raph sigh. “Don, please go to sleep. I know its been hard  on you but I don't want you to burn yourself out again. I can't go through watching you die right in front of my eyes. Not again.”

Looking away Donnie swallows. “That wasn't my intention.”

“I know” Raph’s hand leaves Donnie’s and he secretly mourns the loss. “But you mean a lot to us Don, we don't want you to keep hurting.”

He stubbornly refuses to look up, “I’m fine, Raph.”

“Please donnie, Le-” 

“Dont!” Donnie grits out, cutting off whatever Raph was going to say.

Silence hangs in the air, tension heavy.

Closing his eyes and breathes deeply through his nose, “I'm sorry” he exhales.

Raphs gently places his hand back on Donnies broad shoulder and he leans into the touch. “I know I nag a lot, but I just don't want you to hurt”

Patting Raphs hand “I know big brother” looking up he turns to face Raph, metal hand falling from his shoulder. “Look I promise i'll go to sleep, I just need another 10 minutes”

They both stand there staring at each other, it feels like an eternity before Raph sighs again and steps back. “Okay, I know a losing  battle when I see one. Im making the rounds and when I come back and you're not asleep i'm dragging your ass to bed”

Snorting, Donnie bobs his head. “Sure” a small smile forms on his face.

Head shaking fondly, Raph walks to the door but pauses before he leaves. “I meant what I said Don” turning his head around he continues “you mean a lot to us, your family and we do anything for the family.

“Yeah” his voice catches in his throat.

They’ll do anything for their family.

Nodding Raph bids him farewell, “g’night don”

“Night” he whispers.

He stands there for a few seconds before he shuts all of his projects down, he pauses with his hand hovering in the air, he feels his ninpo running through his body, he brings up the tabs containing the chamber again and walks away as he transfers them to his gauntlet.

With a quick few strides to one side of the room, Donnie presses his palm to a hidden compartment, there's a hiss as the doors open. He's glad he never told anyone about this hidden room. It's become very useful for stuff he doesn't want others to see.

The doors close firmly behind him with the lights flickering on, with a flick of his fingers the tabs are transferred to the machine connected to the chamber. “I'll be quick, then you can go back to sleep. Donnie passes his time by making sure everything is working correctly, it usually takes about 10 minutes or so, but he's dragging his feet. He talks about anything that comes to mind, about the time Mikey ended up sleepwalking into a wall, or that time he ended up floating to the ceiling and unable to get down,. 

“He’s exhausted, Mikes been doing too much lately”. Donnie muses.

Donnie goes on, speaking about the time when April and he had found a stash of booze, that was strangely still in date, and got drunk. “April was cursing me out, she should've known that my metabolism is superior than hers.” he absently rubs his head from where she smacked him when he did tell her. 

His feet bring him closer to the chamber, “Jr is becoming a terror, coming more and more like his mother everyday” Donnie checks the systems and the vitals. “He's learning so fast, it was enjoyable watching him talk cheekily back to April” he pauses and looks down.

“You'd like him,” he whispers. 

A dull scratches his attention, turning his head Donnie sees a green hand with an IV cannula strapped to the back, tubing floating around his body. The hand drags down and his claws leave sharp grooves into the glass.

Walking up, Donnie places his own pawl onto the thick glass. Leo stares back at him with dull unseeing eyes, a mask firmly placed onto his mouth while his body is submerged in water.

“I'm sorry,” Donnie whispers as he watches those unseeing eyes flutter and shut.

“Please forgive me” he murmurs to the dead.

---------

Dropping this here for @febuwhump I was hoping id find something

Im hoping to get close to the juicy bits in Forgive Me, id love it if you'd vote for these boys in the @tmntaucompetition it'll be fun show what ive got planned 😈, as well as going up against other peoples

Again excuse my dyslexic unbetaed