#FebuwhumpDay14

[checkeredflagggs]

Febuwhump Day 14: Becoming the Monster

pairings: gen

summary: a story about y/n, Redbull’s new second driver, told in non-sequential order

a/n: I love febuwhump and have participated before for other fandoms but this is a first for me — attempting to compete it via smau only. Hopefully I can write a complete story eventually and I will be posting it on its own masterlist in the correct order to read but it’ll be written based on the febuwhump prompt list! @febuwhump

a/n2: based on the 2024 year; sorry checo but you got replaced earlier!

a/n3: listen I like Lando but I needed a villian here

Masterlist | Taglist

y/n_gossip

liked by user, user, and 1,836,622 others

tagged: y/n_rb, landonorris

y/n_gossip: it seems like little Lando Norris might be thinking of a matador career — he keeps tempting the bulls! After a few close calls with Verstappen, Norris and L/N collided resulting in a DNF for our girl with some pretty harsh words coming from both of their radios afterwards.

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user1: this is what racing is!

↳user2: I know — I was on the edge of my seat…

user3: pretty harsh?? Girl sounded like she was gonna run him down on foot and take him out

↳user4: lol did you see the rb team after she got back to the garage?

↳user5: they literally just picked her up and moved her away from the reporters 😂😂

user6: oh the post race interviews are gonna slap

↳user7: I can’t wait!

user8: that’s so completely unfair! y/n was ahead at the apex — Lando should have given it away, not crashed into her

↳user9: seriously?? Where on earth did you get that information??

↳user8: uhh by watching the screen??

user10: oh shit….

↳user11: Lando’s post interview??

↳user10: how dare he say something like that???

f1gossip

liked by user, user, and 1,457,987 others

Transcript:

interviewer: and what are your thoughts on y/n and your collision today?

Lando: obviously not ideal. You know you never want to be in a collision- especially when it’s not your fault. Y/N…she should spend less time with Max, don’t need her becoming another monster, ya know…

f1gossip: what an interview! During his post race interview for Austria 2024, where he was forced to dnf after two different collisions with both Redbulls, Norris didn’t hold back his thoughts. During this brief moment, he talked about the close friendship between this year’s Redbull drivers — saying that y/n (a rookie) should take a step back from her more senior teammate because no one “[needed] her becoming another monster,”. He also went on to say that he was losing respect for Verstappen and the way he raced.

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user12: did he really just fucking say that?

↳user13: oh my god he did

↳user14: it’s even worse when you actually watch it because you can just barely see max next to him — when Norris said this, both max and the interviewer froze

↳user13: i mean i would too. That’s a really harsh thing to say about someone

user15: people want cunty f1 back again but can’t handle this little spat??

↳user16: cunty? Yes. Whatever this was? Absolutely not

user17: he’s just salty she’s better then him

↳user18: how do you figure that??

↳user17: she literally won her very first f1 race? He’s been racing for years and only just won his first this year

↳user18: it doesn’t count really. Everyone knows that redbull cheats

↳user17: oh my god just shut up

user20: i feel bad for y/n…it really wasn’t her fault nor did it affect lando too much but he’s (someone she’s said she looks up too before) putting her on blast with some pretty harsh words…

↳user21: she looks up to him??

↳user20: yeah! She’s said multiple times that she really admires how open he is talking about his mental health and that she really wanted to emulate him

↳user21: oh ouch…then today and that interview has got to hurt…

user22: anyone else interested in what she’s gonna do to retaliate?

↳user23: 🙋🏾‍♀️🙋🏾‍♀️

Private Messages, Max and y/n

Taglist

@anamiad00msday @suns3treading @daniskywalkersolo @awritingtree @justheretoreadthxxs @coral7161 @lost4lyrics @mastermindbaby @freyathehuntress @angelluv16 @nichmeddar @mxm47max @justaf1girl @a-beaverhausen @tallrock35 @elizamoe133 @imlonelydontsendhelp @jessica3478 @il0vereadingstuff @msimpala-67

[side-shuffling-hyperfixations]

Febuwhump Day 14: Becoming The Monster

Raph faces a hallucination of his deepest fear: giving in to darkness and becoming a reflection of his own worst enemy.

[serickswrites]

So Now Run

Warnings: blood, wounds, gun, gunshot, self sacrifice, loss of humanity, living weapon, tbh idk what tags are good for this one

Caretaker shook violently as they watched the battle wage longer. They hadn't signed up for this. Not really. They never wanted this. They hadn't wanted this for Whumpee.

Months ago, Caretaker thought they were making the right decision. Thought they were doing the right thing. Whumpee was sick and weak and Whumper was so strong. They had thought if they agreed to the terms that Organization gave them that Whumpee would be safe. That Whumpee would be healed. Caretaker hadn't really understood what they were agreeing to. Hadn't understood what Organization wanted to do to Whumpee.

At first, Whumpee seemed the same. They seemed to be getting stronger. They seemed to be healthy. At first, Whumpee seemed to be themself, but better. But as time wore on, Caretaker realized something was off.

What was worse is Whumpee knew it, too. Whumpee knew what Organization had done to them. What Organization was doing to them. And they agreed to let it happen, all in the name of stopping Whumper. All to protect Caretaker.

Whumpee felt their humanity slipping away piece by piece. Each droplet of blood that spilled from their skin was another drop of soul being ripped away. Each life they took was another little death in their soul. Each step closer to being the perfect weapon was a step further away from who they once were. Each moment was one step closer to becoming the monster they and everyone else feared.

But it was all worth it to protect Caretaker.

Caretaker watched Whumpee fire their gun over and over. Watched Whumpee become splattered with blood. Watched as their affect became flatter and flatter. Watched as Whumpee's humanity dissolved away completely until all that was left was a husk of a person that was now a weapon.

"Whumpee, come with me! We can leave all this behind. We can get you to safety! Come on, Whumpee!" Caretaker shouted above the din of the battle.

Whumpee stared at Caretaker with empty eyes. Distantly they felt their heart break. Distantly they felt sadness fill them. Distantly they felt themself mourn who they once were but could no longer be. They couldn't do as Caretaker asked. Couldn't do any of that. There was nothing left of them to save. But they could still save Caretaker.

"You put the gun in my hand," Whumpee said coldly. This was the only way. This was the only way to get Caretaker to leave them. To give up on them. To forget about them and be safe. Far, far away from them. This was the only way. "So now, run." Whumpee let the deadness fill their eyes. Let the monster lurking beneath their skin out. They would never hurt Caretaker. But Caretaker didn't know that.

Caretaker flinched back with a yelp. "Whumpee--"

"Run, Caretaker. Run, or you'll be next." Whumpee said, feeling the last pieces of their heart break at the fear in Caretaker's gaze. This was for the best. This would keep Caretaker safe. They became the monster so that Caretaker would be safe. So that Caretaker would live.

Whumpee watched as Caretaker ran from them. Watched as they only person they loved run from them. Watched as the only person who cared about them run from them. Watched as the last of their humanity slipped away completely. This was the only way. Whumpee closed their eyes for a moment, letting the grief consume them. And then they turned to the battle once more, the perfect weapon loosed amongst the enemy.

Tags: @mousepaw @jumpywhumpywriter @knightinbatteredarmor @hufflepuffwritingstuff2 @anightmarishwhump

@steh-lar-uh-nuhs @celestialsoyeon @st0rmm @ay5ksal @pedro-pedro-pedro-pedro-pe

@pepeniascat

[linecrosser]

Febuwhump 2k25 - Day 14 - Feeding Tube (Alt Prompt 10)

Airplane got returned home. To his original body that is very much not ok. He can't move. He is trapped.

[aquinnix]

Febuwhump Day 14 - Becoming the Monster

“Don’t you ever wonder what would have happened, if things had gone differently? That first time?” Martyn’s voice was absent minded, as if he hadn’t just asked a question that sent a bolt through Ren’s heart.

Ren tried to match his tone. “What kind of different?” At the same moment that last word left his tongue, a flash echoed from somewhere deep in his mind. A flash, in which, just before the axe fell, Ren had said that word in something close to wonder.

Martyn kicked out his legs, then he shrugged. “Just different, less…” He met Ren’s gaze, hesitantly. And in those eyes, there was a look halfway between shame and horror.

And within those eyes, Ren found the rest of Martyn’s sentence.

“Yes, sometimes.” Not sometimes, too many times, too many nightmares, too many checks for his own pulse, too many breaks. Ren turned away. “Where we would be, if I hadn’t.”

“No! That’s not what I… That’s not why I…” The certainty in Martyn’s words crumbled the longer he spoke.

Ren curled in on himself even further. “You don’t have to pretend with me, we both know what you meant.”

“Don’t have to pretend?” Martyn echoed the words, soft, hopeful, sad. “Weren’t we always pretending?” Hopeful, empty, knowing.

Ren rubbed at his neck. He didn’t answer Martyn’s question. He knew they both knew the answer. He knew they stopped lying the moment blood stained the stone. He knew it became real the moment they raised that first banner that didn’t come from poppies. He knew it, in those quiet moments, when the haze cleared just for a fraction he knew.

Ren knew what he had become.

Martyn knew it too.

“Theater.” What Ren meant, neither of them were sure.

“Theater.” Martyn echoed the word.

[chaoticdreamers-world]

14. becoming the monster.

"you know what you have to do."

"don't ask this of me, whumpee."

"there's no other way. I've seen it happen, every time. this never ends well."

"we can find a way. a cure."

"there's no time. I don't want to hurt anyone. please, caretaker."

"I can't."

"I don't want to become-something you won't recognize, something everyone wishes wouldn't exist. please, caretaker. if you ever loved me, please do this for me."

"you're asking me to kill you."

"yes."

"....how?"

[scratchandplaster]

🫀Happy Valentine's Day💖

@febuwhump

[whumpinthepot]

@febuwhump 2025. Day 14. Becoming the monster.

OC Demon (he him)

Content: Gore, death, bodily fluids, guns, trappers/slavers, broken bones, its/its pronouns (positive), being hunted, being drugged, loss of autonomy, concussion, punctured lung, trouble breathing, (let me know if I missed any)

—-

The net clung to his skin like a web of hands holding him down. He was pinned against the hard ground, gravel and twigs scraping against his exposed back.

Human feet marched all around him, holding nets.

Turning his head to the side, he saw the mesh being tossed onto scrambling imps. Some of the imps who attempted to float away had traps thrown on them midair. They were falling all around Demon like birds dropping from the sky. They fell hard and landed with incredible thuds.

The hunters dragged the imps across the ground towards a pile of cages that sat on top of carts. The imps kicked and struggled against the nets but it just caused them to become more tangled. They couldn’t free themselves on their own.

Their screams pierced through Demon’s ears, but he couldn’t move fast enough to help them. The rope around him constricted him even more every time he tried to move. He felt a harsh prick on the side of his arm, made by a human hovering over him. He jerked his arm sideways with a growl, almost throwing the person off of him, and looked to his side to try to see his imps better.

His eyes focused on the one that was crying in broken bursts. A boot was stomping down on it repeatedly and the poor imp couldn’t even shield its face to protect itself. Blood burst from the imp’s nose, and seeing this sent a surge of energy into Demon’s body. The rage he felt was unbearable.

All of his adrenaline streamed to his muscles, and he ripped a part of the net loose from him. His arm became free, and he swung it back. Feeling a soft tissue of a person’s middle collide with his forearm.

He sent the hunter flying across the yard, and when they landed, they didn’t get up.

Demon screamed deep from his lungs. He ripped the net completely loose, and anyone who tried to grab at him, he toppled over like a line of dominoes.

The one who was kicking the helpless imp had long stopped, frozen in place while watching Demon stand up to his full height. He easily towered over any of the humans there.

In half of a second, Demon had broken the distance between the hunter and himself. He grabbed the hunter by the head and smashed their face into the ground. The human’s skull shattered like a vase under his palm. Their brain matter squished through his fingers, hot and wet.

That hunter was never going to hurt his imps again.

A hard, piercing slap smacked against his back, again and again. He turned around and grabbed the hunter wielding the puny, weak gun. He ripped their arm clean out of the socket, then kept pulling. The human’s arm tore away from their shoulder. Blood squirted out, and tendons barely clung together in strings of flesh. Their screams drowned with the rest of the deafening noise.

He threw that person hard against another while blood sprayed across several more. Including himself.

He whipped several of them down into the dirt with his tail at the same time as swinging at another bunch of them with his arm. The smart ones didn’t try to get up after they were slammed to the ground.

In the second of a pause. When no one else was attacking him. He jumped to the injured imp in the net. He ripped the mesh trap into pieces, freeing the imp from its place. The imp appeared concussed, its eyes fluttering in and out of focus.

Demon nudged it, pushing it to get up but it wouldn’t. He called to it, but it barely moved its head. A gurgling sound was coming out of its lungs. It was acting as if Demon wasn’t even there. Demon let out another primal scream, swinging his head back to the humans. They did this.

He charged them, striking some with his shoulder, and stomping down on their legs to break them. Feeling the crunch of bone under crushed flesh. He grabbed another person and twisted their head backwards with the bone snapping quickly out of place. He threw that person into another.

When he turned around and reached for the next victim he saw a very small hunter. They couldn’t have looked older than twenty. They were shaking in their boots with tears streaming down their face. Their weapon dropped at their feet. Their pants soaked.

When Demon reached for them, they jerked backwards with a desperate cry for help.

He hesitated.

He was covered in hot sticky blood, reaching for what he would consider a child, in intent to harm them. All while his imps were still scattered about trapped in the nets. The look in their eyes were the same, this human and his frightened imps.

His hesitation was enough for the humans to throw a second net over him. One with barbed wire and weights that cut into his blood soaked skin.

He screamed in ancient tongue while fighting against it. The barbed wire hooking and dragging his skin into jagged open wounds.

His energy was depleting.

It couldn’t be that he tired himself out… It was something more. Something the humans did to him. His tail whipped around uselessly, not hitting anything except getting snagged on the barbs. Cutting flesh open and spraying blood around while he thrashed uselessly.

The imps were crying for him. So many voices overlapping, calling for help, calling for him to help them.

The imps were crying for him, and he was useless. He was fading. He couldn’t save all of them.

How many got away? Was his outburst enough to save a few of them? He wouldn’t find out. Sounds were narrowing, his vision was tunneling. The last thing he could remember was being dragged across the blood mixed mud while the barbwire hooked deeper and deeper into his skin.

[loopstagirl]

Febuwhump DAY 14: becoming the monster

Merlin and Arthur

Time and again

For @Febuwhump day 14: Becoming the monster

TW: MCD

-x-

The attack came out of nowhere. 

One moment, they were riding through the forest. Merlin was side by side with Arthur, the knights joking behind them. More than once, it was only Arthur’s quick hand that stopped him from falling out of the saddle as he twisted to respond to a comment, normally at the king’s expense. The mood was jovial and light and they had no reason to suspect anything could go amiss. 

But in the next moment, arrows flew from the trees. They came from all directions, fierce shouts filling the air as bandits blocked the path in front of them. 

“On me!” Arthur didn’t mess a beat. His sword was free from its scabbard, cloak falling from his shoulders as he spurred his mount into a charge.  

The knights followed suit. They cantered past, moving easily past Merlin’s stationary horse as he kept out of the way. While the bandits had tried to block the path, not many men could withstand five knights of Camelot charging at them on steeds who were bred for war. They scattered, falling back to the cover of the trees, their war cries now sounding more frantic. 

Merlin rolled his eyes at their stupidity of attacking the king and his men. But the arrows were still falling and he couldn’t just sit here. One projectile narrowly missed his horse’s flank and Merlin touched his heels, encouraging it forward. As he did so, he once again twisted in his saddle and with a sweep of his hand, the next barrage of arrows spun in midair and reversed along their flight path. Startled shouts came from the trees, followed by a few yelps of pain, and there was a moment’s reprieve from the shots. 

“Arthur!” 

It was stupid to get in the midst of fighting men. But he couldn’t protect either his king or his friends if he couldn’t see where the attacks were coming from. Only Leon and Gwaine were still mounted: the rest of them had slid from their horses, sending the animals away from the fight and engaging with the bandits on foot. They were too high from the ground for their blows to be effective while in the saddle. 

Merlin shouldered his way past a man battling Elyan. If his eyes flashed as he pushed past, nobody noticed. But Elyan grinned his thanks as Merlin’s casual ‘shove’ was apparently strong enough to make the man trip over, making him an easy target for the knight. 

He didn’t stop to see the outcome though. He needed to get to Arthur. 

Eventually, he reached the king’s side. Arthur was locked in combat with a brute twice his size. He glanced over, saw Merlin, rolled his eyes, but didn’t have either the time or the breath to make a comment. Merlin flashed him a grin and ducked a sword that had been aiming for his head. Leon made short work of dispatching his attacker. 

But then it happened. Some lucky, freak shot. Merlin didn’t even sense magic in the air: it was pure luck or exceptional skill. An arrow shot through the melee of battling men. It passed the battling knights, zipped past the bandits... and found its target. 

Arthur’s cry tore through Merlin with more force than the arrow would’ve done. He whipped around, staring in disbelief as the king toppled forward, the arrow having hit with such force it punctured through the rings of chain mail. It was as if time slowed as Arthur hit the ground, but this time, it wasn’t Merlin’s magic doing it. 

He’d get up again. He’d have to get up. His chainmail would’ve taken the force; he’d be fine. 

Arthur didn’t get up. 

Merlin watched, cold with horror, as Arthur’s hand went slack on his sword. 

“No!” 

The scream was imbued with magic.  

He didn’t need a spell. Didn’t need a gesture. A great wave of power exploded from him. All of the bandits were thrown back as a gale crashed through the clearing, identifying friend from foe and flinging them through the air.  

Merlin stalked forward. Tears flooded his eyes as he moved towards Arthur. They stung as they rolled down his cheeks, golden magic burning everything it touched, even it’s owner.  

The magic continued to pulse from him with each step. He was distantly aware of screaming. His magic was doing something.  

“Merlin, stop!” 

Gwaine’s voice was a faint echo though. His words didn’t matter. All that mattered was reaching Arthur’s side. 

He didn’t need to push the final man aside. He clenched his fist in one sharp movement and the man collapsed, his heart stopped. 

“Arthur?” Dropping to his knees, Merlin angrily brushed the burning tears aside. Streaks of gold came away on his hand, sinking into his skin, leaving golden swirls visible. But Merlin didn’t notice.  

Trembling, he turned Arthur over. The arrow had punched straight through his chainmail in the centre of his chest. Already his face had gone pale, features slack, as his head lolled in Merlin’s grip. 

“Wake up,” Merlin pleaded. “Arthur, c’mon, wake up.” 

Even as he tried to push life back into his king’s body, Merlin knew. His magic had known the second the arrow connected. He was too late. 

An incoherent scream tore from his throat. All around him, he heard the bandits cry out in pain as his magic unleashed. He forced them into the ground, hauled them up trees by their necks, slowly suffocating them in the mud. 

All without looking away from the man cradled in his arms.  

As the cries became gurgles and whimpers, he became aware of the knights closing in around him. 

“Merlin. Stop. You have to stop.” 

Gwaine’s voice was far softer than he was used to. But it wasn’t what Merlin wanted to hear. His index finger twitched and the man’s mouth snapped shut. Gwaine give a whine, unable to open his mouth to say anything more. 

“Merlin!” Leon’s gasp nearly afforded him the same treatment. Only the fact he hadn’t told him to stop saved the knight. 

Merlin slowly stood; Arthur’s body cradled in his arms as if weightless. Everywhere the king’s blood touched him, golden swirls sunk into his skin. He didn’t need to see his reflection to know all traces of blue had vanished from his eyes. They were burning gold, with a thin rim of black around the outside. 

Their attackers had all fallen silent. All dead. Agony contorted their features. 

“Get out of my way,” he told the knights. Gwaine had one hand resting on his throat, fear in his usually fearless gaze. 

“Merlin-,” 

“I’m not Merlin.” His voice was cold, power and magic radiating behind every word. “My name is Emrys. And the world will burn for what it has taken from me.” 

-x- 

The attack came out of nowhere. 

One moment, they were riding through the forest. Arthur, as usual, took the lead but, as usual, Merlin was somehow by his side, the knights joking behind them. In a way, it was a good thing. It was only his quick reactions that stopped his servant from completely toppling from his saddle as he joined in with the banter behind them. The mood was jovial and light and they had no reason to suspect anything could go amiss. 

But in the next moment, arrows flew from the trees. They came from all directions, fierce shouts filling the air as bandits blocked the path in front of them. 

Instinct took over. One hand on his hilt; the other freeing the clasp of his cloak. 

“On me!”  

He touched his heels to his horse, making the animal surge forward. Merlin fell back (or just stayed still) as the knights raced after him. He knew their blood would be up the way his was, adrenaline masking all thoughts other than dealing with the attack. Numerous men with crude weapons had blocked the path in front of them, but Arthur relished in the uncertainty that flickered across their faces as they were suddenly met with charging knights. 

They scattered, falling back to the cover of the trees, their war cries now sounding more frantic. 

He swung, his sword cutting down men easily. But it didn’t take long before his sword was almost wrenched from his hand as it lodged in the rough helm his latest opponent was wearing. Arthur went with the motion, jumping from the saddle and pulling it free. Around him, he was aware of Elyan and Percival doing the same. A quick slap to his horse’s rump saw it fleeing the fight. It was bred for battle, but also bred to stop a short distance away and wait when not needed. 

Arthur lost himself to the fight. His training took over and his body knew what to do without any rational thought. It left his mind free to wonder why there was a sudden yell from the men in the trees, but he couldn’t spare the glance it would take to find out. He just had to hope that it didn’t mean reinforcements. 

He was aware of a commotion behind him where Elyan was fighting. It took a few seconds before he could glance over to check his knight didn’t need help. But Elyan’s opponent was in the dirt and Merlin was sidling closer to Arthur. He rolled his eyes: one day the idiot would realise he should go with the horses and wait away from the fight, not find where the fighting was thickest. 

As that thought crossed his mind, he saw movement out of the corner of his eyes. A bandit was bearing down on Merlin, a brute of a man at least a head and shoulders taller. He had his weapon aimed high but before Arthur could open his mouth in warning, Leon was there, sword swinging with expert precision. Arthur gave him a nod before turning back to his own opponent, hard-pressed not to roll his eyes at Merlin’s relieved grinned. What did he expect – he was an easier target for anyone with eyes. 

The thought sent chills down his spine. He ended his attacker with a flourish before turning back to Merlin. Even then, it was too late. He heard the ‘twang’ of a crossbow, saw the bolt carve through the air on an impossible trajectory, missing all of the battling men. Until it reached its target. 

Merlin didn’t cry out. He just gave a soft ‘oomph’ as the bolt slammed into his unprotected body, high in his chest. Arthur snarled as another attacker got between him and his servant. One savage flick of his sword ended the man. 

Running forward, he already knew it was too late. But that didn’t stop him from dropping to his knees, hauling Merlin up, shaking him. 

“Merlin!” 

The man’s head just lolled to one side, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth, eyes shut. 

“Wake up, damn you! That’s an order.” 

But just like every other order Arthur had given him, Merlin didn’t follow this one either. 

“No,” Arthur muttered. It came out as more like a whimper. 

He was aware of the fight still raging around him. Gently, tenderly, he lay Merlin back on the ground. Then he stood, picking up his sword. 

No one stood a chance against his blade. He fought with reckless abandon, taking risks he’d never normally do. He left himself exposed, daring the bandits to come in closer, and, when they did, they met the sharp flash of steel.  

Once the initial press of men had eased, Arthur stopped fighting to kill. He wounded: shattering wrists, slicing legs. The bandits couldn’t fight back, but instead dropped to the ground, whimpering. They knew nothing of pain though, not what Arthur was going through. The only mercy they had shown was that Merlin’s death had been quick. It was a mercy he had no intention of allowing them. 

He stalked through the field of fallen men, delivering blows where he could, making sure none offered the quick release of death. He knew what he was doing, but he didn’t care. Some part of him – the rational part – was lying on the ground alongside his fallen servant. 

“Arthur, stop. You have to stop.” 

Gwaine’s hand landed on his shoulder. Arthur’s sword flicked around as quick as thought, the flat edge of the blade resting against the man’s neck. 

“Do not touch me,” he snarled.  

Gwaine had never responded to his title. But there was something in Arthur’s tone that made the man take a hurried step backwards, looking at the others for support. No one spoke. 

Arthur stood there, panting, resting the tip of his sword against the ground. It was smeared with blood, as was his hands, face and armour. All around him were the dead and dying, apart from four men standing frozen, watching him. 

Arthur left his sword where it was. Walking back to Merlin, he hoisted him into his arms. Already, the body was going cold and hung limply in his grasp. It felt so weightless in his grip. 

“Bring the prisoners,” he ordered coldly. “I want the pyres lit.” 

“Sire!” Leon gasped, look aghast. “You can’t-,” 

“I am the king,” Arthur said. He didn’t look at any of his men. “And they will burn for what they have taken from me.” 

-x- 

The attack came out of nowhere. 

One moment, they were riding through the forest. The king, as usual, took the lead but although Merlin was by his side, he kept turning to join in. Gwaine figured the man should’ve just dropped back to ride with them.The mood was jovial and light and they had no reason to suspect anything could go amiss. 

But in the next moment, arrows flew from the trees. They came from all directions, fierce shouts filling the air as bandits blocked the path in front of them. 

Adrenaline flooded Gwaine. His hand reached for his sword even as he glanced around, taking stock of the situation. 

“On me!”  

Gwaine prided himself on not always following Arthur’s orders. But when it came to a fight, he acted as one with the rest of the knights. He urged his horse forward, surging past Merlin and winking at the servant as he drew his weapon, flinging himself into the fight. 

It didn’t take long before he and Leon were the only ones still mounted. While it was harder fighting from horseback and he ran the risk of being dragged from the saddle with every passing moment, Gwaine knew what he was doing. He’d got into enough skirmishes of every kind long before he’d become a knight and it was no problem to keep his seat against thugs like these. 

His sword was an extension of his arm. He didn’t need to think. For a split second, he saw a bandit coming up behind Merlin, his sword raised high. But before Gwaine could shout a warning, let alone move, Leon was there. Gwaine grinned. He’d always been a loner up until now, but it was useful having friends around while in the middle of a fight. 

The back of his neck prickled. Gwaine could never have said what made him look around at that moment, but he was just in time to see a crossbow aimed their way. He somehow just knew that its trajectory would be a deadly one – and not the useful kind where the shooter would take down on of his own men for them. 

He moved without stopping to think what he was doing. 

“Look out!” 

He spurred his horse through the middle of the clashing men, flinging himself out of the saddle. He caught Merlin around the waist, sending him tumbling forward as they both crashed into Arthur. The king fell with a surprised cry, all three of them ending up on the ground. 

“What do you-,” 

Before Arthur could probably get his tirade going, there came a gurgled cry from above them. The man the king had been fighting dropped his sword with a startled expression, staring at the bolt sticking out of his chest. 

Merlin looked at Gwaine in amazement. 

“Thanks!” 

“Any time.” He grinned at his friend. 

“You-,” Arthur stared between his fallen opponent and Gwaine. “How did you know?” 

“I’m lucky,” he said with a shrug, rising to his feet. “Thought you knew that by now.” 

He offered a hand and hauled Merlin up. Clapping him on the back, he grinned and dived back into the fight, wondering where his horse had gone. 

The knights might’ve been outnumbered but skill prevailed. It didn’t take long before the remaining bandits turned and fled into the trees. 

“Well, that could’ve been worse,” Elyan said as he tried to recatch his breath. 

“Yes.” There was something thoughtful in Arthur’s voice. “That could’ve been a lot worse.” 

Gwaine glanced up to see him and Merlin exchanging glances, small frowns on their faces as they looked at each other. Then Arthur shook himself. 

“We’ll have to increase patrols,” he said, striding for his horse.  

Leon seemed to be the only one listening. Percival was wrapping a bandage around Elyan’s arm and Merlin hurried over to help. 

Even as Arthur gave his orders and they all collected their horses and headed for home, Gwaine still couldn’t shake the feeling that could’ve gone a lot worse. 

But there was no point on dwelling on the what ifs. He shook it off and hurried to catch up with Merlin, needing someone to listen to how incredibly skilled he’d been in that fight. 

[writerlovestropes]

@febuwhump​

Link to story: ​It all started with the Batmobile...

Summary:

 Tim rubs his hands together, hoping that they’ll stop shaking. He looks across the street at the most beautiful car in all of creation and sighs. Is it the absolute dumbest idea to celebrate the anniversary of Jason stealing the Batmobile’s tires by trying to steal them himself? Absolutely. Is Tim going to do it anyway? Hell yeah.

 or: An eleven-year-old Tim is obsessed with cars, like most kids his age, so he does the logical thing and steals the Batmobile's tires (and eventually the whole car). This leads Bruce through the five stages of grief: Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression, and Adoption.

This is my Febuwhump 2025 story. Let's go! 28 chapters of whump, hurt/comfort, fluff, a tiny bit of angst, and lots of humor. Every chapter is a different prompt. This story is heavier on the humor than the whump, but it definitely gets dark at times :)

I’m posting because I’ve reached the half-way point. Day 14, Chapter 14! Woo hoo!!

This is the first time I’m doing a 28-chapter story for Febwhump in the correct order of the prompts, so if I can pull it off I will be a legitimate completionist. I started out 7 chapters ahead and I’m only two at this point, but I’ve got a fast writing weekend planned so I think I might do it in time. If you haven’t read the story yet, come join me for the ride. It’s Car Tim at his most unhinged! I’m having so much fun with this.

Also, a huge thank you to Febuwhump for the huge push to take on this challenge and also to @lilavaporizer9000​ for writing the amazing Boom, Boom, Pow that made me obsessed with Car Tim and heavily inspired this story!!

[thieves-never-say-die]

he’s like a mirror, he sticks into our ears

Day 14: becoming the monster

Fandom: Leverage

Rating/Warnings: T, mentions of war and child death

Summary: The first time Eliot kills someone, he is eighteen years old. A look through Eliot’s life, and what he sees in the mirror.

Word Count: 650

ao3 link

[callaeidae3]

Febuwhump2025 Day 14: Becoming the monster

One (1) fear...

[simpforchuchu]

Sweater | Happy Valentine’s Day 💖

Prompts: DAY 14 - blood-stained tiles @febuwhump Characters: Tsuji x reader Fandom: High and Low Summary: Tsuji coming back after a fight, again

A/n for prompts: Hello guys! This is my first time trying a prompt challenge. I hope you like the short fics I wrote. I will finish them by writing some of the requests I have. I love you 💜

Sorry for the grammer or spelling mistakes.English is not my main language so...

Thank you and love you 🥰

Warnings: mention of fights, blood, scars but mostly fluffy

“Oh, fuck!”

The young boy had barely crept into the house and wanted to take a quick shower. But finding the bathroom door in the dark was harder than it seemed. Also, the wound on his shoulder was really aching.

He turned on the light and closed the door. He took off his dirty jacket and trousers and threw them into the dirty basket. It wouldn't be easy to take off his beloved sweater.

He had returned from a fight at midnight again. But this time something went wrong. He had a large cut on his shoulder and he was sure it was bleeding.

Even though it hurt a lot, he managed to take off his sweater. When he looked at his shoulder in the mirror, he saw a deep cut, although not too bad. And there were a few drops of blood on the bathroom tiles. He had to clean the wound.

Also, the cut on the sweater he was holding really upset him.

“Y/n is going to kill me.”

The sweater he took off was an expensive sweater that his girlfriend had given him as a gift for Valentine's Day last year. He knew she bought that sweater thanks to her part-time job. It was also a sweater he really liked. If he had known he was going to fight, he would never have let it get damaged .

He didn't know how long he stared at the sweater in front of the mirror, but he immediately realized who the person calling him at the bathroom door was.

“Tsuji?”

The young man slowly turned to his girlfriend. Since his wound was on the back of his shoulder, y/n hadn't seen him get hurt yet. But she sounded worried.

“I didn't hear you coming, why didn't you wake me up?”

The young girl was sleepy. Tsuji was still happy that she didn't notice what was going on. He hated upsetting her.

But this happiness did not last long. When the young girl turned her head and saw the dirty jacket and trousers on top of her dirty basket, she understood what was happening.

When Tsuji turned to where she was looking, he had already forgotten about the wound on his shoulder. He wanted to close the lid of his dirty basket, but he realized his mistake when y/n screamed.

“Baby, please listen to me first”

"This! When did this happen? Tsuji sighed and shook his head when Y/n asked in fear. He sat on the toilet and extended his hand to the young girl. He really hated seeing her sad.

Y/n grabbed her boyfriend's hand and moved closer to him. The tall boy looked at the young girl's face and showed her the sweater in his hand.

“I'm really sorry, I would have been more careful if I had known it would happen.”

Y/n looked at the sweater in her boyfriend's hand in surprise. She was even more scared when she saw the blood stain on the sweater. The boy in front of him must have been stupid for actually worrying about the sweater...

“Are you crazy? Do you really think I thought about that sweater? You’ve got a big cut on your shoulder, damn it! Who did this ?"

Y/n spoke breathlessly. Tsuji held her hand tighter to calm her down and smiled.

"I am okay. I'm really fine. It's not that bad."

"But-"

“I'm really okay, baby. I know it looks scary, but I'm okay."

Y/n slowly lowered her head and gently hugged the sitting boy's neck. Tsuji could feel how scared the young girl was.

Y/n had lived the same life as him. She knew that fights were a unique part of their lives. That's exactly why he could understand why she was afraid.

He wanted to clean his wound and sleep as soon as possible. But he quickly pulled away when he felt tears soaking his neck.

When he saw the young girl's red eyes, he wanted to punch himself. He wiped the tears from her cheeks with his big hands

"I am sorry. I didn't mean to scare you. But you are crying because of me again. I’m sorry y/n.”

Y/n shook her head, her eyes getting more teary.

“I don't want an apology. I just want you to always be with me.”

Tsuji smiled and brought the young girl's hands to his lips and kissed them.

"I am not going anywhere. You can't get rid of me that easily, love."

HnL taglist : @straysugzhpe @tiddly-winx  @ninamarie1994 @emperorsnero @koala-yuna @little-miss-naill

[linecrosser]

Febwhump 2024 - Day 14 - Blood-stained tiles

Shen Qingqiu (the original goods) having a minor qi-deviation (probably following right after a visit of Yue Qingyuan)

[goth-automaton]

Day XIV! Today's special:

Marriage!

Perfect for Valentine's Day. :3

DAY XIV: Body Horror (468 words) by Necrotizing_Fasciitis Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Fear & Hunger (Video Games) Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Characters: Enki Ankarian | Dark Priest Additional Tags: Whump, Body Horror, Horror, Graphic Description, graphic description of body horror, Mercy Killing, Electrocution, Marriage of Flesh (Fear & Hunger), Febuwhump 2025 Series: Part 14 of Necrotizing Febuwhump 2025 Summary:

Enki encounters a result of a failed Marriage.

[em-writes-stuff]

blood stained tiles

day 14 of @febuwhump

whumpee and caretaker

584 words

warnings: cursing, stabbed character, caring for a wound, mild cursing

~

Whumpee stares at herself in the mirror. Her lip is busted, eye bruised, and cheek cut. No wonder she feels like she was run over by a bus. 

Caretaker pounds on the door and tries to turn the handle. “Come on, Whumpee! You need to let me in!” 

Whumpee ignores his shouting and peels the back of her shirt up, revealing a nasty stab wound. She sucks a breath in through her teeth and pulls her shirt off the rest of the way, discarding it on the floor. She takes her pants off and throws them on top of the shirt. 

Caretaker’s pounding had slowed down enough for Whumpee to think that he’d forgotten all about it and had gone to make dinner. But, just like the rest of the day she was wrong. 

The door pushes open and Caretaker barges into the bathroom. 

Whumpee covers her chest with her hands and backs up against the wall. “What the fuck?!” 

Caretaker stutters for a second before taking in the blood slowly trickling down her leg and rushes over to her. “What happened?” 

Whumpee pushes him away and takes her towel off the wall and wraps it around herself. “Nothing I can’t handle.” 

“Bullshit.” he says, digging around in a drawer. “What happened?” 

She ignores his question and takes the gauze he holds out to her and presses it to the wound. She hisses and pulls her hand away quickly. 

Caretaker glares at her and she sighs dramatically, “I ran into an old friend. Turns out she isn’t as fond as she used to be.” 

He rolls his eyes and spins her so she’s facing the wall and he can address the wound. “I just can’t believe that after all the work you’ve done to get…better you just go back and get stabbed.” 

“Right. Because it’s my fault that she stabbed me.” She waits for a response and feels his annoyed expression boring into her. “Ok, fine. I’m not not to blame, but she found me with a knife, so why’d she have it if she wasn’t planning on stabbing me in the first place?” 

Caretaker sighs and shakes his head, deciding to stay quiet while he wipes away the last of the blood on Whumpee’s back. He rubs a salve into the wound and covers it with gauze. 

“Get me some tape?” He asks, motioning to the open drawer. 

She makes a show of taking it out of the drawer while saying, “Sure, I’ll get it. Not like I have a stab wound or anything.” “It’s shallow.” Caretaker snaps. “Barely deep enough to warrant worrying.” 

“And yet…” Whumpee says, handing him the roll of tape. 

He takes it from her and tapes the gauze down, “Yeah, yeah. Whatever.” 

He finishes with the tape and tosses it on the counter, exchanging it for a small washrag. He runs it under warm water and starts to clean the blood off of Whumpee’s back and leg. 

She stands there awkwardly as he rubs the rag in circles against her skin, gently working the dried blood off. Before too long, he’s scrubbing on her heel and she lifts her foot up. 

He pulls away, tapping her back to let her know he’s finished and she takes a small step forward. She looks back and sees the red-stained tiles. 

“Sorry about the floor,” She says tentatively. 

He almost laughs and dismisses her with a hand wave, “Nothing to worry about. I’ve been thinking about adding a splash of color.”