#Febuwhumpday5

[cupcakeslushie]

Febuwhump Day 5: Rope Burns

Not really a plot heavy story behind this one.

Raph just gets taken by….let’s say the Purple Dragons. His brothers come to save him pretty fast. It wasn’t that traumatic, he probably could’ve even gotten himself out, eventually. He’s fine.

Sorry I missed yesterday, I was fighting a migraine, but hopefully that’ll be my only day skipped! :)

[linecrosser]

Febwhump 2024 - Day 5 - Rope Burns

back in the early days when MBJ only trusted SQH as far as the rope stretched...

[whump-about-it]

Constant Pain

@febuwhump Day 5: Rope Burns.

CW: angst, description of injuries, dissociation.

"Whumpee, those are never going to heal if you don't stop touching them."

Whumpee startled out of their mindless stupor to find Caretaker leaning on the door frame watching them with an expression of concern. Their eyes were flickering between Whumpee's sallow face and their hands, which they had in their lap, each picking absently at the scabbed rope burns on the opposite wrists.

"Sorry," Whumpee murmured and moved their hands to either side of their legs. This wasn't the first time Caretaker had caught them picking at the scabs, or the first time they had cautioned them about re-opening the wounds. "They just..."

Whumpee let their voice trail off. They couldn't tell Caretaker the rope burns still hurt. They couldn't explain why they hurt so much. Whumpee had so many other injuries that reasonably should have bothered them more. They couldn't put weight on one of their legs. There was a six inch gash in the back of their head that had required being stapled. Their were bruises around their neck had made breathing so uncomfortable that they had developed a chest infection by the time they were rescued. The welts on their back hadn't healed yet, and they couldn't move to much for fear of ripping the multitude of stitches all over their body. Yet, despite all of that, the rope burns, the most innocuous of their injuries, hurt the most.

Actually, that all made sense to Whumpee. When they had been rescued, Caretaker had told them Whumper had held them for a little over month. But it had felt like a year. Every day had been different. New pain. New torture. New fear. Nothing had remained the same day to day. Nothing Whumpee could look forward to or dreed. Not even food or water. In that whole time the only constant had been the rope. Their hands had been tied the whole time.

The rope burns had been Whumpee's first injuries. Their oldest and deepest. And the ones that they had cried over the most, hopelessly trying to wriggle their way out of their bonds and watching blood trickle into their useless hands. Of course those wounds hurt the most. But how were they supposed to say that? How were they supposed to explain in?

Whumpee nearly jumped out of their skin when Caretaker brushed their uninjured knee. They were now kneeling in front of Whumpee, looking even more concerned than they had before. Whumpee hadn't noticed they were dissociating again.

"Is everything okay?" Caretaker asked gently.

"Yes." Whumpee lied. "They itch. My wrists. They itch and I keep forgetting not to touch them."

"I know."

They both knew Caretaker was lying too.

[chaotic-orphan]

Febuwhump: day five

Prompt: Rope burns — @febuwhump

Tw: intimate whumper, blood, rope burns, helpless Whumpee, vomiting (mentioned/described), violence, creepy whumper, scary Whumper

This was all that came to mind when I thought of this prompt! It was fun

*~*~*~*~*~*

Whumpee was carried through the lavish halls of the ostentatious mansion. Whumpee couldn’t really take in the extravagant detail except for the red carpets blurring by on the ground because their head was too heavy to lift. Coarse rope bit into their wrists, the skin raw around their wrists from where they struggled.

Now they were quite happy to let their body hang like dead weight in the arms of two very strong looking henchmen who were more than capable to carry Whumpee to wherever they were going. Whumpee couldn’t really remember where exactly, though they’re sure they were told. The details became fuzzy after the particularly nasty henchman slammed Whumpee’s head into the wall.

Whumpee blinked and immediately wished they hadn’t. When they opened their eyes again the world swam in a blur of colours and a warm feeling crawled up their throat.

“Fellas, if we could make a detour to a toilet…” Whumpee said then gagged. “Or the nearest potted plant at your earliest convenience.”

“I will break your fucking jaw if you speak again,” Nasty henchman said.

“Suit yourself,” said Whumpee. They made sure to aim at Nasty henchman’s shoes when they spewed their lunch over the nice floor. Henchman let out a cry of disgust and Whumpee was suddenly thrown to the ground, taking the brunt of the impact on their shoulder with a grunt.

Whumpee chuckled as they rolled onto their back, and groaned again when they put weight on their hands their arms sore from the sudden movement.

“You fucking piece of shit!” Nasty henchman bellowed, storming over to Whumpee who grinned up at Henchman. The taste of vomit still on their tongue slightly spoiling the moment, but not enough to take the smile off their face. Nasty henchman sent a swift, brutal kick to Whumpee’s jaw that sent them sprawling again with a groan.

He would have gone again too if Nice henchman hadn’t got in the way, putting a hand on Nasty’s chest and said something quietly to them that Whumpee couldn’t really hear. Whumpee blinked, groaning at the ceiling as their hands started tingling. It was detailed with beautiful carvings made out of some glamorous stone that Whumpee didn’t know the name of. Whumpee tightened their hands into fists trying to speed up the process, but it was taking too long and their hand stung more than tingled now.

Nice turned back to Whumpee and reached them in two short strides. Whumpee planted their foot on the ground trying, and failing, to push themselves backwards away from them. Nice reached down all the same and grabbed Whumpee under the arm, yanking them up with one strong pull.

Nice grabbed Whumpee’s chin and tilted it up and down, side to side. “Can you hear me, Whumpee? Henchman didn’t beat you up too bad did he?”

“Awfully bold of you to stand so close after I just threw up,” Whumpee replied.

Nice smirked, then turned Whumpee and pushed them forward. “Yep. You’re fine. Walk.”

Whumpee took a step and their knee buckled, their leg folding under them. Nice caught them before they fell but that was as far as their kindness extended.

“You can walk, come on.”

“I much preferred being dragged.”

“Well if you much prefer being alive you should be happy that I sent other Henchman away.”

Whumpee hissed as their numb legs were forced to wake up with every movement. “Can we wait until I get feeling back at least?”

“Nope,” said Nice, though Whumpee was starting to think they should rename them in their head. “You wasted too much time struggling, and then vomiting, and the boss doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”

“Mmm,” Whumpee hummed, glancing over their shoulder at Not-so-nice. “Who is your mysterious boss anyways?”

Not-so-nice smiled and said, “spoilers.”

They abruptly stopped at a large set of dark wooden doors, Whumpee felt a need to say mahogany but that was only because they didn’t know any other dark wood types. There was a hint of red running through it, very dark and beautiful.

“The craftsmanship of this house is amazing,” Whumpee muttered. Not-so-nice chuckled behind Whumpee and reached in front of them, grabbing the golden handle and pushing the door open.

Not-so-nice pushed Whumpee through the door until they were inside enough that they could close the door properly. While he did, Whumpee glanced around, trying to spot the boss but their vision was still a little spotty when their eyes moved too fast and the room was huge.

It looked as official as the Oval Office except with more class and style. Arched windows ran vertically along the back wall that was shaped like a triptych, allowing a view of the gardens that took a more haunting quality to them in the moonlight. It was all shapes and blurs, the stars like splotches in the midnight blue sky.

Not-so-nice pushed Whumpee into the room, along the red carpet that went from the door to the giant, dark-wooden desk that Whumpee guess would have weighed more than two-hundred-pounds and vaguely wondered how the floor could hold the weight of it.

“You were right,” said Not-so-nice to the room. Whumpee blinked, trying to wipe their eyes with their shoulder and failing miserably. “They were snooping.”

“I don’t snoop,” said Whumpee, off-handedly. “I’m not a snooper. I am a perceiver of hidden information.”

“A spy,” said Not-so-nice, still pushing Whumpee forward. God how long was this room?!

“Not… mmm. No, I don’t like that either. More like—”

“A curious mind,” another voice offered. Whumpee and Not-so-nice henchmen stopped before the desk where Not-so-nice let Whumpee go and stepped back. Whumpee turned their head to the source of the voice.

A man stood in a white dress shirt tucked into tailored trousers that wrapped tight around his waist, the bottoms tucked into a pair of boots. He looked like a prince from a story book and Whumpee frowned. Something prickled in the back of their mind telling them that they should probably know this man.

This beautiful man. Too beautiful. His face looked as if it was sculpted from marble, as pale as the stone itself. He had shoulder length dark hair that looked a bit too perfect to be natural.

Whumpee should know this man, why won’t their brain just work damn it. Whumpee cursed the violent henchmen in their brain for hitting their head too many times.

“Sure,” said Whumpee. “A curious mind.”

“They’re impressed with the architecture of your house,” said Not-so-nice henchmen. Whumpee whipped their head over their shoulder, glaring at the henchmen for divulging their comments so freely.

“Are they really?” the handsome man asked drawing Whumpee’s attention back to him. He finally looked up from his book at Whumpee and he took Whumpee’s breath away. Prince was the right name for him.

Whumpee felt their heart flutter in their chest, and fought the blush rising from the realisation of how attracted they were to this man.

Wait… did Henchmen say your house to the handsome man? Then that meant… Whumpee’s eyes widened in realisation. That meant that this beautiful man was the host of this lavish party, in this ostentatious house, with the beautifully carved ceilings and imported wood that Whumpee didn’t know the name of.

Whumpee’s heart started beating for another reason now. Dark eyes settled on Whumpee’s face, taking in every detail and cataloguing every piece of damage on it. Prince turned their body towards Whumpee and stepped over to them with graceful, precise steps. Whumpee moved a foot behind them to step back, but Prince reached them before Whumpee could back away.

Prince reached up and cupped Whumpee’s face in their cool hands. He moved Whumpee’s face to right, tilting their head to their light to get a proper look at them.

“Mmm, Violent henchman did some damage to you, didn’t he?” Prince asked, pressing their thumb into a bruise on Whumpee’s cheek. Whumpee sucked in a breath and tried to step back but Prince didn’t let them. His black eyes seemed to be bottomless, dragging Whumpee further and further into them. Whumpee had a sudden realisation that being the center of this man’s attention was not somewhere they wanted to be.

“They struggled a lot when we caught them, sir.”

“They also made sure the rope was tight enough to cut off my circulation,” Whumpee said, their words biting. The ghost of a smile flashed over Prince’s beautiful face. “Be a dear and loosen them for me, would you?”

Prince ignored them and let go of their face. He stepped around Whumpee and nodded at Not-so-nice Henchmen. Whumpee turned with him, not wanting to let him out of their sight.

“Thank you Henchmen, would you mind guarding the door for me? My guest and I need to have a little chat.”

The words felt like a knife in the chest, puncturing Whumpee’s lung. They didn’t want Henchmen to leave… even though they weren’t exactly nice they weren’t as violent as other henchmen and at least they didn’t give off a terrifying aura that Prince did.

Whumpee caught Henchmen’s eyes, begging them silently not to leave. Henchmen nodded, inclined his head to Prince as he said “yes sir,” and turned to go.

“Wait!”

Henchman turned to face Prince, eyebrows raised into half arches. Prince turned to face Whumpee, all eyes in the room on them. Whumpee blinked.

Did they say wait?

“Uh…” Whumpee said, reaching for something. Their mouth moving much faster than their brain, as usual. If it would keep up now then it would be ideal. “I like you a lot more, Henchman. I think you should stay and we should chat, and Prince, you can go! Then everyone’s happy.”

Henchman and Prince shared a look then looked back at Whumpee. They both spoke at the same time.

“You like me more?” Henchman asked, at the same time Prince said, “did you just call me Prince?”

Whumpee blinked at them both.

“On second thoughts, how about we all stay and chat? Wouldn’t that be more fun? So then there’ll be no more awkward pauses or whatever…”

Prince smiled at Henchman. “Thank you henchman, you can go.”

Whumpee swallowed as Henchman nodded again. Then he turned his back and walked towards the door. Whumpee lurched forward only to be caught by their wrists by Prince who yanked them backwards.

Whumpee let out a gasp of pain, the ropes rubbing raw against the thin skin around Whumpee’s wrists screaming at them to stop moving, to freeze every struggle.

Whumpee was abruptly spun by their wrists to which Whumpee cried out. They stomped a foot backwards, hoping to land a solid kick on Prince. Instead a hand went to Whumpee’s neck and shoved them down until Whumpee’s cheek met the wooden table top.

Whumpee struggled, trying to yank themselves free, or kick back at Prince, but Prince put his leg between Whumpee’s and stepped closer leaving Whumpee’s legs useless. Whumpee grunted with the effort before seizing their struggles altogether, letting out a huff of a breath onto the cool wood.

Whumpee flinched when Prince’s thumb started to draw soothing, slow circles over the nape of Whumpee’s neck. It felt wrong— too intimate, too uncomfortable and there was nothing Whumpee could do but go stiff. They wanted to struggle but their arms were aching, so they just swallowed the lump in their throat. No words would even come to them because they didn’t have the first clue about how to handle this situation.

Mercifully, they heard the door to the office shut and Prince stepped away from Whumpee, breaking all contact from them. Whumpee didn’t move for a minute, their heart racing frantically in their chest. Maybe, they thought, if they stayed still Prince would leave them alone.

“Please,” said Prince from the other side of the desk. Whumpee straightened, half to hide their flinch and half to keep as much distance between themself and Prince as they could. Whumpee caught Prince’s brown eyes, so dark they were basically two pots of ink and stepped back away from the table when Prince smiled at them. “Sit down.”

Whumpee stared at Prince who had already sat down, reclining comfortably in his throne like chair. “I’m happier standing.”

“Did I ask you to do as you pleased?”

“How about you untie me and then I’ll sit down?”

Prince let out a mirthful chuckle, hands lifting in a shrug, gesturing to the air. “You really think you’re in a position to negotiate?”

Whumpee swallowed but didn’t reply. Prince cocked a brow at them and shrugged, placing two hands on the table and standing.

“Alright, if you want to stand we can stand,” said Prince and moved to walk around the table to Whumpee.

Whumpee didn’t think. “Actually, now that you say it my feet are tired, sitting would be wonderful.”

Prince smiled a knowing smile. “Wonderful,” and he sat down again. Whumpee did too, wincing at the awkward angle they had to hold their arms at in the chair.

Prince clasped his hands together on the desk and Whumpee frowned. “You’re bleeding,” they said. Prince’s brows raised in surprise and followed Whumpee’s line of sight to his hands.

He grinned at Whumpee and said, “oh no. That’s not my blood. You’re bleeding. Too much struggling I’d wager, the ropes must have cut into you.”

“Well the sooner we chat, the sooner you can let me go,” said Whumpee with a forced smile, leaning back in the chair onto their hands and biting the inside of their cheek to stop themself from grunting at the sharp sting from their wrists. “Go ahead, I’m all ears.”

“Why were you away from the party?”

“Oh, you know,” Whumpee said with a half-shrug and cursed themselves for doing it. “These parties are such a great way to meet new people, hit it off, sneak off to another room for a quick chat away from all the loud mus—”

“Henchman said that you were alone when they found you.”

Whumpee forced a smile on their face. “Yes. Well if you’re trying not to make it obvious what you’re doing you let one person go back to the party first and I was to follow after. Just as I was making to leave your delightful henchmen found me and beat me and tied me up and now I’m here.”

Prince’s smile took on something else, a twinge of something darker. He didn’t believe Whumpee.

“An innocent mistake?” Prince asked. There it was again. That tone that sent Whumpee’s fight or flight into overdrive, that told them they should get out of here as fast as they can.

“Yes, yes. A giant misunderstanding,” Whumpee replied. “So you see this is not how I wanted my night to go at all and I really would love to get—”

Prince interrupted Whumpee again. “I think you’re lying to me.”

“Well, difference of opinion. I was there, you were not. I know my intentions, you do not.”

Prince stood from his chair and Whumpee shrunk back in their seat. “I— I think I would very much like to leave now.” Prince didn’t react in any way, he just walked around his table and leaned against it in front of Whumpee with that dark shadow over his smiling face.

“Would you like to know what I think you were doing?”

“Not particularly,” Whumpee said with a shrug before they could stop themselves. They couldn’t suppress the flinch when Prince slammed a hand out to rest on the back of Whumpee’s chair, right beside their head as he bent lower so their faces were only inches apart.

“I think you’re way in over your head,” Prince said, voice dipping lower. It prickled something primal in the back of Whumpee’s mind that screamed at them to run. His voice sent a shiver down their spine. Prince brought up his other hand, pushing Whumpee’s hair back from their forehead. He trailed his finger down the curves and contours of Whumpee’s skull. “I want you to know, that these parties can last for hours and hours into the early morning, darling. The music in full swing, far, far away from my personal chambers and home.”

Whumpee’s eyes widened at the threat, turning their head away not wanting to look into his dangerous eyes. They tried to push themselves further into the chair to get away from Prince, but he grabbed Whumpee by the chin and tilted their head back to face him, a strange smile on his lips.

“What I’m saying is,” the Prince continued in that low voice. Then he paused and tilted his head. “What is your name?”

Whumpee didn’t trust their voice to speak, which suited them just fine because they didn’t want to reveal their name to this guy anyways. Prince’s grip tightened on Whumpee’s chin and Whumpee bristled, pulling uselessly at the ropes tying their wrists together, willing them to come apart.

“Your name,” Prince said again, his voice far more authoritative, or else went unsaid.

“W- Whumpee,” Whumpee whispered, then licked their lips to get some moisture back into their dry mouth, hating how much their hands were shaking behind them.

“Hmm, Whumpee. What I’m saying is, Whumpee,” the Prince said, his eyes following his hand that went down to Whumpee’s throat instead of their chin. He squeezed it a little in warning, but it was enough for Whumpee to freeze in their seat. “Nobody is going to hear you scream. While there’s a party happening outside, we can have our own private party in here, can’t we?”

Whumpee shook their head, but quickly stopped when Prince cut off their air supply. “No. No. Please. I wasn’t doing anything, I swear!”

Prince’s eyes flashed up to Whumpee’s and held them captive there, locking them into his shark like gaze. His smile felt like a cut to Whumpee’s lungs, cutting off air supply.

“I guess we’ll just have to make sure, won’t we?”

[simpforchuchu]

It wasn’t your fault

Prompts: DAY 5 - rope burns @febuwhump Characters: Todoroki x reader Fandom: High and Low Summary: He never should’ve been happy.

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: scars, rope burns, guilt, regrets, angst

Fear is a very powerful emotion. It gnaws you and you can't think of anything else. Todoroki couldn't remember the last time he was this scared. But he was sure it wasn't anytime soon.

He should have known that everything was going well. Everything couldn't always go well, he couldn't always be happy.

His past was hunting not only him, but everything he cared in life.

He knew that his past enemies had attacked his friends before. He should have been more careful. He didn't deserve to be loved.

He was opening the doors of every room of the abandoned building and looking for you. He wanted to cry but he couldn't let it happen.

He was happy, happier than he had ever been before lately. But he should have known. He should have known this wouldn't last long.

He heard his friends calling after him, but he couldn't react. There was one last room left. He opened the door and saw you on the chair.

Millions of scenarios were running through his mind. were you breathing? Did it hurt a lot? Did you hate him?

He ran to the chair and shook you.

“Y/n! Y/n, can you hear me?”

You woke up, it wasn’t like he scared. You were alive. You were looking at him lovingly again. He hated it. Why weren't you angry at him? Why weren't you yelling at him? Why didn't you hate him?

“I knew you will come, Yosuke.”

It hurt more. Why ? Why were you still smiling?

He bent down and hugged your shoulders. He placed a kiss on your hair and looked at Tsuji, who was untying the ropes behind the chair. He was smiling back, happy they found you. But Todoroki couldn't smile.

After the ropes were loosened, you pulled your hands away, wanting to hug him. But he immediately noticed the scars on your hands. Rope burns... Even your wrists were bleeding. This was the last thing to break him. The young man's eyes filled with tears and he fell to his knees.

“It wasn't your fault.”

He knew you were whispering, he could hear you, he knew you were sincere but he didn't believe it. No, it was his fault. It was always his fault…

HnL taglist : @straysugzhpe @tiddly-winx @ninamarie1994 @thatpoindexterpixy @koala-yuna @star2fishmeg @little-miss-naill

[corazondebeskar-reads]

keep it caged

werewolf!Joel Miller x f!reader

originally for Febuwhump 2024 Day 5 - rope burns | Febuwhump masterlist

words: 447

summary: They put you in a small cage within the beast's cage, as if it would be more than a minor inconvenience in his way.

This is technically another drabble for my upcoming series "of rage and ruin" following werewolf!Joel. It can be read as a standalone.

warnings: alpha/omega dynamics (one use of the word "omega"), captivity, abuse, genre-typical violence, canon-typical violence, restraints, description of injury

dividers by @saradika-graphics

He can’t reach you, not when you’re tucked back in the corner of your cage. But he can smell you, and he can smell the rich iron soaking into the ropes around your wrists. It’s not yet visible, but the skin squishing through the edges is red and rough. 

He whines, pushing his muzzle against the bars, long tongue flopping out like he can reach. 

The sharp battery acid edge of your fear spikes, and he growls. Stupid girl. Stupid fucking omega. He’s trying to help you, and you’re—you’re— 

You’re starting to cry again. 

He can’t make human words like this, can’t enunciate or even really remember them. He tries to reach you through the bars again, snarling when they burn against his knuckles. Even the distended bony fingers of his full form can’t reach you there, not even with the tip of his claw. 

You’re shaking now, body twitching and jittering beyond your control. Everything inside you is screaming white-hot and dissolving; vomit tickles the base of your throat, and you just can’t stop crying. It hurts; it’s ripping your throat and lungs to shreds. It’s a violent, tumultuous thing, and you can’t stop the wounded keening of your cries. 

He’s pacing in front of your cage now, the beast, on four mangled limbs too long to be canine and too warped to be human. His huffs startle you, long snout returning, again and again, tongue darting out for a taste. 

A little drop of blood slides down your hand from where the rope’s edge cuts into the bottom of your palm.

He freezes, nostrils flaring. You freeze, barely breathing.

 

He looks right at you and then tips his head back to howl, the sound like icy water through your veins. 

You can’t help yourself. You scream, broken as your voice is from all the tears. 

Between the cacophony, Jim stomps into the corridor and slams his hand on the wall. “Shut the fuck up, both of you!” 

“Help me,” you yell. 

I’m trying, the wolf howls. 

“Please, please help me,” you gasp, sobs reaching new heights alongside your panic. 

“If you don’t quiet the fuck down, I’ll open up your goddamn cage and let him eat you,” Jim snaps. “I said you were going to be more trouble than you’re worth, and I was fuckin’ right.”

The beast snarls, snapping his sharp teeth at the air. 

Jim regards him with a sneer. “And you! Giving her a heart attack counts as breakin’ her. We aren’t gettin’ you another one.”

The words don’t make sense, but you don’t really hear them, anyway. “Please, I want to go home, please, please,” you whisper. 

But no one’s listening.

*title from "Monster" by Skillet

[l3ominor]

Febuwhump day 5: Rope Burn

TW: Drowning

Legend darted between the stone pillars, searching through the murky water. The lizalfos he'd killed two minutes ago were long behind him now, but he still hadn't found Wind.

Five minutes ago, they'd been on the shore, fighting an encampment, when a pair of the reptilian monsters had caught Wind in a net, dragging him under the waves. Legend had followed, and found the monsters, dealing with them. But he still hadn't found Wind.

The salt water burned his gills as he wove between the shadows of rocks, searching. Searching.

There!

The lizalfos had tied the net around a large stone, leaving Wind trapped at the bottom of the lagoon. The younger man now floated, unconscious. Please let him just be unconscious.

Legend shot forward, summoning a small knife from one of his rings. He could cut through the net easily enough, then carry Wind to the surface. Hopefully... It wasn't too late.

[aquinnix]

Febuwhump Day 13 - “You Weren’t Supposed to Get Hurt”

“Don’t look at me like that.” Grian forced frustration into his voice, trying to cover the pain that lingered in it.

Look at you like what?

Grian turned his gaze away. “Like you're mad at me.”

But I am, aren't I?

“You… you weren’t… I wasn’t.” The words got stuck on Grian’s tongue.

You weren’t what?

He whipped his head back around. “I wasn’t thinking ok! Is that what you want to hear? I never meant for you to die! Isn’t this punishment enough?” The anger in Grian’s voice was real this time.

What’s punishment enough?

Grian gestured wildly in the air. “This! You're still…”

I’m still what? I’m gone, remember?

“Yes of course I remember! What are you…” BigB’s face began to fade in Grian’s mind. “No! Come back! Please. I can’t lose you again.”

You cannot lose what is already gone.

The voice faded away, leaving Grian desperately trying to hold onto those words even if they were nothing more than figments. Even if BigB was nothing more than a figment, and Grian was the one responsible.

That wasn’t what hurt the most. Grian deserved the guilt to haunt him forever.

Why was BigB abandoning him?

No, he couldn’t blame it on anyone but himself. He was the one letting it go. He was the one abandoning BigB.

Everything was his fault.

[whumpinthepot]

@febuwhump 2024, Day 5. Rope Burn

Ocs Abby (she) and Ratty (they)

[mistletoeandarrows]

So Kiss Me, as I Am Lost

My take on "CPR" for @febuwhump. It's an emotional ride with plenty of hurt (and comfort). Thanks so much for reading. 🫶

Pairing: Shisui/Sakura

Rating: M

Summary:

The untenable stress of trying to open the Therapy Center while interning for the Medic Corps. The countless weekends Sakura had to cancel their plans to work on call. Shisui had always been there to encourage her and lift her up with his love. Now, Sakura felt she no longer deserved it. For Febuwhump 2024, Day 5: CPR

Read the one-shot on AO3

[hotcheetohatredwastaken]

Febuwhump Day 5 -- Rope Burns

Tw: description of injury, kidnapping

“Why did he do that?” Wind rocked himself back and forth on the edge of the inn bed, his arms clutched to his chest so tightly that Hyrule couldn’t manage to draw them out to be treated. Tears rolled down Wind’s round cheeks, and he made no move to wipe them away. “Why did he do that? Why?” he whispered, over and over again, like the answer would come if he asked enough, “Why did he do that, Hyrule?”

“I…” I don’t know “...because he wanted to protect you, Wind,” Hyrule answered, uncomfortable with Wind’s tears. Crying was considered a waste of water in his world, and he spent most of his time alone—he didn’t know what he was meant to do with this emotional display. Was he supposed to ignore it, to spare the boy's dignity? Was he supposed to attempt to comfort him? “He…”

Hyrule wished for Sky, for Twilight, for one of the heroes that would know what to do with Wind’s upset, but they were alone in this rented room. Once the rest of the heroes were assuaged with the sight that Wind was really okay, Time had herded them away before they further overwhelmed Wind—already a sobbing, incoherent mess, at that point—and handed him over to Hyrule, telling him to call for him on Wild’s Slate if he needed help or Wind divulged something actionable. Hyrule’s heart swelled at the show of trust, even in the middle of such circumstances, and he was determined to do his best. Still, he wondered in the back of his mind if he really was the right person to handle this.

The ruckus of the boy being kidnapped from his bed by traitors of Warrior’s world, right under their noses, had awoken them in the early hours of the morning, but they hadn’t been able to stop them before they disappeared into the night. Then, he had been delivered to the inn’s doorstep before the sun had even risen, bound hand and foot with coarse rope that he’d clearly fought, given the burns decorating his wrists. Which led them to where they were now, with Hyrule trying to heal him and Wind obstinately refusing to let him touch his injuries as he cried over the whole situation.

Warrior would have known how to comfort the boy, how to soothe his tears. But Warrior wasn’t here, not anymore.

“He… he didn’t want you to see you get hurt,” Hyrule finished lamely, looking away. Ignorance it was, then. He straightened up, forcing a firmness into his voice in his best imitation of Warrior’s medic voice. “Let me see your hands, Wind. I have to heal them. Warrior wouldn’t want you to sit here bleeding all over yourself and refusing treatment because of him.”

Wind only cried harder at his words, shaking his head and sputtering out some refusal or apology, but despite it he finally allowed Hyrule to draw one of his arms away from his chest. The lacerations around his wrist weeped red, rubbed raw and flecked with dried blood. The marks disappeared easily—it felt almost too easy, like their removal discredited everything the boy had gone through in the past few hours—underneath the pink glow of Hyrule’s hands. 

But their removal did not erase the past few hours. “It’ll…” it’ll be okay. Hyrule couldn’t bring himself to voice the lie. “You’ll be okay. We’ve got you.”

“But now they’re going to hurt him!” Wind protested, tears making his voice thick. “They’re—they’re gonna kill him, and it’s all my fault, I shouldn’t have gotten captured in the first place but I—” he choked over a sob “—I let my guard down, and then he just… he just gave himself up, and now they’re going to—they’re-they’re going to hurt him, Hyrule!”

“You were asleep, it wasn’t your fault that they got the drop on you,” Hyrule murmured. With Wind’s left wrist healed, he moved on to his right. “And Warrior… Warrior made his choice.” The words were difficult to force out. “He did it to save you.”

“But he went all by himself! And he just—Hyrule, you didn’t see them. Didn’t hear them.” Wind swiped awkwardly at his eyes with his arm, his movements delayed and clumsy. He’d been up all night too, no doubt, sleepless and terrified in the grasp of those traitors. “The way they were talking, and–and-and the little room they had me in h-had all these knives and —they’re-they’re gonna… gonna hurt him,” he whimpered, “real bad.” 

Wind couldn’t seem to bring himself to say the words kill him again, like saying it would make it true. Hyrule knew it was true whether or not it was spoken aloud. They’d been warned, when they first arrived in Warrior’s world, to pretend not to know him if asked, to hide their identities as heroes until they reached the castle, and to never ever go alone. The rebellion that had risen against him in his war against Cia had mostly been squashed, but nevertheless, rogue actors still lurked among the general populace, waiting to strike. Warrior had warned them of their cruelty, their cunning, and he warned them above all to not let themselves be captured by them, no matter what they threatened.

But Warrior had slipped away without a word to anyone, alone, in the wee hours of the sleepless morning before the sun even rose. And Hyrule knew it wasn’t a coincidence that Wind was returned to them not even an hour later. Suddenly, tears pricked at the back of his eyes, and Hyrule wanted to cry with Wind. He swallowed the urge down.

“The rest are looking for him right now.” Hyrule spoke as confidently as he could manage. “They’ve sent notice to his Queen, everyone’s on the lookout for him. They’ll…” They’ll find him. Another empty comfort he couldn’t bring himself to say. Instead, he took Wind’s hands in his own, ducking down to look him in the eyes. “Wind, you can help us find him, but I need you to focus. What do you remember about that room they took you to? How long it took you to get there, what you could hear, anything? If—if you can handle it, that is,” Hyrule added uncertainly as Wind only sobbed harder. “It’s okay if you don’t remember anything.”

“No, no it’s okay. I—I want to help.” Wind stared down at his own lap as he gathered himself up, scrubbing away the tears staining his face. “I—I remember. Well… kind of… Once we got there… they had a bag over my head, but there was this… this ruckus in the room overhead, like…”

As he spoke, Hyrule nodded along, rubbing his thumbs over Wind’s scraped knuckles. He couldn’t imagine how scared Wind must have been, yesterday, caught in the clutches of those traitors Warrior had warned them so strongly against. He was so brave to still be willing to go and speak through it again, not hours later, all to help them find Warrior. And the others were looking for him, too, along with all of the Queen’s forces.

Hyrule just hoped it would be enough.

Once Wind had exhausted himself and was slumbering uneasily in the inn bed, Hyrule reached for his necklace on the nightstand. Its string had been torn in his fight to escape his kidnappers, left abandoned in the street outside the inn the night before, but its pendant still worked. It lit up a light blue underneath Hyrule’s touch.

“Time.” Hyrule spoke into the crystal. “Wind told me some information that might help your search.”

Visit me on ao3! HCH Febuwhump Day 5 — Rope Burns

Or come check out the whole series! I'll be doing a prompt a day for the whole month! HotCheetoHatred's Febuwhump 2024

[kybercrystals94]

Absolute Privilege

Read here on Ao3!

Febuwhump 2024 | Day 5 | Prompt 5: Rope Burns

Bad Things Happen Bingo: Burns

Rated: G | Words: 1091 | Summary: Missing scenes from S2E2: Ruins of War, Omega struggles with what her brothers have had to do because of her. [Character Focus: Omega, Tech]

Omega leans over the cliff, staring into the dark, gaping mouth of the container yawning up at her. She can do this. She has to do this. It is the least she can do for all the trouble she’s brought to the Batch.

Sitting back on her heels, Omega tests the borrowed cable one more time, tugging on it with all her strength. It should hold her weight. She’s been practicing knots with Echo, and she’s pretty sure she did it right.

The rappelling part though…Omega isn’t scared of heights as a rule, but she doesn’t like the idea of free falling if she loses her grip. If only she had a carabiner to latch herself to, and gloves like her brothers instead of her bare hands. Her palms have gained some calluses over the months since she left the sterile halls of Kamino, but they won’t be enough to prevent rope burns.

She sighs. While she doesn’t have the proper equipment, she does have a mission. She has to do this.

Standing, Omega puts her back to the ledge, gripping the cable in both hands. Breathe. She steps back until the heels of her boots are over the lip of the cliff face. Now or never. Omega leans back, allowing the cable to slip slightly through her grip while keeping tension. Another skill she’s learned from her brothers; however, there has always been one of them present to give her instructions. She’s never been alone like this.

If her brothers were here, in her place, they’d be down to the container in moments, taking several bold leaps down the wall. Omega doesn’t have the resources for that kind of bravery, and even if she did, she’s not sure she could muster up the courage. Instead, she practically creeps down the wall. Very slowly. She doesn’t want to think about how hard it will be to climb up with her pack full of precious items. That’s a hurdle for future Omega to face.

Every few steps, Omega stops and glances down to see how close she’s getting to her destination, but it seems to loom an eternity away, further with every step closer. Her hands already ache from the pressure of the cable against her weight. She needs to hurry, to get this over with. Tech and Echo are going to notice she’s gone eventually, and they’re going to know exactly where she went. She hopes to meet them on her way back to the house, a bag of treasures in her possession as a peace offering.

Because it is about time she earns her place on the squad. She isn’t a child, she is a part of a team. And all the players have to pull their weight. It makes sense why Echo was frustrated by the trouble she’s caused to the squad, forcing them to take jobs to take care of her instead of living as they should be living. Whatever that life looked like.

Finally, Omega’s feet step onto the edge of the container. She smiles. That wasn’t going to be as hard as she thought it would be.

<<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>>

Omega glares at her hands, at the ugly, painful tracks the cable left on her palms when she and Echo nearly plummeted to their deaths. In hindsight, Omega realizes she caused more trouble to her brothers trying to help. She almost got Echo and Tech killed. So much for being a team player.

Echo’s talk with her had helped a little; however, the fact still remains that she is more of a liability than any sort of asset.

“Omega, would you assist me?” Tech asks. He is in Wrecker’s bunk, injured leg propped up. He looks miserable, having been banished to the barracks until their return to Ord Mantell per Hunter’s orders.

Omega jumps up. “Sure, Tech! What do you need?”

“The med kit,” Tech says.

Omega frowns, baffled, but she goes and gets the med kit from its place, bringing it back, and setting it next to Tech on the bunk. “What’s wrong?” she asks.

“Your hands,” Tech says, as though it is obvious. “You have burns from where you slipped down the cable.”

Omega scowls, crossing her arms so that her hands are tucked out of sight. “I’m fine.”

“You will be fine just as soon as you allow me to treat your injuries,” Tech says.

“They don’t even hurt,” Omega lies sourly, “and I already cleaned them. They’re fine.”

Tech gives her a calculating look, as though she is an intricate problem he is trying to solve. She squirms under the scrutiny. “If they are fine and do not cause you discomfort, then why do you keep staring at them?” he asks.

“Because it’s my fault!” Omega cries, trying to keep her voice steady and firm. “All of this is my fault.”

“Pardon?” Tech looks confused and mildly horrified at the outburst. “I fail to see the correlation between you and this failed mission. Granted, it was unwise of you to seek out the lost war chest on your own, but…”

“No! I mean the only reason we took this mission is because of me. And then you got hurt, and then I almost got us all killed going back for the treasure, and…” Omega cuts herself off before she starts rambling. She swallows back the sob in her throat and glares at the floor.

“Ah, I see,” Tech says. “I suppose that is true.”

Omega huffs. Of course, Tech, of all her brothers, would finally see and understand the truth. She doesn’t want to be pacified. She wants her share of the blame placed directly on her shoulders where it belongs.

“However, I fear that you have misunderstood our motives,” Tech says, voice softening. “We took this mission not out of a place of obligation to you, but out of a sincere desire to give you the best life we are capable of giving. We took this mission because we want to take care of you, Omega, not because we are required to.”

Omega looks up, eyes wide. “But I cause so much trouble,” she argues weakly.

Tech shakes his head. “It is our absolute privilege to have you in our care, Miss Omega. Troubles are of no consequence, I assure you.”

Omega sniffs and nods.

“Now,” Tech says, “about those rope burns. May I help take care of that for you?”

With a shaky smile, Omega sits down on the edge of the bunk, holding out the offending wounds. “Thank you, Tech.”

END

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[kydrogendragon]

Febuwhump - Rope Burns

Pairing: Dreamling (ish) Words: Warnings: Dark!Hob, Captured Dream Ao3 Link Here

Dream tugs at the bindings on his wrists and ankles. The bed is soft underneath him, but that does nothing to ease the steady thrum of fear that courses through his body. The rope, lightly glowing in the dimly lit room burns in a way that he has not felt before.

Here, in the bedroom of the man he called friend just days ago, he is trapped. He had been in the Waking when he was pulled within these walls. It reminded him of the summoning he’d experienced a century past, but gentler in some aspects. When he’d awoke from his state of unconsciousness, he was here, bound and held with rope that he should not even feel let alone have it burn his flesh.

Hob enters, the smile upon his face the same one that greeted him when he first walked into the New Inn, into the temple that had been built for him. And now he lies prone, vulnerable, like a sacrifice upon an altar to himself.

“Ah, you’re awake!” Hob says, his voice cheery. “I was hoping you’d come to soon, my friend. I was starting to get worried.”

“Hob, please. Release me.” He says, his voice a whisper. He finds he cannot speak much louder. Whatever magic is within these bindings, it saps at his strength. Dream can feel himself weakening, now, with each second.

“I will,” Hob says, nodding as he drags forward the chair tucked in the corner to the edge of the bed. He sits down, resting his elbows on the edge of the mattress, head in his hands. “I will, dove. But first, I have to make sure you’ll stay. Can’t have you running off on me again, after all.”

Dream frowns as he glares at Hob. “You would keep me?”

“Oh yes. Yes, that’s what all this is for, isn’t it?” He says, gesturing to the rope and the room and to the faintly glowing runes Dream can now see painted along the walls. As Dream’s eyes scan the room, a sinking feeling of horror falls over him. The magics in this place are strong, stronger than those that Burgess had lain across his floor. These are older, more personal and true to who and what Dream is. As his eyes snap back to Hob’s face, he can see the manic glee within his old friend’s eyes.

“Why?” Is all he can say.

Hob sighs and tilts his head within his hands as if pondering the answer. “Well, for one, I got really tired of seeing you always walking away from me. You’re the only friend I truly have, after all. No one else gets me like you do. But mainly, it’s to protect you. You said it yourself, someone took you, held you. They kept you away from me. And we can’t have that happen again. I made sure that my claim would be stronger than anything else. So now you don’t have to worry! You’re safe here, with me.” He reaches a hand out and places it along Dream’s cheek, as tender as a lover’s caress. The touch makes Dream sick.

Hob stares down, with eyes full of care and love that in any other circumstance, Dream would have done anything to see. “You see? This is all for you. For us. You don’t have anything to worry about anymore. And once I figure out how to make the connection stick, we can take off these nasty ropes.”

Dream pulls against the bindings which only seem to tighten further, the burning intensifying. Hob tisks, running his fingers over the bindings. “They hurt, don’t they?” He doesn’t look back to Dream, though he nods anyways. Hob hums. “I am sorry about these. But it was the only thing I could figure out how to do that would keep you here and make sure you didn’t run out, you know? But they won’t be permanent. Just temporary. You can handle it until then, right, love?”

Dream inhales sharply as Hob’s eyes flick back to his. It is not a question, not truly. There is challenge in his eyes and Dream knows that this will go one of two ways: either Dream cooperates, lets Hob play in this fantasy he has concocted in his mind, and the pain will be minimal or Dream fights. And he gets the impression there are further tactics Hob has to ensure Dream’s full cooperation, given or not.

So he nods, slowly, and lets out a breath as Hob’s smile returns to his face. “Good. Knew you could.” He stands up, clasping his hands together. “Right! Well, I’m running late for class. Should be back home around five. I’ll make sure to pick us up something tasty to celebrate with. I know you’re not much for food or drink, but those bindings’ll make you hungry.”

Hob leans down and presses a kiss to Dream’s forehead. His eyes shut, his heart lurching in his chest. “Be back soon, dove.” Hob whispers against his skin. The heat of his breath sends shivers down Dream’s spine.

His eyes remain shut as he listens to the sound of footsteps fading away. It is only after it has been silent for a while that Dream dares to open his eyes again. He lets out a shuddering breath as he stares up at the ceiling. There are no faux stars to be seen here. He is unsure if that is better or worse.

Dream tilts his head to the side and gazes at the window with it’s blinds pulled shut. Perhaps Matthew will find him. He does not believe Hob Gadling would injure him as Alexander had Jessamy. But he did not also believe Hob Gadling would bind and trap him here.

He lets out a breath and waits. What other option does he have, after all?

[thiawen]

Febuwhump Day 5

Prompt: Rope Burns

Fandom: Star Trek AOS

Warning: Violence; Character Injury

@febuwhump

“I’m alright.”

Spock remained silent at the obviously false statement. It was an illogical human habit to lie about one’s condition in an attempt to lessen the worries of others.

Spock was not reassured.

“Spock.”

He finished wrapping Jim’s wrists with gentle hands, pretending not to notice the way his fingers trembled.

“It’s just rope burn.”

“It is not.” He told his captain firmly, eyes dark. “The rope cut into your skin. You bled quite heavily. Additionally, I fear you may be allergic to whichever plant they use to make the fibers. The swelling is extensive.”

“I’m not allergic,” Jim assured. “The natives use a particularly vicious plant for their ritual ropes. Seems to have corrosive sap. And it stings,” Jim grimaced, “Like nettle.”

Spock was appalled.

“It hurts.” Jim admitted. “But you got me out of there before they could do worse. And once we get back to the ship, Bones will have me fixed up in no time.”

Spock held Jim close, careful not to cause him more discomfort. His body was stiff with pain.

Jim leaned in and pressed his forehead to Spock’s. “I will be alright. Because of you.”

[maybeitsalivescribbles]

Febuwhump 5) Rope burns

(tw: a bit of blood)

“Whumpee !”

Caretaker rushed towards the thin silhouette on the ground. Their friend raised their head:

“Good to hear you, I- uuuuuh.”

“What ?”

Whumpee's eyes were fixed on their shirt.

“You're wounded ?”

Caretaker glanced at the blood stains that decorated their torso, then shrugged.

“No.”

Without waiting any more, they fell unto their knees, pulled out a knife, and cut the ropes that bound their friend. While they were doing this, Whumpee's voice resonated a little more nervously than Caretaker was used to hear :

“They're alive, right ? So they can be arrested ? Have a trial ? You know, justice and all that ?”

Caretaker severed the last ropes, wrapped Whumpee in their huge arms that hid their whole body, then slowly answered, carefully enunciating:

“Fuck that. They hurt you.”

“Yeah, I noticed, but – justice ?”

“Fuck justice, fuck laws, fuck these great concepts. They didn't help you when you needed them, why should I care about them ? The only thing I want is to wrap you in cotton so you’ll never feel any pain again, and make you soup tonight.”

“I crave your soup since a while,” confessed Whumpee with a tired smile. “But wait.”

“Wait for what ? I'll get you out of here. All of this never happened.”

Whumpee shook their head and looked at their wrists. The ropes had left red marks all around them. They touched them with the tip of their fingers, and grimaced.

“It won't disappear like that.”

“What are you talking about ?”

“The burns. I tried to get free. I tried all the time. It doesn't hurt much, but when you spend days on the ground with nothing to do and ropes still rub on your skin and you can't do anything about it, it becomes annoying very fast. The marks won't leave when I'll step out of this room. That will take several days to heal.”

“Okay, but -”

Whumpee raised a hand, their eyes fixed on something invisible for anyone else:

“Whumper broke my ankle,” they said. “I raised a finger – the middle one, to be precise - and they just... stepped on me. Like I was a thing. Like it was the more obvious solution.”

Their lip quivered as their voice turned suddenly childish:

“It's – it's my bones. I was using them, you know.”

“You will use them again once they're fixed.”

Whumpee grabbed their arm.

“I won't have your soup tonight, Caretaker. I need to go to the hospital. And I can't go on as if nothing had happened. Things won't go back to normal all of a sudden. I love you, I love what you're trying to do, but I need you to slow down.”

Again, they showed their wrists:

“This will take time, and so will I.”

*

Back to Whump/Horror Masterlist.

[newwwwusername]

Fic title : Val's Never Cared Much About On-Set Safety Measures

@febuwhump 2024 prompt : Rope burns

Rating : Teen & Up Audiences

Fandom : Hazbin Hotel

Pairing : Husk/Angel Dust

Additional tags : Rope Burn, Minor Injuries, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Caring Husk (Hazbin Hotel), Angel Dust Needs a Hug (Hazbin Hotel), First Aid, Bandages, Work Injuries, Abusive Valentino (Hazbin Hotel)

Word count : 253