#febuwhump prompts

[chaotic-orphan]

Febuwhump: Day Nineteen

Prompt — “please don’t.”

*~*~*~*~*

Hero let out a sigh as they got home, closing the door behind them then turning to rest their head against the wood and decompress. They only needed a moment before they righted themselves and dropped their bag at the door and took off their shoes.

They just needed to see Lover right now, and then everything would be fine. The shitty day would turn good and Hero could smile freely again.

“Lover? You home?” Hero called. They shedded their coat in the living room and left it on the back of the couch. It wasn’t like Lover to be home after Hero, their job finished at five everyday. Hero’s finished at six. Hero frowned and switched on the light in the living room.

Then they heard Lover’s voice flowing from the kitchen. “Yeah, we’re in the kitchen!”

We?

Hero wanted to groan and curse the sky, they really didn’t want to entertain any of Lover’s friends right now, but it couldn’t be helped. They sucked it up and walked into the kitchen with a smile on their face.

“Hel—” Hero began but the words and smile died on Hero’s face, fear gripping their heart.

“There you are, you didn’t tell me your work friend would be joining us,” Lover chided lightly.

“Hello Hero,” said Villain with a pleasant smile on their face. Hero was frozen in the doorway, eyes locked on Villain who was sitting at their kitchen island with Lover, a cup of coffee between their hands. “Such a lovely home you have.”

Hero clicked into a more confident posture, walking towards their Lover and kissing them before they walked to the kettle.

“How was your day, Lover?” Hero asked idly, thumbing down the switch and grabbing a mug from the cupboard above the kettle. Hero swallowed, they had a weapons stowed around the house, they could fight if they had to, but Lover was here.

Villain had taken it too far. Their relationship is strictly professional.

“Oh you know, same old, same old!” Lover said, voice light and airy. They had no idea what monster they had welcomed into their home.

“Does anyone need a refill?” Hero asked, pouring their coffee and immediately turning to sit beside Lover.

“No,” said Villain. “Thank you.”

“What are you doing here, Villain?” Hero asked once they had Lover within their grasp. “I thought you were working late tonight.”

Villain smiled, but it was anything but friendly. It looked so strange on Villain’s face that was sculpted from alabaster, cold and beautiful. The smile didn’t put Hero at ease, in fact, it put them on guard. What were they doing here? How did they find Hero’s house?

Hero had to remain calm. They had to if they were gonna get Lover out of this.

Villain didn’t look at Hero, instead they touched Lover on the arm with their smile that hid so much danger.

“Hero’s always getting on me to stop working late, but I can’t help it. I’m a night owl,” Villain said with a blasé shrug. Lover laughed and turned to smile at Hero.

“Yeah, that sounds like something they’d do. Always worrying about other people more than themselves.”

Villain’s cold eyes fixed on Hero’s, and Hero thought their heart was going to stop in their chest. “Yes. It’s something of a weakness I’ve noticed in them too. You care too much, Hero.”

Hero’s heart pounded against their temple as Hero swallowed, their mouth going dry. They didn’t know what to do. Lover didn’t know. They didn’t know who Hero was, well��� the Hero that Villain knew Lover didn’t. They didn’t know they risked their life to save the city, they thought they worked as an accountant.

“I thought it was a quality you liked, Villain,” said Hero tightly, their knuckles turning white from their grip on their mug.

“It was,” said Villain, tilting their head to the side, soulless eyes staring through Hero’s into their soul. “Now it has become a nuisance.”

Lover sat back, eyes flickering between Villain and Hero before glancing at Hero, brows furrowing in question.

“Lover, you need to get out of here.”

“On the contrary, Lover, darling, you should stay.”

“Hero?” Lover asked, their hands shaking as they tried to stand but Hero realised with a sickening clarity that Villain had compelled them to stay sitting.

“Please, don’t,” Hero pleaded, eyes on Villain’s as they spoke. “Please let them go, you can have me. I’ll do whatever you want, just… please.”

Hero was no match for Villain right now. They could barely string two sentences together but seeing Villain in their house. Their sanctuary and Lover having invited them in, Hero didn’t know what to do other than beg.

“Hero?! What’s going on?” Lover asked, fear now dominating their voice. Then they looked at Villain, that stubborn expression that Hero loved so much on their face. “You absolutely will not have them! Now tell me why I can’t move?!”

“Do you want to tell them, Hero? Or shall I?” Villain asked with a smile exposing their fangs. Hero’s eyes stayed on Villain, helplessness rendering them speechless. They didn’t want Lover to ever find out about vampires, let alone like this!

“Hero?” Lover asked, fear clouding their voice and it dragged Hero’s attention from the lethal monster at the end of the table. Lover’s face was too much for Hero to bear. “What’s going on?”

Hero swallowed hard. “Villain… is a vampire,” said Hero, their voice defeated. “They— fuck, Lover, they compelled you not to move.”

“What?” Lover asked, voice too high, too shrill. “What? That… what is this twilight?!”

“Oh god no,” said Villain with a smile, resting their cheek in their hand. “I was team Jacob the entire time. The Cullens… blegh! Vegetarian vampires? Boring. Although if it helps you to compartmentalise, Lover, you can think of me as a carnivore.”

“Please just let Lover go,” Hero said, voice hard. Villain stood from their seat and walked to where Lover sat, brushing their hair from their face. Hero could only watch as Villain did it because they couldn’t do anything against Villain when they were dangling Lover’s life in front of them.

“Don’t touch me,” Lover spat. Cold eyes met Hero’s desperate ones, a horrible smile on Villain’s face.

“I’m sure you’re wondering why Hero knows so much about me and my kind,” said Villain casually. “And since they told my secret it’s only fair that I tell theirs, right? Your partner is a vampire Hunter, Lover.”

Lover went stiff, frightened eyes going to Hero’s, searching for any hint that this was all a sick prank or a hoax… or— or some fucking game! Instead Hero didn’t quite meet Lover’s eyes and that said… well that said everything.

“They are a very good vampire Hunter,” Villain purred, leaning into Lover’s neck and sniffing before letting out a happy sigh. “Mmm, sorry. Adrenaline and cortisol just smells… divine… mmm, where was I? Ah yes, Hero is one of the best vampire hunters around. You should be proud of them.”

“Please. Just leave us alone,” Lover pleaded, their bottom lip beginning to wobble.

“Oh but I can’t do that, Lover. If you weren’t such a sweetheart and didn’t invite me in I wouldn’t have been able to put Hero is this awkward little situation, would I have Hero?”

Lover’s wet eyes found Hero’s. “I didn’t know,” they whispered.

“I know,” Hero said, putting a hand over Lover’s shaking ones. “I know. I’m sorry. I should have told you before, I’m sorry.”

“Apologies, apologies. You humans love to throw that word around. Sorry. Especially when you don’t mean it. If Hero was given the opportunity again they wouldn’t tell you about vampires, would you Hero?”

“If I knew that—” Hero began, but Villain cut them off with a hiss, moving their mouth to Lover’s neck.

“No lying, Hero,” Villain growled. Then they repeated the question again, slower this time. “Would you tell Lover, if the facts were the same until now?”

Hero whispered a defeated “no.”

Villain grinned. “Wonderful, wow. We are all getting along so well! It’s crazy what threatening the life of a loved one will do for you, huh, Hero?”

“Please, Villain, please! Let them go, they’re innocent.”

Villain chuckled darkly, stepping around where Lover was sitting to get closer to Hero. Hero forced themselves not to flinch away when Villain was but an inch away from their face.

There was an ephemeral other about them. They were beautiful, their skin flawless and pale, but not gaunt and dim. Their skin seemed to glow with health, as if they had been dipped in moonlight. A stark contrast to Villain’s dark hair that they kept swept off their face, highlighting the shadows of their cheekbones and eye sockets.

Beautiful. Dangerous. Deadly.

“I won’t keep us all in suspense any longer, Hero. The reason I’m here is because you’re a little too good at your job. You slaughtered my family, so now I have to make a new one, hmm?”

“Villain—”

“Speak again, Hero, and Lover dies,” Villain said calmly. Hero screwed their lips shut. “Good. I came to give you an offer. For the start of my new family I’d like to give you the honour of becoming my new fledgling.”

Hero’s eyes widened in horror, shaking their head because they didn’t know if they could talk or… Villain couldn’t possibly be serious?

Villain reached a hand up to cup Hero’s cheek, their touch like cool marble on their skin. “Come on, Hero. It’s not like you haven’t thought about it before. You could be stronger than your wildest dreams, young forever. We could see the world together. I could show you all my old haunts. We’d be unstoppable.”

Villain’s honeyed words floated through Hero’s ears like a whimsical song, almost nostalgic. Then Hero heard Lover whimper beside them and it snapped them out of their own thoughts.

Hero opened their mouth to reply, but Villain’s finger rested on Hero’s lips. “Ah. Wait, I wasn’t finished.”

Hero swallowed, glancing at Lover, then back at Villain and nodded.

Villain’s next words destroyed them. “If you do not become my first new fledgling, then your darling Lover will.”

Hero stared up at Villain, shock flooding their system. Lover cried out a desperate: “no! No! Hero don’t you dare! I’ll never forgive you if you do!”

Hero didn’t realise but Villain gently manoeuvred them so Villain was between Hero and Lover, Hero’s hand pulled from Lover’s as Lover wailed behind Villain. Keeping all of Hero’s attention on Villain, just how Villain liked it.

Villain smiled down at Hero, and for a moment it looked genuine as they brushed hair from Hero’s head.

“I can make Lover forget. Make it like you were never here, they don’t have to know about me. About vampires, about you… you could save them an eternity of questions and hatred, on the run from hunters.”

“Hero don’t listen to them!” Lover said very distantly.

Hero opened their mouth then closed it again. They licked their lips, trying to get moisture back in their body but they just felt numb and cold.

“Can… can I say goodbye?”

Lover cried out as if they just found out that Hero was dead, like a mourner at a funeral. “No! No! No! Hero, I’ll know! I’ll know and I’ll never forgive you,” Lover wept, sobs wracking through their entire body.

Villain didn’t move or let Hero go.

“Is that a yes, Hero?”

Tears formed in Hero’s eyes at the question.

“Please… just let me say goodbye.”

“Is that a yes Hero?” Villain pressed.

“Yes!” Hero cried furiously. Then again meekly, “yes. Please, just please don’t hurt them.”

“If I have your word, Hero. You have mine.”

Lover’s sobs sent chills down Hero’s spine.

Hero swallowed, then tried their best to steel their expression. “You have my word.”

[doyouevermakeasound]

Febuwhump 2023 Masterlist

Here’s the masterlist for Febuwhump 2023.  Here’s the link for the prompt list and rules by @febuwhump.  Thank you for setting this up!

DAY 1: Touchstarved

DAY 2: Flinching

DAY 3: Muzzled

DAY 4: Knife to the throat

DAY 5: "That's gonna scar"

DAY 6: Secrets revealed

DAY 7: Made to watch

DAY 8: Panic

DAY 9: Voice loss

DAY 10: Difficulty breathing

DAY 11: Fever

DAY 12: "Can you hear me?"

DAY 13: Forced to hurt a loved one

DAY 14: Captivity

DAY 15: Self-sacrifice

DAY 16: Semi-conscious

DAY 17: Silent tears

DAY 18: Can't stay awake

DAY 19: "You deserve this"

DAY 20: Knife wound

DAY 21: Shackled

DAY 22: Can't scream

DAY 23: "You'll have to go through me"

DAY 24: Bloody clothes

DAY 25: Assumed dead

DAY 26: Forced to choose

DAY 27: Survivor's guilt

DAY 28: "You're safe now"

[febuwhump]

FEBUWHUMP 2025 PROMPT LIST

this year's prompts were chosen through an open suggestion poll (in which we received over 4,000 prompts) and a subsequent vote, where 5,019 votes were submitted. the top 28 make up the core prompts, and the febuwhump mod's favourites that remain have become the alternates. the first prompt in the 28, "vocal chords", was our number one prompt of the vote, with 1,625 total votes.

i am so insanely excited to see what you all create with these prompts, and i hope they're inspiring enough to trigger a whole month's worth of creativity for you!

as an extra added challenge, some creators will be undertaking another, smaller goal, of including apples in each of their prompt fills as an ode to the wildly popular prompt suggestion of "apples" that didn't make it through to the poll. this is totally optional, but is a good extra challenge if you'd like to take part in it!

if you have any questions, please check out the faq before sending an ask, or skim the blog's previously asked questions to see if your question has already been answered.

please note: notifying the blog of completionist status will happen through a google form released towards the end of febuwhump, and if you are interested in joining the febuwhmp discord server, the link will be available to do so for one week towards the end of january.

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

FEBUWHUMP 2025 PROMPTS:

DAY 1: vocal chords

DAY 2: holding back tears

DAY 3: pinned down

DAY 4: hivemind

DAY 5: not trusting reality

DAY 6: forced to stay awake

DAY 7: alternate timeline self

DAY 8: bleeding out

DAY 9: necromancy

DAY 10: magic exhaustion

DAY 11: demonic possession

DAY 12: used as practice

DAY 13: “i don’t trust anyone else”

DAY 14: becoming the monster

DAY 15: icarus

DAY 16: eaten alive

DAY 17: power instability

DAY 18: living weapon

DAY 19: death wish

DAY 20: “i did good right?”

DAY 21: put on display

DAY 22: “grab the little one”

DAY 23: gunshot wound

DAY 24: forced to beg

DAY 25: bound and gagged

DAY 26: concealing an injury

DAY 27: post-victory collapse

DAY 28: recovery

ALTERNATE PROMPTS:

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

ALT 1: major character death

ALT 2: blowtorch

ALT 3: pick who dies

ALT 4: body swap

ALT 5: die a hero

ALT 6: emergency surgery

ALT 7: body horror

ALT 8: on the run

ALT 9: in another life

ALT 10: feeding tube

RULES:

soft rules:

prompts should be answered in the form of whump

creators can produce any kind of media they want

you don't have to complete all the prompts to take part

you can use the prompts after the event ends

you can complete them in tandem with any other event

you can post to any platform you want, however this blog will only be sharing links and prompt fills posted to tumblr

if you want to be featured on the hall of fame, you must inform this blog by the 3rd of march that you have completed all of the days using the provided form

if you have questions, consult the faq before asking

hard rules:

to be a completionist, you must complete all 28 prompts, in order, in whatever medium you want, before the end of the event

(specifically for being featured on the blog)

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

febuwhump (or febuwhump2025)

the relevant day's tag e.g. febuwhumpday1, febuwhumpday2...

nsfw (if relevant)

any important trigger warnings

you can also tag the blog: @febuwhump

I cannot guarantee your work will be archived on the blog. a random selection of properly tagged works will be reblogged every day of february.

[promptsbytaurie]

Character A gets hurt and thinks they'll be abandoned for it, but isn't directly stating it. Character B is trying to get them medical help, even as Character A is urging them to just leave already.

man, do i live for these kinds of asks. sorry about the late answer !! i hope you enjoy and have a very happy febuwhump <3

dialogue prompts for ~injury~ PART THREE!

"'m fine, I promise, 's just a scratch."

"You don't--you don't have to stay."

"I can make it out, go back."

"Just go, I'm alright, please."

"You need a doctor, now."

"....You think I'm gonna leave you here?"

"I want to help. Please."

"What hurts?" "...everything."

"Stop pushing me away! You're hurt!"

"I'm not worth it, go. Go!"

"You have to help the others."

"Leave, please, you need to leave."

"They need medical attention, don't let them push you away."

"I've had worse." "And that's why I'm angry."

"I'm not here because I'm being forced. I want to help you. Please let me."

"Why won't you let me help you?" "...because I don't deserve it."

"This is a waste of medical supplies."

"It's not bad, it's—it's not—"

"You do too much for me."

"I hate it when you're hurt."

"Let me lift you. Please. No! Someone help me lift them!"

"You deserve to be helped, I—who told you this?"

"You don't have to be alone."

"Let me do this for you."

"It's not a big deal, I'll live."

"They tried to push me away while they were actively bleeding out."

"'S not that much blood."

"I'm not weak." "I never said you were."

"Don't waste your time on me, are you kidding?"

"I just want you to be okay."

"I'll take care of you as much as you need. No matter what."

happy febuwhump, writers!!

[lovelizards]

"Please - please stop! I'm - I'm not a bug! You'll kill me!"

Ariadne tried to desperately to pull free, but the pins in her hands burned with pain at even the slightest of movements.

Her right foot felt broken where another pin had been cruelly forced through it. Even if she could somehow free herself from those, the pins in her wings had pierced through the membranes; flying would be impossible.

The human was humming as it worked, its giant face as high as a mountain above her and the features obscured by colourful light that glared painfully in through the stained glass window.

Despite knowing how terribly trapped she was, something in her couldn't accept it. If she could just get through to the human! If it knew she wasn't some insect, but a living breathing faerie!

"Hey!" She called, her voice breaking with a sob, "Can't you hear me?!"

But if it could, it just continued to ignore her.

Ariadne tried to catch her trembling breath. She closed her eyes and laid her head back against the canvas for one exhausted moment. Tears rolled down her cheeks, and the human continued to hum.

"Idiot," she choked out, "you're such an idiot..."

She hadn't told anyone she would be exploring the human village today, not even Nessa who she trusted with her life. The last time she tried to go, they stopped her and she got the telling-off of a lifetime from Old Nan.

'But I'm always so careful!' she had insisted, 'We're too fast for them to catch, I've never been caught before! It'll be fine!'

Would they think she had just run away? Would they even bother looking for her? If she was a danger to the other faeries...would they just leave her? Leave her here, pinned to a canvas, to slowly die?

Ariadne opened her teary eyes, and choked on a gasp.

The human's huge hand had another deadly pin, and this one was hovering right over her abdomen. She shook her head wildly, eyes wide with panic.

"NO!" She screamed, pulling at her arms even though the pain was blinding, "No! Please - please stop! I'm not a bug! You'll kill me! You'll kill me!"

The hovering pin paused, its vicious point pressing against the petals of her skirt.

"Hush now, little thing," the human said - its voice rumbling, patronising and loud, like the voice of a god, "a pin won't kill you."

"You..." Ariadne sobbed, "you can hear me?"

"You're quite a loud one, aren't you? And strong! Most of the faeries I pin pass out quite quickly from shock. Doesn't it hurt?"

Ariadne sniffled, flinching as the giant face of the human lowered closer, and its huge shining black eyes stared down at her. It bared its teeth in a terrible grin.

"It - it does -" she said, "it does hurt! So - so please! Stop! Take them out! I'm begging you!"

"We'll have plenty of time to talk later," the human said, its grotesque pink mouth forming the words, its breath a hot wind on her face.

"No!" Ariadne cried, "No - no, please! Don't - !"

The pin sank into her stomach with a sickening crunch.

Her entire body tensed with pain too great to scream, too great to make any sound but a choking, desperate attempt at breath.

"You can't imagine how challenging it is to avoid major organs and bone structures in such a tiny subject," the human said, though its words were warbling and muffled in her ears.

"Ahh....a -ahhh...."

"Hmm, that's quieted you down, hasn't it? Oh, don't be so dramatic, at least I didn't sever your spine like the last one!"

It laughed, a horrible rumble that vibrated through her body.

And that was the last sound Ariadne heard before a dizzying darkness overcame her, and she passed out cold.

[Day 3 // Pinned Down]

[serickswrites]

Why Won't It Stop?

Warnings: explosion, head injury, blood, bloody nose, unconsciousness

Caretaker staggered out of the burning building, Whumpee following closely on their heels. "Why won't it stop?" Whumpee whined.

"What?" Caretaker couldn't hear out of one ear.

"The ringing. In my ears. It's so loud. Why won't it stop?" Whumpee stopped walking and clamped their hands over their ears. "It's so loud, Caretaker."

"Whumpee, we were just in a major explosion. It's normal to have some tinnitus."

"Some what?" Whumpee let their hands drop. Caretaker could see blood trickling from their right ear.

"Tinnitus--ringing in your ears. I'm sure when my hearing comes back in this ear," they pulled on their left earlobe, "it'll be ringing and ringing and ringing."

Whumpee screwed their face up. "It's so loud."

"I know, Whumpee. I know. If there's something the medics can do, they will. Are you sure that's the only thing wrong?" Caretaker stopped and really looked at Whumpee.

Whumpee's hair and clothes were coated in a fine layer of dust. Both ears had blood slowly trickling down--both ear drums had probably ruptured in the blast. Whumpee's face was pale, but Caretaker wasn't sure how much of that was dust. They were sure they looked just as bad as Whumpee.

"'m fine. Why?" Whumpee stopped and stared at Caretaker.

"Because your nose is bleeding," Caretaker said as they patted their pockets for a tissue.

"Hmmm," Whumpee muttered as they took a stumbling step and listed sideways. "I....I....I'm gonna be sick."

Caretaker had a moment to register Whumpee's words as Whumpee dropped to their knees and collapsed forward. "Whumpee!" Caretaker tried to rouse Whumpee. But as Caretaker turned Whumpee onto their side and placed Whumpee into the recovery position, Caretaker's stomach dropped. Blood dripped in a steady flow from Whumpee's nose and had begun to drip from Whumpee's mouth. "HELP!" Caretaker roared hoping someone would come. "SOMEBODY HELP ME!"

[macknus]

Febuwhump: Day Two

Prompt: Holding back tears

Febuwhump Masterpost

“Look at you,” Whumper cooed to Whumpee across the round war table they were seated at. Restrained, in front of all of her enemies that were looking at Whumpee like she was their next meal. “That glare could wither armies, darling.”

“Clearly it can’t if you’re still drawing breath,” Whumpee snarled, bearing her teeth with her best carnivorous grin.

“So lethal, so violent,” Whumper purred like he approved. “You’re wasted on the other side of the war. You could commit so much carnage with us.”

“Is that what this is?” Whumpee demanded, arching a brow and pulling at the ropes that bound her to the chair. “You’re trying to recruit me?”

The war general from the continent barked a laugh. Whumpee’s cold, dead gaze slid to her briefly before looking back at Whumper. “I assume because your other generals are underperforming.”

The war general made a low grumbling sound but stopped when Whumper held up a hand to silence them. He leaned forward in his chair like a throne, elbows on the table and steepled his fingers.

“We’re offering you a chance to sit on the right side of history,” he said, his voice laced with his charming poison that once endeared Whumpee to him. That sounded so trustworthy, so honest and good.

“I would rather die a thousand deaths than ever fight for you.” Whumper’s eyes darkened. A flash of clouds across his gaze that vanished in the blink of an eye.

“Would you rather your comrades die all those deaths for your stubbornness?” Whumpee stiffened. Whumper tutted at her, his tongue clicking against the roof of his mouth. “This is war, Whumpee. You should be aware of the cost.”

Whumpee’s eyes blazed. “How dare you talk down to me about the cost of war,” she seethed.

Whumper sat back in his chair and sighed, suddenly world weary. “This is your last chance Whumpee.”

“Go to hell,” Whumpee hissed, then smiled like a shark. “I’ll be sure to see you there.”

Whumper held Whumpee’s icy stare. Then sighed again and lifted his hand, gestured his fingers in a come-hither motion. “Bring her in.”

Whumpee turned at the scuffle behind her. She felt all colour drained from her face at seeing the face so similar to her own, the same straight nose and blue-steel grey eyes widened in terror.

Whumpee snapped her head back to Whumper who kept his eyes on her the entire time. “No. No, what’re you— she has nothing to do with this!”

“You’re right, Whumpee. You’re right. She’s innocent in this war.”

Whumpee felt as if her chest was caving in. “Y-you— you…” she turned her head to see her sister trembling in a soldier’s arms. No… not just any soldier. Whumpee’s eyes met his green and her entire world crumbled. “No…” she whispered, shaking her head trying to hold back the tears that threatened to jump into her eyes. “No! Let her go.”

“Of course,” Whumper said diplomatically. “As soon as you pledge allegiance to our cause.”

Whumpee stifled the whimper that wanted to make itself known, swallowing it and burying it deep in her stomach to fester. When she raised her gaze to Whumper’s, it burned with a cold fury.

Whumper held her gaze as if it was something precious as he walked around the circular table towards Whumpee. Her breath hitched when Whumper extended a hand to Sister’s face, but he didn’t touch her. He grinned slyly over his shoulder at Whumpee, just baiting a reaction from her.

“You could be twins,” he murmured before continuing towards Whumpee’s chair. Whumpee trembled in her restraints as Whumper slid onto the table in front of her, leaning against it. She didn’t take her gaze from his. “Well? How are your noble intentions fairing now?”

“Fuck you,” she whispered.

Whumper released another sigh. “We used to be so close, Whumpee,” he said softly, extending his hand to her cheek. Whumpee didn’t so much as blink as his warm palm cupped her cheek.

“When you were using me for your own gain.”

“Whumpee…”

“I was a fucking child!” She hissed, battling back the tears. “But you didn’t care about that,” she continued, boiling in her own rage. “All you saw was my power. My abilities. What I could give you. Well I make my own choices now, dickhead. You don’t control me anymore.”

Whumper scoffed, and for a single heart stopping moment Whumpee felt the familiar pang of guilt at disappointing Whumper. She quickly scrubbed that emotion from her chest, steeling herself as she glared up at him.

His charming mask slipped from his face, revealing the unfeeling monster beneath. The one that stalked her nightmares. “You would die a thousand deaths, but would you let your sister die for your ideals?”

Whumpee swallowed. “Plenty of people have lost family in this war. What would make me any different?”

“W-whumpee?” Sister asked but Whumpee didn’t look at her. If she did, she would break, and she needed to be strong. She needed her resolve in tact.

Whumper’s eyes glimmered with a knifepoint of cruelty. “Well, I’ll be. You would let her die, wouldn’t you, you little psychopath?”

“Look who’s talking.”

Whumper’s smile was anything but pleasant. “Maybe you did learn somethings from our time together.”

Whumper stood, dropping his hand from Whumpee’s cheek. “Maybe it’s time I teach you something new.”

“No,” Whumpee said quietly. Her heartbeat suddenly very audible in her chest, stuttering her breaths. Whumper held out a hand and someone handed him a knife. “Whumper! Whumper no, don’t, please!”

He turned on his heel, a flash of movement and Whumpee hissed. Warm blood oozed to the front of a cut on her cheek and ran lazily down her jaw.

“Quiet, girl. I am trying to show you that there are worse things than a death sentence. Your lovely sister here will help me demonstrate.”

“No, no,” Sister pleaded, her knees buckling but the traitorous green eyed soldier held her upright. Wide, terrified eyes went to Whumpee’s and Whumpee’s heart broke. “Whumpee, tell him! Tell him I’m not like you! Please, I don’t— I’m not magic, please!”

Whumper shushed her gently as he approached, this time putting a hand on either side of her cheek as he nodded sympathetically. “I know, darling. I know. Which is precisely why you are the lesson, and your sister is in the chair. Perhaps if you’d been born with magic, this never would have happened.”

“Stop!” Whumpee pleaded, thrashing in her restraints, the ropes rubbing her wrists raw as she tried to summon up anything, any spark or whisper of her magic but the poison in her system locked her abilities down beneath its cruel spell. Stupid, so stupid! “Stop, Whumper! I understand, please! Hurt me, let her go! She has nothing to do with this war!”

Whumper visibly shivered. He glanced sideways at Whumpee, a sadistic grin on his lips. “Oh how I missed your begging.”

Whumper drew his knife hand back and just as he jerked a muscle forward Whumpee caved: “OKAY! OKAY!”

Whumper paused. He looked at Whumpee, his eyes gleaming. “Okay!” She seethed again, distress curling in her guts with guilt and embarrassment. What did she just say? She couldn’t… oh god, she was going to be sick.

“What was that Whumpee?” Whumper asked.

“I’ll—” Whumpee glanced at her sister; at her innocence and doe eyed gaze. Could she really doom thousands to save her sister? “I’ll join your side, bastard.”

Whumper grinned. “Marvellous!” And he turned away from Sister who fell to her knees, half bringing the soldier down with her. “I knew you would see reason, Whumpee,” he cooed coming closer and grabbing Whumpee’s chin, tilting her head up to meet his gaze.

“Bring her back to her cell,” Whumper said. Whumpee paled.

“What?”

Sister started protesting, struggling. “No, no, you said you’d let her go!”

“I said no such thing. But I need some incentive to keep you in line, Whumpee, and you rather showed your hand when I threatened her life, so she stays.”

“Whumpee!” Sister screamed as she was dragged out of the tent again. “Whumpee!”

She couldn’t turn her head to see her sister be dragged away because Whumper’s grip was bruising on her face. “Go on,” he whispered. “Just cry. You used to cry so freely. Now it’s like an event.”

“Go fuck yourself, Whumper,” she hissed.

“Not when I have pretty prisoners who will do that for me,” Whumper replied softly and pressed a kiss to Whumpee’s forehead. She shuddered as he let go of her and turned to the roundtable of enemies. “I think we did great work today, here, gentlemen and gentlewomen. You’re dismissed.”

Whumpee glared at his back as he walked around the room, shaking hands and laughing, congratulating and merry with his generals. She sat in her chair, stewing over everything that happened as they filed out one by one, not even paying her a second glance, like she was nothing to them.

Only after she was certain they were all gone, half an hour after the last one had left, did she let the tears fall, unaware that Whumper watched her from the corner of the tent as she allowed herself a small weakness.

[leaperfr0g]

Febuwhump Day 1, Vocal Cords

@febuwhump

Master List

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Side note,

I struggled quite a bit to get this piece to look like how I wanted and envisioned. But I'm pretty satisfied with how it turned out! I wanted to try and show the stress that BotW Link felt from all the pressure and eyes on him since he's the hero chosen by the Goddess. In game it is shown that he doesn't speak as to uphold his image of the stoic knight that fears nothing. I can't image the amount of stress he must of been feeling throughout it all even up to the day of the Calmity's return.

[whumpinthepot]

@febuwhump 2024

Day 8. “Why wont it stop?”

—

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

[luna-loveboop]

Febuwhump day one- vocal chords

I did this yesterday and it took me all of last night and today to get a decent picture

it's Echoes of Wisdom Link :) (and some of his dark echo..) he went through so much and fought on even without his voice. Lueburry's words are on the back:

and it was a how small of words can I drill on an egg challenge- 'All of the kids who were taken by rifts have lost something. For Link, he lost the ability to speak. Despite all he has been through, he fights to keep others safe. His bravery has moved me deeply.'

Sooo yeah. egg. I think a shaded eow link worked well for this one.

:)

[oros-ash3s]

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⋆ Febuwhump 2025 ⋆˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*＊

Day 1 || “Vocal Chords”

Eden had taken everything. 

He had always known it would come to this, had always known they’d get him. From the minute he had stepped into that worn-down van with the white paint peeling off the doors, the alleyway dank and grim, smelling faintly of algae, the child in front of him so pitiful and small, he had known for certain: There was no escape. 

It was inevitable, and he knew it.

He was made to live in the warehouse. They had molded him, through long-winded lessons and strenuous physical tests, through lectures and speeches and mantras, and whatever other propaganda they could cram into his head. All of it, every single personality trait and personal moral and principle he had gained, it was all because of them. They had created him. 

He had no semblance of a life before this, before all the rules and regulations, the careful schedules and training. He was nothing; no more than a little boy with no name, no identity, no home. Running away was nothing more than a fantasy, a silly dream to be somebody else. He was Eden’s property: he’d always belong here. All of his attempts to escape it, this destiny they had bestowed upon him, was futile. 

He was never going to make it out. They’d made sure of it. 

From trackers to surveillance cameras to the fucking shock collar that ruined it all, they always had him in their sight. Thoughts of how maybe being a better soldier could have gotten him out were useless. Nothing would have worked. Even if he was somehow more resourceful, more calculative, more capable – it still would have been for naught. Eden was too great, a company that had eyes everywhere, spies planted on every street. A life of endless running would have awaited him, danger in every corner he turned. 

The truth was, he was just one orphaned, teenage boy, who had thought that maybe he could escape the future that had been set out in stone for him. He was insignificant, compared to them. 

Eden was eternal. Eden was endless.

He knew it. 

As he paced the grungy, metal-plated cell, his body alight in pain, mind twisted and warped by the time in captivity, he knew it. 

Escape was no longer an option. 

But giving up wasn’t one either. Because despite everything Eden had, despite the hoards of soldiers, new and old, undyingly loyal to the cause, despite the cameras and careful control they had over every city in the country, despite the government working closely beside them to shut up anyone defiant – anyone like him – he had something that they did not. 

He had a will. 

Although most people didn’t know it, all those inside Eden — they were scared. They were scared of change, scared of evolving, scared of the future. Scared of what Magicae represented, what co-existing meant for the rest of them. They were stuck in their ways; rigid. 

He had been rigid. For a long time, he’d been unable to see any other way than his own, too busy stuck up his own ass to see the answers right in front of him. But change, adapting, it wasn’t something to be afraid of. No, change brought just as much good as it did bad. Everything good about his life, everything he loved, it had all come from accepting change, from accepting others. 

And so, as he paced his cell, his mind racing, the eyes of the others drilling into his shivering, shaky figure, one thing was clear. He was going to make a change. 

See, Eden had underestimated him. They thought he would fall in line like he was supposed to, thought that if they beat it into him enough then he’d listen. That he’d be a good little boy like he had been trained to.  

They thought he was like the rest of them, just another faceless soldier, a toy for them to use and then discard. They thought if they trapped him by himself, took away his autonomy, pumped him with enough drugs to keep him complacent, stole his friends, his name, his identity, that he’d forget to fight. 

Well, they were wrong. 

He would scream. He’d scream until he couldn’t anymore, until his throat was raw and coated with blood. He would scream until the echoes of his ragged voice were all those filthy guards could hear. He would scream until they ripped out his fucking vocal chords, if it came to it. He’d do anything, anything, but he was not going to sit and act proper no longer. 

He was a fucking person, and they were going to treat him like it. He wasn’t some thing that they could just throw into the darkness, forget about, when he displeased them. He wasn’t going to lose himself to their control, not as much as they tried. They could mix up his memories, brainwash him and feed him lies about what he was, who he was, but none of it was going to work. 

He wasn’t going to ever stop fighting them. 

And so the boy screamed, and screamed, and screamed. If they thought he would go down so easily, they were painfully wrong. He did not care how long it took. He didn’t care what he had to do. Didn’t care what it cost him. He was going to be heard. 

They were going to listen.

masterlist // next

✧ ೃ༄*ੈ✩

taglist || @febuwhump @ohagi505 @vesanal @aalinaaaaaa @fangedcinnamonroll @silly-scroimblo-skrunkl @seastarblue @steh-lar-uh-nuhs @iamheretohurt @corinneglass @melodxi @thebookishkiwi @lancedoncrimsonwings @sugaredparchment @cepheusgalaxy @fizzydreamz @robinshandhurts @ieppiq @nosebleedgirlpunch @sunflowerrosy @charlachan

✩ Send me an ask or dm to be added or removed from the taglist ✩

[chaotic-orphan]

Febuwhump: day twenty-five

Prompt — waterboarding ( @febuwhump prompts)

PLEASE BE WARNED THAT THIS SNIPPET IS VERY GRAPHIC, VERY TRIGGERING FOR CHOKING, SUFFOCATING AND GENERALLY VERY DARK!

TW: waterboarding (VERY DETAILED) interrogation, team Whump, leader whumpee, interrogator Whumper, nonchalant torturer, traumatic event, suffocating, choking, gagging, vomiting, spewing, dissociation

PLEASE AGAIN READ THE TAGS MIND THE WARNINGS

Henchmen led Whumper down into the basement where they held the Hero team. Whumper followed, hands in the pockets of their black combats, eyes skimming the cold stone walls as they waited for Henchmen to open the door.

“Supervillain said they refuse to talk,” said Henchmen to Whumper, looking back over their shoulder at them and frowning. “Said you’re the best interrogator in the city.”

“Yeah?” Whumper asked, tilting their head, tone bored. “High praise from Supervillain.”

“You don’t look like a good interrogator.”

Whumper let out a small hmph of a laugh which Henchmen went pale at. “I— I mean, it’s just— you’re young. You look younger than me.”

“Looks can be deceiving,” said Whumper with a shrug, half lidded eyes on Henchmen and the door. “I get paid hourly, so if you want Supervillain to pay me more, which I would appreciate—”

Henchmen shook their head and turned their attention back to the lock. “Right sorry.”

Whumper leaned their back against the wall and repressed a sigh. They weren’t a very patient person, which probably came with the job description but how many times had they had this same conversation with other employers.

The lock finally clicked and Whumper pushed off the wall, grabbing the door as they passed Henchmen. They met Henchmen’s eyes, looking up at them with the same blank expression they usually wore.

“Listen, henchmen, it gets pretty bleak when I’m interrogating. You sure you can stomach it?”

Henchmen nodded, though their face expressed their hesitance. “Supervillain said I had to accompany you.”

Whumper blinked, then glanced back at the stairs up to Supervillain’s house before sighing.

“Fine. If you want to impress him so damn much.”

Henchmen blushed, flustered. “I— I—”

Whumper was already walking down the stairs to the Hero team, ignored Henchmen’s embarrassment.

“You coming or what, sycophant?”

“Uh, yes!” Henchmen said and closed the door after them.

Whumper stood at the gate of the powered cell, frowning at the Hero team inside. Their eyes passed over each of them, Whumper knew some of them from the news. Especially the tallest one, Leader. One look at them and Whumper knew they wouldn’t talk if Whumper broke every bone in their body. The rest of them… well, Whumper had more faith in their own talents than the other member’s resilience.

Whumper’s eyes landed on a familiar face sitting furthest from the door, their lips twitching as they met Rogue’s eyes from across the room. Henchmen was getting to work opening the gate when Rogue spoke.

“Whumper?” Rogue asked, their voice a mix of confusion and fear. The rattle of chains as Rogue shifted forwards in the dimly lit cell, squinting.

“Hey, Rogue. Funny meeting like this, huh? How have you been?”

“Good,” said Rogue in that same guarded tone.

“Rogue?” Leader asked. “Who is this?”

“An old friend,” said Rogue, swallowing, their eyes going back to Whumper as Henchmen opened the gate and Whumper stepped through. “We grew up in the same neighbourhood.”

“Mmm,” Whumper hummed fondly. “In the Grouts of the city, eh, Rogue? How’s your mum?”

“She’s good.”

Whumper smiled. “Good, good. Tell her I say hi. She’s a lovely woman.”

“I will.”

“Good to see you, I hope you know this is all just business,” Whumper said gesturing to the cell and themselves with their hand.

“You don’t have to hurt us.”

Whumper’s smile melted from their face, eyebrows raising. “Oh? Your team are all loose lips, huh? You’ll just tell me about Superhero and his secret weapon?”

Rogue went quiet, so did the rest of the cell. A humourless smile crept onto Whumper’s face. “Yeah… I didn’t think this job would be that easy.”

“What do you want?” Leader asked. Whumper flicked their gaze to Leader who was on his knees, hands cuffed to a ring in the wall behind him like the rest of the Hero team. Yikes, what kind of sicko was Supervillain to have metal rings embedded in stone? Whumper supposed it didn’t matter.

“I want to get paid,” said Whumper, stretching their arms above their head. “Ugh, then I want to go home and watch TV. That sound good to you, heroes?”

“I think he meant… like what do you want with them,” said Henchmen quietly to Whumper. Whumper frowned and made a verbal “huh!” in exclamation.

“I just told them,” said Whumper. “Supervillain wants information on Superhero’s secret weapon, I’m here to get that information and get paid.”

Leader curled his lip back into a snarl. “Good luck with that.”

Whumper shrugged. “Thank you, Leader. However I am a professional, I don’t need luck. I’m trained to get stoic people chatty.”

“You really think Supervillain hasn’t tried? Torturing us, depriving us of food and water? Leaving us down here to starve and then when that didn’t work going back to torturing us? We’re built to endure,” said Leader with a mirthless smirk. “We don’t break.”

Whumper nodded. “Okay. We can do this the hard way then.”

Whumper turned to henchmen and asked them to grab a cloth and a hose to attach to the tap. “Oh, and a chair, please, henchmen.”

Henchmen left the room, their footsteps ascending was the only sound permeating the cell. Whumper walked over to the girl sitting directly opposite Leader. The only person on the Hero team that Whumper didn’t recognise. Maybe a new recruit? Leader lurched forward, but Whumper just cocked an eyebrow at Leader.

“What’s your name?” Whumper asked her. “This isn’t the interrogation yet, don’t worry. You don’t have to tell me. Just trying to diffuse the tension.”

Whumper looked at Rogue who kept their eyes trained on Whumper. “How long have ye been down here?”

“A while,” Rogue told them with a huff.

Whumper nodded. “Supervillain really starve all of you?”

“Yeah,” said Rogue, a little sheepishly.

“Nothing you’re not used to,” said Whumper with a little laugh. Rogue joined in, although a bit awkwardly. Whumper’s eyes scanned the other people in the room who looked a bit dazed at the flyaway comment. Then they reclined their head against the wall. “Oh. Sorry. You never told them.”

“It’s okay,” said Rogue with a shrug. “They were bound to find out eventually.”

Whumper nodded again. Then let out a sigh. “You don’t want to tell me Superhero’s plan, do you? Save you all some suffering.”

Rogue laughed. “Not a chance.”

“Well, god loves a trier.”

The door to the basement creaked open and Henchmen came down the stairs and left all the things Whumper asked for at the front of the cell, near the gate. “Ah. Wonderful. Thank you henchmen.”

Whumper stood in front of the team of heroes and cleared their throat while Henchmen attached the hose to the leaky tap.

“Okay. For my first trick, I need a volunteer. Leader?” Whumper asked with a smile. Leader scoffed but nodded. “Sure.”

“Excellent.”

Henchmen freed Leader from the wall, the cuffs staying on and led Leader over to chair that Whumper stood at.

“Sit down,” said Whumper. Leader obliged them, and Whumper grabbed Leader’s arms and brought them up over the back of the chair. It was all very gentle, very professional, as if Whumper wasn’t trying to hurt Leader. It sent warning bells off in Leader’s head, but all he could do was follow along with what Whumper was doing.

Henchmen handed Whumper another pair of handcuffs and Whumper thanked them. Whumper attached one of the cuffs to Leader’s cuff chain, and the other to the chair so Leader couldn’t move his hands away.

“Henchmen will you get the legs?”

“Of course.”

Before long Leader’s ankles were cuffed to the chair as well and Leader couldn’t get up from the seat.

“Alright, people. Last chance.”

“Do you worst.”

Whumper smiled. Then they tipped Leader’s chair back. Leader let out a soft oomph as the chair fell back the rest of the way until Leader was facing the ceiling, Whumper and Henchmen standing above him.

The last thing Leader saw was a towel coming down over his head. Leader would be lying if he said he wasn’t scared of what happened next. None of Supervillain’s men had taken his sight, or tied him to a chair just to force him awkwardly onto the ground. The top of his head was the only thing on the ground, that and his arms that were pinned beneath Leader’s weight on the chair, his legs in the air.

Another towel added to the initial one on top of Leader’s head, then another and Leader could feel his heart in his throat when he heard tape being ripped. The towels were wrapped in a single layer of duct tape over Leader’s eyes and another layer below his chin.

Leader swallowed, his hands balling into fists behind him that was already causing pins and needles in his arms.

There was a moment of silence: the atmosphere balanced on a precarious edge of fear and tension. Whumper nodded at henchmen to turn on the tap and picked up the hose.

“Any takers?” Whumper asked again. They weren’t usually this nice to the people they were torturing, but Rogue was an old friend. “No? Okay. Sorry Leader.”

That was all the warning Leader got before he was inhaling water. It was slow, trickling into his nose and Leader realised with a sickening beat that Whumper was water boarding him.

Leader held his breath on instinct, shaking his head, his arms trapped uselessly behind him. His legs were kicking at the cuffs that kept them locked to the chair.

“Leader?!” One of their team asked, voice shrill. Leader couldn’t tell who, and his lungs were aching with how much he was struggling to get the towels off his face, turning away from the hose that was relentless.

“Leader!”

“Wait! Stop! Stop!”

Whumper stared impassively at all the team members, eyes half-lidded, one hand in their pocket as they regarded them all as if they were all just waiting in line for a coffee.

“You can stop this,” said Whumper matter-of-factly.

One of the members beside Rogue spoke up: “Leader wouldn’t want us to.”

Whumper dropped their head, a sardonic expression crossing their features. “Are you serious? Do you really think Leader is thinking about his ideals right now?”

Leader gasped, unable to hold his breath anymore and he started gagging on the air, gurgling water and retching, his body spasming and limbs pulling at the restraints. Whumper didn’t even blink at the change.

“The instinct when being water boarded,” Whumper began, “is to hold your breath. Which Leader here just learned is a bad idea because eventually your lungs want air.”

“Whumper,” Rogue said in warning, yanking at the chains holding them back.

Whumper’s impassive eyes met Rogue’s. “Leader’s body needs air, except he was inhaling water which triggers his gag reflex and is effectively scorching his throat as we speak.”

“Stop it!” One of the members cried. “Stop narrating your torture!”

Whumper shrugged. “Fine. We can sit in silence if you prefer.”

Whumper did just that. They fell silent and so did everyone else. Leader was choking, convulsing, fighting, gasping, all very wetly, the water pooling around Leader’s head as his body tensed. Leader pushed against the chair, his body going stiff as he tried to tilt the chair back up to stop the easy onslaught of pain.

His brain was screaming at him, his body fighting and not understanding that he should stop trying to breathe but his mind wouldn’t let him stop panicking enough to let him hold his breath.

Leader threw his body weight into his legs forward and to his shock the chair went upright. Then Whumper caught the chair and Leader gasped in sweet sweet air, gasping, gasping, not getting enough air and started choking and spluttering on it.

“You had enough Leader?” Whumper asked, their voice matching their face that was a cold, emotionless thing.

Leader was still breathing in air, trying to get his heartbeat under control, drunk on oxygen.

“Leader?” One of the team asked.

“No… don’t—” Leader rasped, then descended into a coughing fit. “Don’t tell them anything.”

“Oh,” said Whumper, letting the chair fall backwards again. “Sounds like you got a bad cough there Leader. You need some water?”

“No! Wait!” Leader protested.

Whumper let the hose fall over Leader’s face again, and Leader held his breath again like an idiot. Whumper stared down at Leader’s chest, wired so tight, trying not to let drowning bother him.

Whumper looked back at the other members of the team. “This is the easiest way to get answers from people, in my professional opinion. Plus it’s not disgusting, no lasting damage on Leader or you guys, except you know, trauma and psychological damage, but you know what I mean.”

Four horrified expressions looked at Whumper. Whumper glanced back to Henchmen who stood at the tap, their jaw tight.

Whumper knew it was a professional, practical reason why they didn’t really react to inflicting pain on people, but at times like this, when even Supervillain’s right hand was uncomfortable with Whumper’s methods… that made them feel inhuman. Wrong.

Whumper’s eyes found Rogue’s that were burning into them from across the cell. Strangely, they were the only eyes that Whumper really cared about. So funny how the past can creep up on you.

Well, a job is a job at the end of the day, Whumper might as well do one that they’re good at. The people in this room were Heroes because it was their talent. Whumper’s talent was pressure point and pain, and knowing just how far to go to get someone to snap.

Leader gasped below Whumper, bringing their attention back to the writhing worm on a hook below them. “Ah. There we go. The inhale. Human anatomy fucks you everytime, huh, Leader?”

“You’re a sadistic bastard!” One of the team members screamed.

Whumper frowned. “I don’t enjoy this. It’s just a job. Same as you Heroes, and your Superhero. Ask yourself this, if Leader was in your position and you were in his, would he protect you or would he protect Superhero?”

“You’re a bastard!”

Leader wheezed, trying to push himself up again, but Whumper had placed a foot on the chair by Leader’s head. “Ah, ah, ah. Leader. You’re not breathing again until someone starts talking.”

Leader convulsed erratically under the water, trying to lift his head up to try and get some air in his lungs. He craned his neck up, but the air attacked his senses and Leader gasped and fell back again. The hose mercilessly flowed over his nose again.

Whumper looked up suddenly. “Hey, do any of you know if Leader has asthma? Cause if so you need to decide faster, this is not a good thing to do to people who are asthmatic.”

“And it’s a good thing for normal people?” One of them asked and Whumper scoffed.

“Semantics,” they said.

“We have to tell them,” said Rogue quietly.

“What?!”

“We can’t Rogue.”

“Listen,” Rogue said, their voice edging on desperate. “I know Whumper, okay?! They’re not going to stop until they get what they want. They can sit here all day and torture Leader and not feel a thing.”

“Rogue’s right,” said Whumper with a sigh. “I get paid by the hour, so really this whole debate back and forth is good for me. Financially I mean. Take your time. Leader, do you mind if they take their time?”

Leader gurgled and choked and spluttered.

Whumper smiled at the team. “See? He’s fine. Take your time.”

“Oh shut up, Whumper,” said the quiet girl. Whumper looked at her, the new one that sat opposite Leader and wouldn’t offer her name. When she looked at Whumper now her eyes burned with a sizzling hatred.

Whumper smiled at her, recognising that level of hatred as their own. Whumper remembers being where she was, powerless to stop bad things from happening to the people they loved.

It felt full circle, that moment, and it ignited something within Whumper that was a little feral, and broken, and wrong. Whumper’s eyes flashed at her, whose glare was unbroken and burning a hole through Whumper’s head, or it would if it could.

Below them, Leader was still spluttering and choking and gagging and wrenching and writhing but Whumper’s attention was fixed on the new girl now.

“Huh. You’re chatty now? Wanna share your name?”

“No,” she said. “I want you to die.”

“Thats a little forward, considering we’ve just met,” said Whumper, glancing at Rogue, whose wide eyes were fixed squarely on the girl. “They always like this, Rogue? Little rude for a Hero.”

“I don’t care,” she said. “I don’t give a fuck what you think of me.”

Whumper hummed to themselves. They moved the hose away from Leader’s head and smiled wanly at the sounds of Leader gasping and coughing on air again.

“Still with us, Leader?” Whumper asked, not taking their eyes off of the angry girl.

“Go… go ffu—urself,” Leader wheezed between laboured breaths.

“Waterboarding is special, huh, Leader? You need breaks in between or it’s not as effective.”

“You—”

Whumper pressed the hose back to Leader and Leader immediately started coughing. Whumper smiled at the girl whose jaw tightened at Whumper’s blasé style of interrogation.

Whumper took the hose off of Leader again, to more coughing and spluttering.

“How’s the cough, Leader?”

“Ff—” Leader didn’t even get a syllable out before Whumper pressed the hose down on his nose again.

“Leader!” One of the other teammates exclaimed, but Whumper had their gaze trained on the girl. Watching her muscles tightening.

Whumper smirked.

Oh they just found the weak link. Maybe they had a special relationship with Leader.

Whumper told Henchmen to turn the tap off and dropped the hose to the floor. Things just got interesting.

“You can put Leader upright,” said Whumper to Henchmen as they walked to the angry girl. Whumper crouched down in front of her. She glared up at Whumper.

“Whumper,” said Rogue in warning. Whumper smiled down at the girl and said: “Rogue, if you try and dissuade me again I will have Henchmen gag you.”

The girl’s eyes flicked briefly to Leader who was pushed to an upright position. Leader spewed some water from his lungs onto the floor in front of him, head lolling forward and groaning.

“What’s your name, little Hero?” Whumper asked.

“Little Hero,” she replied, eyes hard as she stared at Whumper.

Whumper grinned. “Funny.”

Whumper got to their feet and walked over to Leader, purposefully. They ripped the towels from Leader’s head and grabbed one, coiling it meticulously into a shape resembling coiled rope. Then Whumper shoved it between Leader’s teeth, thankful that the towel was long enough to tie it behind Leader’s head and double knot it.

Leader groaned behind the gag.

“Okay,” said Whumper. “Because you all seem like good guys, I’m giving you a bonus last chance to tell me what I want to know before I really traumatise you all.”

Leader wasn’t even really there behind the eyes anymore, just trying to focus on breathing, on surviving. He wasn’t even pulling at the cuffs anymore.

“How can he answer?!” Rogue demanded hotly. “You just gagged Leader!”

Whumper’s smile seemed to suck all the coldness from the room. “I’m not asking him questions, Rogue. I’m asking all of you. Now then. We go again.”

This time, Whumper left the chair upright and just yanked Leader’s head back. Then Whumper grabbed the hose and grinned at everyone.

He stuck it on Leader’s nose. After a few seconds it was as if Leader was being electrocuted, his body convulsing violently against the chair to the cries of his teammates.

“Stop!”

“Stop it!”

“WHUMPER!” Rogue screamed, all of them struggling and pulling on their restraints. Whumper didn’t react. They didn’t even look at any of them.

“Stop please!” One of them cried wetly, oh yeah. Good. Tears meant they were almost there. On the verge of telling Whumper what they wanted to hear.

Leader’s hands and ankles were bleeding from how hard he was pulling and straining at the cuffs. Whumper had to commend the team, they don’t think they could withstand seeing someone they love and trust being tortured like this.

“THE WEAPON IS A PERSON!” Whumper pulled the hose away immediately, head swivelling to the confessor. Whumper grinned when they saw it was the little Hero. Oh, Whumper knew she would snap first.

Whumper smiled sweetly while Leader coughed and vomited water from his lungs pathetically. Whumper pulled the gag from Leader’s mouth and more water pooled out, Leader’s throat expanding and vomiting water onto the ground. Well, Whumper wouldn’t be a good interrogator if they let their leverage die.

“Who?” Whumper asked softly.

The entire team was shivering, chests heaving, emotion running heavy through them, as if they were all getting water boarded. Hero’s wide eyes were on Leader who had appeared to go unconscious. Whumper didn’t care.

“Who?” They asked again, more firm this time.

“Let him go.”

“Tell me who or I’ll slit his throat right now, Hero.”

Hero pursed her lips at Whumper, eyes burning.

“Oh,” Whumper said, glancing between Hero and Leader. “Oh… you’re not in love with him, are you? No. That wasn’t loving forlorn glances that was… that was guilt, wasn’t it?”

“Whumper please—” Rogue begged but Whumper held up a hand that effectively silenced them. Hero sniffed, eyes glued on Leader in the chair.

Whumper smiled. “Oh Supervillain is gonna laugh when he realises he had Superhero’s secret weapon locked in the basement this whole time.”

“Henchmen, will you be a dear and check Leader’s pulse for me?”

There was a few seconds of silence, the team waiting with bated breath that turned into a collective sigh when Henchmen said: “still alive.”

“Wonderful,” said Whumper. “We need to bring him upstairs with us—”

“No!” Hero yelled, struggling against her own restraints. “Leave him alone! It’s me you want, take me,” she pleaded, tears streaming freely down her face.

“To make sure he’s okay,” said Whumper pointedly. “When waterboarding goes wrong sometimes people get hypothermia, so we have to be careful. But don’t worry, Hero. You’re coming too.”

[pretentious-reindeer]

Vocal Cords / Febuwhump Day 1

CW: whipping, blood, loss of voice, female whumpee, female whumper (please tell me if there's anything else I need to tag!) Word Count: 2k

Deep eye bags sagged underneath Whumpee's eyes as she tinkered with the toaster on the cool marble surface. She stood over the dining room table, peering inside the machine. The darn thing refused to properly do its job:

Toast.

Well, it toasted, but it toasted too much.

After a week of Whumpee bringing Whumper bagels (she always brought Whumper breakfast every morning) that turned out burnt and black, Whumper finally put Whumpee up to the task of fixing the kitchen appliance. 

Whumpee’s conclusion laid on there being a problem with the timer. The toaster did its job, but Whumpee had noticed that it exceeded a considerable amount of time for a simple toasting. Whumper craved a precisely crispy bagel every morning, and she’d become grumpier and grumpier throughout the days without her bagels. 

With the timer decided upon as the problem, Whumpee set on tweaking the wires inside of the toaster. She wanted to figure out what was happening on the sensory side of things, first, before she moved onto actually moving the wires around. 

She felt like she was making headway, that is until a pair of polished black shoes made a slow entrance into the kitchen doorway. Whumpee didn’t need to look up to know who it was. She could smell his cologne from where she stood.

“Mornin’ Whumpee,” Villain yawned, stretching his arms over his head. 

Whumpee barely offered him the incline of her head as a response, and Villain frowned at the lack of reaction. 

“Bad mood?” He asked, casually—walking, with all the swagger in the world—as he opened up the cabinet and pulled out a glass.

He swung the fridge open, his eyes searching for the orange juice. He tsked under his breath. “Are we out of OJ already? I could’ve sworn…” He let out an aggravated sigh, before pulling out the milk instead.

“It’ll have to do,” he muttered, almost mournfully. He glanced at Whumpee as he poured the liquid into the glass. “How come you aren’t in a good mood today?” 

Whumpee shrugged, keeping her eyes focused on the contents of the microwave, and her hands steady with tweezers as she gently scooted one of the wires over to the side.

Villain’s lips pursed, turning into a pout. “Oh, come on. Did I do something? I have no idea what. I’ve only dropped by twice this week.”

Still no response and Villain’s prodding continued, “I can’t imagine how my two visits this week provoked you.”

Villain walked to the other side of the counter, near the doorway, and leaned onto the marble surface. His elbows propped up on the table as he lazily dangled his glass in one hand. “What’s the matter?” 

Whumpee heard the faint tap of the floorboard and made sure to keep her head down. 

“She can’t talk.” Whumper’s leaning form said from the doorway. Her arms were crossed over her chest as she lazily tilted her head back.

Villain turned his head towards her and smiled in greeting.

“Hello, Whumper. Is she not allowed to talk right now?” He asked, politely. Always polite with Whumper.

Villain might’ve not been Whumpee’s hope and savior in getting her out of Whumper’s claws, but he never expressed pleasure at her suffering—sometimes he’d even go out of his way to minimize it, sweet talking Whumper his specialty. 

Of course. Villain only dropped by a few times a week, he wasn’t always there to calm Whumper and her anger. 

Not last night, at least.

The basement’s jagged floor dug into Whumpee’s knees, as she cowered from the monstrosity in front of them. The whip brushed against the ground, and dread filled every bone in Whumpee's body. Bile clawed up her throat, and she had to force herself to swallow repeatedly to keep the nasty taste down.

Whumper rolled her shoulders, tilting her head up at the ceiling. “Mm… I really need to stretch my muscles out.” She murmured, as her eyes landed on Whumpee’s quivering form below her. “And aren’t you just the most considerately relieving option for me?”

Whumpee didn’t respond, and Whumper cracked the whip down beside her, almost striking her. She flinched, hard. “Y-Yes…” Whumpee hurriedly agreed. 

Whumper’s eyes narrowed, “I think this session will be particularly refreshing for me.” She said, matter-of-fact.

She placed the whip between her thighs, and picked up her noise-cancelling headphones from the singular square table in the corner. Slipping them on, she then fished her phone out of her jean pocket and picked out a song from her Spotify playlist. She held the volume button until Whumpee could hear the faint beat of The Neighborhood playing from the headphones. 

Despite Whumpee’s current, distasteful position, she still questioned Whumper’s music taste. She’d never expected Whumper to be the “Sweater Weather” and “Reflections” type. Actually, she’d never expected Whumper to torture her to the two songs. It almost felt... laughable, in a way. Unserious. Sadistic tendencies paired with indie-extravaganza? This whole situation all felt so wrong to Whumpee. All so horribly wrong.

When Whumper spoke, Whumpee could tell she couldn’t quite hear herself over the headphones by the way her voice pitched upwards, louder. Not yelling, but not her usual medium. “How about we see if I can hear your screams through my headphones, hm? Maybe I’ll stop if your begs are loud enough to reach my ears.” 

She snapped the whip, and smiled darkly—relishing in the way Whumpee jolted.

Whumpee’s stomach flipped with anticipation.  

She knew a long session awaited her. 

Whumpee’s fingers twitched as the unwanted memory forced its way into her mind.

“Oh, she can't physically talk at the moment. Lost her voice after last night."

Villain blinked, and Whumper's smile turned razor sharp. "She begged so beautifully. I wish you would’ve been there to hear her.” Whumper mused. “There were times I could actually hear her through the music.” Villain hesitated. “Music?” Whumpee felt the quick glance he shot at her. She averted her gaze though, perhaps to save herself the embarrassment of meeting his eyes. 

“Oh, yes.” Whumper said. “It was playing quite loudly in my ears. A little flair to our little session, you know?” 

Villain nodded, though the smile he shot her didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yeah… Flair and all that.”

Whumper smiled pleasantly in response, before her gaze landed on Whumpee. 

Whumpee could feel the heat of her gaze piercing into her very skull. She didn’t dare look up, she wasn’t sure she could with Whumper’s gaze on her like that.

“Whumpee,” Whumper addressed, and Whumpee froze. “Take off your shirt. I want you to show Villain your back.” 

Villain half-expected Whumpee to object—be it silently—but, to his utter surprise, the usually oh-so-defiant Whumpee turned so her back faced Villain and brought her hands into a downward X as both sides grabbed the hem of her hoodie. She hesitated—pausing. Whumper tapped her foot against the floor, impatient at Whumpee’s reluctance.

A memory flashed in Whumpee’s mind.

With the sharp crack of the whip against her skin, Wumpee’s vision leaked black at the edges. 

An icy wave of water poured down on her and she came up sputtering and coughing. Her arms pushed her back up on her knees. Had she passed out?

Her back stung. It stung so bad.

The water reopened the delicate wounds on her back and blood dripped down into the drain beneath her.

Whumper tossed the bucket to the side, the bang it made against the wall resulted in a flinch from Whumpee. It rolled to a standstill, now discarded to the side. 

Whumpee turned her head to find Whumper running her hands through the rough texture of the whip, folding it. Her dark eyes settled onto Whumpee’s trembling form. The music blasting through her headphones all too loud in Whumpee’s ringing ears. 

It felt like an anchor had just hooked around Whumpee’s stomach and was trying to pull Whumpee under, trying to drag her to a pit of despair.

Whumper wasn’t done yet.

Even though she’d passed out. Whumper always stopped after she passed out!

But… she wasn’t done.

How long would Whumper keep this up? What would happen when Whumpee didn’t have a voice to beg anymore?

With that dreadful thought in mind, Whumper spoke, her tone surprisingly even—leveled—not too high, not too low. “Shall we continue, then? You’ve only taken, maybe, twenty five lashes so far… If that." She pondered something for a moment. "Perhaps, you should count? Hm... I think you should. And be loud about it, okay? If I can’t hear you then I can’t know if you’ve counted correctly.”

The anchor pulled Whumpee’s stomach even lower, and Whumper continued speaking, "I barely heard you last round. And you know I like you vocal. So, try to be better for me. Alright, darling?”

Whumper smiled a cold smile down at Whumpee, her eyes glinting with something cruel and sadistic as she stared into Whumpee’s wide eyes. She took note of Whumpee's speechlessness, the way her lips parted halfway.

“Let’s start again.”

Whumpee’s mouth went dry, the anchor dropping her stomach impossibly lower. “Wait, wait, Whumper-” 

With a hard flick of her wrist, Whumper uncoiled the whip. “Whumper, please! D-Don’t- UGH!” The whip cracked against Whumpee's spine, and her back arched against the pain. Blood splattered on the floor and wall next to Whumpee. Her eyes watered as she focused on the built-in drain in front of her. Her blood would soon be flowing down its pipe. The thought made her stomach churn. “Count.” Whumper commanded, and Whumpee rushed to obey. 

“One!” 

But Whumper just whipped her again. “I can’t hear you, Whumpee. Again. Count.”

“Whumper, please-” She begged, but to no avail. Because as the whip snapped against her back once more, eliciting a strangled scream from Whumpee’s lips, she knew it was no use. 

Whumper couldn’t hear her. 

Whumpee blinked, the fresh memory fading. Her fingers twitched at the hem of her sweatshirt, her hand trembling in anticipation. She bit the inside of her cheek, before pulling her sweatshirt over her head—her criss-crossed arms coming up from their intersecting X-shape and vertically parallel over her head. 

She lowered her hands at her sides, hoodie held in one hand—letting it partially drape over the floor. Whumpee’s grip tightened on the hoodie when she heard the barely-audible gasp escape Villain’s lips.

Whumpee hadn’t gotten the honor of seeing the massacre done on her back, but she already knew it was bad. Flesh still torn and mangled—raw. She couldn’t even sit down in a chair, or put any pressure on her back without the risk of the tender wounds opening back up again. Her back throbbed constantly. If it weren’t for the painkillers pumping in her system at that moment, she could confidently say she wouldn’t be standing at that moment.

If she moved too much the wounds would reopen and bleed. After all, the only treatment Whumpee had done was standing with her back to the shower as the water poured down on her at the lowest possible setting. The blood had been endless, running down her body and into the drain. 

Villain cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable. “I wonder… What Whumpee could have possibly done? To… deserve this.” 

Whumper shrugged. “I just felt like it.” 

Whumpee’s hand, holding her hoodie, twisted into a fist.

Whumper waved a dismissive hand at Villain’s silence. “Whumpee has a tendency for talking too much, wouldn’t you agree? And after my session with her, it’s a guarantee that her voice won’t be coming back anytime soon. So, honestly, just enjoy the silence while it lasts. It's a blessing, really.”

Villain forced a smile, keeping his voice light. “Right. Peace and quiet.”

“Right.” Whumper said, pleasantly. “Right, Whumpee?” She added, and Villain’s smile twitched. Whumpee just nodded in response.

That’s all she could do, right? 

The silence was deafening. 

“Well,” Whumper wiped at invisible dust on her pants. “I’m heading to the store. Is there anything you need, Villain?” 

“OJ, please.” He requested, politely. 

Whumper nodded, slipping her coat on and grabbing her purse from the dining room table—placed next to the broken toaster.

“Alright,” She grabbed her keys off the hook, “see you in twenty.” 

The click of the door sounded and for a long moment Villain and Whumpee just stood there. After a minute, though, Whumpee went to put her hoodie back on, lifting it over he head. Villain stopped her.

“Hey…" He started, surprisingly gently. He cleared his throat, "what if I bandage that up for you?” The offer was... unexpected.

On normal circumstances, Whumpee would’ve refused his help. But… She couldn’t bandage herself up. So, instead…

She nodded.

---------------

@febuwhump

[febuwhump]

FEBUWHUMP 2024 PROMPT LIST

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

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

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

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

FEBUWHUMP 2024 PROMPTS:

DAY 1: helpless

DAY 2: solitary confinement

DAY 3: "bite down on this"

DAY 4: obedience

DAY 5: rope burns

DAY 6: "you lied to me"

DAY 7: suffering in silence

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

DAY 9: bees

DAY 10: killing in self defence

DAY 11: time loop

DAY 12: semi-conscious

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

DAY 14: blood-stained tiles

DAY 15: "who did this to you?"

DAY 16: came back wrong

DAY 17: hostage situation

DAY 18: too weak to move

DAY 19: "please don't"

DAY 20: truth serum

DAY 21: unresponsive

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

DAY 23: presumed dead

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

DAY 25: waterboarding

DAY 26: "help them"

DAY 27: left for dead

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

DAY 29: not allowed to die

ALTERNATE PROMPTS:

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

ALT 1: human shield

ALT 2: "i love you"

ALT 3: found footage

ALT 4: human weapon

ALT 5: cpr

ALT 6: immortality

ALT 7: last words

ALT 8: killing game

ALT 9: lightning strike

ALT 10: last man standing

RULES:

SOFT RULES:

prompts should be answered in the form of whump

creators can produce whatever kind of media they want

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

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

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

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

if you have questions consult the faq before asking

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

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

febuwhump (i’ll also be checking febuwhump2024)

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

nsfw (if relevant)

and any trigger warnings that may be important!

you can also tag the blog, @febuwhump

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

[kybercrystals94]

As Febuwhump 2025 prompts approach their release, I am anticipating which ones I will be able to apply to my current, published WIPs *rubs hands together menacingly*

Anyone else planning on Febuwhump 2025: Revenge of the Sixth? @febuwhump

[loopstagirl]

Bad Day

For @febuwhump day 2: Holding Back Tears

Warning: Strong language

TW: Suicidal themes

John sipped from the take-away cup as he traversed the familiar corridors. He didn’t need to look at the signs any longer. 

“GET OUT!” 

“Shit.”  

He ran, ignoring the scalding the liquid spilling over his fingers. They weren’t supposed to be back yet. He should’ve had had 9.5 minutes to make it back to the room and be ready for however the session had gone. But they were back early. He didn’t need Gordon’s shout to know that it hadn’t been a good session. 

The room felt full when John burst in. The physical therapist, doctor, and two nurses were crowded around the bed. Gordon was resisting as much as he could. 

“No, I don’t want – just leave me – no!” 

“Hey.” John didn’t notice when he put his drink down but he had both hands free as he slipped through the crowd. The nurse was attempting to reattach Gordon’s IV while the others were looking close to holding his brother down. Which felt ironic given only Gordon’s upper body had any movement.  

“I’ve got this.” 

The nurse backed away. They’d been in this position enough times over the last few weeks. They’d ended up teaching John how to do the IV himself, knowing that Gordon got more and more agitated the longer he felt he was being crowded. 

“I can’t breathe,” Gordon muttered, his pain-filled gaze finding his big brother’s. 

“Yes, you can.” John glanced around. “I’ve got it,” he repeated in a firm tone this time. Three out of the four people left. The doctor made a note on Gordon’s chart, nodded at John, and followed his colleagues out the door. 

Gordon immediately exhaled loudly. John pulled round a chair, making sure to give his brother space. Gordon had never been one for claustrophobia beforehand, but John figured being trapped in a destroyed hydrofoil as the water rushed in was enough for anyone not to like being enclosed. He’d give his brother time to calm down before reinserting the line. Although he wanted to get the pain meds into Gordon has quickly as possible, he didn’t want to agitate him further. 

Breathing heavily, Gordon looked away from John.  

“Not a good day?” John asked quietly. He didn’t need Gordon to tell him the session had gone badly. Some days, there was a hint of movement in his lower body. Other days, Gordon was full of his usual optimism, adamant to keep trying no matter what his treacherous body was doing. 

Then there were days like today. They were less common than they’d been at the beginning now some of the other injuries had healed and weren’t radiating additional agony through his broken body. But the days when Gordon didn’t want to fight; didn’t want to try; didn’t want to hurt... Those were the days that broke John’s heart, even though he had to keep that to himself. 

“Go away,” Gordon muttered. “You’ve got better things to do than sit here.” 

“Not really,” John said casually. He balanced his foot on the opposite knee and retrieved his coffee from where he’d put it. 

He was fortunate, so fortunate, to be between missions. He wasn’t sure if it was his Tracy name or just because the commander liked him. But he’d been allowed to take some extended leave, despite knowing it would be a hard slog to get back to optimal conditions before being allowed on the next flight.  

He didn’t care how hard he had to work: it would be nothing compared to what Gordon was going through. They’d convinced Virgil to go back to college and Scott had had no choice but to return to the Air Force or face a disciplinary. Not that he cared, but whatever their dad had said had finally got through to him once he realised John was staying. Likewise, Alan had been forced back to school. They all called every day. 

Gordon’s entire body was rigid with tension. John could only guess how much that was hurting him right now. He glanced at the IV and Gordon seemed to sense it. 

“Go on then,” he said. His tone was bitter. It was so unlike the happy man he’d been just 24 hours before the crash. But John couldn’t blame him. Pain was exhausting. “Drug me up. Make me sleep. Means you don’t have to deal with me.” 

“Is that what you think I’m doing? Dealing with you?” 

“You can’t want to be here. You’ve got a career. You’ve got something you love still waiting for you. You can’t want to sit by a cripple’s bedside.” 

“Gordon.” His tone was a warning. Despite being in pain, despite having a bad day, Gordon still reacted to having a big brother in the room. 

“What? Why shouldn’t I call myself that? It’s what I am. I still can’t feel my feet. I can’t move my legs. Probably never will again. Everything I was, everything I wanted, none of that matters anymore.” 

It was nothing Gordon hadn’t said before, but that didn’t make it any less painful to hear. John kept his expression neutral. Any sort of reaction would be the wrong one. 

“The doctors are still optimistic. You should be, too.” 

“Fuck off.” 

It was only because Gordon was facing away from him that John allowed himself to close his eyes for a few seconds. There was no getting through to his little brother when he was like this, and John hated it. He was supposed to be an expert at communication: there had to be something he could say. 

Instead, he stood up. With deft, well-practised movements, he connected the IV to the catheter in Gordon’s arm. He didn’t say anything until he saw some of the tension leave Gordon’s body as the pain-meds kicked in. 

“It’s going to be okay, Gordy,” he murmured. 

Gordon shook his head. “No, it’s not.”  

He still refused to look at John. “I can’t live like this. I can’t take it anymore. I wish I’d never woken up from that coma. I wish I’d never even gone into a coma!” 

John knew what he meant. He didn’t mean that he wished he’d stayed conscious for the entire time. 

“Gords-,” 

“I can’t do this.” His breath hitched on a broken sob. “I can’t do this.” 

John didn’t say anything. For once, he didn’t have the words. He rested a hand gently on Gordon’s shoulder. When his brother finally looked back at him, the expression on his face made John’s heart shatter into a thousand pieces. It took every ounce of his strength keeping that from his own expression, though. It wouldn’t help Gordon. 

“Let me go, Johnny,” Gordon whispered. 

“Never.” John said fiercely. He lent forward until he rested his forehead against his little brother’s. “Never.” 

He could tell from the way Gordon was going slack under his grip that it hadn’t just been pain medication in the drip. He wasn’t surprised. The main thing that Gordon needed when he was having a day like this was sleep. A chance to let his body heal without having to be conscious of broken bones knitting themselves back together, nerves fighting to join up, joints working out which way they were supposed to go. 

John waited until Gordon had gone under before he straightened up. He swallowed hard, biting his lip as he looked around the room. His brother would be out for a few hours. Suddenly, John found he couldn’t be here. Not right now. 

He hurried from the room, lifting his hand to a nurse as he did so. The hospital staff had got so used to there always being someone in Gordon’s room that the family tried to let them know when he was being left alone, just in case. 

John walked without thinking. He didn’t stop until he was in a deserted corridor, the noise and hustle of the building falling away. He rested both hands on the wall, head hanging as he forced himself to breathe. Slow, measured breaths, in...out...in... out. 

It didn’t help the prickling in his eyes. He swallowed again, keeping his attention on his breathing, squeezing his eyes shut. He couldn’t cry. He didn’t have the right to cry. Gordon needed him to be strong. He’d told the others that it was okay for them to go, that he would be here. He had to hold it together... 

But when Gordon was having a bad day, it was damn hard. 

Keeping one hand braced against the wall, he pulled out his cell. It was answered on the first ring. 

“I know you’ve just got back to the apartment-,” 

“Bad day?” 

“Yeah.” 

His dad didn’t need him to say anything more. 

“On my way.” 

They were trying to take it in turns. Gordon didn’t need constant monitoring, but he hated being alone and the two of them were tag-teaming. Jeff had rented an apartment near-by and they were trying to make it a routine that the other went there, ate, rested, showered, when they weren’t on duty. It was the only way they were going to keep going. 

But right now, John couldn’t do this. He needed his dad. 

He gave it a few moments before heading back to Gordon’s floor in order to meet the man. His dad’s coat was half undone, his hair wet from where he’d grabbed a shower, but his eyes were alert. HIs hand was steady as he put it on John’s shoulder. 

“I’ve got this.” His voice was calm, full of the reassurance that John needed. 

He sagged, his dad’s grip stopping him from sinking to the floor in relief. That was exactly what he needed to hear. His eyes shut and this time, one single, treacherous tear slipped down his face. His dad’s thumb brushed it away. 

“Go and get some sleep, John. Everything’s going to be okay.” 

That phrase again. The one he’d tried on Gordon, only for it to fail to make any impact. But as he watched his father gesture over a nurse to get the latest update on his son, he found his dad’s words did what his couldn’t. 

It made him believe he might be right.