#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 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.

[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!"

[kabie-whump]

♡ Febuwhump Day 27: Left for Dead ♡

@febuwhump

< Prev

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

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

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

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

“Cause I win.”

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

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

“No.”

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

“You’re not gonna shoot me?”

“Do you want me to?”

“Nope.”

“Then shut up.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I didn’t shake on that.”

“I’ll get my gun, then.”

Whumpee flops back on their bed. “Okay.”

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

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

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

“Then shoot me?”

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

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

“Aren’t you mad at them?”

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

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

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

“Pathetic.” That’s the word.

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

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

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

“Shut the fuck up.”

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Next

@the-art-of-trepetnoi @unicornbeck

[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.

[kybercrystals94]

Embroidered Skulls

Read here on Ao3!

Febuwhump 2024 | Day 20 | Prompt 20: Truth Serum

Rated: G | Words: 1092 | A slight mishap leads to some honest answers. [Character Focus: Tech, Hunter, Echo, Crosshair, Wrecker]

I am steeling my little heart for season 3…so light hearted whump is being served here today ^_^

“Ah, you’re back,” Tech says, glancing up when Hunter and Echo clamber up the ramp of the ship. “Wrecker and Crosshair should be returning in short order as well.”

Hunter and Echo exchange glances, wordless communication flashing between them in microexpressions Tech cannot read.

“Did the extraction go according to plan? Were there any issues?” Tech asks.

Echo stiffens at the question, and Hunter turns away to drop the small crate of serum on one of the crash seats.

“It…went. It was fine,” Hunter says, his back still to Tech. “We’re fine.”

“We’re fine,” Echo agrees with a sharp nod.

Tech narrows his gaze.

“I mean…” Echo continues, looking uncomfortable. “We’re not injured. But there was a mishap.”

“Echo,” Hunter groans.

“A mishap?” Tech presses. “What sort of mishap?”

Echo shifts from one artificial leg to the other. “Well…”

Hunter spins around, pushing Echo aside. “We lost one of the vials. That’s all. It was destroyed.”

“One of the truth serum vials?” Tech keeps himself carefully composed. “Were either of you exposed?”

Hunter huffs, crossing his arms. “Were you exposed?”

“That is not a logical response,” Tech says, deadpan.

“Yeah, well,” Hunter sputters, “Why aren’t you answering the question?”

Tech rolls his eyes. “No. I was not exposed because I wasn’t there. I’m going to assume that you both were exposed which explains why you are behaving erratically.”

“You can’t tell Wrecker or Crosshair,” Echo pleads.

“Echo! Stop talking,” Hunter cries.

“You stop talking,” Echo shoots back. “You’re the one asking Tech if he was exposed to the serum you dropped half a klick away!”

“That’s because someone didn’t make sure the second latch on the crate was secure!”

“Oh, so it’s my fault?”

“Yes!”

“At least we now know that the serum is effective,” Tech sighs, picking up the crate of drugs to stow away before Wrecker inadvertently causes more mayhem.

“Tech,” Hunter cries, trailing after him, “is there an antidote?”

“The effects should wear off on their own with no detriment to your health.”

“But Tech…”

Tech locks up the crate and turns to his brother. “Hunter, do you honestly think I have an antidote to a newly discovered truth serum just lying around in the med kit?”

Hunter hesitates. “Yes?”

“That was a rhetorical question, but I appreciate your honesty,” Tech says with a barely concealed grin as he brushes past Hunter back into the main hold.

“Tech, this isn’t funny!”

“That entirely depends on which side of the argument you’re on,” Tech says. “And I’m sure that Wrecker and Crosshair will be on my side.”

“You can’t tell them!”

“I won’t tell them anything. The two of you on the other hand…”

“Maker, Tech, you have to help us,” Echo says.

A distinct voice bellows outside the ship, “We’re back! Did you miss us?”

Hunter and Echo give Tech an beseeching look, and he almost pities them.

Almost.

Wrecker comes bounding into the ship followed by the much more sedate sniper. Crosshair hits the control to close the door before turning on the group still crowded in the hull. “Is something wrong?” he asks, taking off his helmet.

“Why would something be wrong? Nothing’s wrong,” Hunter says quickly.

Too quickly.

Crosshair smirks. “What did you do?”

Hunter’s jaw tightens, but he keeps his mouth shut.

Crosshair’s gaze slides to Echo. “What did he do?”

“Hunter broke a vial of the truth serum,” Echo says.

Crosshair’s face goes slack with surprise for a moment before a wicked grin curls across his face. “Did he now? That’s unfortunate.”

“What does that mean?” Wrecker asks, looking concerned as he glances between the color drained faces of Echo and Hunter.

“It means that loose lips crash starships, Wrecker,” Crosshair says.

Wrecker looks puzzled for a moment before it clicks, and he smiles broadly. “Ah, I get it.”

“There’s nothing to get,” Hunter snaps. “Tech, get us out of here. We have a mission to complete.”

Tech nods and heads for the cockpit, Echo following closely behind him.

“If you think I’m going to help you not inadvertently answer incessant questions, you are mistaken,” Tech says, settling into the pilot’s chair and flicking switches for the startup sequence.

“How long will it take for this to get out of our systems?” Echo asks.

Tech sighs. “I may know many things, Echo, but even I have my limits. I would need access to the research and chemical makeup of the drug to accurately answer your question.”

“Give me your best guess.”

“You will not like it.”

“Tech!”

“I would estimate that you and Hunter will experience the effects of the drug for approximately one standard week.”

“No! You’re lying!”

Tech smiles. “At least one of us can.”

Echo drops into the copilot’s chair with a growl. “You’re the worst.”

Tech gets them situated in a hyperspace lane before a tangle of cajoling voices approach the cockpit, and Hunter enters followed by Wrecker and Crosshair. Hunter sits down, and turns his chair away from his siblings.

“C’mon, Hunter,” Wrecker says, “Don’t you want to tell us?”

“No!”

Crosshair chuckles. “He’s telling the truth.”

“Shut up, Cross.”

“But really, Hunter, we need to know…where’d you learn how to embroider skulls onto your bandanas? Or do you have them done somewhere? And if that’s the case, then where?”

Hunter decidedly keeps his jaw locked shut.

“It would be more effective if you asked the questions individually,” Tech offers. The look of utter betrayal Hunter shoots him is heartbreaking, but the engineer simply shrugs. “This is a research opportunity I am unwilling to pass up.”

Echo chuckles, drawing Crosshair’s attention. “You know something about this, don’t you?” he asks, pointing at the cyborg accusingly.

Hunter’s eyes widen, and Echo swallows.

“I’m not sure what you’re asking,” Echo says, evading the question carefully.

“Where does Hunter keep his art projects?”

Echo scoffs. “Hunter doesn’t do art projects,” he says, looking relieved. A fatal mistake.

“Where does Hunter keep his embroidery kit?” Tech specifies.

“In a box under the nav computer. There’s a hollow behind the main hard drive,” Echo says.

“Echo!” Hunter gasps.

Crosshair and Wrecker exchange thrilled glances before racing out of the cockpit. Hunter goes after them, ordering them to leave his stuff alone.

“How did you find out about Hunter’s sewing project?” Tech asks wryly.

“Eh, I found it one day when I was doing repairs.”

The two are quite a moment while they listen to the indistinct squabbling and laughter behind them.

“But really, Tech, how long until this stuff wears off?”

END

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[skyward-floored]

Febuwhump collab alt day - “I love you”

And here’s the last febuwhump fic (...on the 27 of March lol. what can I say, I get easily distracted).

This one was suggested by @webhead3345, and it’s really more hurt/comfort then anything, but after the last one some comfort is probably nice XD I hope you enjoy it!

And thanks to everyone who suggested characters/prompts for these! I appreciate you all so much <3

Today’s lovely art

Ao3 link

——————————————————————————————————

Having six kids could be a challenge sometimes, Malon was willing to admit.

It would be difficult enough normally, but with five of them having superpowers, two being adopted, and all of them rambunctious boys who sometimes forgot their house was on the small side... it could be a lot sometimes.

But Malon always did her best, and Time along with her. Even when it got overwhelming, even when they disagreed, even through the sleepless nights and stress and fear and countless other worries from essentially living underground, they both tried their hardest to raise their kids well, and keep them safe and happy. Malon could only hope they were succeeding.

Especially in regards to their two adopted boys.

Hyrule and Wild had both been through such awful things, both due to factors they couldn’t control. It wasn’t always obvious, and they were both so strong for their ages, but sometimes the scars that had been left on them both reared their ugly heads, and one or the both of them would fall apart for a bit.

Malon always tried to pay attention and help when one or the other of them was stuck in a bad period. She had plenty of practice with Wild, and usually knew how to comfort him, but Hyrule could be a bit of a mystery still. She was still figuring out what tended to set him off, how he acted when he was upset, how his reactions tended to differ from Wild’s, and most of all, how to help.

And at the moment, she was at a bit of a loss as to what to do.

Hyrule had been acting quieter then normal recently, fading to the background of the typical chaos his brothers brought with them. He mostly just nodded if someone asked him something, and seemed a little more distant, taking longer to respond to things, and keeping to himself.

Malon wouldn’t have worried too much about most of that, but then she noticed the shadowed circles appear under his eyes, ones that only seemed to get darker with every passing day. It soon became obvious Hyrule wasn’t getting nearly enough sleep with the way he began to stumble around, and Malon’s worry doubled.

And then Wild started to act in a similar way, unusually quiet and withdrawn, tired-looking and cranky, and that really got her worried.

Malon just wasn’t sure how to go about getting to the root of the problem. Wild and Hyrule were both tight-lipped when things bothered them, and got defensive if pushed, and Malon knew a direct confrontation could be disastrous. She’d tried some light prodding, but hadn’t been successful in the slightest.

She could guess what it was that was bothering the two of course, and had a pretty good idea of what it might be, but she also didn’t want to assume and end up making things worse. Time didn’t have any ideas either when she discussed the problem with him, but he’d been swamped at work lately, and was barely thinking straight.

So Malon was left to try and figure out the problem mostly by herself, her worry growing by the day.

It finally reached the point where it was affecting her own sleep, and Malon found herself startled awake late one night after a week had gone by from the start of her sons’ odd behavior, and found herself completely unable to fall back asleep.

Time was snoring softly beside her, and Malon laid there for a while, trying to let the sound lull her back to sleep. She didn’t have any luck though, her brain too full, her mind too awake. She finally sighed, getting nowhere, and carefully slipped out of bed and pulled on her bathrobe. She made sure not to disturb Time at all, then walked down to the kitchen to try making herself a cup of tea.

The kettle didn’t take long to heat, and Malon yawned as she set her tea to steeping, walking into the living room with it to sit and wait for it to finish.

Then stopped in her tracks, realizing she wasn’t alone.

Malon hadn’t noticed on her way in, but there were two odd lumps huddled on the couch, both quiet and still. She stepped closer to study them, and realized one was Hyrule, wrapped tight in a blanket and staring silently at the ground.

He wasn’t the only there either, but whoever it was beside him was bundled up so tightly that Malon had no idea who it even was.

She could certainly guess though.

Worry crested over her, and she set down her cup, walking forward and shuffling her feet just a little to make sure Hyrule heard her coming. He startled a little anyway when he noticed her, but didn’t shield or run, just went back to staring at the floor.

The lump next to him shifted a little, and Malon saw a strand of long blond hair fall free of the blanket.

“Hyrule? Wild?” she asked gently, and Hyrule swallowed, wiping his sleeve across his eyes. Wild didn’t move. “It’s awful late you two, what are you doing down here?”

Hyrule didn’t look at her.

“Sorry, it’s nothing,” he whispered.

“If it was nothing, you both wouldn’t be out here and not in your beds,” Malon gently pointed out, sitting down on the couch beside them both. “What’s eatin’ you?”

Hyrule kept looking at his feet, a few sniffles escaping him.

“I-I, we just can’t sleep,” he whispered, not meeting her eyes. “That’s all.”

“That’s all?” Malon asked gently. Hyrule gave her a tiny shrug. “Well... is there a particular reason you two can’t sleep?”

Hyrule went silent.

The lump at his side shifted, and Wild poked his head out, Hyrule moving so he was more tucked against his side then before.

“...bad dreams,” Wild whispered after a few minutes, voice shaky. “‘Rulie too.”

Malon’s heart sank.

“Both of you?” she asked worriedly, and Wild nodded, rubbing at the shadows under his eyes.

“Sorry,” Hyrule whispered even more quietly.

“Honey, you don’t need to apologize,” Malon said, and turned so she could meet his eyes. “Neither of you do, it’s okay. Do you want to talk about them?” she asked in a softer voice.

Wild shook his head, and Hyrule shrank down in his blanket.

“No.”

Worry prickled at her, but Malon nodded, and didn’t say anything for a moment, Hyrule still letting out an occasional sniffle. Wild shifted where he was curled up again, and somehow he and Hyrule ended up snuggled against Malon, Wild’s head in her lap, Hyrule’s resting on her arm.

A shuddering sigh escaped Wild, and Malon ran a hand over his head, fingers ghosting past his scars.

She let out a quiet sigh of her own, looking at them both. She’d finally gotten the answer to what was bothering them (and had been bothering them), but she felt no better knowing the reason.

The nightmares must have been especially bad as of late.

Malon adjusted Hyrule’s blanket, continuing to run her hand over Wild’s head. She dearly wished she she could take away what was troubling them both, and let them get a full night’s sleep for once, but unfortunately that wasn’t a power she possessed.

Malon wished it all the same though.

Hyrule sniffled again, and Malon shifted her arm so it was resting around him, loose enough he wouldn’t be nervous, but tight enough to offer comfort. He leaned into it, and Malon ran her hand over his hair as well.

“Mom?” Wild whispered after a bit, and Malon hummed questioningly. “Why’re you awake too?”

“Did we wake you up?” Hyrule asked worriedly, and Malon shook her head.

“No sweetie, you didn’t. I just couldn’t sleep either,” she admitted, and Wild peered up at her, worry shining in his eyes.

“...was it cause of nightmares?” he asked softly, and Malon ran her hand over his head again.

“No, not tonight. But... sometimes I have them.”

“...What about?”

Malon sighed, thinking for a moment before she spoke. Wild and Hyrule certainly didn’t need to know everything about nightmares she’d had, especially the worst ones, but maybe a few details would help them feel better.

“Well... I worry about you boys, and your father. All sorts of things, really. And sometimes my dreams take my worries and just twist them up and make them worse then they really are. It’s hard,” she said gently, “to remember they’re not real sometimes.”

Her boys seemed to think about that for a minute, both staying quiet.

“...Mine’re like that,” Hyrule whispered. “With the mostly real things.”

“I never remember mine,” Wild admitted, voice still shaky. “Just... just how bad they were.”

“Oh boys,” Malon said softly, and Hyrule sniffled again, hiding his face in her arm.

She’d thought the ache in her chest couldn’t get any worse, but apparently it could, and Malon held both of them tighter, running a soothing hand across both their heads. Hyrule and Wild relaxed at the motion, and Malon kept it up, beginning to softly hum.

She couldn’t take her sons’ bad dreams away. And she couldn’t take away the memories that brought them on, and continued to plague them even afterwards. But she could comfort them now, let them know everything was okay and that they weren’t alone, no matter what their nightmares tried to tell them.

Not on my watch, she thought as she continued to hold them tight.

Wild and Hyrule’s eyes began to droop as she hummed her family’s song, and Malon watched as they both slowly nodded off, still snuggled tight against her.

After several minutes, both were soundly asleep, faces relaxed from the tension that had been there before. A part of Malon wanted to just stay here with them all night, but she knew her back wouldn’t like it if she slept upright on a couch, and they’d all be more comfortable in their own beds. So once she was sure they were both asleep, she shifted Wild and Hyrule around, careful not to wake them. Then Malon pulled them both up into her arms, standing and walking back to their rooms.

Despite her efforts not to jostle them, both Hyrule and Wild’s eyes blinked open as she moved, and they watched her walk up the stairs, barely awake.

“You can carry us both?” Wild murmured doubtfully, and Malon smiled as she easily reached the top of the stairs.

“Darlin’ I’ve lifted cows twice your size before, this is nothing.”

Hyrule giggled. “Really?”

“Really.”

Hyrule and Wild both let out sleepy giggles at that, and Hyrule set his head back against her shoulder, eyes slipping closed.

Malon dropped Wild off first, setting him down in his bed and attempting to fix his blankets. Somehow they’d gotten all tangled around and folded in on themselves, and it took her a moment to straighten them out enough to tuck Wild in.

“Goodnight hon. Sleep well,” she said softly.

“You too,” Wild mumbled sleepily, and curled up under his blankets.

Malon gave him a kiss, and noticed a furry head poking up from Twilight’s bed, blue eyes shining at her. She put a finger to her lips, then carried Hyrule out of the room, hearing pawsteps cross the floor after she was gone.

She brought Hyrule to the room he shared with Four and Wind, stepping lightly so as not to wake anyone. Malon set him down once she crossed the room to his end, and tucked him in like she’d done for Wild, adjusting his blankets around him, and fetching the stuffed rabbit he usually slept with that had fallen halfway under the bed.

Hyrule watched her sleepily the whole time, still clinging stubbornly to consciousness. Malon lingered a moment even after she finished getting him settled, running a hand over his head, and Hyrule relaxed into the touch.

“Goodnight honey,” she said softly as his eyes finally drifted shut, and she stood and began to walk out the door.

“...Mom?”

The whisper made her pause, and she looked back at Hyrule, his eyes open again.

“Yes sweetheart?”

Hyrule blinked sleepily, barely hanging on to wakefulness, but Malon heard his next whisper loud and clear.

“...Love you.”

Malon looked at him in astonishment, warmth blooming in her middle at the sound of the words from her son. She blinked back a bit of a sting in her eyes, then walked back over to Hyrule, smiling at him.

“I love you too honey,” she said softly, and kissed the top of his head. “Sleep well.”

Hyrule smiled back at her, and his eyes closed again, Malon knowing he was truly asleep this time.

She adjusted his blankets just a little more, then straightened and crept out of the room, back to her own bed. The anxiety and tightness that had been keeping her awake had finally settled, and her eyes felt heavy as she slipped back to where she and Time slept.

“...Everything alright?” Time whispered as she got back into bed, looking at her sleepily. “You’ve been gone a while, I was about to come looking for you."

Malon smiled as she got under the covers, and nestled up to Time with a sleepy sigh.

“Yes. Everything’s fine,” she replied, setting her head under his. “Nothing to worry about.”

And something to celebrate, she thought as she closed her eyes, Hyrule’s whisper still warming her heart.

[coffeeangelinabox]

Febuwhump #16: Came back wrong

Tears stream from Caretaker's eyes. "No!" he cries out, desperate, frantic negation.

Whumpee's expression doesn't change, their eyes reflect nothing of the person Caretaker had always loved.

"You can't do this! Don't you understand? I gave up everything to bring you back-" and I'd do it again goes unspoken.

Whumpee lunges. The hands they had once maintained so fastidiously with nail buffer and lotion to stave off weapon calluses are clawed, ash blackened. A line of drool dribbles from slack mouth. There's a red tinge to the eyes where the capillaries have burst. The bloody colour all the more horrifying against the grave-pallor of their skin, purple-blue bruises still on their throat like the flowers Caretaker should have left, should have mourned them with dignity and respect instead of turning them into this with ill understood magick.

"Whumpee," Caretaker tries to push them away. "Just- just listen. Come back to me."

Their lips pull back from teeth. They are not sharp and that's almost worse. It won't make any difference anyway. A human can do just as much damage with a bite as some mythical monster. The mouth is pale and dry. The air that escapes it with a wheeze stinks of rotting meat.

Caretaker manages to shove them back a few paces, buying himself a sliver of time. Just enough to look into his lover's face, worse now than when he had stared at it, lifeless and slack and dropped on the doorstep by Whumper.

"Whumpee," he whispers one more time, and raises the gun.

[skyloftian-nutcase]

Brain: You do realize there will be like only two people interested in some of the things you wrote for Febuwhump. At least in comparison to some of the other things you wrote.

Me: And?

Brain: That'll be discouraging.

Me: I don't care. I want to write what I want to write. If people like it they like it. If they don't they don't. That's their problem, not mine. I'm writing it because I want to.

[chrysochroma]

within your walls (desire, desire, till there’s nothing left of me)

@febuwhump 2024: Day 2: solitary confinement

@badthingshappenbingo : locked in a freezer (card is at the end)

Rating: Teen And Up

Words: 2,367

Fandom: Hermitcraft

Warnings: Kidnapping, Torture, Human Experimentation, Unethical Experimentation, Temporary Character Death

Read on Ao3

the title is from Strangler Fig by the Crane Wives

this is inspired by @aquaquadrant and @lunarcrown ‘s Hels to Pay AU and From Eden by aquaquadrant.

i highly suggest you read that first bc it is both amazing and the context is helpful

this is the link to aquaquadrant’s From Eden master post

this is also inspired by this piece of art by lunarcrown

as well as lunarcrown’s orginal comic

anyways, enjoy some pain and suffering :)

Deep inside the Hels Tek facility, Tango stood, claws dripping with redstone dust, in front of a grid of circuitry.

The machine Dr. Atlas had sent him to repair wasn’t too complicated, in fact it wasn’t much of a challenge at all. It was just as simple as replacing a few components with the ones the circuit required and drawing a few more lines of redstone dust. The mechanism felt reminiscent of a puzzle you might give a toddler—Tango felt that all he was doing was placing the different shaped blocks in their corresponding holes—but he figured that it was just a test to see what he knows, which didn’t surprise him. This was like his entrance exam before being hired to work at Hels, he supposed. It explained why Dr. Atlas always seemed to be just a few feet away, no matter where they were. Tango hoped that that was a good sign.

A voice came from behind him. “Very nice.”

Tango jumped and spun around to come face to face with Dr. Atlas. “Oh! Doctor, didn’t see ya there. I finished fixing this thing for you,” He gestured at the contraption behind him.

Atlas took his eyes off Tango and studied his repair job instead, as Tango continued to talk.

“It wasn’t too hard, a few things were in the wrong places but that’s pretty much it.” He turned around to look back at his work.

“I see,” Atlas responded, somewhat distracted. His eyes had locked back onto the swirling crown of blaze rods floating above Tango’s head, and he reached into his lab coat.

“So, do you have anything else for me to do?” Tango fiddled with a spare comparator as he spoke.

Atlas stepped closer. “I think that you’ll be very beneficial to us here at Hels Tek.”

“I’m glad to hear that, Dr. Atlas.” Tango spoke, still focused on his redstone.

“So am I.”

Tango felt a sharp prick on his neck, and before he could turn to see what it was from, his legs gave out from under him and his vision went black.

A numbing chill spread through Tango’s bones as his eyes slowly opened. His mind was racing but his breathing was sluggish, muscles slowed by the cold. His senses seemed dulled—whether it was because of whatever knocked him unconscious or yet another effect of the raw, sharp iciness he was surrounded by, Tango didn’t know.

He was laying on the floor, staring up at a plain, white ceiling, dotted with glowstone lamps. They cast a warm yellow over the room, providing Tango with a false sense of warmth that he wished was real. He started to sit up, then immediately noticed an unfamiliar weight on his wrists and neck. The deep jangle of chains being dragged along the floor pulled him even further out of unconsciousness.

“Good morning, Mr. Tango.”

Tango’s eyes snapped up to see Dr. Atlas writing something into a small notebook. The pair made eye contact through the wall of glass separating them, and Atlas smiled. Tango tried to push himself up onto his feet, his arms trembling, but nearly fell onto his face instead. (He glanced up to see Atlas watching him fail to adjust to his lack of energy, then write something down.) His arms, his legs, his brain all seemed to betray him as he struggled to stand, but finally, he forced himself to do so. The heavy iron chains that connected to his collar and shackles and kept him tethered to the ground seemed to drag him back down, but he stood and looked Atlas in the eye.

“Hey, Atlas.” He called out. “What is this?” His voice was filled with confusion and frustration, but overall much less fear than there should’ve been.

“Your new assignment,” Atlas responded.

“Uh, no, thanks. What even-“ He looked around for a second, cutting himself off as he stared into the solid white room beyond the glass box he was trapped in. “What is this?” He repeated.

Atlas snapped his notebook shut and tucked it into one of the pockets of his lab coat. “Like I said, your new assignment, where you will be staying. Indefinitely.”

Tango frowned. “Yeah, no, let me out.” He looked down at the new jumpsuit he was wearing. “And where are my clothes?”

Atlas didn’t respond.

“Hey!” Tango raised his voice. “Let me out of-“ He stepped forward and the chain attached to his collar pulled taut, momentarily choking him. Hurriedly, he stepped back, coughing.

Dr. Atlas stepped up to the glass door, then punched a code into the keypad mounted on the wall next to it. The door opened with a click and Atlas stepped inside, followed by two other Hels Tek employees, who moved to stand on either side of him. Tango’s eyes flitted around the room, trying to keep track of all three at once. Then, Atlas nodded, and the other scientists stepped up, each grabbing one of Tango’s arms. Tango’s muscles tensed up—at least as much as they could—and he pulled against the scientists restraining him. Still, they held him fast, not much effort required.

Atlas stepped forward, reached up, grabbed one of Tango’s blaze rods, and yanked. The blaze rod sizzled, leaving a trail of sparks behind it, but it came loose from Tango’s crown and smoldered in Atlas’s hand. He brought it up to eye level to inspect it—golden, shining, smoking, and most of all, valuable.

Tango gasped in pain, but quickly regained his composure and continued to pull away from the scientists, while glaring at Atlas.

“Hey! Stop it! You can’t do that!”

Dr. Atlas tucked Tango’s blaze rod into his lab coat, then looked back at Tango. “Yes I can.”

The two scientists pushed Tango down, forcing him to his knees. He pulled against their grip with all his strength, but couldn’t do anything to stop them as they pushed him closer and closer to the ground, until he was on his stomach, his face pressed up against the concrete. One of them pinned his wrists behind his back, and the other held his neck against the ground until they had him under their control.

“Guys, hey-!” Tango protested.

Atlas leaned down, fixated on Tango’s swirling crown, then plucked each of the blaze rods out of orbit, one by one. Tango felt each and every one of them leave their place, their absence feeling like a pit in his heart.

“C’mon, not another one,” Tango pleaded. Dr. Atlas ignored him.

In the absence of any blaze rods, sparks fizzled up around Tango’s head, but no new ones formed.

Atlas frowned. “Hm. That’s a shame.”

“Atlas, stop this! Just- c’mon-“

One of the scientists forced his head back to the ground, slamming it into the concrete. Tango gasped at the impact. Then, from the sparks, a new blaze rod flared into existence. Atlas smiled.

“You know,” He looked Tango in the eye. “You and I are going to do great things together, Mr. Tango.”

“Atlas! St-“ he cut himself off with a wince as Atlas stole his final remaining blaze rod.

Still smiling, Atlas stood and walked out of the room, the other two following him out. The door slammed shut behind them, pushing another wave of ice cold air over Tango.

Slowly, he sat up, aching and fatigued, shivering. Then he tucked himself into a ball, too tired to fight back. He closed his eyes.

All of Tango’s days seemed to blend together, forming one painful, seemingly endless existence. Except it wasn’t really endless—Tango had died almost too many times to count over that long expanse of time. Almost.

Minuscule thorns like hypodermic needles jabbed into his skin from all angles. They seemed to suck the blood out of him, slowly and steadily, until there was none left. The branches wrapped around his arms and legs bore scarlet red berries, and the droplets of Tango’s blood scattered over the leaves and floor looked just like minuscule versions of them. They brought a constant, throbbing, piercing pain that Tango could never take his mind off of, at least until-

But that was too slow.

Deep red mist seemed to linger in the air, clouding Tango’s vision and filling his lungs. It burned his eyes and throat, adding to the pain swirling around his body. Each time a bottle dropped, he felt as if a portion of his soul was ripped away, claimed by the burgundy flecks that seemed to glimmer in and out of existence. He lost more and more of himself, never given a chance to recover, until-

<Tango was killed by magic>

But that was too effective.

Steam swirled up from the ground, enveloping him in a cloud of warmth. The red-hot, glowing coals were almost comfortable under his feet. The heat was scalding, yet familiar, and almost sympathetic. Tango was hardly surprised when the first sharp sting across his face came. The Doctors needed to have their fun, after all. So, he stood in the welcoming embrace of liquid hellfire and heard his bones snap, and break, and shatter, until-

<Tango walked into danger zone due to AtlasSyn>

But (as much as it was fun) that was too inefficient.

A cold, slippery nothing filled Tango’s throat, invading his lungs and emptying his mind of anything except panic. It was too thin, too slick to get a hold onto as it dissolved into his core, turning his embers into nothing but smoke. It filled him with terror like nothing else ever could. He was surrounded by it, and helpless to do anything to stop it from ripping away his life, his soul, his fire, until-

<Tango drowned>

But that harmed the product.

A prickling, unnatural chill crept over Tango’s bones. It seeped into his skin like salt dissolving into water—slow and gradual, yet present all the time. It seemed to touch each and every one of his nerves, somehow lighting them on fire and enveloping them in numbness at the same time. It sent a shiver down his spine so curious it almost could’ve tickled if it didn’t hurt so much. It ate away at him, bit by bit, until-

<Tango withered away>

It was perfect—slow, constant, enveloping, (painful,) impeccable. And so the experiments began.

Tango sat, unmoving, just like they told him to. He held still, just like they said, as rows of thorns were stabbed into his arms. Both of his arms were completely numb, yet seemed to be flickering with pinpricks of pain. Dr. Atlas himself was there to pluck the blaze rods from his crown, tucking each one into his coat as if he meant to protect them with his life. It was a constant cycle: Dr. Atlas would take a blaze rod from him, another thorn would be stabbed into his arm, and another blaze rod would appear, ready to be stolen once more.

There had once been a bouquet of wither roses in front of him. They were enchanting, almost would’ve been beautiful, if he hadn’t known what it was like to feel their wrath. Now, there was a pile of deep purple, almost black rose buds lying discarded on a table off to the side (they only needed the thorns).

As a scientist moved to place another bud in the pile, a clump of black, dusty pollen tumbled out of the flower and onto Tango’s arm. Almost immediately, it melted into Tango’s skin, turning the surrounding area a bit gray.

Dr. Atlas’s eyes instantly locked onto the still slightly gray spot. He pointed to the scientist holding the rose bud. “Bring that over here.”

They complied, and Dr. Atlas stuck his finger into the center of the rose, then pulled it out. Black dust coated the tip of his gloved finger, sticking to it like glitter. He turned back to Tango, then smeared the pollen across his forearm. Just as quickly as before, it absorbed into Tango’s flesh, this time leaving faint traces of black veins underneath his skin.

A newfound sense of pain rushed through Tango’s arm, pumping through his bloodstream. The sparks above his head flared, and a blaze rod shimmered into existence, taking its place in his crown. Dr. Atlas reached up a hand, then plucked it, a faint smile on his face.

The pollen was better, they’d found. It was more potent, more harmful, more efficient. The once discarded rose buds had suddenly become a treasure trove for the scientists, and Dr. Atlas couldn’t have been more pleased. And so the testing began.

Test #1: Tears welled up in Tango’s eyes as the now familiar prickling numbness drove him further to insanity. That black dust coated his throat and lungs, making him cough. A couple tears rolled down his cheeks as he felt one of his blaze rods get ripped away from him.

Test #60: Slowly but surely, they were tearing him apart. He felt like, as each blaze rod was stolen from him, a part of his fire went along with. His soul was being taken and sold to the masses for nothing but a bit of profit.

Test #157: Tango longed for the sliding metal doors to his blank white room to open. Even when they were there to refill the respawn anchor, trapping him here. Even when they came to empty the hoppers of his blaze rods, using him for their gain. Even when they came to chop off his claws, preventing any resistance. Because it was better than nothing, right?

Test #326: For Tango, crying was a constant. He took some comfort in it—among all of the deaths, all the malfunctions, through the never-ending blanket of prickling numbness, at least he had this. It was enough.

It wasn’t too much of a change for Tango when Dr. Atlas and the others came to move him into his new home. Just one torture chamber in a blank room to another. He could barely even notice a difference (maybe he didn’t care to).

Dr. Atlas smiled at him through the glass. “Welcome to your new home, Tango Tek.”

[chaotic-orphan]

Febuwhump: Day Seventeen

Prompt - hostage situation (#febuwhump)

TW: tied up, ropes, helpless, pirates, intimate Whumper, explosion, fighting, violence, mass killing implied

*~*~*~*~*

The sea was calm. The weather fair, the morning was yawning awake, blue skies rising with the sun, the dark blues disappearing beyond the horizon. It was a cycle of change that lay before his eyes, the fresh dew cast a mist on the water… and yet something, on the wind perhaps, was unsettling Locke as he maintained his chartered course. Something unexpected was turning with the tide, and he couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

His first mate approached him, eyes on the horizon as they sailed at half-speed. “Admiral,” first mate said in greeting, the lilt of a question hanging off the last syllable.

“Do you feel the shift in the dew, first mate?”

First mate followed Locke’s line of sight to the lazily rising sun. “No, Admiral. However, that is not my station.”

“What is your station, mate?”

“To ensure you’re ship shape, Admiral,” said First Mate with a cheeky grin. “I trust your instincts; I would sail into hell if you ordered me too and recruit the best dead sailors of the underworld to navigate us to the living one again.”

Admiral laughed, a smile appearing on his face at Mate’s words.

“And what do your instincts say today, Admiral?” Mate asked.

“That we need to fly at full speed and reach the next port before this ill-begotten wind is at our backs.”

“Sir,” said first mate with a nod. First mate walked promptly down the steps of the ship onto the poop deck and let out an unmerciful commanding shout that could wake the dead. “Make-Ready Men!”

There was a ruckus below deck, a few curses and sudden thumps from the crew waking to the sound of First mate’s bellows.

“Heave the sails to full speed!”

Admiral laughed again when First mate turned to look at him over their shoulder, dark eyes bright with mischief. Then First mate’s eyes widened as they stared passed Locke to something behind him. Locke turned too.

A black ship twice the size of Admiral’s was on them, which had not been there a mere moment before. “Admiral!”

First mate yelled and Admiral heard sudden panicked footsteps run towards him as a chord of rope enveloped him, binding his arms to his sides with one unmerciful pull and lifting him from his own ship. Admiral gasped as the rope closed tighter and tighter around him the more he struggled. His feet left the deck of his ship, his eyes on First Mate who was standing where Locke was not a moment ago, reaching up desperately trying to catch Locke before he was completely out of reach.

First mate’s fingers brushed Locke’s ankle devastatingly close before Locke was hoisted up like one of his sails away from his ship and impossibly high above it like God himself was pulling Locke to the heavens.

Were it not for the chants of “heave! Heave! Heave!” Locke would have thought he was dead. If not for the riotous laughter as Locke was hoisted higher only tightened a knot of anxiety in his gut until he was above the other vessel, black planks below him and a man in a white shirt with red hair grinning up at him deviously.

Locke swallowed as he gazed down at the ship. No uniforms, no colours of their allegiance and the black finish of the deck… Locke had only heard rumours of this monster that haunted the seven seas.

Locke was lowered precariously to the deck of the ship, his legs like jelly under him when they hit the ground. The red-haired man laughed when Locke’s knees buckled and he fell to the deck, unable to catch himself.

“We went fishing lads, yet it seems we caught ourselves a landlubber,” the red-haired man proclaimed. More jeering laughter followed as the red-haired man spread his arms to his adoring crowd, turning his back slightly to Admiral. Admiral grit his teeth as he got a leg under him and pushed himself up.

He didn’t make it to one knee with a sword at his throat. His eyes widened at the glinting metal, the same black as the ship – a metal Locke had never set his eyes on before. The red-haired man’s eyes narrowed into a sharper point than the blade.

“I wouldn’t get brave now, fishbait.”

“Let go of me!” Locke demanded hotly. “Perhaps we can write this off as a misunderstanding.”

“Oh,” the red-haired man hummed, turning his body back to Admiral. “I don’t like threats, especially not ones made aboard my own ship, fishbait.”

“What a coincidence,” said Admiral tightly. “I don’t like being hoisted from my own. Perhaps we can come to an arrangement.”

The ropes tightened harshly around Admiral, stealing the breath from his lungs as the red-haired man stepped in, the captain of this ship no doubt… why was his name eluding Locke right now? He should know the name!

His smile was wicked and reckless. “Aye. Mayhaps we can.”

“Captain!” One of the pirate’s crew called. Captain, so Admiral was right. The red-haired man lifted his head and the pirate continued. “They’re preparing for a fight.”

Captain smiled down at Admiral. “Your men are loyal, Admiral,” Captain said, slightly impressed. Admiral frowned at him as someone grabbed Admiral’s arms and wrestled them behind him, before tying them off behind his back. Admiral pulled at the ropes, but they were so tight he could feel his pulse beating below the ropes.

“We can part peacefully, Captain,” said Admiral diplomatically. “Release me and let me return to my ship and my crew. We have no quarrel with you.”

The red-haired man grinned. Someone handed him the loose rope that was attached to Locke which Captain wrapped tightly around his hand and used it to pull Locke to his feet. Locke’s eyes widened as the Captain gave another harsh tug and yanked Locke closer, stumbling into Captain’s chest.

“Who said there must be a quarrel?” Captain said with a smile as he watched the realisation flood Locke’s face. Then Captain gave his order: “strike their colours, lads!”

Admiral lurched forward, panic seizing his limbs as he let out a sharp: “no!”

“Hush, now, Admiral, and be a good little hostage. I’ll get you accustomed to the mast, shall I?” Admiral fought him the entire way, but the Captain pulled him along anyway, looking over his shoulder to chat idly with him. "I must say, Admiral, it is a good day to see Kings men fight with loyalty for their captain. You'd be surprised how often men readily give up their captain for their lives."

"We can trade, Captain, please, there need not be blood!"

The red-haired man laughed, throwing his head back and mouth open wide staring at the sky with a hearty chuckle.

"Perhaps we are alike, Captain, you and I. We are sharks," said the pirate, yanking Admiral forward with a hand in his shirt and with a twist of his hips he slammed Admiral back against the central mast, knocking the breath from his lungs. "We both smell the blood in the water."

Captain smiled as he handed the rope to someone behind Admiral. Admiral felt the ropes tighten around him, locking his arms even tighter to his sides until there was no leverage at all for him to move. He felt the wood against his hands that were trapped uselessly behind him, and he wanted to curse and scream at the grinning pirate.

Locke froze as the captain placed a hand on the mast and leaned in, smiling at the Admiral, barely an inch between their noses. The pirate didn't smell bad, he smelled like sweet rum and salt water, but Locke scrunched his nose up all the same.

"What is your name, Admiral?” Captain asked with a dashing smile. “Just so I can properly threaten your life to your men."

"I'll tell you once you walk the plank, Captain," Locke snarled, baring his teeth at the pirate. Captain smiled and shrugged.

"Fine,” Captain said as he leaned away from Locke, the glimmer of something mischievous in his eyes. “I guess I’ll just have to wrangle it out of that spiffing first mate of yours instead.”

Admiral jerked forward, but he didn’t get very far, the ropes holding him back to the mast. “Don’t touch them!” Admiral barked.

“Sorry, Admiral,” said Captain with a forced sigh, pulling his revolver from his belt and checking to see if the gunpowder was loaded before drawing the hammer back to the full cocked position. “Loot to plunder, sailors to threaten, I have a busy schedule. Sit tight gorgeous, I’ll be back.”

Captain snapped the into place and offered Admiral a wide smile and a wink before he disappeared. “Captain! Captain wait!”

Admiral screamed after him, but over the sounds of swords clashing and gunpowder his screams just joined the sea of noise. Captain struggled in the ropes, trying to find any leverage to squeeze under or shrug over but it was no use. The rope dug so tight into Locke’s diaphragm that he could barely breathe. He knew there was going to be a ring of bruises there after he got free.

These men… Captain’s men weren’t ordinary pirates, they had an easiness to them, a regiment that reminded Admiral of his own ship’s crews and ranks. Ordinary pirates are usually not worth their salt, and yet… something in the back to Admiral’s mind told him that he knew — or should know — the Captain that currently kept him captive.

The fighting lasted until the sun was above the horizon, shimmering on the waters as the smoke cleared from between the two ships.

Another pirate came to Admiral and cut the ropes tying him to the mast. Before Admiral could ask what they were doing, the pirate yanked him forward, grabbed him by the crook of his elbow and pushed him towards the gangplank between both ships.

“Now then!” Captain said, his mirthful voice carrying over the ships with relaxed ease. “We have your captain, sailors. Your beloved Admiral Locke,” said Captain, sending a flash of his teeth to Locke. Admiral searched the poop deck for his first mate and found them in the arms of two of Captain’s men, blood streaming down their face from their forehead and nose. A bruise crowning on his cheek, his officer jacket tore.

Captain turned to Locke then, still aboard Captain’s ship. Admiral glared down at him. “The choice is yours, Admiral. Your men fought for you, will you fight for your men?”

Admiral frowned. “What?”

“I offer you the choice— would you fight—”

“Yes!” Admiral yelled, taking a step forward but he was yanked back. His heart pounding in his ears.

“Two streams of loyalty,” Captain mused. His boots hitting Locke’s deck towards first mate. Every step resounded in Admiral’s heart thudding in his chest.

“Hey! Get away from them!” Locke growled, struggles renewed as he tried his damned hardest to get to Captain and shove him away from First mate. “Captain! Captain please!”

Captain ran a hand through First Mate’s hair and yanked their head up to face Locke aboard Captain’s ship. Captain smiled, his eyes sharp.

“I offer you the choice, Admiral,” said Captain again. “Your ship and your crew, or First mate.”

Admiral blinked, something horrid settling into his gut as First Mate struggled in the pirates’ hold. The pirates wrestled First mate back into submission, Captain never taking his eyes from Locke.

“What?” Admiral breathed, too quiet for Captain to hear, but it was as if Captain heard, because he continued his torturous ultimatum with a grin.

“Your ship. Your men, your crew, your rank as Admiral, your flag, your country, your uniform,” said Captain, turning to face First mate and grabbing First mate’s chin between his fingers. “Or your first mate.”

“Admiral!” One of the sailors cried. Admiral’s dragged his eyes away from Captain to his navigator, struggling against a pirate. “That would be treason! You can’t!”

“That is my offer,” said Captain nonchalantly, capturing Locke’s attention again. “Treason and love? Or service and duty.”

“Go to hell,” First mate rasped. Captain shook his head and clicked his fingers. One the pirates holding First mate brought a cloth forward and wrestled it between their teeth. Captain waved his finger in front of First mate’s face and booped their nose. “Good little hostages don’t speak, First mate.”

First mate glared at Captain as the gag cut into their cheeks, mumbling incoherent curses at Captain behind it.

Meanwhile Locke was rooted to the spot, stunned at the awful choice that stood in front of them. It wasn’t the choice was difficult, Locke had already decided, the decision was made long ago, but… the ramifications of voicing it seemed too horrible to think.

First mate caught his conflicted eyes and shook their head softly. Admiral’s heart lurched in his chest because they knew, the pair of them knew what way the situation was going to unfold. The guilt before the decision was threatening to overwhelm them both and Locke hadn’t even said a word yet!

Captain noticed too, looking up at Locke. “Will you leave us in suspense, Admiral? Are we but fishes on your hook? Or are you waiting for the next bell to sound, hmm? Tick tock goes the tide, and with it comes the weather.”

Admiral felt all eyes turn on him, the weight of them threatening to drown him out of water.

“Admiral,” Captain hummed and yanked First Mate’s head up by the hair. First mate let out a muffled protest, fighting against him. “Come on, we don’t have all day.”

“First mate,” Admiral whispered.

Captain paused. Then he turned, eyes bright like a cats. “What was that, Admiral?”

Locke cleared his throat and avoided the eyes of his crew. “I choose treason. I choose my first mate.”

“For shame!” His crew cried but Locke didn’t care. His gaze was fixed on First Mate who was shaking like a leaf. Captain released First mate’s hair and clapped his hands together.

“Wonderful!” Captain said. “Please, bring First Mate aboard the Fallen Marauder, lads.”

Admiral stilled.

The Fallen Marauder, there’s no way that Locke was standing on the Fallen Marauder. Aside from the fact that it was a fiction, a fairytale, Admiral should be on his ship with his crew.

“Wait, what? I thought you would let us go.”

Captain grinned, “oh Admiral… how naïve.”

First mate was struggling against the pirates as they dragged them across the gangplank to the Captain’s ship. Admiral turned to First mate, but he was turned again, forced to face forward.

“Wait, Captain! What are you doing?” Admiral demanded as he saw a barrel of gunpowder being scattered over the deck.

“You chose, Admiral,” said Captain, walking across the gangplank after his men and came to stand beside Admiral. “You chose first mate, didn’t you?”

Admiral’s eyes were wide with fear. “Don’t. Don’t do this there are good men on that ship!”

“Good men you abandoned,” said Captain softly. “A ship without a captain is doomed.”

“They can make another captain!” Admiral cried as the Captain’s men pulled the gangplank away from the ship. “Please!”

“What do you care for a King’s ship? You have no country now, no loyalties to this endeavour. Now you are one of us, Admiral…” said Captain, then his head dipped, a conspiratorial smile gracing his face. “Or should I say, more accurately, Locke?”

Locke’s eyes went wide. That… Captain wasn’t wrong but Locke, he didn’t… he— his eyes searched the waters as his ship slipped further and further away from him, his men and crew wailing and crying and screaming.

Captain raised an arm. “Captain please,” Locke begged.

Captain dropped his arm. A cannonball fired and Locke stood frozen as he watched his ship go up in smoke. He sucked in a gasp as the air was ripped from his chest in shock. The planks bent and snapped and flew over the sea in a two metre radius of the ship.

“Welcome aboard the Fallen Marauder,” said Captain with a deep bow, dipping low. He tilted his head up as he introduced himself to the shaking Adm – former admiral. “My name is Captain Marlowe.”

[scratchandplaster]

FEBUWHUMP DAY 28 - "No...not like this"

CW: tiny whump

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

A tiny Whumpee who is forced to dance and perform on a music box. Ballet, reciting poems or whatever else Whumper has in mind as a pastime, though one lanky plié or exhausted breather gets them locked in there for hours.

Bonus points if Whumpee is a faerie and the box is made of iron, so every fall or stumble off the dancing platform burns their flesh.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Thanks for reading 🤍 [Febuwhump 2024 Masterlist]

@febuwhump

[febuwhump]

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

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

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

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

a perfect opportunity to create something this september!!

plain text prompts under the cut:

DAY 1: amputation

DAY 2: body modification

DAY 3: bear trap

DAY 4: warzone

DAY 5: trust fall

DAY 6: missed connections

DAY 7: spinal injury

DAY 8: cannibalism

DAY 9: blood oath

DAY 10: bones

DAY 11: missing person’s report

DAY 12: apocalypse

DAY 13: blunt forced trauma

DAY 14: sharp objects

DAY 15: thunderstorm

DAY 16: noose

DAY 17: explosive vest

DAY 18: cosmic horror

DAY 19: lost child

DAY 20: crybaby

[serickswrites]

Obey

Warnings: captivity, torture, restraints, asphyxiation

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[kabie-whump]

♡ Febuwhump Day 17: Hostage Situation ♡

@febuwhump

Content: Kidnapping, blood, bondage, neglectful team, ransom, whumper turned caretaker

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

"You might as well just let me go. They're not coming."

Whumper continues shuffling cards, not looking at Whumpee. "You keep saying that. How can you be so sure?"

"Your asking price is too high."

"Please. Don't try to tell me that your little team is broke. I know that's not true."

"They're not broke. But they won't pay all that just for me. They won't even pay half of that. You're wasting your time. And your chains." Whumpee looks down at their own body, at the way they're bound by miles of chains to the point where they can't move an inch. "Seriously, is all this really necessary?"

"I don't know what you're capable of, and I would rather not find out."

"Hm. Fair enough. Would you believe me if I promised that I'm harmless?"

"No."

"Worth a shot."

They go quiet for a while, the only sounds being Whumper's cards shuffling against the table and the steady drip of blood hitting the floor from Whumpee's injuries. An hour passes before Whumper speaks again.

"You really think they won't pay up?"

"Not for me. Maybe if you'd taken Leader..."

Whumper scoffs. "If I was powerful enough to capture Leader I wouldn't need to be taking hostages for cash in the first place."

"Yeah."

Whumpee's voice is getting softer and more slurred by the second. Whumper had noticed the change happening, but that last word was just pitiful. Whumper stands, going over to check on their hostage. They'd gone pale and the puddle of blood under their chair had grown significantly.

"You're not doing too hot, are you?" Whumper asks, squatting in front of Whumpee.

Whumpee shakes their head.

"At this rate you'll bleed out before anyone comes to save you."

"They're not coming," Whumpee says again, their voice still weak.

Whumper realizes with a start that Whumpee is tearing up. Not in the way that they did when Whumper had roughed them up for the camera. That had just been a pain response. This is genuine emotional distress.

"You're upset."

"Of course 'm upset, asshole," Whumpee slurs, the tears falling. "The fuck do you think I am?"

"Good to see you've still got your fire. But there's no reason to be upset. You're going to be fine."

"Fuck off."

"I mean it. Let's go over your options, hm? One: Your team comes for you and pays your ransom and you get to go home. Two: Your team comes for you, kills me, and you get to go home. Three: Your team doesn't come for you, and you get to stay here with me. You're going to survive no matter what."

"You told them you'd kill me if they don't come before tommorow."

"Yes, well, I was hoping to inspire a sense of urgency. Doesn't seem to have worked. I could kill you, I guess, but I'm starting to get the impression that you may be more useful then that. If your friends abandon you here, that may put you in a position where you're willing to give me some information about them. Saves me having to torture someone for it. Besides, one of my employees just kicked it so I'm in the market for new blood."

"You want me to... work for you?"

"Again, I could kill you instead if you're not going to be useful to me. I'm still deciding."

"I'd be a waste of resources. I'm not good for anything." Whumpee starts to shiver, the chains making soft clinking sounds.

"You believe that? Is that why you think they're not coming for you?"

Whumpee nods.

Something inside Whumper cracks just a little as they stare at Whumpee - pale and trembling with silent tears leaving tracks in the blood and dirt on their face.

"Alright. Let's get you stitched up. You're not bleeding out on my watch. I really don't have the energy to dispose of a body tonight."

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

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