June Of Doom Day 10

June of Doom Day 10

"Can you hear me?"

| Starvation | Shackle | Hiding |

Cw: Mentions of torture, the prompts above.

...

"Villain, you better come out now, if I find you first you'll wish you'd never been born."

Superhero staked through the corridor of the prison. Villain had managed to escape their cell, Superhero still wasn't sure how, and now they were hiding.

"Can you hear me, Villain? Don't make this harder than it has to be."

Villain crouched behind a steel drum. They tried not to make a sound but their breathing was heavy and their heart was beating too loudly. They hadn't eaten in days and even just running from their cell down the corridor to where they hid had taken it out of them.

They clamped a hand over their mouth as they heard Superhero draw closer.

"Come on out, I'm losing my patience."

Villain squeezed their eyes shut, holding their breath as they heard Superhero stop right in front of the barrel they hid behind.

There was silence for a moment, but then the barrel was thrown to the side and Villain's eyes shot open in fear as they beheld Superhero glaring down at them.

"Found you."

Villain tried to back away but they were cornered, and they could only yelp as Superhero grabbed their arm and yanked them up, beginning to drag them back to their cell.

"You're here because you're a bad person, Villain. You need to be punished. We're trying to help you, can't you see?"

Villain begged and pleaded as they tripped over themselves trying to keep up with Superhero, but Superhero paid no heed and soon they were thrown onto the cold ground of their cell.

"This ought to stop you running away again," Superhero muttered as they clamped a shackle attached to the wall around their ankle.

"Now, I promised to beat you earlier, didn't I?"

June of Doom Day 3

"I can handle it"

| Kidnapping | Fracture | Struggle |

Cw: Kidnapping and fracture, torture, murder (not graphic)

I went for Hero-Villain whump this time cause that's the shit. I want to do some villain-caretaker stuff but the prompts didn't really fit. Perhaps tomorrow!

...

Hero had fought their captors from the moment they'd woken. They'd thrashed and punched and tore at the guards who'd restrained them and dragged them towards the warehouse.

The guards were stronger than them though, and they hadn't achieved much by the time they were unceremoniously dumped on the ground in front of Villain.

"Villain," they spat. "I should have known this was you. Couldn't wait for our next fight, huh? Had to snatch me off the street."

Villain shrugged. "I didn't order you brought here Hero, I just came to watch the show."

"What-" Hero was cut off by the chuckle of Supervillain, who was now making their way across the bloodstained concrete floor towards them.

"You think Villain would have organised something like this? That's sweet," they said, crouching down before Hero.

Hero jerked forward, aiming to headbutt Supervillain. They missed. And Supervillain just laughed again, standing.

"No need for that Hero. I'm going to need you to be cooperative. You're going to tell me how to kill Superhero."

Hero spat at him. "I'll never tell you anything, torture me all you want."

"Oh, I will, don't worry. I didn't expect you to give in so easily."

Hero smirked, pushing the last of the rope off their hands. They hadn't tied them very well. "I won't be giving in at all."

They lunged, going for the nearest guard, snatching his blade and holding it to the man's throat.

Villain started, but Supervillain stopped them.

"I can handle it."

Villain nodded and stepped back as Supervillain approached Hero.

"You think I care if you kill him? You're not going to escape that easily Hero."

Before they could even register what had happened, the guard was falling, dead, to the ground, Supervillain's own knife lodged in his eye. Hero jumped back, still holding the blade. But they were still slow from being knocked out, and Supervillain disarmed them with ease, throwing them to the ground.

"Can't be having any more of that nonsense now, Hero. Guess I'll just have to find a more permanent way of restraining you."

And with that, Supervillain brought their foot down on Hero's forearm. The crack was so loud it could be heard over Hero's scream.

Villain turned to leave just as Supervillain crouched to break Hero's other arm.

They climbed into their car to the symphony of screams and sobs coming from within the building.

TWELVE DAYS OF WHUMPMAS

Our winter event is here! Each day has two whump prompts and one comf/fluff prompt to choose from. Participants can choose to fill one, two, or all three prompts each day.

Transcript of prompts and additional info below the cut!

A Partridge in a Pear Tree: Tied to a Tree | Given as a Gift | Putting up the Tree

Two Turtledoves: Self Sacrifice | Human Shield | Reunion

Three French Hens: Betrayal | Failed Escape | Candlelight

Four Calling Birds: Muzzled | Memories/Flashbacks | Favorite Holiday Memories

Five Golden Rings: Branding | Obsessive Whumper | Gift-giving

Six Geese A-Laying: Blackmail | Countdown | Last-Minute Relief

Seven Swans A-Swimming: Falling Through Ice | Left in the Cold | The First Snow

Eight Maids A-Milking: Poisoned/Drugged | Starvation | Hot Cocoa

Nine Ladies Dancing: Hallucinations | Forced to Perform | Caroling

Ten Lords A-Leaping: Sleep Deprivation | Stress Position | Christmas Lights

Eleven Pipers Piping: Sensory Deprivation | Sensory Overload | Their Favorite Song

Twelve Drummers Drumming: Abandoned | Mugging | Found Family

EVENT TAGS: #amow twelve days of whumpmas; please also tag the prompt(s) you use each day, as well as common triggers.

You can @ us in your post if you like, and we will also go through the event tag each day and reblog entries!

This is a bit different from like, ur horny jail asks but I'm a sucker for how u write hero whump<33

Could u write smth w like, maybe the Hero had to give information on villain to Supervillain/hero and at first, Villain is absolutely devastated and furious by the betrayal, until they notice how Hero has been quieter or flinching more or some sign of abuse and becomes more worried

Ur local annoying Snow ❄️❄️ :)))

I love it.

Trade In

Villains hand squeezed tighter around the knife, already fuming with rage before the hero even set foot into the dimly lit street to meet them. They were taking in ragged breaths to try and remain calm for the time being, they needed to talk to Hero before they could slit their throat.

Yet, even with their attempt at controlling themselves, Villain knew the facade wouldn’t last long. Their blood was boiling and they had it out for their nemesis.

“How could you.”

Hero took a step towards the villain, not even trying for a pitiful excuse or any shred of remorse for their former partner. The hero was calm and collected—or so it may seem to anyone passing by—but Villain was keen. They were smarter than that. They could see the small tremble that infected the hero and their confidence.

“How could you.”

“Villain-”

“No… No, how dare you.”

The villains tone was harsh enough to make the hero flinch, taking a small, cowardly step back. Their hands were shaking at their sides so they gripped them into fists, but it didn’t hide the wobble in Hero’s tone nor the nervous shuffle of their feet.

Villain hardly thought anything of it. Even if it was quite unlike the hero to seem so truly afraid.

“I trusted you. That information was personal.”

“Villain, please-”

“And what do you do with it? You go and hand it over to your boss, hm? So they can break into my home and ruin years of meticulous work to kill me?”

Villain moved forward swiftly, giving the hero just enough time to scramble backwards. Hero’s tough act dropped completely as they yelped and stumbled over their own feet. Landing with their back against the cement and their head knocked up badly.

“Is that what you wanted? You wanted me dead?” Villain stood over top of the cowering hero, watching the panic flood their eyes at the closeness of their enemy and the blood seeping from the back of their head. Villain tucked their blade back into the holster on their belt; it was so much more fun to play with food before you ate it anyways.

The criminal reached down, grabbing the neckline of Hero’s suit and hoisting them up into the air, watching as they desperately clung to Villains arms. Trying to pry themselves away, but keep the tips of their toes touching the ground as they began to plead.

“Is that what you wanted?” Villain brought Hero closer, their noses practically touching. “Is that what you still want?”

Hero whimpered, blinking back tears as they struggled to breathe through the panic attack and the slight suffocation Villain brought them generously. They were terrified; Villain could see that clearly now.

“Pleasepleasepleasepleaseplease-”

Something wasn’t right.

“I-I’m sorry- I-I swear… Please, I’m s-so sorry.”

Villain dropped them. The hero—now in hysterics as they landed harshly on the pavement for the second time—clutched their rib cage as they tried to steady their breathing. Wincing at every breath that came in and groaning at every breath that came out, completely forgetting the gash at the back of their head that continued to pulse and ooze.

The criminal and the crime-stopper hadn’t fought in months, in fact, Villain hadn’t seen Hero on the streets or news at all for months. There was no reason for the hero to be holding their chest and not their head, and definitely no reason for them to be in pain with every breath.

Against their better judgement and the anger that still flowed freely in their veins, Villain kneeled down to face their nemesis. Yanking their head free from its tucked in position by Hero’s hair as Villain brought their face to meet their own. Hero’s pleading eyes and blurry vision against Villains angry glare and annoyance.

“P-please, I p-promise I’ll do b-better next time— I-I promise… J-just please n-no more p-prods…” Hero sobbed, shutting their eyes tight to avoid anymore contact with the villain.

“Hero… What? What are you talking about?”

Pieces to the puzzle were slowly starting to connect in Villains brain. With the hero exposed in front of them they could see tons of new scars and fresh bruises that were definitely not there a few months ago.

Hero’s arms lashed out from their stabilizing hold on their chest, grabbing Villains tool belt and pulling out the blade Villain had previously been holding. At first, Villain assumed it would be used against them, but Hero did the complete opposite. Instead, they offered it to the villain, gently pushing it towards them in the palms of their hands.

“P-please… Wha-whatever you want to do to me… Punish m-me… please. A-Anything but the p-prods.”

Horrified, Villain pushed the knife quickly out of Hero’s hands and cast it off to the side. They rushed the hero right after, only allowing Hero a short scream as the knife left their fingers and clattered to the ground before Villain had scooped them up into their arms.

Villain bolted their arms tightly around the crime-stopper, not waisting another second as they headed off down the street to their lair. As they hurried down the street Villain wished they could say it was because they could do better torturing at home.

Unfortunately, that wasn’t the case. The real reason being that Villain still had hope, some last strand of hope that maybe Hero hadn’t given away their information for free, but was tortured into it.

Truth be told, Villain wanted their old dynamic back still and maybe this was their chance to get it. But before they could even think of that, Villain would need to find out what really happened and get Hero to calm down before they woke up the whole neighbourhood begging to be whipped instead of shocked.

June of Doom Day 16

"At least it can't get any worse"

| Stairs | Concussion | Hammer |

Cw: Escape attempt, prompts above, and bone breaking.

...

Whumpee sat on a chair in the sparklingly white room, groggy and confused, their hands and feet tied down.

They couldn't see properly, their vision was blurred and the light was way too bright. But they could make out the shape of Whumper when they entered.

They circled Whumpee a few times, not saying a word.

They finally stopped in front of them, tilting their chin up to look at them. Whumpee blinked, trying to clear their vision.

"What did you think you would achieve by running?"

Whumpee couldn't answer. Whumper dropped their chin and began to circle them.

"Did you think it couldn't get any worse? Did you think you actually had a chance? All you succeeded in doing was falling down some stairs, concussing yourself, and making me angry."

Whumpee whimpered, unable to form a complete sentence.

Whumper leaned in close. "You were wrong Whumpee, it can get worse. And because I can't touch that pretty little head of yours until it's healed, I'll have to punish you some other way."

"No," Whumpee managed, but Whumper ignored them and drew a hammer from the table against the wall.

"I hope I won't ever have to say it again, Whumpee. You are never getting away from me."

With that, Whumper drew up the hammer and brought it down on Whumpee's hand as hard as they could, and Whumpee screamed.

Villain Rehabilitation

Based loosely on a dream—I have no recollection of writing this

Cw: medical malpractice, institutionalized abuse, mentioned “therapeutic” torture, mentioned drowning/water torture, burns, there’s just a general upset, creepy vibes here, mentioned electrical torture, accidental self inflicted burns (Villain has fire powers.. it makes sense in the piece)

The floor was cold to match the air, villain could feel the chill seeping up from the tiles, through their thin socks. It was freezing in their small room, of course it was. It was always freezing. The thin blankets on their cot did absolutely nothing to protect them from that cold. It didn’t bother them like the way it used to, but on particular bad days it still caused old scars to ache, healed wounds to throb as if new.

It was Thursday. They knew that much. They had no clue what the date was, nor the month. In their little cell, there was no windows, only their bed and a dresser, and a little bathroom through an open doorway. And the camera in the corner, which they did their best to ignore. Their last attempt at escape had lost them the shred of privacy they had left, two of the staff members coming in during the night to remove the curtain that blocked the bathroom from the main space. Whatever. They tried to act as if that didn’t bother them. One of the few luxuries they had left, gone.

They knew it was Thursday, though, because no one had come in. No staff to deliver their meal, no guards to drag them off to another therapy session. They were alone and cold and hungry, which meant only one thing.

It was Thursday, and that meant Hero was coming.

They honestly would have preferred therapy. They would have preferred to be submerged into the depths of the ice cold tub, or the burning hot steam, to scream and thrash as the water seared their skin, leaving welts and burns similar to that flames would cause. But the staff had tried that, dozens of times. Sparks from a lighter, or whatever humane name they chose to give it to cover the fact they were intentionally trying to burn them did not bother Villain the way they would others. Fire didn’t harm Villain unless it was of their own creation.

Those flames were snuffed out the moment they crackled to life.

The so called criminal cast a bitter glance towards the ceiling, the four sprinklers connected to the main water tank, just waiting for the activation button to be pressed. Either from the security office where they knew a guard was watching them now, just waiting for the first flicker of light to turn on the water, or from the outside of their room where any traveling worker could press it if they saw fit through the little glass window on the door.

It was more annoying than anything. With the cold, it would take much more energy for them to produce even a spark, energy they did not have to spare from the nutritional meals they were given. What a load of crap. The sludge served on the tray could barely be considered food, only enough to keep them alive, not doing anything for the hunger.

If there was one thing they had to look forwards to in Thursdays, though, it was lunch. Hero always brought them lunch, from wherever they could spare the time and expenses beforehand. Usually it was fast food, something quick and greasy that would leave Villain sick for a bit afterwards, but other days it was true meals from expensive restaurants, multiple rich courses with drinks and desert to go along. Though Villain usually ended up full before that, their appetite not what it used to be after their strict, forced diet, they could appreciate the thought, and Hero would never comment when they slipped an extra roll or handful of fries into the pocket of their jumper, to stash away in the corner of their room for whenever the next bout of hunger would strike.

That almost made up for the distress the rest of their visits would cause.

As if on a cue, Villain looked up just in time to hear the heavy lock of their door slide out of place. They were backing up even before the guards stepped in, knowing the procedure by heart now.

“Against the wall.”

The room wasn’t small, but it wasn’t very big either. Eight steps across was all it took for the distance between them to be closed. Villain bit the inside of their cheek, more annoyed than anything as they raised their hands, holding them out to either side as the pair of guards stepped forwards, one holding the dreaded pair of gloves, the other with his prod already flicked on, electricity buzzing the end, prepared for any outbursts.

Fire might not have hurt them, but electricity sure did.

They didn’t fight as the first guard grabbed them by the arms. They knew better than that. The scars they held from the first and only time they tried to fight back still stood out starkly against their skin.

When Hero had given them the choice between prison or the Villainous Rehabilitation Center, the choice had seemed obvious. Life bound in chains behind bars, isolated in a cell under constant watch, or a brochure with a lovely castle like campus, smiling faces and gentle therapeutic programs to reteach criminals the way of society and introduce them back into the community, it was obvious which one they were going to pick. They weren’t a criminal, they had at first tried to protest. It had been an accident, a mistake. They hadn’t meant to hurt anyone.

Now they wish they had chosen prison.

The gloves fit snug and warm over their hands, borderline burning as the guard then fastened the familiar cuffs around their wrists. The fabric stretched nearly to their elbows, thick like the ones a person would wear when tending a fire. Villain was sure that’s where the inspiration for the design had come from. In some weird, twisted opposite way, they were designed to rather keep the flames contained. So the only thing they would burn if Villain slipped up was themself.

The marred burns that covered every inch of skin from their forearms down proved that they were effective.

The guard grabbed their arm, and they were walking out of the room. Down the hall, through the compound. Villain knew there was a nicer side to the center, somewhere towards the outside where all of the minor patients were kept. The ones with chances of recovery, one of the doctors had told them as Villain caught a glimpse through a cracked door. They had looked like the ones in the brochure, happy and smiley and hopeful. They did puzzles, and ate at buffets, and watched movies and played piano and went to normal therapy sessions where they talked about their feelings and their pasts and were only there for a few months before they were let out. But anyone who had the misfortune of being deemed “too sick to help”, anyone like them, were all locked away, behind doors that required keycards and cold cells and torture disguised as treatment. Villain knew there were others, they could hear the screams and sobs in the middle of the night if they pressed their ear to the crack in the door, or listened through the vents.

They were brought to a familiar room. The soft lights and cushioned chairs gave it the illusion of safety, of comfort, but Villain knew better. The shackles were connected to a short chain fastened to the table, and Villain was pushed down to sit in one of the chairs.

“Hero will be here shortly.”

Of course they would. It never took them more than five minutes after Villain was brought to arrive. They were sure that was purposeful, Hero was likely just sitting in another room, waiting to be given the go-ahead. There was some procedure, Villain was sure, but they didn’t care enough to risk asking. With nothing to do but count the seconds, Villain shifted in their seat and waited.

True to their history, Hero didn’t take long. The door opened and Villain looked up, a sour taste budding on their tongue.

“Hey.”

They sounded tired. Villain didn’t respond as Hero closed the door behind them. They held a bag in their hand, the smell of freshly cooked food making Villain’s stomach flip as they walked over and set it down on the same table villain was chained to before taking the seat opposite.

They waited, but Hero didn’t make any move to take the food out, so after a moment they leaned back. They would have crossed their arms, but the chains wouldn’t allow that so they settled for crossing their legs instead.

“Villain, the doctors said you have stopped putting effort towards recovery.” Hero’s voice was soft, their hands folding on the table. They didn’t meet Villain’s eyes. “They have suggested a new treatment plan, and after a long consideration, the agency has approved.”

Villain’s entire body went cold when Hero looked up. There were tears in their eyes.

“After today, I am no longer permitted to visit. The sessions will become more frequent and intense. Your rules and schedule will become more strict. Until further notice, all items of luxury or comfort will be revoked.”

Revoked? Villain felt nauseous. They weren’t entirely sure what counted as an item of luxury, but they had a really bad feeling.

“The faculty has issued a formal appeal to request your entry to a clinical trial, which after long thought the committee decided to pass. I’m sorry, Villain. We have all been trying, but you can’t get better unless you try, but since you’re not willing to put in the effort by choice, dire measures must be taken.”

“I… I don’t understand,” Villain murmured after a long moment, their voice coming out a quiet rasp. They didn’t do much talking anymore, only using their voice to scream or beg in sessions. Speaking felt weird, wrong.

“I tried to suggest alternatives, Villain, I did. I couldn’t change their minds.” A single tear rolled down the hero’s cheek, and they quickly scrubbed it away. “I really hope you get better soon. I don’t want you to turn out like the others.”

Not another word was spoken after that. Villain sunk back in their seat. They weren’t sure they wanted to know what that meant.

When it came time for Hero to leave, the food sat still on the table, untouched and cold. They glanced back over their shoulder, but villain didn’t look up.

The door shut behind them without so much as a “Goodbye.”