Whumptober Time!

Hey! My name is Robin (they/them) 23 Header is by justlgbtthings Reblogs and comments will be from my main account @robin-the-toy-wonder

[robinrites]

Hey! My name is Robin (they/them) and this is my new blog 😎

Starting a new blog for posting fics/whump writings (any follows will be from @robin-the-toy-wonder ) mainly for whumptober and maybe I’ll keep it going past October we’ll see :)

Masterlist:

Whumptober fics here!

Toss A Coin To.... mini series here!

Villain Whumpee Superhero Whumper story here!

Most of these fics are crossposted on my ao3 (robinthewriter108) aside from my Villain whumpee fics :)

[robinrites]

So you see I’m reading fanfic of a fanfic of a fanfic

[robinrites]

A wise angel once said, “you go too fast for me Crowley” after going on a first date where just sitting next to each other felt like too much, heard. Sorry for laughing at you king I get it now 😵‍💫

[robinrites]

Is It Just You and Me?

Continuation of this

Crossposted on my ao3 (robinwrites108)

Butcher ends up getting Peter’s number before he leaves, he tells him it's in case he wants to come back for more, but in truth he’s not sure why he does. He wanders around the city for a while after he leaves, trying to figure out why he feels so off. After nearly an hour of doing so, he shoots out a message to the Boys, telling them to meet them at the usual spot tomorrow morning. Maybe by then he’ll have figured out what he wants to do with the information that Homelander is alive. 

Homelander remembers the night it happened like it was yesterday. Stuck in that cell, all he can do is relive moments from throughout his life. Times he wished he’d been better, times he should’ve been worse, all of it. But that night is the one he replays the most. Looking back on it he feels so stupid, of course it was a trap. Vought had to have known, they’re the ones who sent him anyway. Said they’d gotten a message about a supe being held hostage, and if they were strong and smart enough to take down a supe, their best bet would be to send in the big guns. But he insisted on going alone, “I’ve got this.” He told Maeve she wouldn’t be coming with him. 

He’d flown over and scanned the building, seeing only one person, about four floors up, tied to a chair. Otherwise the building appeared empty, so he wasted no time bursting through a window on the fourth floor, and rushed over to the man who was tied to a chair. He remembered carefully lasering the ropes to split them, then reached out to touch the man, who in return wrapped his bony hand around Homelander’s wrist. Next thing he knew, he was hitting the floor, five or six men rushed out from god knows where, most of them pinning down his arms and legs as he kicked, while one shoved a cloth that reeked of chloroform in his face. 

He’d never been knocked out before, that was a first. When he woke up, he encountered another first. Homelander tugged against the metal shackles that bound his wrists and ankles for hours that first day he woke up, but his efforts were fruitless. All he succeeded in doing was making his wrists bleed, which in turn made the restraints hurt more. A metal band wrapped around his face in the early days, when they weren’t sure if they managed to fully wipe out his powers.

It took him a week to accept that his powers were gone. A week before his captors deemed him ready to be visited by them, if he had to guess. It was hard to keep track of time tied up in a room, blindfolded. Occasionally he’d wake up to a cup of water, which he’d only find by accident, usually spilling most of it before he could get a drink. But beyond that he had no way of tracking time, no one brought him food, no one came in to talk to him, nothing. After what felt like a week to him, Homelander couldn’t help but beg for food. Anything to make the ache in his stomach go away. He figured his cries went unheard, until he woke one day to an apple placed near a cup of water. He savored that apple as best he could. 

On day ten, Homelander got his first visitor. He’d been asleep when the door clanged open, he heard footsteps stomp in, but struggled to count them as easily as he used to be able to. His head darted around as his heart raced, Homelander found himself involuntarily scooting as far away from the oncoming people as he could, until his back hit a wall. He threw his hands up in front of his face as best as he could, knowing that if he could see them they’d be shaking. From hunger or fear, he wasn’t sure. 

“Look, I don’t know what it is you guys want but I’m sure we can come to an agreement,” Homelander blurted out, “If- if it’s money you want I’ve got plenty, I could get you on tv or-” A fist lands in his gut, cutting him off. The men surrounding him laugh, before he hears feet shuffle forward and another hit lands across his torso. More laughter follows, “I don’t know what you guys did to me, but you’re gonna regret it when I get my powers back.” Homelander reminds himself who he is, and that whatever they’ve done to him has to be temporary. Something in the bindings or whatever. 

Before he can react, one of the men has stepped forward, grabbed his throat, and lifted him so he is pressed against the wall. “You think this is temporary? Nah man, we got rid of your powers for good. Only precaution we’re taking is this pretty eye mask we’ve got for you,” He smacks the metal blindfold, “just in case there’s any residual lazer in there. But after what our guy did to you, I think that’s highly unlikely.” 

“W-What did you do to me?” Homelander chokes out, bound hands trying to reach the hands wrapped around his neck and failing. 

“Should we tell him?” The man with his hand wrapped around Homelander’s throat asks the crowd. They must nod because he continues, “A few months back we were out getting drinks, the group of us, when we ran into this guy who says he can get rid of supe’s powers with a touch. Naturally we had to test it out on the strongest super there is. And if me pressing the mighty Homelander up against the wall isn’t proof enough that his powers work, I don’t know what is.” 

“You’re lying.” Homelander snarls best he can, the voice in his head trying to reassure him he’s being lied to. “Or-Or he can give them back can’t he? I swear to you fuckers when I get out of here-” 

“Oh don’t worry, we took care of that.” The man continues, “See we weren’t sure either, but we certainly didn’t want to find out if he was capable of such a feat, so we removed him from the equation so to speak.” 

Homelander finds new strength and begins to squirm under the man’s iron grasp. “You fuckers! I’m going to make you regret ever being born! Let me go and maybe I’ll let you live!” He snarls and tries to bite out in case any hands come close to him. “When Vought finds me- Oh when they find me you are so fucked! You think one supe is hard enough to deal with how about-” A piece of cloth is shoved into his mouth unceremoniously, then followed by duck tape. 

“Who sent you on that mission Homelander?” The man shifts his grip to Homelander’s chin, forcing him to face him despite the blindfold. Homelander shakes his head, even though he knows what the man is saying is true. Lost in thought, the man lets go and Homelander crumbles to the floor. “String him up, then do what you will with him. Just leave him hanging once you're done.” 

One set of footsteps heads away from Homelander, while the rest converge on him. He tries to fight, but depowered and bound against six men is nearly impossible in this state, especially having only had an apple in the last ten days. The shackles around his wrists have a short chain running between them, then a long one which presumably goes to a bolt in the middle of the floor. 

The men force Homelander upright, then maneuver his arms over his head, allowing the chain between them to hook on something just high enough it forces Homelander to stand on his tip toes. He protests through the gag best he can, but is ignored. Once he is barely hanging, the blows start coming. Nowhere is safe, his sides, his stomach, his legs get kicked, his torso, sometimes they kick his feet out from beneath just to watch him scramble so his arms don’t get dislocated. He does his best not to cry out in pain, but once someone hits him with a bat-or club, he couldn’t tell which- he can’t help but let a few cries escape. They take the bat to his legs and they crumble beneath him. The pressure it creates on his arms is nearly unbearable, and that’s when they decide to leave him alone. Wordlessly, they just left the room, closing the door on the way out. After he’s sure they’re gone, his head dropped and his body began to shake as he sobbed silently. Tears and snot run down his face, and he can’t be bothered to care, even if he could do something about it. 

Butcher can’t believe he’s doing this. Barely three days have passed since he stumbled upon Homelander and he hasn’t been able to get the man out of his mind since. He told the Boys who he’d seen, and from there they’d come up with a plan to get Homelander out of there, either to keep as their own hostage should this prove to be a trap, or to free if this turns out to be a real thing. 

He’d messaged Peter yesterday to see about going over to see Homelander again, only to be turned down and told to come today instead. Peter’d picked him up, then the rest of the Boys trailed behind him for backup. Who knows what awaits them if they try to jailbreak Homelander. 

As Peter leads him back down the flights of stairs and through the winding hallways, Butcher’s heart is racing. All this for Homelander? Butcher wasn’t sure why he felt so compelled to do it, but he tried to tell himself it was because if anyone was gonna hurt the cunt, it’d better be him. But he wasn’t sure if that was really true. 

Lost in his thoughts, he almost doesn’t notice when Peter stops, nearly crashing into him. “Alright, same as last time, $100 for whatever, nothing fatal, or $150 for more private time.” He smirks as if he and Butcher are in on the same secret, before holding out his hand expectantly. 

“Yeah so about that,” Butcher grins, “I think we’re just gonna be taking him,” He nudges his head towards the cell, “and get on our merry little way.” Peter barely has time to ask what he means by ‘we’ before Hughie knocks him out from behind. 

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Hughie asks, uncertainty in his voice. 

“I’m not even sure what we’re gonna do with the cunt once he’s free, of course I’m not sure.” 

Butcher steps over to the cell and opens the door, which just like last time is unlocked. Butcher panics when he doesn’t see Homelander hanging anymore, but calms a little when he notices the frail body curled up in the corner. His back is turned to the door, but he shakes slightly, as if he can feel someone coming up behind him. Butcher lays a hand gently on Homelander’s shoulder, and as expected, he jumps slightly. 

“Oi, it’s just me ‘n the boys.” Butcher says, moving his hands towards the restraints around Homelander’s wrists.

He gets up and runs out of the cell, grabbing the keys from off of Peter’s waistband. He thinks about unlocking the shackles, but thinks better of it, unlocking the chain connected to the shackles instead, freeing him from the floor. The ankle shackles however just completely come off, no good for running if they need to. He balls up the chain connected to Homelander’s wrist shackles and hands it to him. 

“Hang on to that for me will ya love? Don’t need you tripping on it every few feet.” Still blindfolded and gagged, Homelander nods, clutching the chain to his chest like it's a lifeline. “That’s a good Homelander,” He rubs the top of his head. “now, can you stand?” 

Homelander eagerly nods, though he struggles with holding the chain and pushing himself off the floor, he manages to achieve both. Only to immediately crumble back to the ground, his legs weak from misuse. He hears Butcher tut, and his heart startles, so he tries again, eager to do what’s asked of him for fear of punishment, only to fall again. “Christ, can’t even stand can you?” Butcher scoffs, reaching down to pick up and carry Homelander with the help of Mother’s Milk, really wishing he’d had the foresight to take some temp V. Once he gets his arms around Homelander, he realizes that wouldn’t be necessary. Homelander is whimpering in his arms, as if worried he’ll be punished for his inability to stand, so Butcher just flings him over his shoulder. Hughie gasps, but the look he gets from Butcher shuts him up pretty quickly. “Let’s get out of here before someone else decides to come down here shall we?” 

Butcher turns and begins to lead the group out of Homelander’s cell, he’d hoped he’d come up with a plan by now, but he’s still unsure what to do with the depowered supe, and what he was going to do if he wasn’t really depowered.

[robinrites]

Homelander whump- be the change you want to see in the world.

There’s a devastatingly low amount of Homelander whump out there. Written on mobile, but I really wanted to get this out there, maybe more to come (hopefully). Sorry about any weird formatting, hope you all enjoy 🤭

Cw: captivity, implied torture, Homelander gets punched a few times

Butcher wasn’t even sure what he was doing here. About a month or two back, he’d joined a support group for people who’d lost a loved one to a Supe, and it was only tonight he felt comfortable talking about Becca. After the group, he’d been approached by another man he’d seen attending the group every time he was there. Said something about having something to make him feel better. Against his better judgement, he’d gotten in the back of a black van and allowed himself to be driven to some other location, roughly 40 minutes away from the support group. He’d followed the man down three flights of stairs and down way too many twisting hallways for how small the building seemed from the outside, before stopping outside a closed door.

“What’s behind this then?” He asked the man, who’d introduced himself as Peter.

“You seem like the kind of guy we can trust,” Peter shrugged, “how’d you like to take out some of that anger on the man who took Becca from you?”

Butcher laughed, “Mate, were you even listening to what I said? Fucking Homelander’s responsible for that. There’s no way you have-“

“Homelander behind this door?” Peter cut him off and raised an eyebrow, “$100 gets you an hour with him. Nothing off limits just nothing fatal.”

“You’re telling me you’ve not only got Homelander locked up behind this door, but you’ve made it so he can be killed?” Butcher scoffed, “How do I know this isn’t just some scam so you can take my money and lock me up instead to do god knows what with me?”

Peter took a step to the left of the door, drawing Butchers attention to a curtain. He pulled it back, then flicked on a light switch, illuminating the contents of the room.

True to his word, Homelander himself was hanging in the center of the cell, held up by his wrists, while also connected to the ground by ankle shackles, forcing him to stretch almost. Despite the blindfold over his eyes, he seemed to notice the room becoming brighter, causing his head to perk up slightly. In spite of the tightly wrapped gag in his mouth, Butcher could see him try to talk, as if asking for help or mercy, he wasn’t sure which. His hair had grown out and was mostly brown, with just a little blond left at the tips.

Butcher turned back to Peter, “Now how the bloody hell did you accomplish this?”

Peter glanced around, “Can you keep a secret?” Butcher nodded, “Alright about a year ago my buddies and I met this supe who with a single touch could get rid of any powers. Not sure how he managed to fly under Vought’s radar, but he did. We managed to, erm, contract him, then we lured Homelander to this building in the middle of nowhere, somewhere in Kansas. We pretended to have kidnapped the power removing supe, then when Homelander tried to free him, well let’s just say we leveled the playing field.”

“Can he get his powers back? What if the bloke touches him again?”

“Oh we took care of that. Disposed of him in the bottom of the Atlantic. Even if he managed to get out of the box we put him into, he’s several hundred miles away from any land mass. Between you and me, he didn’t seem to be the swimming type.” Peter laughed to himself a little, “So, how about it?”

“I’ll give you $150 if you give me and him some privacy, how’s that sound?” Butcher has to at least talk to him, and if he’s gonna do that it has to be alone.

“Deal.” Peter held out his hand, then immediately turns to leave. “You have an hour, enjoy!”

The door slammed behind him, and he immediately realized the door to Homelander’s cell was never unlocked for him. He cautiously tried the handle anyway, surprised when it opens. He must really be docile for them to not even bother locking his cell.

Homelander’s head perks up again as he hears someone enter the cell. Butcher hears him begin to beg, even through the gag he can tell what’s being said. Or at least he can piece it together. “Please, please, please.” Homelander begs as footsteps get closer. Butcher can make out, “down” and “be good”, before Homelander stops trying. Maybe he can smell who’s standing before him, Butcher’s still not sure the full extent of the loss of his powers.

“Well if it isn’t the mighty Homelander,” Butcher sneers, he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t pleased to see his, for all intents and purposes, arch nemesis hanging before him. Now that he’s closer, he can fully take in what’s been done to Homelander in his year of captivity. Angry bands of red peek out beneath the shackles on his wrists and ankles. His once muscular frame has deteriorated drastically, whether from time or losing his powers, Butcher can’t tell. He shakes slightly, as if he can feel Butcher’s eyes analyze every inch of him. He hears his name come out of Homelander’s mouth muffled, followed by more pleases. “Now how’d you get here huh?” Against his better judgement he pulls the gag out of Homelander’s mouth, leaving it hanging around his throat.

“B-Butcher is that you?” His voice comes out scratchy, as if all he does is scream. “P-please just be quick. P-please.” He drops his head, “I’m sorry for what I-what I did to you, and to Becca-”

Butcher can’t stop himself from punching Homelander in the gut, “Don’t you dare say her name! You have no right!” He swings again, this time aiming for his face. Homelander cries out, and Butcher can’t help but smile.

“I’m sorry!” He cries, “Please I’m so sorry!”

Butcher hits him again and again until he stops blurting out fake platitudes. “But you’re not aren’t ya?”

Homelander shakes his head, “I really am,” he sobs, “P-please I didn’t know anything could hurt this much. I’ll do anything you want, please just end this.” Butcher laughs.

“You think you deserve mercy?” Homelander shakes his head to answer Butchers question, “You think you deserve my pity?” Another frantic head shake.

“T-take me with you,” Homelander blurts out, “I’ll be good for you I swear. I’ll do anything you want, I can- I can learn how to cook or clean or whatever. Please.”

Butcher decides to hit him upside the head once more, “So you can kill me in my sleep? You’re bloody crazy for asking that one. Have fun here, seems like you’ve got the perfect caretaker already.” Homelander sobs, but says nothing more. “That’s what I thought.” Butcher turns to leave, it may not have been a full hour, but he got what he wanted from this.

“W-wait!” Homelander calls as Butcher is putting his hand on the door knob to leave. “C-can I just ask how Ryan is?”

“You can, doesn’t mean I’m gonna answer it.” On that note he opens the door and leaves the room, leaving a sobbing Homelander behind.

[ghost-bison]

donna calling martha right after sixteen paid a visit and the doctor is now kissing themself on the mouth: girl guess who the doctor just regenerated into

martha: oh no

donna: oh yes

martha: i owe you 50

[strangemonochromes]

"How To Be That Girl" // Ryoko Kui

[bump-of-whump]

Ref Recs for Whump Writers

Violence: A Writer’s Guide:  This is not about writing technique. It is an introduction to the world of violence. To the parts that people don’t understand. The parts that books and movies get wrong. Not just the mechanics, but how people who live in a violent world think and feel about what they do and what they see done.

Hurting Your Characters: HURTING YOUR CHARACTERS discusses the immediate effect of trauma on the body, its physiologic response, including the types of nerve fibers and the sensations they convey, and how injuries feel to the character. This book also presents a simplified overview of the expected recovery times for the injuries discussed in young, otherwise healthy individuals.

Body Trauma: A writer’s guide to wounds and injuries. Body Trauma explains what happens to body organs and bones maimed by accident or intent and the small window of opportunity for emergency treatment. Research what happens in a hospital operating room and the personnel who initiate treatment. Use these facts to bring added realism to your stories and novels.

10 B.S. Medical Tropes that Need to Die TODAY…and What to Do Instead: Written by a paramedic and writer with a decade of experience, 10 BS Medical Tropes covers exactly that: clichéd and inaccurate tropes that not only ruin books, they have the potential to hurt real people in the real world. 

Maim Your Characters: How Injuries Work in Fiction: Increase Realism. Raise the Stakes. Tell Better Stories. Maim Your Characters is the definitive guide to using wounds and injuries to their greatest effect in your story. Learn not only the six critical parts of an injury plot, but more importantly, how to make sure that the injury you’re inflicting matters. 

Blood on the Page: This handy resource is a must-have guide for writers whose characters live on the edge of danger. If you like easy-to-follow tools, expert opinions from someone with firsthand knowledge, and you don’t mind a bit of fictional bodily harm, then you’ll love Samantha Keel’s invaluable handbook

[scriptmedic]

So so honored to get THREE separate mentions in this list! (I haven’t read the first few, but the first one sounds fascinating!)

To differentiate the last 3, which are mine:

10 BS Tropes: this is how not to piss off medical folks in storytelling. It is short, and it was free the last I checked.

Maim Your Characters: this is a guide to injury as a plot structure tool. As in, how and when do you make the most out of a good character thrashing, from a plot perspective?

Blood on the Page is the book that tells you how long a specific injury might take to heal, what the character would go through, and details about their treatment.

Also, if cash is an issue, most of Blood on the Page and Maim Your Characters is available in my blog archives if you can navigate the hellsite. (The #masterposts tag is your best bet). And 10 BS Tropes was free the last I checked!

(Since I’ve had people ask: I priced the books so that, last I checked, I earn equivalent royalties whether you buy paperbacks or digital.)

xoxo, Aunt Scripty

P.S.: While I no longer answer asks about specific scenarios or injuries, I’m happy to answer questions about the books themselves via DM or ask box. Including the “hey I want this but REALLY can’t afford it could you PDF me?” ones.

[blackrosesandwhump]

Please reblog this post if you belong to the whump community.

Let's see how many reblogs this gets!

[robinrites]

Promise I’m not dead…honestly hadn’t even realized I haven’t updated anything since august 💀 In the middle of a roommate divorce so hopefully once that settles I can go back to doing what I do :) I definitely have plans to finish my villain whumpee story, times just gotten away from me

[robinrites]

Yeah so I got concussed like 5 days after posting this and have been in a fugue state on and off since and can’t really process words like I used to. Sorry, might be a bit longer until I’m back to my full self 🫣 but now I know more about concussion symptoms….

[robinrites]

Promise I’m not dead…honestly hadn’t even realized I haven’t updated anything since august 💀 In the middle of a roommate divorce so hopefully once that settles I can go back to doing what I do :) I definitely have plans to finish my villain whumpee story, times just gotten away from me

[aceofwhump]

Do you have any Crowley whump? (in fanfics too)

Heck yeah I do!! Season 2 has got me all abuzz about Crowley whump so I've got a whole bunch of new fics to rec.

As for canon whump there's not a lot but there are angsty moments. I've got several reblogs you can look at in the good omens tag here: https://aceofwhump.tumblr.com/tagged/good%20omens

Here are some of my favorite fanfictions I've read:

Five Times Aziraphale Saves Crowley (And One Time He Fails) by Captain_Kieren

Crowley's Armageddon and Recovery by Wolfgirl4vr

Somebody to Love by McRaider

my first Good Omens fic please be gentle by taylor_tut

Suspendin' Gravity by ahyperactivehero (ahyperactiverhero)

Black Lines by Eladriel

Holy Mistakes by winterspirit13

A Burning Thing by spinninginfinityboy

I Stretch Out My Hands by sherlocktheholmes

My Life With You Means Everything, So I Won't Give Up That Easily by PositivePumpkin

Palliative Practices by VerdantVulpus 

Crowleys a snake, and snakes dont sweat/are cold blooded. No way to internally regulate temperature. So maybe something about that? Overheating in the gardens or something?

Can you do a piece where Crowley is accidentally burned by the holy water Aziraphale gave him, and while it isn't enough to kill him he's hurt real bad and Aziraphale feels super guilty? I love your blog!

Hell Freezes Over by lilac341

[balerians-deactivated20251001]

new niche just dropped

edit: there’s a pattern of something something wanting to protect their partners from what they know to be horrible

[chaotic-orphan]

Intoxicating fear — part V

Read part one here

Part two here

Part three here

Part four here

I’m not incredibly happy with this, but I’m trying to put out at least one post a week, maybe on Sundays? Anyways, enjoy

*~*~*~*~*

Superhero was standing in front of Hero, chatting, and Hero knew it was a dream. They were doing a mission report. Standard procedure. Hero had done them ever since they started working for Superhero, under the radar and acting as a vigilante in the city.

“And what about Villain?” Superhero asked, and Hero tilted their head slightly.

Villain?

Villain was the source of Hero’s nightmares, they couldn’t even escape them in their dreams and they wanted to tell Superhero everything they were doing to Hero. Wanted to cry into Superhero’s shoulder, even if it was just a projection from Hero’s subconscious.

“Nothing to report I’m afraid,” said Hero, except… Hero didn’t open their mouth to say that. “Ever since the docks they’ve been MIA.”

Hero frowned, but their face remained neutral.

No, Hero didn’t know exactly where Villain was but they knew they weren’t MIA. Hero knew they was definitely some things to report such as Villain’s sadistic torture and humiliation in using Hero’s power against them.

Superhero shook their head, tsked and said: “I should have never sent you out there alone.”

“You couldn’t have known, Superhero,” said Hero, “and besides, I’m fine.”

Hero was absolutely not fine.

They couldn’t feel anything in their body and they felt far too far away to be talking like this in their dreams. Not when Hero was so aware of everything.

Aware of how clear they could see Superhero in front of them.

Aware of being in Superhero’s office to give their reports like normal.

Aware of the horrible smell of Superhero’s usual spicy tuna sandwich that they insisted went great with that vinegary BBQ sauce.

Hero frowned and blinked but their eyes didn’t blink. Their lips didn’t frown. They just stayed still and waited for Superhero to either reply or dismiss them. They wanted to pinch themselves to wake up, this dream was eerily realistic. Too much detail, it was making Hero anxious and yet their heart remained eerily steady.

“Right, well,” Superhero sighed, running a hand through their hair and shooting Hero a soft happy smile. “Thank you for the update, Hero.”

“I’m just sorry it wasn’t good news,” said Hero a little sadly. Superhero shook their head and put a reassuring hand on Hero’s shoulder but Hero didn’t feel it.

“Don’t worry, Hero. You and I together, we’re unstoppable. We’ll catch Villain before they strike again. Before they hurt anyone else. I pro—“

The world swirled and shifted and changed and Hero screamed. Hero gasped, feeling as if they had just resurfaced from underwater, all feeling returning as sudden as a tsunami.

“Annnnnndddd you’re back in the room,” Villain said, voice far too happy as it reached Hero’s ears. They could feel their body now alright. Feel the electricity buzzing through it and feel the ache in their arms and feel the tiredness of their eyelids.

They gasped in startled breaths as their body spasmed with the aftershock of whatever Villain had just done to them. Villain had reached up a hand and cupped Hero’s cheek in their palm, then gave it a light slap.

“You in there, little Hero? Or do you need another jolt?”

There was an unnatural crackle in the air, electric and fierce and loud. Hero flinched at the buzz of electric blue, nearly the same colour as Hero’s own electricity. Villain hummed, their dark eyes capturing Hero’s pained ones and locking them into Villain’s carnivorous gaze.

“There you are,” Villain purred, digging their fingers into Hero’s cheek. Hero wrenched their head back with an effort, their chest heaving heavy laboured breaths.

Hero only got their bearings then. They weren’t sitting down anymore, but this time Villain let their feet sit flat on the ground with no water. Their arms were dragged above Hero’s head, leaving them hang in a Y shape compared to their body. Hero pulled on them, feeling the rubber still sitting snug around their hands, testing the strength and Villain’s laugh followed the clack of Hero’s cuffs shifting.

“Yep. You’re there. Do you want another quickie?”

Before Hero could refuse the crackle filled the air and Villain pressed it against Hero’s ribs. Hero’s scream was sudden and torn from their throat in a strangled cry of shock. They squirmed away from the pain in a desperate attempt for relief but Villain just followed their movement with a smirk on their horrible red lips. Hero’s muscles spasmed and seized so hard it felt like they were about to burst from the pressure of the electricity coursing through their skin.

After what felt like far too much and much too long the crackle in the air died and Hero sucked in startled breaths.

Quick, shallow, useless.

Villain put their hand on Hero’s cheek again, steering their head to look at Villain, to meet their terrible dark eyes.

“I think that’s enough for now, Hero, don’t you?” Villain said sweetly. Hero let out a soft breath of relief. Villain tightened their grip on Hero’s face until Hero squirmed before saying: “aren’t you going to thank me, Hero? Did seeing Superhero not teach you any manners?”

Hero blinked, momentarily forgetting the pain of Villain’s fingernails biting into their skin.

“Seeing Superhero?” Hero asked, voice far too croaky and rough from the electricity. They flinched when Villain lit up the baton again and the air crackled with blue light before ushering out a sloppy: “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Yes, that’s enough Villain. Thank you.”

Villain smiled, pleased and let go of Hero’s face before moving away from Hero altogether. Villain walked to a small table with a bunch of tools perfectly laid out on it and placed the electric baton down in it’s perfect place.

“It’s a cattle prod,” said Villain conversationally, keeping their back turned to Hero. “In case you wanted to know. Tricky thing to get ahold of, but… I’d do anything to see you in pain Hero. Especially at the mercy of the very power that makes you so special.”

Hero licked their lips, mouth dry. “What do you mean seeing Superhero?”

It was a dream. Hero had thought it was a dream. It felt like a dream, they couldn’t move or talk or breathe or speak and everything had felt far too far away. Dreamlike.

It had to be a dream.

Villain let out a soft insidious laugh, more of a chuckle than anything, and Hero felt the familiar coil of fear wind deep in their gut.

Villain turned to face Hero, resting their hands on the table behind them. Villain was wearing their usual, dress shirt tucked into slacks and clean shoes shined to perfection. They smiled at Hero with their too red lips contrasting against their pale skin like blood on snow, and their dark eyes captured Hero’s in their snare.

“I mean seeing Superhero, Hero. Last time you begged me so beautifully I decided you deserved a little reward. You wanted to be awake, or well… to not go to sleep again,” Villain said easily, words flowing like highly pressurised water, cutting into Hero with every new one that fell so easily from Villain’s lips.

“So I let you stay awake, briefly when you reported back to Superhero for me. Tell me, how did it feel seeing Superhero? Being in your body, conscious, so close to being able to reach out and tell them all the atrocities I’ve committed against you, and not being able to so much as lift a finger?”

A lump formed in Hero’s throat as powerless tears started to well in the back of Hero’s eyes. They didn’t say or do anything, they just remained silent and still, not wanting to give Villain what they wanted. Not wanting to give them a reaction.

“Did the electricity seize your vocal chords, little Hero? Would you like it to?”

Hero just stared.

Despite everything in their body begging them to speak, to tell Villain not to shock them again, Hero remained silent. Just staring ahead.

“Hmph, silent treatment. Fine I can just put you to sleep again and let you wake up when you sink a knife into Supe—“

“No!” Hero blurted, then silently chastised themself, balling their hands into fists above their head and tugging uselessly on their cuffs. Idiot.

Villain crossed the room in two long strides and grabbed Hero by their chin, tilting their head to stare Villain in the eyes. Their dark eyes had a vile hunger in it, and a sharp anger glowered back at Hero for their disobedience.

“Then tell me how it felt.”

“It felt—“ Hero croaked weakly, hating themself for obeying and yielding to every threat Villain threw at them, like some scared child. “It felt like a bad dream, like a nightmare. I thought… I thought I was dreaming because I couldn’t do anything, or feel anything, until you shocked me back here.”

“Do you believe me now, little Hero, hmm? That nobody is looking for you? That nobody knows about our secret little meetings,” Villain asked, voice deceptively sweet. The weight of Villain’s words hit Hero harder than Other Hero’s blast of water. They weren’t lying. Hero was really and truly alone, nobody knew about Villain because Hero…

Hero had seen themself tell Superhero that it was alright. That there was no word of Villain. That Villain had disappeared after the docks, but they hadn’t because they were standing in front of Hero now, smirking at them with their horrible smile and their horrible eyes.

“Yes, you see now, don’t you?”

Frustrated tears gathered behind Hero’s eyes again at the utter helplessness of their situation. Of the complete powerlessness they felt trapped here with Villain.

No one was coming.

No back up.

No heroes to save them.

Hero balled their hands into fists, tugging hard at the restraints keeping them chained to the ceiling.

“Don’t be so certain,” Hero ground out, their voice watery and weak but they didn’t care.

“Superhero’s still looking for you, and when they find you,” Hero continued, leaning as far forward as his restraints would allow, smile feral as they pushed Villain’s hand back, “they’ll find me too, and I’ll make sure you suffer.”

Villain’s eyes lit up with that. They laughed, taking their hand off Hero’s face and patting Hero’s chest instead. Hero rolled back, limbs aching as the chains pulled taut around their wrist and gritted their teeth.

“Promises, promises,” Villain hummed. “I look forward to seeing this vengeful side of you Hero. That was brave, to threaten me like that when you know there is absolutely nothing you can do to stop me.”

Villain shrugged, rolling their shoulders, grinning widely. “Maybe Superhero finds me, and maybe you do what you said you would. But as long as you’re here with me, I’ll make sure that you assure Superhero that all is well and that I’ve disappeared into the sunset. Keep that spark of defiance for as long as you can hold onto it Hero.”

“You see… the one little snag in your brilliant plan Hero, is that you forget I own you now. You’re like my own little puppet.”

“I’m not your puppet!” Hero cried, anger leaking into their expression.

Villain just smiled. “No?”

“No.”

“Interesting,” Villain hummed, turning their back to Hero. They walked across the room back to their little table of horrors and then the world faded to an impenetrable darkness, as if Hero’s eyes were shut in a basement with no light or windows, but… but they were still in the same position. Nothing had changed.

Hero pulled on their restraints just to make sure and they were certain that they were in the same room, same position, same time but it was hard to know.

“Vi—“ Hero began then stopped themself. What were they going to do beg? Cry out? Make sure they were still there?

Villain was probably the one doing this to them.

“Hero?” It was Superhero who said that and Hero froze. Their heart thundering against their ears.

Did Villain make good on their promise?! Was Hero stabbing Superhero. Their blood ran cold, a shiver crawling slow and icy up their spine.

There was a hand on Hero’s wrist and Hero jerked back, not trusting any of this. Even if there was a small part of them that wanted to.

“Easy, Hero. I’m getting you down.”

“No…” Hero said softly. “No this is a trick. Don’t touch me! Villain!”

“Hero, shh, or they’ll hear us.”

“You can’t fool me, Villain,” Hero spat, voice poisonous and broken. “You’re not as good as you think you are.”

Or maybe I’m just going easy on you, Hero, Villain purred inside Hero’s head.

Hero shook their head, screwing their eyes shut trying to shake Villain out, but they knew it was useless. “Maybe I’m just going easy on you, you’re so brave when I can’t use my powers, Villain. You know that? We have a word for that in the Hero tower. Cow—“

Hero cut themself off.

It wasn’t a natural thing, more like they ran out of air and couldn’t make it with enough breath to the end of the sentence. Hero choked, swallowing and trying to start speaking again but they couldn’t.

“What was that Hero?” Villain asked out loud. The darkness bled away from the centre of Hero’s vision and they could see Villain staring at them with a sick sort of interest. “What was the word?”

Hero opened their mouth and tried again but nothing came out but a breathy wheeze, as if Hero’s voice was gone.

“Hmm,” Villain said, tilting their head. “Mustn’t have been important. Anyways, since a cat’s got your tongue let’s go back to my little puppet analogy, shall we?”

Villain started walking then. He walked around Hero, circling them like a vulture ready to pick the meat from Hero’s bones. Maybe they were. Hero followed Villain with their limited vision until Villain disappeared from Hero’s sight and the blackness screwed up the small tunnel of vision Hero had.

“Puppets can’t see,” Villain said behind Hero now. Hero turned their head to the side hoping Villain would let them see again even just a sliver. This was too much. This was too much and Hero couldn’t even beg for Villain to stop. “Puppets can’t speak. Remind me again, Hero, can you speak?”

Before Hero could do anything they heard the clack of the cattle prod and then it was pressed against Hero’s leg and Hero screamed but no sound came out. Hero’s muscles spasmed, their calf slipping out from under them and they cried as their shoulder took the brunt force of the pain but they couldn’t scream.

“If you’re not a puppet, Hero, tell me when it hurts and I’ll stop.”

Hero vaguely heard the words through their nerves lighting on fire and trying to scream as loud as they could, to get any air from their lungs and force their vocal chords to produce sound. To do something!

Fuck!

Stop! Stop! STOP! VILLAIN PLEASE! PLEASE! PLEASE!

The electricity stopped cackling through the air and Hero sagged in their restraints, their legs going out from under them. They hung limply by their wrists, nerves still on fire on every point of their body. They swallowed weakly, snot and tears flowing freely in rivers down Hero’s face.

“See, Hero?” A hand was on their cheek, gently wiping away their silent tears as they sucked in heavy breaths and heaved out shuddering sighs. Hero couldn’t even pull away, they didn’t have the strength, so their cheek rested heavily in Villain’s palm. Putty in Villain’s hands. Their muscles still spasming from the aftershock. “A puppet can’t feel pain. I could give you that power you know. Turn off the nerve receptors in your brain, then you wouldn’t feel a thing for real.”

Hero shook their head, sniffing and sobbing silently.

“No? Then maybe you could actually rebel against me, hmm,” Villain cooed, running a hand through Hero’s hair. Hero flinched as Villain’s fingers pushed the stray hairs off of Hero’s forehead soaked in sweat, back out of their blind eyes that Hero couldn’t see out of.

Hero swallowed hard at Villain’s words, trying to steel themselves and make themselves impenetrable but they couldn’t help the dread dripping down from the lump in their throat and pooling into their gut. They were completely and utterly at Villain’s mercy. So powerless.

They couldn’t see if Villain didn’t want them to.

They couldn’t speak, if Villain didn’t want them to.

They couldn’t breathe, if Villain didn’t want them to.

They were choking on their helplessness and the realisation made a fresh wave of tears to pour down Hero’s cheeks.

Slowly, achingly slow, Hero’s vision returned to them and they recoiled slightly, squinting against the dim light of the room that was too bright after their bout of pure darkness.

“There. See, Hero? I can be merciful too,” said Villain, voice imperceptibly soft. Villain reached up their other hand, the cattle prod hanging from their wrist, and cupped Hero’s cheeks in two hands, wiping away the tears, forcing Hero to look into their dark eyes. “I just wanted you to understand exactly how powerless you are to stop me, so maybe I don’t have to punish you as much. Would you like that?”

Hero couldn’t do anything in reply, but they weren’t sure they even wanted to. What do you say to something like that? A promise to not hurt Hero was worth as much as a flammable fire extinguisher. Worth as much as a Hero with electric powers wrapped in rubber.

“You can talk, Hero,” Villain told them, with an encouraging smile.

Hero sucked in a breath and sure enough they could hear the pathetic gasp of air. Their eyes still shone with the hopelessness and pain of Villain’s latest attack, they didn’t even want to see how pathetic they looked… but they knew one thing for certain.

They weren’t broken yet.

“D…” Hero rasped and then descended into a small coughing fit before composing themselves, swallowing and clearing their throat. They looked into Villain’s hideous dark eyes that were too bright at Hero’s misery. “Do… your worst, Villain. I’ll get out of here eventually, and you’ll… pay.”

Villain smiled, their red lips curling up at the edges into a smile sharper than a Stanley blade. “Oh I look forward to it, Hero. You are just so determined. So full of surprises, I knew it was a good idea to take you, and you just keep giving me more and more reasons to keep you.”

Villain dug their nails in Hero’s cheeks with a grin before letting go of Hero’s face and stepping back and raising the cattle prod like a sword and holding it up towards Hero.

“You have your little vengeance plot going on, and while it’s cute and absolutely adorable and delusional. I, can and will” Villain said, touching the cattle prod to each of Hero’s shoulders. Villain’s face got brighter when Hero flinched back both times, terrified, “do whatever I like with you in the meantime. How’s that sound?”

Villain held up the cattle prod and pressed the button down, watching as Hero flinched at the mere sight and sound of the electricity.

“Ready for round two?”

*~*~*~*~*

The Orphanage (plz lemme know if you want to be added or removed <3) — @nameless-beanie @andithewhumper @annablogsposts @whatwhumpcomments @whumpasaurus101 @0eggdealer @rejectedbytheempty @princess-bubble-blossom

[robinrites]

Op this is so good! Can I be added to the tag list pls!

[hyperions-fate]

[idkaguyorsomething]

many people have asked before, if the doctor wants to be a ginger so badly, then why don’t they just dye their hair? what they do not realize is that the doctor is physically incapable of walking down a grocery store aisle without being taken hostage by renegade judoon and could never even get around to bleaching their hair before it’s revealed that there’s actually a megacorporation harvesting hair color to turn into a sentient superweapon they want to fire at the sun to turn it green or some shit. and all that’s just assuming that they actually manage to pilot the TARDIS somewhere near a convenience store and not the spider annihilator military barracks of the glanratraxielistanbul system 200 million years in the future

[dallasthetransgenderlegend]

​you never actually realize how strange this show and its situations are until you try to put the doctor in any normal situation.

[hamletslaststraw]

crowley canonically said hey can you hear that? exactly there’s nothing. only the sound of silence that should be filled by the song of a bird that represents our love for each other. but it’s not singing today. because we are being separated and left with the unbearable heaviness of silence and the subsequent emptiness. yeah.