Prompt(s): Dehydration-|-Tied up-|-Torture-|-“I wish you were dead”
Words: ~1110
Cw: tied up, kidnapping
I’m still alive I swear! I’ve been super busy and the inspiration hasn’t struck until yesterday when I got multiple days caught up. So theres at least three posts going out for today. (Yay for yesterday-me!) I’m still behind on day 8, day 14, and, of course, today’s as well, but I’ve made progress yesterday on all of them so hopefully I will keep the inspiration from yesterday and post them soon! Enjoy day 12’s prompt!
~~~
They awoke slowly, but they wished they didn’t wake at all. They almost didn’t want to fight past the thick fog encapsulating them in the dreamland that had kept them from feeling the real world.
Everything hurt.
And the more they became aware of themself, the more they felt their body screaming at them.
They were laying on their side. Gravity fighting against them. They didn’t have the energy to fight back.
Their mouth was dry and tasted cotton-y.
The light was bright even behind their closed eyes. They didn’t even attempt to pry open their eyes, not willing just yet to lose the last vestiges of sleep that they knew was somehow still keeping the worst of the pain away.
They took a deep breath, trying to give themself a last few moments of peace. Their lungs had expanded, pulling their chest tight, stretching pleasantly, until it was forced to stop mid breath. They nearly choked on the oxygen that filled their lungs at their sudden realization that pushed through the intense grogginess that still weighed them down.
Their mouth was not just dry. It had cloth stuffed into it was stuffed with cloth that they felt wrapped around their head.
Their lungs couldn’t take any more air in, their breathing being restricted from going any further.
Caught.
Caught by… something… covering their chest.
No, not covering.
Surrounding. Wrapped around them. Not tight enough to hinder normal breathing, but the moment they tried to take another deep breath, they couldn’t.
Their eyes flew open, momentarily blinded by the bright lights above them.
Then the pain they had known the sleep had been keeping at bay surged forward.
They tensed. Their muscles screaming to be released.
Tied.
They were tied up.
Their hands were tied behind their back, their arms were wrapped tightly and they couldn’t move more than a twitch of their strained muscles with the way the rope wound around their shoulders and chest.
Their legs were bound tightly together as well, hooked up behind them and tied to their own wrists.
They were essentially hogtied.
Thoroughly trapped.
Everything came rushing back to them in an instant.
The way they’d thought they’d finally made it to freedom the moment they hit the city limits. The way they had slowed their running in order to catch their breath. The way they tried to blend into the crowd on the streets just in case.
It hadn’t been enough. They let their guard down too quickly. The moment they turned onto a quiet street, away from the crowds, they were already in danger.
Whumper’s voice had whispered in their ear as they had felt a hand wrap around their mouth and a sharp pinch pierce their neck.
Moments later, their thoughts had become fuzzy and all they knew were the feelings of hands hoisting them up and secreting them away. Kidnapping them once more.
They were pulled from their memories by the distinct sound of shoes tapping across the concrete floor behind them. Their body tensed but then screamed at them as they did so. The ropes pulled their limbs into awkward positions and strained the joints wrapped up tight within them.
The slow, steady pace of the person felt almost predatory. They were clearly in a large warehouse from the vantage point they had. The sounds of the steps echoed around them in the nearly empty space.
They suspected who it was but they couldn’t turn to see. They had to wait for the person to reveal themself. They tried not to think about how familiar the steps sounded.
Instead, they were scared silent. Waiting. Each footstep getting closer as their breathing turned panicked, lungs straining against the unforgiving rope.
The steps stopped just behind them.
Close. So close.
They tried to turn their head to see, but they could barely move without the intense pain that had them gasping out loud as it flashed through their already taut shoulders.
“W-who a-are-” they started, but their voice was nearly nonexistent and what little sounds they got out sounded nothing like the words they meant to say.
Who are you?
Only, they already knew. They knew that gait, those steps, the sounds of the same shoes that haunted their nightmares.
It was the same walk they dreaded hearing walking down the hall back when Whumper had them locked up tight.
They had learned Whumper’s walk. It was different then the heavier, more rushed sounds of the occasional guard bringing them food or water.
Whumper’s were quicker. Lighter. More even.
It struck fear into them the moment they heard it coming down the halls for them.
This time was no different.
The steps started up again. This time circling around their head. Making its way into view.
Whumpee knew who to expect, but the sight of Whumper’s calm anger frightened them. Whumper being calm meant only the worst was to come.
Despite knowing it was useless, panic welled up inside them and they wiggled and twisted, trying desperately to free themself.
Whumper stopped mere feet from them, drawing their attention from their struggling to the way Whumper crouched down in front of them. They smile down at Whumpee with amusement. Sick enjoyment played within their eyes. They’d always loved to see Whumpee struggling.
Struggling to finish an impossible task. Struggling to breathe. Struggling not to cry. Struggling through the pain.
It didn’t matter what kind of struggling as long as Whumpee was miserable and afraid.
And now, Whumpee had run away. They’d be lucky of Whumper didn’t kill them.
That thought passed through their mind as they processed how helpless against Whumper they would be while tied up like this.
Their fingers— the only things they could move freely— pulled at the rope hoping to find a loose end.
“You really thought you’d get away from me, Whumpee?”
“P-p’ease!” Whumpee attempted to beg behind the gag.
“I’ll be honest, Whumpee. I didn’t think you had the guts to do it.” Whumper stood, beginning to pace in slow circles around their body. Slow. Assessing. Predatory. “But now that I know you do, I’m going to have to keep a tighter leash on you. Perhaps even a real leash this time. You do look quite nice tied up like this though. I’m sure it’s uncomfortable. I don’t think you deserve comfort just yet. You have to prove to me you can earn that privilege back.”
Whumper stopped in Whumpee’s line of sight and scoffed at the tears beginning to pool into the concrete beneath their face.
“Believe it or not, Whumpee, but what you had before will look like luxury compared to what I’m going to do with you. I don’t take well to traitors.”
~~~
If you liked this, check out my other version of this scenario (that I didn’t realize was as similar as it was until after I was editing this lol whoops! Guess I just liked whumpees kidnapped and tied up) here! Thanks for reading 😊
All the fics I have written for @aprilisthecruelestmonth, all in one convenient spot (along with the playlist I made for them). Please read the tags for violent/dark content.
Spotify playlist for the songs I used as titles
Day 1 Prompt: Blood on Hands
Day 2 Prompt: Branding
Day 3 Prompt: Paranoia
Day 4 Prompt: Hunted
Day 5 Prompt: Forced To Beg
Day 6 Prompt: Hidden Injury
Day 7 Prompt: "No, No Hospitals"
Day 8 Prompt: Made To Watch
Day 9 Prompt: Amnesia
Day 10 Prompt: "It's Your Fault"
Day 11 Prompt: Nausea
Day 12 Prompt: Torture + Electrocution
Day 13 Prompt: Fighting Through The Pain
Day 14 Prompt: Pre-Mortem Autopsy
Day 15 Prompt: Falling Through The Ice + Drowning
Day 16 Prompt: Sleep Deprivation
Day 17 Prompt: Public Execution
Day 18 Prompt: Used As Bait
Day 19 Prompt: Stranded
Day 20 Prompt: Collapsed + Suffocation
Day 21 Prompt: "Don't Leave Me Here" + Broken Bone
Day 22 Prompt: Migraine
Day 23 Prompt: Stumbling
Day 24 Prompt: A Game Of Roulette
Day 25 Prompt: Stalking
Day 26 Prompt: Infection
Day 27 Prompt: Weeping
Day 28 Prompt: Over Work
Day 29 Prompt: Broken Trust
Day 30 Prompt: Waking Up Disoriented
That's all of them! Hope you guys enjoyed this month! I know I did! :)
Additional Tags: Whump, Sickfic, Sleep Deprivation, Exhaustion, Hospitals, Hospitalization, Riz Gukgak-centric, Riz Gukgak Needs a Hug, Campaign 01 Season 03: Fantasy High Junior Year (Dimension 20), Poverty
Summary:
There's a line between functional exhaustion and hospitalization, and Riz is forced to toe that line, all too aware that the last thing his mom can afford at the moment is a hospital bill. Unfortunately, he can only toe the line for so long before his body shuts down of its own accord.
“i got boulders on my shoulders / collar bones begin to crack / there is very little left of me and it's never coming back” - the front bottoms, be nice to me
[aitcm 2025 day 7 - panic attack; exhaustion; “No, no hospitals”]
The Captain's Chair (8722 words) by Isabel_the_Ace
Chapters: 26/26
Fandom: Star Trek: The Original Series, Star Trek: Discovery, Star Trek: Strange New Worlds (TV)
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Characters: Christopher Pike, Number One | Una Chin-Riley (Star Trek), Hemmer (Star Trek), Spock (Star Trek), Original Characters, Ash Tyler | Voq, Philip Boyce, Joseph M'Benga
Additional Tags: Disability, Canon Disabled Character, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Family Feels, Alternate Universe, Post-Canon, Fanart
Series: Part 1 of The Progress
Summary:
Three years after his Delta radiation accident, Captain Christopher Pike is disabled, mute and paralyzed. Still he returns to the stars, with support of his crew and friends, and becomes captain once again, of a starship called USS Progress.
Pike was never a man to sit around in idilic peace doing nothing. He'd much rather sit around doing something.
Full recommendation for @aprilisthecruelestmonth (prompt: explosion) under the cut:
This is my favorite mixed media fanwork on AO3, created by @hard-times-paramore. It's a mixture of cute, colorful drawings drawings (with image descriptions!) and well-written chapters that perfectly capture the different characters' voices. It may be an AU, but it's grounded yet fun and full of life - truly everything that Pike's story should be after his accident. If you've watched SNW or TOS or just like to see disabled characters get real representation, you've got to check out this work.
April is the Cruelest Month: Brave face/Self sacrifice/"Pick on someone your own size"
Characters: Kyle (Caretaker) Kevin (Whumpee) Tom (Whumper)
(All Original characters. This is kind of an extract of a whole book)
They hit him again, straight in the face, knocking him against the bathroom door. He misses the solitude he had in the stool, being able to cry without anyone questioning his manhood, but these idiots just had to ruin it. Tom Brown leads this group, and they are ready to beat the shit out of him, but Kevin is not there. Half of his brain is in school, about to get beat; the other half is at home, about to get beat by his father.
He hears insults, but from whom they come from, he does not know.
“I’ll teach you a lesson. You fucking freak!”
Tom kicks his face, crushing his nose. Kevin knows it’s not broken, but the horrific amount of blood flushing down his face makes him doubt.
He lands on his back on the floor, and Tom crouches near him, livid.
“Why don’t you fight?! C’mon, FIGHT, YOU PIECE OF SHIT!
“I’m fucking immune. Give me all you got.”
Tom gets back on his feet, ready to start the beatdown. Kevin just closes his eyes, ready to take it; he’s lost the fight in him; let it be what it has to be.
He waits, but the hit never comes. Tom is now screaming at someone else.
“What are you doing here, bro? Get out of my way. I’ll make this right for us.”
Someone is in front of him. He opens his eyes, and he cannot believe what he sees. Kyle, the gentle giant and the person that should hate him most, is lifting his fists to defend him.
“Why don’t you pick on someone your own size, Tom?"
Prompt(s): Panic Attack-|-Poisoned-|-Exhaustion-|-“No, no hospitals"
Words: ~2900
Cw: injury, blood, broken bones, few curses
I had a minor emergency yesterday (all good now though0, so I hadn’t been able to write or post yesterday. I’m nearly finished with Day 8’s as well… but we’ll have to see if I can get it posted before it’s technically tomorrow haha It’s another long one as well… so it’s unlikely… but I’m trying!
This is a hero/villain snippet that turned out a lot longer than I expected. It’s inspired off a story I’ve been working on for a while. I kind of miss writing for it though, so maybe this was the push I needed to write some more of it!
~~~
How they ended up here, the hero wasn’t sure.
They knew how they had physically gotten here, of course— though most of it they wished they could forget. The pain with every step— every measly, painful step— was seared into their mind and their body. Much like the injuries burned and cut and battered into their flesh and bones. Despite their best effort, at least part of their journey had been made while crawling. Including this last part, where their knees painfully digging into the hard concrete steps of the home they never thought they’d find themself in front of except, perhaps, with magically enhanced handcuffs accompanying them.
They would deny it wholeheartedly, but Hero didn’t know where else to go.
Their view of the world had been completely flipped on its head in the last couple of hours.
And, despite their differences, they knew Villain would be the only one who wouldn’t find them down right crazy.
And so that's how Hero found themself pulling themself up Villain’s front steps, hoping they would be understanding and not turn them away.
Perhaps if Villain had any empathy at all, the mere sight of the beaten and battered hero would compel them to help. Though if Hero was in any mood to laugh and it wouldn’t have caused the deep, excruciating pain from their broken rib, then the thought of Villain graciously helping their enemy in need would have them rolling on the floor.
But they could only hope Villain held some sort of soul. That the risk they were taking based on the inkling they’d gotten from years of battling the other superhuman that they weren’t all evil wasn’t about to blow up in their face.
Especially since they knew they had no where else to go. Even more so because they knew they couldn’t make it anywhere else without the darkness that was threatening their vision to take over.
Why the hell did Villain have to have so many stairs going to their place?! The furious thought petered out as a bout of nausea almost overcame them.
They huffed against the stair they had been trying desperately to climb against the growing darkness.
“What a way to show up to a villain’s home. Pathetic.” The relief they felt when hero heard the other voice coming up behind them was something they would have previously thought impossible. They would usually only have felt dread upon hearing that same voice.
They took a chance to look back, fighting down the dizziness it brought with it, seeing the villain they had been looking for walking up the stairs behind them.
They were carrying what looked like a brown paper bag. Of groceries. The domesticity of the picture alongside Villain’s face was almost laughable.
Villain didn’t even stop to look at them as they walked straight past them, flipping their keys out of their pocket and easily thumbing through them to find the one they were looking for.
Hero watched as Villain opened the door, walked in, and shut the door with their foot behind them.
They huffed out the breath they hadn’t realized they had been holding.
Of course they weren’t going to help them. Why would they? They are enemies.
They cursed under their breath as the black around their vision nearly took over.
Go. We need to go, they willed themself to keep moving, having known this was a terrible idea.
But they couldn’t.
They were in pain. They were bleeding heavily. They were exhausted.
And…
This was their only plan.
They couldn’t go to a hospital. They couldn’t go to the other heroes… and they certainly couldn’t go home.
They were alone. And, without help, it wouldn’t be long before some other villain found them half dead and decided it was easiest to take them out now, if Villain themself didn’t come out and do it.
Perhaps they’d bleed out at Villain’s front door, they thought, imagining how annoyed Villain would get having to scrap their dead body off the step. One last— perhaps very petty— thought that would annoy the villain that had been a throne in their side since the beginning. The one who walked right past them and—
“No seriously,” they heard above them.
The hero looked up to see Villain looking down at them with their arms crossed. Looking slightly amused and slightly confused.
“This is pretty pathetic. You know that, right?” Villain’s mocking tone grated something in the hero‘s mind, but they couldn’t do a damn thing about it. Not in this state. And not when they needed their help.
So, they swallowed their pride.
…And the nausea.
“C-can you help me? Please…”
“I mean, I’d hate to have you die in my front yard. Especially ‘cause I’m not the one to have done it. Can’t let some other villain get all the glory, ya know?”
“Villain… please..” Just the minimal amount of effort it took to speak was bringing the darkness in closer.
They were going to pass out.
Villain’s eyes grew wide watching Hero struggling to keep themself from face planting into the concrete.
Honestly, they were surprised to see the hero in a state like this at all. There had yet to be a villain that could even come close to defeating Hero. They’ve tried plenty of times to bring the corrupt string of superpowered, self-proclaimed, useless ‘heroes’ down. But they’ve never succeeded. They’ve only ever come close to beating Hero, themself, once. And it was only because they were worried more for the group of civilians in the crumbling building than they were protecting themself. The crumbling building that a superhero demolished in their own fight with a supervillain.
Hero: always cleaning up their superiors’ messes. The one that always saved the civilians that the superheroes didn’t mind putting in danger during their fights if it meant taking down their enemies.
And somehow, Hero wasn’t the one who was nicknamed one of the ’Heroes of the City’. Superheroes were all a scam anyway. More worried about getting credit for saving the city than actually doing it.
But here they were, bleeding and broken on their front step. In front of their door.
Why were they here?
Why wouldn’t they go to the hospital? Why wouldn’t they have called one of the other heroes for help? This had to be some kind of trap, right?
But… Hero never stooped to less-than-honorable tactics before.
And they were clearly in pain.
”What the hell happened to you?” Villain asked, more to themself than the Hero trembling at their feet. Unfortunately, that trembling was not in the way they’d have liked.
”Help—” Hero barely breathed out before they collapsed.
Villain found themself moving before they could think about it, catching Hero’s head before they smashed it into the hard edge of the step.
With Hero’s forehead propped up in their hands and their limp body sprawled out and bleeding on their front steps, Villain sighed, questioning why they had decided not to just leave the Hero like they had planned to do when they first spotted them there.
Curiosity killed the cat.
“Well… fuck.” They groaned.
Picking up the unconscious hero, they brought them inside.
“Should just give them to the hospital and be done with this,” they grumbled to themself. Something kept them from doing just that. Perhaps it was the pure oddity of the situation.
Villain easily set them down on the table. It was surely uncomfortable, but they were passed out and it wasn’t like they could complain about it. And besides, the dining room had the best light to look at their injuries.
They grabbed the first aid kit they had taken out after they had put their groceries away before despite their better judgement and got to work.
“You’ve got to be kidding me. What the hell did this idiot get themself into?!” Hero heard someone murmuring to themself as they began to escape the blackness they’d been swimming through. For hours? Minutes? Days? They weren’t sure.
They stiffened as a particularly sharp pinch where they knew they’d had a fairly large, open wound on their arm. They knew immediately that the person was stitching them up when they felt another sharp sting and the slight pulling of their skin.
”Welcome back to the land of the living,” the person said, louder than their previous grumbling.
“You have a— ah!—pretty light touch— jeez fuck— for a villain,” Hero groaned, feeling the way their lungs pulled at their ribs and the continued poking and prodding of their nemesis as they continued to work. They weren’t in excruciating pain, so they assumed Villain had given them something, but it definitely didn’t work 100%. Their broken ribs still hurt with every breath and each stitch had them flinching.
“Well there’s the Hero I remember. Wasn’t sure who you were for a bit there. Pretty sure I’ve never heard a hero say please. Or ask for help, for that matter,” Villain said dryly. Hero finally opened their eyes as best they could, adjusting to the light, and glaring up at the other.
Hero ignored it otherwise, not willing to justify the comment with a retort. They squeezed their eyes closed again when Villain pushed a little too hard for the mystery anesthetic to keep the pain at bay.
“I’ve stitched up plenty of my own injuries but I cannot say I’ve ever fixed broken bones myself. Never let myself get hit hard enough.”
“Bull…shit.”
“Well yeah,” Villain admitted. “But I’ve still never fixed it myself. Always had a doctor buddy do it for me. You probably don’t want me poking around your lungs with a broken rib like that.”
“Just… do your best.”
”Nah. I’m dropping you on the steps of the hospital. You know— where you should have gone in the first place?”
”N-no! No! No hospital…” Hero panicked. They couldn’t… couldn’t go to a hospital.
They’d know. They’d find out. They’d find them.
”Why?” Villain asked, dumbfounded.
Their eyes met. Villain’s confused and surprised. Hero’s panicked and fidgety.
“Can’t… can’t go.”
”Why wouldn’t you want to go to the hospital?”
“I just… can’t.”
“You’re a pain in the ass, you know that?”
”S-sorry…”
“No you’re not.”
It was silent for a while as Villain continued to work. The only noises in the room was the clinking of medical tools against the counter and Hero’s quick inhales of breath at the pain.
When the villain had finally got the bleeding under control, they looked at the Hero sternly.
”Last chance to let me take you to a doctor. I can’t promise all your bones will be straight after I’m done.”
”No hospitals.”
”Right,” Villain let out an exasperated breath. “Okay. Don’t cry about it when you’ve got a crooked leg or something.”
”Don’t make it crooked then.”
Villain laughed. ”At least you’re feeling better, I guess. Or the anesthetic really kicked in.”
”Whatever you gave me works well enough.”
”It’s a drug a friend gave me that numbs quite a bit of shit. Hard to give yourself stitches if you feel it.”
”Right…. Sorry about that...”
”Eh. Not always your fault.” Villain shrugged. “You’ve definitely got me less than some of the others.”
“Well if you’d follow the law…” Hero trailed off, second guessing themself. They weren’t quite sure the law was the long and the short of it anymore.
“Let me guess,” Villain started, holding Hero’s gaze. “You did something your hero buddies didn’t approve of?”
“What?” Hero asked, shocked. There was no way they could have guessed that.
“You are beat to hell. You refuse the hospital. You didn’t call a hero for help and you came crawling to me instead. So… clearly you don’t want the other heroes to know what you did. So what was it? Something illegal? You finally coming to the dark side?”
”Not quite.”
“Not quite…? You really are no fun.”
Hero regretted the laugh they huffed out, wincing as they did.
“I… I shouldn’t really say.”
”Aw, come on,” the villain pouted, “Who would I tell anyway? The heroes? Hell no. You can trust me.”
Hero rolled their eyes. “Yeah, right.”
“You’re here for a reason. I can’t say I helped you solely out of the good of my heart, either, though. I’m curious why you were here and not…well… anywhere else.”
“I thought…” Hero sighed, suddenly not sure if they should say what they were thinking.
“You ‘thought’? That’s a new one,” Villain teased when they didn’t continue their sentence right away. Hero turned their glare to them again.
“I thought,” they started again, “that you’d be the only one to believe me.”
Villain watched them for a while. Studying them. Trying to figure them out and what this could be about without the hero saying.
”And what makes you believe that I, of all people, am going to believe you?”
“Because I think you’ve figured it out already too.”
“Hmm,” Villain tapped their chin with a smile. “This is intriguing. I’m curious to know what you think I know.”
”The superheroes are plotting to kill off a bunch of the villains all at once. And they’re going to use civilians as bait.”
Villain froze. “What?”
”You knew about this already. Didn’t you?”
Villain just stared at them with wide eyes. Perhaps they had miscalculated. Maybe Villain hadn’t known about this, after all. Hero stared back.
“Did Superhero do this to you?” At the sound of their name, Hero shuddered. Their reaction was all Villain needed to know the answer. They grumbled under their breath. “That coward.”
Villain was correct, of course. The one person Hero thought they could go to when they had overheard another group of superheroes talking about a heinous plan to lure and poison hundreds of crime lords and villains all together and kill them off using some well-off civilians as bait was the same person who asked them to join them to pull off that heinous plan.
When Hero had pointed out that the innocent civilians that were unwittingly acting as bait for these supervillains would also perish, Superhero had been so uncaring. In fact, they almost seemed giddy about the plan.
‘It’s perfect! We get rid of some of these wealthy brats that think we’re their personal servants and we get rid of the worst of the worst all at once. If we get those ‘untouchable’ Villains off the streets, the smaller criminals will be terrified. It’s a win-win situation.” Superhero had shrugged. ‘We can swoop in, maybe save one or two of the brats and take down the villains while they are weak and dealing with the poison.”
Of course, Superhero hadn’t been thrilled that Hero disagreed.
‘If you’re not with us, you’re against us.’
The attack caught them by surprise. They never would they have thought Superhero would attack them.
Hero barely escaped being killed on the first blow, dodging just in time. Then Superhero had subdued them and their powers with power-limiting cuffs.
Weeks had passed where Superhero had kept them locked away with very little food or water. Each one seeming less likely that they would ever be let out. They had been running out of hope. Superhero had this idea that Hero would ‘see reason eventually’. But the more Hero argued against this ‘plan’ or even refused to even accept it, they would get angrier. Each beating would last longer. Each injury would hurt worse. Cuts would be deeper. Until finally Superhero had been called away by another superhero in the midst of one of their tempers and had left their cell unlocked.
Their mentor— their friend— had betrayed them… All because they wanted to uphold their integrity. The superheroes integrity. All because they didn’t want to see innocent people perish all because they were ‘annoying’. The superhero they had previously trusted with their life in battle had turned against them at the drop of a hat.
Villain watched as something passed through Hero’s eyes. They might have been looking at them, but it was like they were seeing something else entirely. They were looking right through them. At what Villain was assumed was a memory.
”Hero?” They called gently, not wanting to startle them. They must have anyway, however, because Hero jumped and threw their hands up in defense before slowly realizing where they were and who they were with, lowering their arms again as their eyes cleared from the haze of memories.
”I’ll take that as a yes, then…” Villain chuckled, answering their own question, though they felt no actual joy. Superhero had done this to Hero. Their own mentor. Their superior.
They’d always had an inkling that all the superheroes had no actual morals and that they were just out chasing glory. But now they had clear evidence. Proof. Sitting right in front of them, broken and beaten. And it was worse than they hoped.
”Sorry,” Hero said in a small voice, looking more like a beaten puppy than the usually strong, confident, quick witted hero they were used to seeing.
”Some of your injuries looked older. Some bruising was already healing too.”
”Yeah.”
”It wasn’t the first time they beat you.” It wasn’t a question, but Hero nodded anyway.
”Yeah. they had me locked away for a bit.”
”Locked away? They really are a coward.” Hero laughed and then grimaced.
“I’ll help you.”
Hero looked up at Villian, shocked by their sudden outburst.
“With my ribs?”
”With stopping the superheroes. I’ll help you. We’ll stop them once and for all.”
“How—”
”We’ll figure something out.”
Hero looked down at their knees, thinking for a bit. Then they nodded in agreement. Villain nodded definitively back as well, sealing their unlikely partnership.
”Let’s get your bones back to being straight. Or… almost straight..”
Prompt(s): Paranoia-|-Framed-|-Can't Speak-|-"I don't want to hear it"
Words: ~860
Cw: pet whumpees, punishments
I’m not super thrilled with this one but my brain was being a butt for inspiration so it is what it is.
~~~
Whumpee never liked when Whumper gave any of the other pet whumpees punishments. Despite all of Whumper’s attempts to pit them all against eachother, Whumpee couldn’t find it in themself to hate any of them. Even when the others gladly sent Whumpee to the wolves for things they, themselves, should have been turned to the teeth for instead.
Whumpee never gave up their fellow pet whumpees for a lesser sentence. Not once. Not even if it meant taking a punishment they hadn’t truly deserved.
So when Whumpee’s eyes flicked to the other pet whumpee kneeling behind Whumper— having followed Whumper into the room attempting to look obedient, they knew they were slated for punishment.
“Who was it?”
After presumably denying fault over the broken dishes in the kitchen, Whumps, the other pet, obediently knelt behind Whumper as Whumper liked their pets to do. Looking innocent yet so so guilty.
Whumps’ head was bowed but their lip twitched a bit at the corners. Into a smirk they had trouble keeping off their face. It was clear they had done it. Surely they wouldn’t have done it on purpose, even if they really wanted to frame them. None of the pets would ever risk actually angering Whumper more than they usually were. Least of all Whumps, but it was evident as they knelt there that they had somehow broken the dishes whether it was by accident or not. And it was clear they were happy not to be the one taking the blame.
Whumper likely knew Whumpee wasn’t the one to have broken it. Whumps was the one tasked with the kitchen duty today. But Whumper was probably waiting for them to throw the other under the bus.
They hadn’t yet broken Whumpee enough to double cross the other pets like the other pets do to Whumpee and that angered Whumper more than any disobedience.
Whumpee had been here long before the others. They had endured Whumper’s cruelty far longer. They had been the sole focus for every beating and outburst that Whumper had had for years before them. They could take the pain. They knew they could. And they would endure it for the others as well. Even if they would never do the same for them.
Somehow, it also felt like disobedience, doing this. Even if it benefited the other pets far more than themself, it still gave them the satisfaction that they were doing something Whumper hated. While they couldn’t decide the punishment, they were the one deciding to take it on in the first place.
It wasn’t true control, but after having no other control of their life— always under Whunper’s thumb, waiting to be crushed like a bug at any outburst— this manipulation to make Whumper punish them on their own terms? They would take the little bit of defiance they could get. They would never truly be safe from the beatings. Not while they were still with Whumper.
But this was their decision.
Theirs.
Not the other pets’. Not Whumper’s.
Theirs.
“I did.” Whumpee watched Whumps’ attempt to keep their smirk from showing break down. They smiled as they made eye contact with Whumpee. Malicious. They knew Whumpee wouldn’t rat them out. They had once again gotten away punishment free at the sake of Whumpee instead.
But it wasn’t their decision. It was Whumpee’s.
“Well, Whumps,” Whumper didn’t even turn to the kneeling pet as they addressed them. Instead, their narrowed eyes pierced Whumpee’s. Almost like they knew what Whumpee was doing. And they hated it. “It seems you were right. What do you think we should do to such a clumsy pet so they remember to be more careful, hmm?”
This was another thing Whumper enjoyed doing. Forcing the pets to come up with the punishments for the others. If they chose a something that Whumper thought was inadequate, they would be the ones to take the punishment instead. One that the other then also got to decide. And if they also chose something inadequate, they would both receive punishment. It was in the other’s interest to choose harsh punishments to avoid it themself.
Pit the pets against each other.
And Whumpee always took the fall.
Of their own decision.
“Perhaps push their hands into the glass shards they made of your nice dishes, Master. Leave a few scars on their hands to remind them to use them more carefully.”
Whumper smirked at Whumps’ suggestion.
“Well, now, Whumps,” Whumper chastised, despite looking thrilled at Whump’s answer. “I don’t think leaving them unable to use their hands for any length of time is beneficial for me. However, the glass isn’t such a bad idea.” Whumper’s smirk was evil. Whumps’ was no nicer. Especially after receiving Whumper’s praise. “What do you think, Whumpee?”
Whumpee was terrified to know what Whumper had planned.
They took a deep, steadying breath.
My terms. Mine.
Whumpee smiled, small and obedient, and nodded their head.
Whumpee tried to hold back a sob upon hearing branches snapping in the distance. They held their hand over their mouth to muffle the sound of their panting as they pushed themself closer to the old, fallen tree they crouched behind. They held their tail close to themself with the other hand, feeling it twitch anxiously the closer the crunching sounded.
It’s not fair! How do they keep finding me?! Tears of frustration and fear welled into their eyes.
They’d managed to escape that horrifying place days ago.
Why won’t they just give up. Please! Please please please!
They begged to a god they knew didn’t exist. Even if they did believe, they would never call them a god. Not after the things they’ve seen. The things they’ve been through. No god would allow such horrors.
Perhaps the devil. Perhaps demons. But not a god.
The forest grew eerily silent and Whumpee had to hold their breath not to break the fragility of it. Their heart thumping in their chest was loud enough in their own ears that they could only hope whoever or whatever was chasing them couldn’t hear it too.
Several tense moments, and Whumpee’s lungs burning for air, the thing seemed to make a decision, and trudged through the thick forest overgrowth.
Away from Whumpee.
They didn’t allow themself the breath of relief they wanted to let out. There was never truly any relief. Every time Whumpee thought they’d finally lost their stalker— hunter, their mind corrected, like Whumpee was prey… perhaps they were prey to whatever they had sent after them— they somehow came across something lurking in the distance, inevitably getting closer. Like they somehow knew where Whumpee was. It was only due to sheer luck that whatever it was hadn’t stumbled upon them yet, with how close they kept getting to Whumpee’s hiding places.
The moment Whumpee stopped hearing the branches crackling in the distance, they turned and started walking the other way. Slowly. Quietly. Despite the nerves in their body telling them to run and put as much space in between that thing and themself as possible.
At this point, they’ve been chased around in so many directions, trying to outrun their tail, that they weren’t sure if they were walking towards or away from that awful laboratory they risked their life to escape from.
There was no telling how many people or things were out hunting them. It seemed there were a few different ones. Though they had— thankfully— never gotten close enough to see any of the creatures, they had heard ones that sounded smaller, quicker, nimble. Quiet and comfortable in this terrain. Then there were others that were larger, lumbering, loud. These were harder to get an understanding of their size, but most sounded to be larger than even a human. The difference in noise is how Whumpee guessed that they were likely not all human.
Neither the doctors nor the scientists would be the ones out looking for them.
No. They would have sent one of the experiments out. Perhaps even one of the larger apex predator hybrids to hunt down a small fox hybrid like themself.
Whumpee would have hoped, after days of running, they would have given up on them. But they never seem to be more than a few steps away from being discovered. They always seemed to know exactly where Whumpee was.
They were persistent.
Whumpee didn’t bother stopping the silent tears from rolling down their cheeks at the feeling of hopelessness as they wandered blindly through this forest full of danger.
They had gotten better at walking silently through the woods. They knew where to step to avoid extra crunchy leaves and branches. So when they heard a branch snap so so close, they knew it wasn’t them.
They froze. Hoping beyond hope that it was just a startled animal. That they would scamper away any second.
But it wasn’t. They knew it wasn’t. It sounded far too big for a frightened animal.
Whumpee felt a shiver of dread wash over them. Chilling them.
Something had been waiting. Hiding and ready. Set to ambush them.
It knew where Whumpee was and was waiting for them.
Within the next breath, Whumpee turned and ran. As fast as they could because their life depended on it. They refused to go back to that lab.
It seemed that in the same moment they had turned, whatever-it-was took off towards them as well.
Whumpee, as a fox-hybrid, was quick and nimble.
The thing chasing them was large and hulking but their strides were long and powerful. Where Whumpee ducked and dodged bushes and branches, it simply ran through it.
Whumpee didn’t dare to look back, not willing to risk a misstep, but it sounded like it was right there. Like it could reach one of its long arms and snatch them up at any moment.
Whumpee hadn’t gotten a good look at it before they took off, but it clearly hadn’t been human. It looked like one of those “failed” experiments Whumpee saw occasionally pass their cell.
Oftentime malformed and wretched looking. Some mutations left limbs useless or misplaced entirely. Sometimes it seemed like their body was attempting to eat itself alive. Skin pulled tight and thin over new organs and muscles that it wasn’t ready to accommodate. Some gasped out pained sounds with every breath, like living was painful for them.
The worst were the ones that had to be wheeled passed Whumpee’s cell, looking like mere masses of skin and bones and gore.
They were not like the “promising” specimens that the scientists often spoke about. Those like Whumpee. Those who took to their mutations better.
Whumpee got to recognize some of those “promising” ones since at the end of their hallway— past a few other cells inhabited by animal hybrids— was the ’examination room’. A room of torture under the guise of research.
The promising hybrids always made a return trip back the way they’d come, back to their cells or to another test to be conducted somewhere else in the building.
The failed ones… They never returned. The made the trip down but often the same doctors and scientists that accompanied them would make the trip back alone.
Whumpee always assumed they disposed of them. Now they thought that perhaps they just set them out into this never ending forest to either succumb to their mutations or haunt the forest like the grotesque monsters they’d been forced to become.
Because clearly— terrifyingly— one of those monsters was pounding down on the ground behind them. Long, mutated limbs working to their advantage.
Whumpee sprinted as fast as they could, ignoring the way their shoeless feet bled and burned with every rock and stick that ground into them. They ignored the feeling of branches and thorns and thickets snagging their already thred-bare clothes into tatters. They took turn after turn, hoping to lose the creature with their wild movements. But there was no such luck.
Still they heard it.
Right behind them.
Breathing heavily but seemingly no less tired.
Not like Whumpee, who was feeling every single sleepless night and food-scarce day. They could feel their energy draining from them. Their legs growing tired. But they pushed on.
They would not go back.
They refused.
Never.
“No-!” They screamed out, cut off by the pain they felt. Whumpee’s tail had been tugged back, bringing them to an abrupt stop. They could feel the way the extra muscles that had grown there pulled and strained as they were dragged back towards the creature.
“No! Please!” They pleaded as they dug their fingers into the ground, the roots, anything to try to pull themself away again. They barely felt the way their nail beds screamed and strained every time they caught something hard in the rough ground when they were fighting through the pain of their tail feeling like it was being torn from their body.
“I got ‘em!! I did it!! I caught the fox!!”
Whumpee heard a low chuckle that turned into a high pitched, giggling, terrifying, downright psychotic laugh as long fingernails claw from their tail to their leg to their hip, dragging them closer and closer.
“I win! I win!”
“N-NO! PLEASE! LET ME GO!”
“I WIN! I can go inside! I can eat!”
Suddenly a piercingly loud, high pitched sound echoed through the forest.
“Congratulations, Ex63291. Please bring the hybrid back and you will recieve your reward,” a monotone voice followed, sounding like it was being called through speakers that surrounded them.
Whumpee realized then.
They were never free. They were never even close to being free. They had escaped into another trap. This whole forest was a trap.
They had been hunted for sport. For the failed experiments.
“I caught the fox! I can eat!” The creature digging their claws into their back, pulling them up easily, yelled happily.
