honeyrut

[honeyrut]

Night of horrors

And that’s how I combined 3 damn episodes :]

[honeyrut]

Fanart dump for Home is here the hurt is by @whumblr

I love. I love the characters. The writing is so good. aaaaaaaaaa

[honeyrut]

Request for @butter-and-too-much-bread ! Thank you for the request :)

If anyone has whump ideas they’d like drawn, send it my way and I’d love to give it a shot! I am trying to get back into drawing/posting eheh

[honeyrut]

I cant stop drawing this nasty fucker.

[honeyrut]

Ways they got dragged away

Thrown over the shoulder all tied up and gagged

By the hair, tripping and knees and shins scraping bloody on rocks as they try to keep up

With a gun pressed up under the ear and the other hand firmly gripping their collar

With a hand over their mouth, screaming in pain and terror and struggling against a much stronger whumper

Picked up by several people and thrown bodily into the back of a truck

[honeyrut]

Civilian x Crush kidnapped

TW: lady whump, lady whumpee, male whumpers, multiple whumpers, broken bones, kidnapping, kidnap whump, physical violence against a woman,

please be aware of the tags and don't engage if you don't like lady whump! Thank you :)

*~*~*~*~*

It was pouring out, Civilian realised with a groan, resting her forehead against the office window. “Another late night, Civilian?”

Civilian turned her head to see her crush stopped in the middle of the cubicle, his sweater draped over the crook of his elbow. He was just in his tee shirt that showed his defined arms.

That was just unfair, Civilian thought. Why does he have to have a nice face and body?

“Yeah. I’m trying to finish the report on the increase of Villain activity.”

Crush hummed with a nod and a pretty smile. “It seems we’re always the last two to leave,” said Crush.

“Probably because we have no lives,” Civilian said with a small laugh. Oh god she just said that. Out loud. To her crush. When he was probably gonna think she was a weird, boring loser now. Great. Perfect. And it started to rain heavier. Perfect. As if on cue.

To her utter surprise Crush laughed in reply, and not a forced laugh, like a proper, real one. Civilian could listen to that laugh all day.

“You don’t have to expose us like that, Civilian,” said Crush with a small shake of his head. He cleared his throat and then turned his body more towards Civilian. “Since we’re both workaholics and have no lives, how would you like to grab a drink with me?”

“Now?” Civilian asked, eyes going wide.

She looked like shit, and probably smelled like ink.

“Yeah. Now. Why not? I mean… like only if you want to…”

“Yeah, no. Now works,” said Civilian with a smile and Crush’s shoulders relaxed. Civilian quickly shut down her computer and started to gather her things before putting her jacket on and grabbing her crossbody bag before walking to Crush. He gestured towards the lifts and Civilian smiled and walked with him.

When they got into the lift, Crush pressed the ground floor button and the pair of them leaned against the back wall in silence.

Then they both tried to fill the silence at the same time.

“So what do—”

“This report you’re—”

Then they laughed and both said: “you go first.”

Civilian laughed again as a blush climbed Crush’s neck and coloured his cheeks pink. “I was asking,” Civilian continued. “What keeps you in so late every night?”

“Oh,” said Crush, then opened his mouth and a hesitant hum fell from his lips. His eyes almost nervous at Civilian’s question. “Okay, look. You can’t say it to anyone—”

“My lips are sealed,” said Civilian innocently, miming locking her mouth shut.

Crush smiled and leaned in closer to Civilian his voice dropping to a whisper, “you know the new guy? He covers politics…”

“Oh yeah. I’ve seen him around,” said Civilian, eyes bright as she looked at Crush.

“Yeah. He is such a shit writer,” said Crush and Civilian let out a startled laugh. “Don’t laugh. It’s not funny. I’m in late every night trying to fix it up and make it presentable.”

“No rest for the wicked,” said Civilian with a grin. Crush laughed.

“No,” he agreed. “We must be very wicked.”

“Extremely,” said Civilian, then as the doors open, she looked straight ahead as she added, “I’m going to tell him what you said.”

“Ah no. You can’t do that! I’m supposed to be an unbiased editor.”

“Still,” Civilian teased. Crush grabbed Civilian’s arm, stopping her from going out into the cold wet night. Civilian looked at his hand then up at Crush as he pulled an umbrella from his bag. He stepped out first into the little roofed area and opened the umbrella, holding it high enough for them both to fit under.

Civilian said, “you’re so prepared.”

Crush shook his head. “I just listen to the weather after the news.”

“Then what surprise is left in life, Crush?”

Crush brought her to his local bar just down the road, The Public Domain. Crush told her that a lot of lawyers around the area come drink here too. Civilian smiled politely. Crush always had a good network of people that he trusted for his sources. It always seemed like a secret, and now that he was bringing Civilian here, it felt… well, like he was willing to share it with her.

The bar was buzzing with chatter and life. The smell of carpet dust and stale beer greeted their senses the moment they stepped into it. Crush held the door open with his foot, shaking the excess rain off the umbrella before closing it. He smiled slightly when he caught Civilian’s eye and nodded towards the bar. Civilian got the hint and walked up to it with him. The bar was quaint and bustling with patrons, chatting animatedly, laughter occasionally punctuating the conversations leaving a nice rhythmic lull to the pub.

The barman grinned when he saw Crush. “Another late night, Crush?”

Crush’s hand went to the nape of his neck and rubbed it bashfully, it endeared Civilian to him even more if that was possible.

“Yeah, you got me.”

“The usual?” the barman asked, and Crush smiled and said, “yes. A Guinness please and—” Crush said, looking back at Civilian. He leaned into the barman and held up two fingers. “Actually, two please.”

“Two Guinnesses,” said Crush again, and took out his wallet as did Civilian. Crush pushed her hand back and said: “put that away, I’m getting it. We’re here on my invitation.”

“Fine. I get the next round,” said Civilian.

Crush cocked an eyebrow at her. “So confident we’ll have another.”

“I’m just ensuring you know what you’re in for,” said Civilian with a wink. She thanked Crush for the drink, and they went to a small booth in the back. The conversation flowed easy, easier than Civilian flirting with him in the printer room. Or at the office offering to get Crush a coffee from the canteen because she was going anyway. It was better, more intimate.

The conversation got back to work on her third round of drinks and Crush’s smile was far better looking and almost irresistible. Civilian realised halfway through a story Crush was telling her of work that she could just reach over the table and crush her lips to his and all would be well.

His lips stopped moving, then turned up into a grin. “Civilian?”

“Yeah?”

“I was wondering when you got into current affairs?” Crush asked, his husky laugh making an appearance. Civilian blushed at being caught staring.

“Oh,” said Civilian, trying to think back to when she got interested in current events. “I mean… with all the Hero/ villain stories going around, and our paper not really being Pro or Anti Heroes I just wanted to start reporting the facts. As it happened, so people can witness the unbiased information, the before and after, and make up her own minds about it.”

“And?” Crush asked and Civilian let out a small laugh, lifting her hands in a shrug.

“And… Alice liked the idea and told me to handle the Hero–Villain side of things. It got a lot of positive feedback from our readers too.”

Crush leaned in, resting his elbows on the table. “But why were you interested in it to begin with?”

“I was reading about Hero and how good it is that we have them to help us and stop the Villains running around our city. Praising them to the brim, it was bordering on sycophantic…” Civilian trailed off, taking a sip of her Guinness. Crush smiled and reached over the table, wiping some of the foam off of Civilian’s upper lip with her thumb.

It was as if the world had frozen in that moment between them. Civilian’s heart stopped beating for a fleeting second that stretched into eternity. Crush retracted his hand and licked the foam from his thumb with a secretive smile.

Civilian’s face burned redder than cherries, her cheeks heating up. From all the drinking, Civilian told herself, not anything else. Not how hot Crush was, not at all… they barely noticed.

“And you didn’t like that?” Crush asked with his perfect knowing smile. He knew exactly what caused the blush covering Civilian’s face scarlet and continued on the conversation while they were distracted. As if he didn’t do anything at all.  

Oh no Civilian loved that, she wanted to get more foam on her lip just so he could wipe it off again.

What were they talking about again? Oh god, she was making it so obvious. Think Civilian! Oh yes, Heroes and Villains, oh god, she was making it so obvious. Play it cool, Civilian.  

SPEAK CIVILIAN! A voice screamed at her from the back of her mind, and she blushed again.

“No,” said Civilian, turning the clammy glass around in her hands. She continued thoughtfully, “I don’t like when things get shoved down my throat before I know what shit they’re shovelling. Turns out the Hero agency had donated a very generous sum to the publication and that’s why there was a sudden exposé on how good Heroes were.”

Crush sat back when Civilian stopped talking, a small hidden thing twinkling behind his smile. “What?” Civilian asked, cocking her brow.

“Nothing,” Crush said with his handsome smile.

“No what? What’s that smile for?”

“I just didn’t realise you were so passionate about Heroes and villains from reading your pieces. It’s… you’re very surprising, Civilian.”

Civilian bowed her head and Crush laughed, getting to his feet. “Come on. Let’s get you home.”

Civilian nodded, following Crush out of the booth then out the door to the pub. It had stopped raining. A sheen of water covering the streets the only remnant that it had ever rained. So, when water splashed on the pair of them from a passing car, they could do nothing but laugh.

That laugh got cut off as into a scream as something suddenly slammed into Crush. Civilian whirled a scream of horror in her throat. “Crush!”

Civilian was running after him, deeper into a side street, shoes splashing the puddles up her feet. At the bottom of the alley Civilian saw Crush engaged in a struggle with someone. Civilian pulled pepper spray from her bag and ran up on the pair.

Crush’s eyes found Civilian and widened as he yelled: “Civilian! No— ngh, run! Go!”

“Civilian, hmm?” Civilian turned on her heel, pepper spray aimed and ready at the newcomer, but her wrist was caught in the attacker’s hand, and he twisted it roughly. Civilian cried out, as her attacker twisted her wrist further and plucked the pepper spray from her hand with ease. Her only defence. “How lovely to make your acquaintance.”

Civilian’s eyes went hard, and she balled her hand into a fist. She found her centre in her feet, bending her knees slightly. Then twisted her whole body with the slap that she threw straight for the attacker’s cheek.

The attacker simply caught that wrist too, smiling down at her with a grin that exposed too many teeth. Civilian yanked her wrists down, trying to break free of his grip, but her attacker yanked her forward suddenly and Civilian stumbled, her balance thrown off. Her attacker spun her, so her back was to the attacker’s front, her arm twisted behind her back and pinned there. Then there was a gentle hand on her throat, holding her head up, and when Civilian tried to struggle the attacker lifted her captured arm higher and Civilian cried out.

“Crush. You might want to stop,” said the man holding Civilian. The scuffle came to a pause, Crush’s head lifting to see Civilian and whoever was holding her. His eyes narrowing at the person behind Civilian, but he stopped fighting, nonetheless. Then he got a punch to the face for good measure from his attacker.

“I think…” the man behind Civilian said, “we’re all going to go for a drive, hmm?”

“No,” said Civilian. They were in a public place. Her best weapon was her lungs. So, Civilian opened her mouth and screamed at the top of her lungs for “Help! Help! Somebody help us! Police! Ple-”

The coolness of a blade biting into her neck cut her off. “Keep screaming, they’re so pretty… but I would hate for my knife to slip…”

“Okay. Right Hand,” Crush said, glancing between Civilian and Right hand behind Civilian. “I’ll go with you, just… just let Civilian go.”

A rumbling chuckle from behind Civilian sent a shiver ran down her spine. “Oh no, no, no, Crush. Civilian’s coming along to make sure you behave.”

Civilian’s blood went cold as she looked at Crush’s resolve shattering right in front of her eyes. She wanted to fight. She wanted Crush to fight. To try. To struggle to punch to do something…

“Henchmen take Crush, don’t worry. He won’t put up a fight,” Civilian was pushed forward, and she resisted. Her hand was twisted further up her back, and she winced as she was forced a stepped forward.

“Keep walking or I’ll break your arm, Civilian,” Right Hand said into Civilian’s ear. Civilian obeyed because what else could she do?

At the end of the alley there was a black car parked where they had come in. Which meant these guys had been following them… for how long? Right hand kept pushing Civilian forward and when they got to the car, he pushed Civilian into the backseat then slammed the door shut. They did the same to Crush on the other side and Civilian’s panicked eyes went to Crush who just whispered: “everything will be all right.”

“Why do I get the feeling you know these people?” Civilian whispered back. Her hand went to the door trying to open it, but it wouldn’t budge. Locked. Child locked, no doubt. Jesus fucking Christ, what the fuck is going on? Crush opened her mouth to reply when the two front doors opened and their attackers, Henchman and Right hand, got into the front of the car.

Henchman was in the driver’s seat and took off, while Right Hand turned in his seat and smiled at Civilian. She couldn’t really tell his features from here. It was too dark. Did he have blue eyes? Or brown? And his hair… she’d need to remember something concrete to tell the police when she get free.

If they get free.

“Sorry to interrupt your date, Civilian.”

“Go fuck yourself, Right Hand,” Civilian said in reply. Right hand just laughed and stared forward again.

“You got a keeper there, Crush. You tell her who you are? Or does the little reporter want to figure it out all by themselves?”

Civilian looked out her window, but it was all blacked out. She couldn’t even see her own reflection. Of course. Of fucking course.

Crush spoke next. “Right Hand, let Civilian go, okay? I’ll come willingly.”

“You’re coming willingly now, Crush.”

“For now,” Crush threatened, his voice taking on a completely different tone than Civilian was ever used to. Ever knew Crush was capable of.

“Put your claws back in,” said Right Hand dismissive. “We’re almost there now anyways. Besides… you wouldn’t risk putting poor Civilian in danger by trying to stop the car and be a hero now, would you?”

Civilian glanced at Crush from the corner of her eye, her heart hammering in her chest but he wouldn’t look at her. Civilian put her hand out, resting it on the middle seat. Crush put his hand in theirs, lacing his fingers through hers and squeezing gently.

When the car stopped Henchman and Right Hand got out of the car. Civilian’s door opened first, and she was grabbed by the arm and pulled out. She looked into the face of Right Hand, who was still smiling down at her. She mustered up her best glare in return. Right Hand just pushed her in front of him again and told her to walk.

Civilian did just that, trying to take in everything around her. Figure out where they were but all she saw was a garage made of cinder bricks and concrete floors. Then a door opened to them, and Right Hand pushed her through. It just led to a larger room. A man stood at the opposite wall, his back to them as they entered. Right Hand’s grip tightened on Civilian’s arm when he felt Civilian almost stop.

“The prodigal son returns,” said Right Hand to the man ahead of them. Civilian looked over their shoulder, trying to find Crush, but a hand squeezed her cheeks and dragged their gaze to face forward again.

Crush spoke and Civilian’s head flooded with relief. He was still here. Civilian wasn’t alone. They were fine. He was fine.

“I’m not saying shit until you let Civilian go,” said Crush to the room. Then a grunt of pain and Civilian shot forward to help and was yanked back by her hair with a yelp.

The man finally turned to face the group and Civilian’s breath caught in her throat. That was Supervillain. That man was the Supervillain. Civilian and Crush were taken here to see Supervillain?! But then that means the person holding Civilian was… Right hand… Supervillain’s right hand. Civilian felt all the blood drain from her face as a small laugh sounded above her. Civilian took an involuntary step back, but just hit Right Hand’s chest.

“Oh, not so brave now, are we?” Right hand asked and Civilian couldn’t find it in herself to reply.

Supervillain approached them. Fine shoes clacking off concrete, echoing. Civilian didn’t dare breathe as Supervillain came closer and closer to her. Supervillain was taller than Civilian. Taller. Broader. Crueller. Instead of going to Crush he walked right up to Civilian and Right hand pushed her forward, letting go of her hair and arm.

Civilian felt very cold and exposed like this. She nearly missed Right Hand’s brutal hold on her. Supervillain looked down at her without a hint of an expression on his face. He looked almost alien. Cold.

Supervillain took Civilian’s hand in his and pulled it up as if to inspect it. Civilian let him. She hated herself for it, but Supervillain killed people, this wasn’t a time to be brave.

“You’ve been gone too long, Crush,” said Supervillain simply. His voice sent shivers down Civilian’s spine. Then Civilian was screaming, white hot pain burst behind her eyes as a resounding crack tore through her hand. Her legs went to jelly, and she wanted to be sick, but she just put her other hand out for support against the only other solid thing there: which happened to be Supervillain.

“LET HER GO! She has nothing to do with this!” Crush yelled. Distantly Civilian was aware of the scuffle behind her. That Crush was probably trying to get to her, but it didn’t matter because that wouldn’t stop the pain in her wrist from burning.

“Are you going to keep making demands, Crush? Because there are 206 bones in Civilian’s body, and I can break as many as you need to remind you of who has the power here.”

Civilian was shivering at the threat. Or the pain. She didn’t know.

“Please…” Crush again. “Please let them go.”

“No,” said Supervillain, and Civilian wanted to throw up. She wasn’t sober enough to deal with this shit. A hand on her chin tilted her head up to look Villain in the eye. “Just a hairline fracture, my dear. Nothing to worry about. Right hand?”

Civilian felt Right hand’s hand on her shoulder again and she nearly sagged against him. “If Crush decides to make any more demands break something else of her.”

“I won’t,” Crush said quickly, the words rushed out panicky and desperate. Then cleared his throat and said again: “I won’t, sir.”

“Good,” said Supervillain, eyes going between the two of his captives. “Let’s begin again then, shall we?"

[honeyrut]

Febuwhump Day 15: "Who did this to you?"

Content warning: drunk Whumpee, noncon kissing, kidnapping, intimate whumper

By the time Whumpee stumbled out of the bar, reeking of cheap booze and cigarette smoke, it was already pitch black outside. The air was frigid, snow an ugly slurry of refrozen water and dirt beneath their feet.

It was absolutely miserable out, and if the bartender hadn’t cut them off, they would’ve stumbled back in for another drink.

Whumpee sighed, half spoken curses leaving their lips. They squinted into the dark, looking for a sign, a landmark, anything that would help them remember the way back home. Or to another bar.

“It’s a beautiful night out, isn’t it?” a voice asked, suddenly beside them.

Whumpee turned towards the noise, squinting as a lanky figure had moved to stand beside them. Their face was turned up towards the night sky, though their gaze flicked downward to glance as Whumpee.

Whumpee hadn’t even heard them approach.

“Who the hell are you?” They slurred, drunken indignance on their face.

The figure smiled, cheeks painted red from the cold. They gave a theoretical half bow. “Whumper. Consider me a…friend.”

Whumee didn’t want a friend right now. “Fuck off.”

Whumper only laughed in response, and there was something so light, so unbothered in the noise that Whumpee felt their anger slipping away. They watched as Whumper dug into their pocket, pulling out a pack of cigarettes. They elegantly lifted one from the package, offering it to Whumpee like a peace offering.

The cigarette was from their brand, back before they’d quit a few months ago. Distantly, they knew they should refuse. But it was late, and they were tired, and it wasn’t as if they’d gone out to get blackout drunk for their health.

Whumpee took the cigarette from Whumper’s hand, fingers brushing against theirs. Whumper’s fingers were boney and thin, almost delicate.

Whumper gave a pleased hum, stuffing the pack back into their pocket. A moment later, they were offering Whumpee a light. Whumpee accepted it without a word.

They took a deep inhale, warmth filling their lungs. The smoke tasted like chemicals on their tongue, unfamiliar in a way that caught them off guard. They must’ve forgotten how horrible they tasted.

The smoke left their mouth in a cloud, floating into the air.

And then the two of them were walking.

They were the only two on the street. The pair walked side-by-side beside empty roads, passing rows of shops long closed for the night. The only sound was the crunch of snow.

Whumpee’s footsteps were uncoordinated and wobbly, like a child still learning to walk. Each footfall threatened to send them stumbling to the ground, ice and snow working diligently against what little balance they had left.

Each time the ice got the better of them and they began to fall, a firm hand would set them on their feet again, lingering only long enough to ensure they’d remain upright.

Whumper effortlessly glided through the snow beside them, footsteps sure. There was a smile on their face, perfectly content, almost giddy. As if stopping a drunk from bashing their face on the cement was their favorite pastime.

Distantly, Whumpee wondered if they’d overdone it with the drinks. They took another inhale of the cigarette, smoke still foul in their mouth.

“Who did this to you?”

It took their mind a long moment to realize the silence had been broken.They turned, meeting Whumper’s eyes. “What?”

“This,darling,” they gestured to Whumpee’s disheveled state, a frown coming to their face. “A pretty thing like you, all twisted up with anger and grief, drowning your sorrows late at night. Who sent you there?”

“I…”

They’d done it to themselves, they knew. Like always. Because they always messed things up. Because they never saw things breaking apart until they were cutting their feet on the shards.

Because there was something wrong with them. They were stupid. so, so damn stupid. Because Caretaker–

Look I can’t–I can’t do this anymore. Whumpee, I can’t–

Because Caretaker deserved someone better than them.

The truth felt like a slap in the face. They took another drag, burning it until heat danced across their fingers, deep and choking, and prayed it would chase it away.

“It was Caretaker, wasn’t it?”

Whumpee could only nod, tears stinging their eyes. Had they mentioned Caretaker? They didn’t remember. “H-how do you–”

“They’re a idiot. An absolute moron, to not see how special you are,” Whumper interrupted them, voice sharpening. The change in tone was so dramatic, for a moment, Whumpee had to turn to confirm that the same stranger stood beside them.

Whumper’s gaze turned to them. Sharp, bright, so intense it stopped Whumpee in their place. “They looked at you and didn’t realize it was a honor to have your attention. They were blind, Whumpee. I would never do something so stupid. If I had something as valuable, as perfect to myself as you, I would never let go.”

“N-no I– fuck, it was my fault–,” The words fell out of them, unorganized snippets of half formed thoughts. They didn’t even know what they were trying to say.

Was this normal? The tension in Whumper’s words, the anger, all for a stranger they’d only just met? They didn’t know. Something was whispering in Whumpee’s head, anxious and frantic underneath the layers of haze. A warning alarm in the far distance, barely audible.

They didn’t want to think about it. They wanted to take any comfort they could, wrap themselves in the stranger’s anger and forget their hurt.

And yet there was that alarm, distant and full of warning. They could barely hear it, but they couldn’t ignore it either.

Hazy eyes glanced at their surroundings, and for the first time that night, Whumpee realized that they didn’t recognize the direction their feet had taken them. This wasn’t their street, it wasn’t even near their street. They didn’t recognize a single thing around them.

How had they gotten there? Had Whumper been following them as they walked aimlessly, or was Whumpee letting themselves be led to nowhere? They didn’t know.

They blinked, shaking their head in hopes of regaining any semblance of sobriety. Instead their vision smeared, a wave of dizziness hitting with such force that their legs gave out beneath them.

A pair of boney hands grabbed them.

“I’ve got you. Shh, I won’t let you fall, I promise.” The words were whispered against the shell of their ear. Whumper pulled them to their feet, moving one of Whumpee’s arms to rest over their shoulder. Their hand found a spot on Whumpee’s waist and didn’t let go.

And then they were moving again, Whumper guiding them Whumpee could barely get their legs to work. They could only stumble along, The ground shifting unnaturally beneath them as they were all but carried along. They found their eyes slipping shut without their permission.

Whumpee’s head felt light on their shoulders, like it would separate from their body and float away. Their body felt so, so heavy. They didn’t know how Whumper was managing to carry them.

They weren’t a lightweight. They knew they’d drunk too much, but it shouldn’t have been this hard to stand. It shouldn’t be so hard to pull a thought together.

They blinked their eyes back open at the sound of a car door opening. Before they could speak, they were being rearranged, boneless body being all but carried into the passenger seat.

They wanted to say something, but the words turned to smoke in their mouth. The door was closed shut behind them.

A moment later, they heard Whumper slide into the driver’s seat. The car came to life beneath them.

Whumpee felt a hand run through their hair, the touch nearly revenant.

“I love you. I adore you; from the moment I saw you, I knew we were destined to be together,” their words were barely a whisper, but it filled the small space. They felt Whumper’s breath brushing against their face.

Whumpee tried to pull away, but there was nowhere to go.

“You don’t know how long I’ve waited, how much it hurt to watch someone else touch what was mine. But we’re together now, finally. I’ll never hurt you like they did,”

Whumper leaned close, and the only resistance Whumpee could muster was a feeble hand against Whumper’s chest.

When a mouth pressed against their own, insistent and bruising, Whumpee couldn’t couldn’t move. They simply sat limply, mouth ajar as Whumper’s tongue moved.

When Whumper finally pulled away, they were panting, the smile so wide on their face it looked painful. Whumpee was barely awake anymore.

“I’ll take care of you. I promise.”

[honeyrut]

Whumpee is kidnapped. Whumper threatens them with torture if they fail to do the daily tasks they are given. Whumpee spends the first night awake shaking with terror, dreading what Whumper is going to make them do the following day, but in the morning Whumper walks into the cell, throwing their phone at Whumpee and is like “you’re going to help me pass this fucking frustrating Candy Crush level or else…”

[honeyrut]

“One-“

“I don’t know anything! I don’t-“

“Two-”

“Please! Please, I swear!”

“Three.”

“No! No no no no please.”

“Alright deep breath for me,” the whumper moved their grip to the next finger on the whumpee’s hand, “Ready?”

The whumpee whimpered, shaking their head weakly, “please-” their own scream cut their begging short as the whumper wrenched their finger back. A sickening crack echoed through the room.

“Please please- I don’t know anything, please.” The whumpee sobbed, writhing in their seat, but barely able to move as rope held them fast at the wrists and ankles. Three of their fingers were bent at a horrible, unnatural angle.

“You have 7 more chances.”

Snot and tears flowed down the whumpee’s face, “Please!” Their voice was ran ragged from hours of begging, “I don’t know anything, I don’t- please I promise,” they could barely make out words in between hitching sobs.

The whumper didn’t falter, taking hold of the next finger, “I’m going to give you until the count of three.”

[honeyrut]

Never gets old.

[honeyrut]

Yeah i too was hoping for something more... whump? Instead of whatever happened in the tek cave scene...

But i gotta admit though, i think hughie panicking with tears in his eyes after tek knight took off his mask was quite a good whump moment?? Or maybe thats just me idk

no, I'm with you, i liked when he panicked and the scene after it when he was about to get cut and then got rescued.

what's before it is what i hate, and what i hate more is the knowledge that the writers intended the scene to be a joke.. it seriously killed my excitement for the series.

[honeyrut]

SEASON 4 EPISODE 6 SPOILERS

---

Ashley unknowingly SAing Hughie was definitely NOT on my bingo card for this season 😭

[honeyrut]

Whumpee wakes up, immediately realizing they can't move. They're gagged and blindfolded, their wrist and feet are tightly bound with duct tape.

Whumpee panics, muffling a series of scared noises. No one tells them to be quoit or to stop, so they keep getting more and more frantic-

Finally, a voice speaks in front of them "Don't make me regret not putting you in the trunk.

[honeyrut]

My Home Hero - Ep 09

[honeyrut]

An Offer You Can't Refuse- Part 1

Hero stirred to the sound of muffled voices. They tried to open their eyes, but there was a weight over them preventing them from doing so. They tried to move something, but that also proved futile as something thick and unyielding kept their limbs pressed tightly together. Some kind of cloth had been stuffed in their mouth, and judging by the sticky feeling on the lower half of their face, had been sealed shut with tape.

Hero wriggled in their restraints. They couldn’t stretch out much; padded, soft walls from all sides kept them tucked in a fetal position. How were they going to get out of this? They couldn’t see, speak, or move. They summoned their power, but any ice crystals that they formed couldn’t penetrate the uncomfortably tight material that encased them.

How did they even end up in this situation? The last thing they remembered was… oh. The fight with Villain. They never exactly played fair, but they really took that to another level when they hit Hero from behind with some kind of knockout dart.

“And now, what you’ve all come here for!” a muffled voice- Villain’s- rang out.

The voices became clearer as cool air wafted into the tight space. Villain must have opened the lid to the box they were in. Gasps and noises of awe sounded out from all around them.

Hero glared under the blindfold. They were ready for a fight. They were just about to try and sit up when there was a jab in their shoulder. Their body sank into the padded floor against their will, and Hero let out a very muffled cry.

“The city’s beloved human blizzard, Hero!” Villain announced, “you couldn’t hope for a better living weapon. With some training, you’ll be able to freeze out any adversary with one command! Let’s start the bidding at, say, five hundred dollars?”

“Five hundred dollars!”

Hero stiffened in shock. Was Villain really doing this!? They tried to fight the drug, but it was quickly pulling them under.

“Five hundred, do I hear six hundred?”

“Six hundred!”

“Six hundred, do I hear seven hundred?”

“One thousand!”

This went on for some time, the numbers going farther up and Hero growing more drowsy.

“five hundred thousand.”

“Five hundred thousand from General in the back, do I hear six hundred thousand? Going once… going twice…”

“One million,” a voice said.

The crowd gasped.

“O-one million dollars,” Villain said, surprise in their voice, “Will you meet that, General?”

“Two million dollars.”

“Two million dollars, how about it, Mx…?”

“Supervillain,” the voice replied, “three million dollars.”

The crowd gasped again.

Hero was too tired to be properly afraid. Their fate was down to the military, or to the most feared leader of the largest criminal syndicate in the world. Somewhere in the back of their mind they wished one of those corrupt politicians had bought them instead.

“Three million dollars, General?”

“Four million dollars.”

“Eight million dollars,” Supervillain replied coolly.

“Eight million dollars. General? Going once…”

“Nine million dollars.”

“One hundred million dollars,” Supervillain said.

“O-one hundred million dollars!” Villain squeaked, “going once, going twice…General? No? Then sold! Please have your payment presented in cash to me by the end of the week. Congratulations, Supervillain.”

The lid of the box was closed, and Hero drifted off completely.

Part 2

[honeyrut]

Christmas Snippet 2023

Supervillain had just finished making a steaming mug of hot chocolate when the doorbell rang.

“Who could that be at this hour?” they wondered.

They approached the front door to their mansion. It had better not be any Christmas carolers, they didn’t have the time or patience for that. Supervillain opened the door and saw no one. Oh brother, a ding-dong ditcher? On Christmas Eve? Supervillain was about to close the door when something brightly colored caught their eye.

A large parcel lay on their doorstep, brightly wrapped in red and green paper and topped with a gold bow. Supervillain tilted their head, puzzled. They usually didn’t receive gifts from anyone this time of year- or any time for that matter- unless it was a trap. Supervillain bent down to examine it. They picked up a small, glitter-covered tag and read a neatly scribbled note.

To: Supervillain

From: Superhero

May this Christmas gift be an offering of peace

Supervillain scoffed. Definitely a trap then. They were just about to close the door when they heard a very faint whimper from inside the box. Their eyes widened. That better not have been what they thought it was. They lifted the box with their powers- it was quite heavy- and hastily brought it inside, closing the door behind them.

Supervillain worked quickly to tear off the paper. Underneath was a thick, metal box. Lifting the lid, Supervillain held in a gasp at what they saw. Nestled in the padded box was Hero, a gas mask strapped to their face and several straps restraining them tightly. Angry, purple bruises and red gashes littered their battered body, and their suit was in tatters. One of their eyes was black and swollen, and they had burn marks between some of the gashes. Hero had put up quite a fight before ending up in the box. They whimpered in their sleep, as even their dreams couldn’t remove the pain.

Supervillain quickly undid the straps and pulled off the gas mask, gently lifting Hero into their arms. They carried the crime-fighter over to the couch and laid them down, leaving to get a med kit.

…

Hero stirred on a soft surface. They opened bleary eyes to a grand yet cozy living room. They tried to sit up, but strong hands pushed them back down.

“No, no, stay down,” a voice said, “you’re very hurt.”

Hero’s vision cleared up and their eyes widened.

“S-Supervillain-”

“Shh, yes, it’s me,” Supervillain admitted, “it’s alright, I won’t hurt you. It seems Superhero’s done enough of that already.”

Hero sniffled, tears brimming in their eyes.

“M-my whole team, actually,” Hero said, wiping their tears.

Supervillain stiffened, their gaze becoming dark and hard.

“What?”

“I…I shouldn’t have said that. Forget I said anything.”

Supervillain took one of Hero’s hands- it was heavily bandaged- and looked them in the eye.

“You are going to tell me everything now,” they said, “or I will kill all of them this very minute.”

Hero blinked in fear, and Supervillain sighed.

“Please,” they added, their tone softer, “tell me what happened.”

Hero gulped, and told Supervillain everything.

The plan was Superhero’s. Supervillain had been wreaking havoc on the city since Thanksgiving, and enough was enough. The heroes weren’t strong enough to stop them, but maybe if they had a peace offering…

“Hero,” Superhero had said, “meet me in the training room, please.”

Hero thought it was an odd request, considering it was Christmas Eve, but they didn’t have any plans, so they did as they were told. Once they arrived, the doors swung shut behind them, locking in place.

“Superhero?” Hero asked, “what is this?”

“I’m sorry, Hero,” the older crime-fighter said, “you’ve been a loyal upholder of justice, but we need results now.”

Hero’s team came out of the shadows, surrounding them.

“I hope you understand.”

“Superhero, wait-”

The blast of fire came from the left, the electricity from the right, and the throwing stars went right into their back. Hero cried out, forming an ice dome to shield themselves. Superhero slammed their fists into it, making it shatter. They landed a few good hits right to Hero’s face, while Vigilante got them a few times with a knife. Every attempt Hero made to fight back was weakened by Teammate 1’s fire and Teammate 2’s electricity.

‘Stop it! Stop it!” Hero screamed, “I haven’t done anything!”

Eventually, Superhero put them out of their misery. A sharp pinch in their neck, and Hero quickly went limp. Their former team stepped away to let them breathe.

“Why?” Hero breathed tearfully.

“It had to be someone, Hero,” Superhero said, “you just happened to be the weak link.”

Hero’s vision faded just as Vigilante approached them with the straps.

The room was silent for what felt like an eternity.

“I’ll murder each and every one of them,” Supervillain promised quietly.

“But you said you’d kill them if I didn’t tell you!” Hero protested.

“My dear little Hero,” Supervillain said gently, cupping the side of Hero’s face with a hand, “they don’t deserve your mercy.”

“Please, Supervillain, don’t kill them, I don’t want that on my conscience-”

“Your conscience? You’ve done nothing wrong, and it is no fault of yours if I make myself the consequence of their actions.”

“Please,” Hero begged, fresh tears forming, “it’s Christmas!”

Supervillain sighed. They scanned Hero’s mangled body, their wounds covered in bandages and their eyes pleading.

“I will spare their lives for now,” Supervillain said, “if only for your sake.”

“Thank you, Supervillain,” Hero said softly, “could you please take me home?”

Supervillain paused, then shook their head.

“Don’t those so-called heroes know where you live?” they prompted gently.

Hero’s face fell.

“…Yeah… yeah they do.”

“I will go by your house and get your things for you,” Supervillain offered, “you’ll be safe with me.”

Supervillain got up to leave. They turned to Hero one last time.

“Try to rest, little one,” they said, “I’ll be back soon.”

Hero nodded, settling into the couch. They drifted off shortly after Supervillain left.

…

By the time Supervillain returned, all the news channels were reporting the vicious attack on the hero team. Teammate 1 had third degree burns littering their entire body, Teammate 2’s scarred body was still twitching and spasming from the repeated exposure to electric currents, Vigilante looked like a pin cushion with all the sharp weapons stabbed into them, but Superhero? Superhero was on a ventilator, every bone broken, their lips and fingertips blue from stage four hypothermia, and one lung collapsed.

Supervillain kept the TV off; Hero didn’t need to see any of that, it would only distress them further. Supervillain, however, needed the closure. Turns out revenge made an excellent Christmas gift to oneself.

[honeyrut]

The Hero and the Infant: part one

Is this title my cheeky little nod at EPIC the musical? Absolutely, enjoyyyyy!

*~*~*~*~*

The heroes came running when the world was on fire. They always came running. Hero was at the bar, where they always were, watching the news. A neat whiskey clutched between bandaged fingers.

The door slammed open. Hero didn’t have to turn to know it was Superhero’s sidekick. “Hero –”

“Not interested.”

“But Villain –”

“I know. Don’t care,” Hero replied. Daryl, the bartender, shot Hero a look and Hero pretended to not see it.

Sidekick sat on the stool next to Hero and ordered another: “whiskey; neat.”

“Mmm, I love being bribed,” Hero smiled, winking at Daryl.

“Villain’s destroying the city.”

“I didn’t ask.”

“And you’re here, drinking.”

“Perceptive,” Hero purred, taking the whiskey glass from Daryl and pouring the honey liquid of it into their glass. “They’re a minor,” Hero whispered to Daryl conspiratorially.

“I’m not.”

“Well, then. You’re on the clock. Can’t fight crime if you’re impaired.”

“And yet somehow you manage.”

“Somehow, I’m always called in on my day off. Blame your boss for disrupting my plans. Not the other way around, sunshine.”

Hero took a sip of their drink. In their peripheral vision they saw Sidekick turn their body to face Hero. Mmm, getting serious. Hero loved serious Sidekick. It’s like a puppy trying to be mean.

“You know Villain best –”

“Bullshit. Your Superhero knows them longest.”

“Villain likes you best,” Sidekick amended, and Hero nodded.

“So? Are we match making heroes and villains now? Is that Superhero’s excuse, hmm? Will that same explanation slide if I come up against a new villain?” Hero put on a high-pitched voice as they said: “oh I’m sorry superhero. This new villain’s rising sign is Virgo. I’m a Scorpio, we’re gonna clash.”

“This is different, and you know it.”

“How is this different? Because your beloved Superhero says so? Are you just a little dog with no mind of your own? Does Superhero whistle and you come?”

“I’m not here to trade insults, Hero. God knows that could well be your superpower,” Hero took the words as a compliment as the kid continued: “I’m here to ask you to help me stop people’s lives being ruined. Normal people’s lives. Fuck Superhero. Fuck villain. Fuck the whole fucking system. I’m here to ask you, to help me. Please.”

Hero looked at Daryl and Daryl looked at them. Hero rolled their eyes and tipped their head back, the whiskey running hot down their aching throat. Then they stood. Empty glass on the bar. Hero shrugged their trench coat on and patted Sidekick’s shoulder fondly.

“Pay Daryl for me will ya? And a big tip, for the inconvenience. See you tomorrow, Daryl,” Hero waved over their shoulder. Whistling as they walked out the door of their local pub.

“Thanks Daryl,” Sidekick said, paying the man and leaving a generous tip.

“Thank me all you want kid. Hero’ll just be back in here after the fight. It’s good to see them getting out, even if it is under these circumstances. Y’know ever since –”

“I know, Daryl. Thanks.”

“Later kid.”

Sidekick followed Hero out the door, where Hero was waiting a lit cigarette hanging from their lips.

“So,” Hero asked, flicking their zippo lighter shut with a satisfying click, shooting Sidekick their signature lazy smirk. “What’s Villain up to today?”

*~*~*~*~*

Continued here