#feverish supervillain

[thelesbianoffrontiers]

Johanna Hezenkoss’s character description! (From here)

HEZENKOSS

AGERANGE: 50

CHARACTERDESCRIPTION: Arrogant, supremely confident, and spiteful, Johanna Hezenkoss is a "mad-genius" necromancer supervillain with grand plans to conquer the kingdom of Nevarra. Hezenkoss is all feverish energy and big, sudden gestures. She is constantly fueled by an overwhelming ambition and rage. Hezenkoss is probably as intelligent as she boasts, incredibly powerful, and filled with a seething resentment that people try to keep stopping her from ruling everything. Foremost among these people is Emmrich Volkarin, her former friend and fellow necromancer.

Johanna and Emmrich have known each other for decades-they used to work on magical research together in the Mourn Watch, an elite order of Necromancers. They had a falling out when a power-hungry Johanna started practicing forbidden necromancy and was kicked out of the Watchers for it. Ever since then, Johanna and Emmrich have clashed as he's tried to stop her villanous schemes. In this game, Hezenkoss has crafted her most diabolical plan yet: a 10-story tall bone golem that can drain peoples' souls and crush anything in its path. She'll stop at nothing to complete it so she can take over Nevarra's capital city. Emmrich and his new friend Rook, frustratingly, stand in her way.

[kriosthefifthssideblogforocart]

Fatal Faction Combatant #79

Hino Corona

Backstory:

In the great metropolis of Heart City, Idaho, United States, there are many criminal organizations with dealings with the supernatural, the alien, the supervillain, and the time displaced, in order to gain control of chaotic city of powers and combatants.

One of these organizations is the Corona Mafia, who's heir, Ignazio Corona, married Yamaguchi Noriko, daughter of the head of the Yamauchi Gumi, the largest yakuza in Heart City.

Their daughter, Hino Corona, is a skilled martial artist, and an accomplished athlete. Years ago, she started a relationship with one Mirko Drago, eldest son and heir to the Drago Mafia, largest in Heart City.

When Alphonse Drago was approached by Lord Tear, alien geneticist and mad scientist, to fight alongside each other, Alphonse and his daughter Mia tricked Hino into accepting his offer of super powers.

Hino was given power over fire, fire generation and manipulation. However, as a side effect, she has gone "mad." The results of the experiment mean she is constantly in pain, unable to focus, surging with adrenaline, and in a feverish state of being unable to focus or make decisions clearly.

[lastavenged]

@biitchcakes sent in an ask from the BREAKFAST IN BED prompts -> "I know you had a rough week, so I thought this might brighten your morning."

There has got to be some saying that she should have heed the advice of about JINX. Somewhere someone something wiser could have warned that she shouldn't get too comfortable with where her life was at the given moment ⸻ oh, wait, she's an APEX MYSTICAL WARRIOR of the Cat People; hairs did stand on end when there was trouble was horizon.

Yet it didn't warn her about THIS WEEK. There were things that she knew about; everything that was happening with Moon Knight and the Midnight Mission was more than enough trouble to leave her tense.

She shouldn't have known that thinking LIFE WAS GOOD. Her husband wasn't going to get shot this week, your sort of boyfriend didn't try to kill himself, your sort-boyfriend the second time was not your boyfriend but a green alien in disguise ⸻ life could be real crummy but now she's proud mother a five year old and her best friend is her girlfriend. That's peak of the good, the best her life has ever been.

So Marc died; one of her oldest hero friends. There was a sensation that warned her this was coming; that sacrifice was necessary. That happened this week. Another thing that happened was that Hank was alive (that's a can of worms; or ants a better term). She didn't want to open that door; her son's father-not-father especially when William did ask about him and it was always easier to lie knowing the skrull "father" was dead and deal with Hank being dead too.

CRUMMY FUTZING WEEK ⸻ on top of that, the week started off with William being feverish and finding every reason to throw a fit. It's been a bad week, she's over it. With one person dying (she promised to carry on the Midnight Mission) to Janet Van Dyne warning her that Hank may be alive (she should check on Nadia; William's half-ish sister).

Tigra does not sulk, but Greer absolutely does and that is what she was doing. Curled up in bed, blankets wrapped around like it was a nest. William could set the kitchen on fire today for all she cared, he's five and he can handle getting up in the mornings by himself. There was one thing that Greer could say she raised him well. He was sufficient with Supervillain Protocol.

The point being she wasn't getting up, and she's ever put on the sound machine to drown out the rest of the world and hyper sensitive hearing. She does hear William shout something, but he sounds happy. Someone familiar, he's smart kid about people at least. So Greer doesn't budge from her bed until the door opens; the sound of cartoons from the tv in the living room is loud but it's William who enters. THE SCENT OF COOKED MEATS FILLS HER SENSES.

There had been noise in the kitchen; a good smell too and it's all starting to make some sense. Greer rises up to find Jess with a plate of bacon, round ham slices, and other meats all sizzled up. That earns her girlfriend a purr right from the throat. SHE'S THE GODDAMN BEST. ❝ Jessie! ❞ She whines, reaching her hand out to pat next to her on the bed. A demand for her to join her, partly because breakfast does sound suddenly amazing (and starving herself from a sour mood is an awful idea).

❝ You don't even want to know the week. ❞ She really didn't, and she would vent about it later. Right now, there's a plate of meat with her name on it and a girlfriend that she's going to lay on top of until she absolutely had to get up if William or Jerry (she's assuming he's here too) needed them (her and Jess were a joint package now that the Spiderwoman was here).

❝ MMFTH! ❞ The woman makes a sound as she picks up a slice of meat eating it then takes a strip of bacon to pass to Jessica. ❝ You better kiss me too, gorgeous. ❞ She doesn't care if they both have bacon breath as she leans over to knock shoulders with her then kisses her. Morning brighten, or the prospect of being a literal sour puss with Jessica around was a lot better than being gloomy about her week alone.

[star-anise]

Other things that come to mind with this topic: True crime. I've been seeing criticism of it become more and more intense following the pandemic lockdown podcast boom, and the rise of women obsessed with the topic.

And yes, true crime, as the direct commentary on real life people's deep traumas, guilt, innocence, and fundamental rights, is a fundamentally problematic genre. How we tell these stories is the crux of everything; a legal trial is literally two narratives going to war with each other. Then the narratives and statistics of all these single cases get braided into a whole narrative that affects social attitudes and government policy. So yes, this does truly matter.

But I can't stop thinking about "Ripperology", over a century of feverish speculation about the identity and crimes of Jack the Ripper. The fandom's greatest hits include retired police detectives, amateur historians, East End walking tours, and a fish and chip shop named Jack the Chipper. The average history of the case is extremely whorephobic copaganda that's only really interested in the victims when they become corpses. Some Ripperologists become deeply upset when modern historians re-evaluate the evidence and come up with possible narratives that paint the "Ripper" as much less of a suave and deadly supervillain, into some creep who snuck up on homeless women when they were asleep.

Or "parasocial relationships". There has been a little bit of academic work on the parasocial relationships fans have with professional athletes, and how being the target of intense emotions and expectations and creepiness and stalking has been toxic and abusive to the athletes. But if you think Kpop stans flip their lids when they're called out on this, you should see NFL fans when it's suggested the rules of their beloved game should change a little bit to reduce the number of athletes retiring due to permanent brain damage, and also, being hated and abused by the entire city and/or country you live in is not going to increase a performance athlete's likelihood of doing an extra good job.

Yes, I absolutely do believe it's worth taking a critical gaze at romance novels and films, where "critical" means "assessing and evaluating" and not "find everything wrong with it". And yes, I'm okay with men doing this too.

But also, I somehow think that if I, as a woman, launched a Youtube channel where I read military novels and watched action movies and invited military women to laugh with me at all their silly or improbable or problematic bits, I would not get nearly the same reaction as men reviewing EL James novels.

It's that annoying thing where one does not have to be intentionally misogynistic to be in a misogynistic system, and being on the internet often means that the audience, reach, and social impact you plan on having frequently bears no resemblance to the audience, reach, and social impact you do have.

Also there's a bit of an accountability paradox, where making gestures towards a movement, like feminism, seems to include in its social contract an implicit agreement to be open to criticism when one fails from a feminist lens. Which means that something that seems directed to a hugely female audience feels inherently like a more fitting target for feminist criticism than other things that are objectively worse, but have never made any gestures towards feminism at all.

[turnthetablesonthem]

Darkness Falls - 10

Warnings: panic attack, begging, past collar mention, panic attack, hurt/comfort.

Taglist: @purple-heart-x, @whumpwillow, @briars7, @shydragonrider, @whumpsday, @kira-the-whump-enthusiast, @mylifeisonthebookshelf, @interdimensional-chaos @wolfeyedwitch, @elrys-creates

Note: Joey is a king

_______

Nemesis watched Slipknot shift in his sleep, mumbling something she couldn’t make out.

His fever didn’t seem to be coming down, which concerned her. She looked up as Joey entered.

“Why don’t you take a break, Nemo?” He asked quietly. “You’ve been here all night.”

“I don’t want to leave him alone.”

“I’ll sit with him. You take a break.”

Nemesis shrugged, standing up.

__________

Joey sat down on the chair, watching the feverish boy on the bed shudder and writhe, turning his head from side to side with a weak moan.

“Easy bud.” Joey said softly, gently placing his open palm on the younger man’s scalding forehead.

Slipknot whimpered, the sound so different from what he was used to from this once arrogant, dangerous Supervillain.

It was about ten minutes before Nemesis returned, holding a steaming bowl of instant noodles

“Not the healthiest choice.” Joey commented, earning an eye roll from the girl.  “Ah, how does your spine look today?” He asked. “Surely you must have seen it from rolling your eyes so hard.”

Nemesis huffed a laugh, and Joey smiled.

His amusement died as Slipknot squirmed under his hand with a distressed whine.

Joey looked down at the damaged skin of his neck, and grimaced.

“I’m going to have to bandage his neck. It’s not healing as well as I had hoped it would.

Nemesis nodded, understanding the implications.

Joey reached into the medical kit that he’d left next to the bed, grabbing disinfectant wipes, and a roll of bandages.

Joey braced himself, and gently began dabbing the raw, infected skin where the collar had been.

Immediately, Slipknot jerked back with a groan of protest.

“N-No, please.” He whimpered, fever-bright eyes fluttering open. “Please, I-I’ll behave, I-I don’t- d-don’t need to be c-collared a-again...” He whimpered. “P-please no...”

“Steady there, bud, no one is going to put a collar on you. I just need to get you cleaned up.”

“O-oh God, please don’t. Nononono, please.” He begged, confused and terrified.

“Calm down buddy, I know you’re scared, but please lie still for me.” Joey murmured, as Nemesis sat on the bed next to Slipknot.

The supervillain looked up at her with wide, pleading blue eyes.

“N-Nemesis, please, I can’t- don’t let him-”

“Ssssshhhh, it’s okay, Slipknot.” She said softly, resting her palm on his forehead. He closed his eyes, leaning into her hand.

“I need you to sit up for me, okay, bud?” With that, Joey helped pull him upright. The boy whimpered, slumping against Nemesis, lacking the strength to remain upright.

He flinched back with a weak cry as Joey began to bandage his neck, stuttering pleas spilling from his chapped lips.

Nemesis murmured something that Joey didn’t hear, rubbing her fingers through his sweaty hair.

Slipknot sobbed, squeezing his eyes shut as Joey fastened the bandage shut.

“It’s not a collar, Slipknot, here, look.” Nemesis murmured, reaching for remainder of the bandages.

She moved her hair aside, and began wrapping the bandages around her own neck, fastening it shut with on of the small safety pins in the medical kit.

Slipknot looked up at her with wide eyes, his breathing beginning to steady.

“There, see? It’s not going to hurt you. I promise.” She murmured.

_______

Nemesis waited until Slipknot was asleep before she turned to look at Joey.

“He trusts you.” Joey said again. “He trusts you not to hurt him. He doesn’t trust anyone else.”

“He still begs me.”

“For protection. Not for mercy. He trusts that you won’t hurt him.”

Nemesis nodded, brushing her fingers over Slipknot’s forehead. Even unconscious, he tilted his face towards the touch.

“You need to finish your noodles.” Joey said.

Nemesis was about to tease him, pointing out he’d said they were unhealthy, when she saw the concern in his eyes.

“You look worried.” She said, and he chuckled.

“It’s just a part of having kids.” Joey murmured, leaning forward, and kissing her temple. “You’re my daughter.” He whispered, and ruffled her hair.

[blood-of-ink]

Like Broken Glass- 3

Warnings: Fever, past torture, mild pneumonia, scared whumpee, begging, mentions of nightmares.

Taglist: @whumpwillow, @stuck-in-this-mortal-form, and @equestrianwritingsstuff,  and @neverthelass

Supervillain drifted in and out of consciousness. Sometimes he was aware of who was with him, other times he wasn’t.

Right now, it was Civilian curled up in the chair next to his bed, wrapped in a blanket.

“She had nightmares about you.” Supervillain flinched at Villain’s voice, shrinking back as the other man walked into view.

“About how you were going to drown her.” Villain glared at him. “Do you have any idea how awful it is to hear your sister screaming in the middle of the night, crying that she doesn’t want to die?”

Supervillain closed his eyes, shaking his head.

“I doubt I could ever explain it to you.” Villain hissed. “So, I’m sure you understand why I’m not too sympathetic towards you.”

“Please.” Supervillain whimpered. “I... I’m sorry.”

“I’m sure you are.” Villain replied. “Because you know exactly what it’s like now, don’t you?”

Supervillain sniffled, looking away.

“Don’t you?” Villain growled.

“Yes.” Supervillain whispered.

“Doesn’t feel so good, does it?” Villain sneered.

“Neither will your head after I pound it so hard you have three tongues in your shoes.” Civilian’s voice said coolly. “This isn’t the time for your ranting, Villain.”

“Did you just threaten to beat me over the head?” Villain demanded, ignoring the rest of what his sister had said.

“Yes.”

“Way to show appreciation Snip.” He huffed, shaking his head slightly.

“Stop being a bully, then.”

“Was anything I said untrue?”

“No, but it’s not what you said, it’s the reason you said it. To be an asshole.”

“Hey-”

“Oh come on. We both know that’s why!”

“He needs to-”

“No, you need to stop.”

Villain just scowled, and stalked away.

Civilian sighed, and looked down at Supervillain, who flinched back with a groan.

“Please, I’m so sorry, I’ll never do anything like that again, I promise, please-”

“I’m not going to hurt you, Supervillain.” Civilian said, though she wouldn’t look at him.

“I’m sorry I tried to hurt you... I-I’m so sorry.”

Civilian just nodded, then tentatively, she put her hand on his forehead, and winced.

“I’m gonna go get Hero, you’re still burning up.”

Supervillain swallowed thickly as he remembered what he’d done to Hero. Whipped him, beaten him, broken his leg.

“N-no, please don’t.” He stuttered, reaching out and weakly grasping at Civilian’s wrist. “Please- I don’t-”

“Supervillain, it’s okay. No one is going to hurt you.”

“Please.” He whined, too terrified to listen to reason. The memory of the torture, the whip, the beatings, the water boarding. It was all too much.

“N-no! Please, no more! I’ll never do it again, please, please make it stop! I’m sorry!”

_____

Civilian knelt next to Supervillain as he fell into a full blown panic attack.

“Please, please, no more! I’m sorry! I’ll do anything! Please, don’t hurt me!”

“Hush.” She said softly, cupping his flushed face in her hands. “Hush now, it’s alright.”

“No...” He whined, terrified eyes locking onto hers.

“Lie still, Supervillain, it’s okay now. You’re not there anymore.”

He took a shuddering breath, and began to cry.

It was so unnatural, watching a once deadly criminal mastermind sobbing like a frightened child, shaking uncontrollably in the blankets.

“Hush, it’s alright, you’re safe now.”

He looked up at her with wide, imploring eyes.

“Please...” He whispered again, his eyelids beginning to droop. “Mercy.”

With that, he passed out.

Civilian sighed, going into the bathroom to get a wet cloth, which she laid across his blistering forehead, brushing his damp hair back.

“It’s alright now.” She murmured, gently taking his hand.

[shydragonrider]

Torn - Part 1

Summary: Strife had always been untouchable, arrogant, and ruthless. A vicious Supervillian. It took more than Pandora, or Glory, as she was called in public, knew she had in her to bring him down. But this sets in motion events that Hero could never have imagined.

Warnings: Detailed death threat, swearing, name calling, vomit,  extremely violent whump, vivisection, smug whumpee breaking, infection, graphic infection, fever, delirium, panic, scared whumpee, sick whumpee, begging, crying, restraints, violent torture.

Tagging @whumpwillow, because I saw the idea on her blog, and @equestrianwritingsstuff, who encouraged me to write this.

Update, changed their names

“I’ll kill you for this, you little bitch.” Strife snarled, as he was dragged towards the prison transport. “When I get my hands on you, I will break you, body and spirit.”

You already have. Pandora thought, as he was dragged into the truck. She was breathing hard, her heart racing, her body bruised and battered from the fight. She could barely stand up, and she had come so close to dying in that fight. forty-five minutes of being thrown around by that brute. She wanted to cry. She’d been so scared the whole time, so scared that one of his custom made knives would find one of her vital organs, and tear the life out of her.

“And then I’ll fucking strangle you.” Strife shouted, even as the doors slammed shut.

Pandora groaned, closing her eyes. She felt sick, and she knew she had at least three broken ribs.

But I finally beat you, you monster. She thought, clinging to the miracle that was her victory. They’ll lock you away, and I’ll never see you again.

It brought a little comfort when she thought of it that way. He’d never menace her again, never injure her again. The whole city was safe from him.

Pandora made her way home, limping down the rainy streets and back alleys, avoiding people as best she could. No one knew her real identity, and she didn’t want that to change.

When she got inside, it took all of her effort not to faint right there in the front hall. Shivering, she climbed the steps, and made it into the bathroom. She staggered over to the sink, and threw up. Exhausted, she rinsed the sink, and climbed into the shower, watching as blood from various cuts washed down the drain.

*********

Damian growled, tugging against the restraints on his arms. If that little brat Glory hadn’t stuck her nose in where it didn’t belong, then he wouldn’t be in this situation.

Insufferable little twit. She’ll pay for this. He thought, watching as his jailer picked up one of his knives.

“Be careful, they’re sharp.” Damian sneered, feeling only the faintest flicker of alarm as the man walked towards him, and placed the tip of the blade at his solar plexus.

“Oh, I’m aware.” The man replied, pressing ever so slightly.

Damian hissed as blood began to run out of the small cut. “If this is meant to scare me-”

“It’s not meant to scare you. It’s meant to break you.” His captor smiled, and dug the knife in deeper, before tugging it down. Damian gasped, trying to squirm away. The restraints made it impossible. As the knife continued its downward path, Damian screamed, again trying to thrash around. By the time his captor drew back, the cut extended from his solar plexus to below his naval.

The man walked over to a table with various metal tools, and selected something that looked like it came from a medieval torture chamber. Unfortunately, Damian could guess its purpose; to hold the wound open.

“N-no.” He stammered, overwhelmed by the terror and pain. “No, p-plea...please. Y-you c-can’t do this.”

“You don’t seem to be in any position to stop me.” The man noted, and got back to his work.

**********

1 week later

********

The phone rang at three in the morning. Groaning, Pandora answered it.

“Mmmmf?” She mumbled, still half asleep. Had she not been, she would have realized that this was the untraceable phone the police sometimes called her from. That sank in the moment a quiet voice spoke.

“Glory? Is this Glory?

Pandora sighed. “Yes, this is Glory.”

“You have to get Strife out of the prison.”

Oh great, a crank call.

“Why would I do that?” She asked in a low voice, the one she used in public.

“They’re torturing him. They... Glory please, they vivisected him.”

All the edges of sleep vanished, and Pandora bolted up.

“They. Did. What?” She asked.

“Vivisected him. I saw it happen.”

“Who are you?”

“A prison nurse.” Came the hushed voice. “Please, he’s unguarded. You could get in through the window. Cell 10. Isolation. Oh, please come.”

With that, the line went dead.

Hero frowned. It could be a trap, but if it wasn’t she couldn’t leave Strife to be tortured, no matter how much she hated him.

After setting fire to an empty wing of the ward to create a distraction, she did end up climbing in the window, which, thankfully, was on the first floor, and sneaking down the hall of the isolation ward until she came to cell ten.

Carefully, she wired the code box on the door, and it slid open. As she entered the dimly lit room, she carefully covered the camera with her jacket.

Her heart dropped into her stomach as she took in the sight of the supervillain.

He was lying on his back, very thoroughly restrained. His chest rose and fell in shallow breaths, his trembling body drenched in sweat. His eyes were open, staring at nothing.

“Shit.” Pandora breathed, and crept closer, feeling nausea rise in her throat as she saw the crudely stitched wound on Strife’s abdomen. It was oozing both blood and pus.

“Hey.” Pandora murmured, gently placing her hand on his wrist.

The man whimpered, trying to pull away.

“No.” He whined, drawing the word out until it was more of a whimper.

“Ssssshhhh. Sssssshhhh, it’s alright.” Pandora soothed, and began undoing the restraints.

“Saving your nemesis dear?” A voice asked. Pandora whipped around, drawing her gun.

The man facing her looked ordinary enough, except for his eyes. They were soulless, empty.

“Saving someone who needs my help.”

“He’s a menace.”

“And you cut him open. Tore him apart.” Pandora snarled. At the words, Strife began to sob, begging incoherently.

“And you’re next.” The man said, picking up a scalpel.

“Think so?” Pandora asked sweetly, and squeezed the trigger of the tranquilizer gun. The bolt hit the man square in the neck, and he staggered backwards. Taking advantage of his shock, Pandora used the butt of the gun to hit him over the head. He fell to the floor, unconscious, and Pandora quickly returned to the delirious supervillain’s side.

Senseless with fever, he moaned and begged incoherently as she freed him from the leather straps.

Carefully, she wheeled the stretcher he was lying on over to the door, and down the empty hall. It seemed that most of the guards were still occupied with her distraction, and Pandora was able to sneak out the emergency exit with Strife.

Finally, she carefully got him into her car, and laid him on the back seat, careful not to aggravate the massive wound on his stomach any more than it was already.

With a heavy heart, she drove home.

Parking in the garage, she carefully hauled Strife inside, and tried to carry him up the stairs, in the end, she had to drag him, though his squeaks of pain made her stomach twist.

Finally, she hauled him into the guest bed, and examined his mutilated stomach.

“Plea...se.” Strife moaned. “No... more...”

“Sssshhh. It’s alright now. I’m going to fix... this.”

[equestrianwritingsstuff]

Can you write something where a Supervillain was an absolute jerk to hero, but when she finds him, tortured, sick, and left to die, she helps him anyway?

Thank you!!!

Sure thing! Sorry this took a while. I had a million ideas for this and had to focus in on one.

Dear Diary

Warnings: fevers, delirium, left to die, betrayed, Stockholm Syndrome (implied, not directly stated), fungal infection, exposed bone, broken ribs and nose, starvation, implied neglect, bathing, stripping of clothes (non-sexual), blood, crying

~

Hero sat down at her desk, illuminated by a small lamp and pulled out her worn, leather notebook. She opened the first thirty pages to an empty one, taking brief notes of the way the pages were clearly, neatly filled out top to bottom.

Then, she took her pen- an object of sentiment, nearly as old as her, and gifted to her by her late grandfather- and wrote, as neat as the previous pahlges, in her cursive sign:

Dear Diary,

Then she stopped writing and glanced over at the sleeping figure in the nearby bed. His brown hair tousled, but neat. Old injuries securely bound by more bandages than Hero cared to admit. His once flushed and feverish skin, now placid and evenly moist, was completely neutral with no signs of that agony that brought screams that still haunted Hero at night.

Smiling, she changed her writing to a more easy going print and started writing.

I apologize for not writing recently. It's been so hectic that I think I need a vacation. So, before I tire my hand out complaining, let me tell you about the past couple weeks...

Two weeks ago:

Hero drove smoothly over the recently tarred road. It was night and the sky was absolutely glamorous with stars and constellations of all sorts of celestial bodies. She sighed, contentedly, and aimlessly tapped her fingers against the black steering wheel. She hummed no song in particular as cheery eyes scanned the long, expansive track in front of her.

Until suddenly, the monotonous road was broken by a Ford stranded across the center. Thankfully seeing it immediately, Hero flashed the lights on top of her patrol car, and stepped out with her gun in hand.

A F250, manual with only two seats, but it was empty. Hero raised her gun again and stalked to the other side. Nothing, just an eerie, sporadic vehicle in the middle of a county road.

She whisked open the door. The acrid smell of tobacco and liquor plummeted into her nose and she grimaced. But, like the exterior of the whole truck, there was nothing in the cab.

"Hmm." Hero shrugged, and slammed the door shut, slightly annoyed. She was about to call it in when she heard a tiny, pained whimper.

She tensed, bringing her gun back up again, and spun around. Nothing. Not even a deer or a racoon.

Then, the whimper sounded again.

"Who's there?" Hero asked, but she was starting to think it was just a young fawn or a toad or something.

But it sounded so human.

"Help."

The plea, the breathless plea, sounded the still air. Hero, now completely able to locate it, bounded to the bed of the truck and looked in.

To find a man, bloodied and bruised, with sweat glistening across his dirtied face. He seemed to be conscious- at least awake enough to call for help, as weak the call was- but his eyes were half-lidded and dazed. Blood, still fresh, streamed from a very broken nose.

"Sir?" Hero asked, lowering her gun and putting it in the holster.

The man's eyes opened slightly and he looked at Hero with wonder. A small smile formed on parched, ruined lips. Tears seemed to flood his eyes and he started to cry.

Baffled, Hero climbed into the truck and gathered the man into her arms, mindful not to hurt his neck or spine.

"Hey buddy," Hero cooed, concern evident in her voice. "Are you okay?" No, obviously.

"She-she left me," Supervillain rasped. "She left me here." He started to sob, clawing at Hero's shirt. "Villain left me."

Wait Villain? The stuck-up, obnoxious, feminine bastard that acted as if the world bowed down to her? Hero looked down at the shivering man. Villain, as arrogant as she was, wouldn't hurt a person to this grave extent, unless...

Unless it was...

"Supervillain?" Hero asked. The man turned his head and only then did Hero recognize the sharpness of his jaw and those dashingly handsome golden brown eyes. He let out a hoarse whine and pressed his face back into Hero's leg, chest rattling with broken ribs and mucus.

It was him.

Hero pushed the man off her lap and scowled. He didn’t deserve comfort, or love. Heck, he deserved whatever catastrophe Villain wreaked upon him.

But, after that cruel shove, Supervillain started to scream from the pain of both his horrific injuries and the fresh feeling of betrayal again. He curled his battered form into himself and started a nonstop crying session.

Feeling awfully guilty, Hero laid her hand on his hot shoulder and sighed. She took it back, no matter how mean or terrible a person is, they didn't deserve this.

Before Hero knew it, Supervillain was asleep in the back of her car. As she drove home, night shift forgotten, she thought of her plan. He needed a bath to wash the injuries out and to see the full extent of them. And then he probably needed stitches and a few bones set.

She glanced in the rearview mirror at the limp body. He was breathing, but very subtlety. If it wasn't for the periodic moan or a distressed cry here and there, one might've mistaken him for dead.

Hero shook her shoulders out and looked back at the road, slightly paranoid that she would stumble across another hazardly placed truck. Specifically a manual F250 owned by a certain woman named Villain.

But of course, she didn't. She arrived at home safe and sound, turned off her car, and gathered the now unconscious supervillain in her arms.

"Okay bud," she whispered, hauling him in a bridal carry as she made it to the door. If he wasn't so starved and lightweight, he would've been a big problem to lift.

She opened the door, then immediately in a sudden instinctual rush to hurry, locked the door. She took Supervillain to her bedroom and laid him across the floor. Then, she took off his shirt to reveal a whole menu of wounds.

He had, across both his sides, large purple- nearly black- bruises around his ribcage. They greened at the edges, leading to his torso where cuts and puncture wounds made up a revolting soup. His broken ribs barely had anything in the terms of flesh or muscles on them. Only skin.

His abdomen was sunken in, remnants of days without food, revealing high, pointed hip bones. Hero winced, running a finger lightly across a particular large cut. It was so deep that it revealed the ivory bone beneath. Supervillain, even in his unconscious state, stiffened and whimper pathetically.

Sleep was not an escape from the pain.

Hero stripped the rest of his clothes off. Even his legs and lower body were covered in those red and purple marks. She picked him up again and carried him to the bathtub where she delicately showered the dirt and grime out of infected wounds and off his face.

When it was over, Hero was dumbfoundly shocked at the lack of color in his ghostly face. He didn't wake throughout the process; he was throughly exhausted and sick. Fever raged behind those closed eyelids, appearing in his hot breaths and lolling head. Hero put some old shorts of her's that she bought at a garage sale a couple months ago. They were way too big, but maybe a bit of foreboding told her that they may be necessary one day.

Then she scooped him back up and carried him to her room, laying him on top of the bed, and got to work on stitching and bandaging the wounds.

Supervillain stirred when the needle accidentally pricked a bruise. The second his eyes opened, he screamed and tried to thrash away.

"Leave me alone! Leave me alone!" He yelled. "Villain? Villain! Help me, please!" He started to sob, pressing his cheek into the pillow. "Please... V-vill...ain."

"Shh, shh," Hero laid a hand on his shoulder. He tensed and made a blubbering sound. "You're safe, okay?"

"No, no... I-i want Villain," he sniffled, tears streaming down his face like a waterfall. "I-i need her."

Hero felt her heartbreak at the desperation taut in Supervillain's voice. She gently placed her hand on his forehead in an attempt to comfort and check his fever. He was hot, super-duper hot.

Supervillain pulled away from the touch, watching her with wary eyes. Hero gave a small smile and stepped away. He didn't trust her and her presence might freak him out more. So she stepped away and went to her desk, back facing him.

After a while, his sniffles ceased. Hero took the risk and glanced at him to find him asleep. She sighed, the poor guy was so sick and hurt and tired...

Hero walked back over and went to work again. She applied some antibiotic ointment on some of the more severe wounds, hoping the infection wasn't too deep.

She was about to get to work on tending to his legs, when something in his hair caught her eye. It was a tuff.

Curious, she went over and gently pulled on it to find that it just fell out. A feeling of nausea rose in her throat as more and more hair fell loose. Crunching her brows together, she cleared a hole spot on his scalp to reveal reddened, puffy and dry skin.

A fungal infection. She recognized this from when she took zoology classes in high school. They went on a field trip and the staff gratefully allowed them into the vet area.

Hero rummaged through her medical supplies and found an antifungal cream for athlete's foot. She hesitated, not knowing if something for feet would be good for scalp.

But it was all she had, and something was better than nothing.

So she spread the cream on Supervillain's head, watching as the rose colored flesh glistened with newfound moisture.

Then, she went back to work on stitching and cleaning the wounds of his lower body.

When that long feat was done, she went into the kitchen and grabbed a bag of frozen peas. She wrapped it in a towel and placed it on Supervillain's forehead. Even unconscious, he whimpered and relaxed into the new, relieving sensation.

Hero started to pace. As the minutes ticked by, his breaths seemed to get shallower and shallower and then would increase in a sudden gasp. Periodically, his eyes would flutter open, but only for a moment before he passed out again.

She ended up sitting on the other side of her bed, far away enough to not scare him if he ever regained consciousness enough to be aware of her, but close enough to monitor him.

Hero felt herself dozing as she watched Supervillain's chest rise and fall, but suddenly he awoke fully. She started backwards, then froze. Maybe he would fall asleep again...

But he stared crying, mucus filled lungs heaving. Then he started sobbing, then wailing.

"Villain!" He cried, loudly. "I-i need you." He pulled his legs into himself and Hero did nothing to stop it- too petrified about him hurting himself if he got too spooked.

"Please," he mumbled. "Please, please, please. Don't leave me. Leave me... please no. I don't want you to, I love you please."

Hero's heart broke at that.

Supervillain went silent, apart from nonstop screams of fear and incoherent begging. It got to the point where Hero had to roll him over and gather him into her chest.

"Hey, shh, shh," she cooed, rubbing his back. "It'll be okay. It'll all be okay. Deep breaths... that's it. Breathe in, breathe out. Good job."

Supervillain calmed down and clutched at Hero's shirt. He buried himself into her and fell back asleep.

[daemoninwhiteround2]

ooh can we get more alpha pup Damian manipulating omega Jason?

"We're returning now, omega. I refuse to wait any longer."

Jason is not finding it cute that Robin, Damian Wayne-al Ghul, his pup??? (That wasn't a hallucination???) is about five seconds away from stamping his foot in frustration. It's not adorable in the slightest, nor does it warm him, this visible proof that he was missed—he knows that Damian would never act so obviously childish in public in the League and doesn't believe he's been in Gotham long enough to get rid of that instinct.

"My name's Jason, kid, in case they forgot to tell you."

A shadow passes over Robin's face, visible even past the domino, and Jason could kick himself.

"Pup," he corrects, and puts his hand over the back of Damian's neck. That's important, because it's a gesture that means safety to pups—someone bad gets a hold of you there and scruffs you and you're fucked, Jason remembers how he used to walk, shoulders hunched up to his ears to try and protect himself—it means that someone's going to stand guard over you. It's something omegas do for their pups.

When they were pack, Jason's hand had never left the back of his pup's neck of his own accord. He wouldn't fight if Damian left willingly, but in any other situation...

They still fit together so perfectly.

"My pup," Jason murmurs.

"My omega," Damian says again.

Jason bites back the urge to croon.

"Jay—Hood. You're an omega?"

Nightwing would sound less shocked had Jason snuck up on them and smacked him with a 2x4.

Jason narrows his eyes. He's fairly certain he's started presenting before he died, is pretty sure his dynamic was one of the factors that led to him fleeing the Manor for another parent. Bruce... should have known. Probably? Things from that time are kind of hazy—TBIs, death and resurrection will do a doozy on your ability to form lasting memories.

Damn, if he's even managed to fool some of the Bats with his alpha facade, it must be damn near bulletproof. Or more likely it's a case of them not wanting to look too closely at things that might be uncomfortable. Red Hood, supervillain, crime lord, alpha is a lot more palatable.

Damian tugs on his arm again. "We must return."

"To where?" Jason definitely doesn't have the urge to brush his hair back, to check to make sure he's not feverish. The lack of a scent is really getting to him, he's used to it and it would be stupid to take them off in uniform but... But it doesn't feel real like his pup without the scent, like this could be the hallucination.

How would his pup have survived the League without him, after all? Jason prevented multiple assassination attempts while he was there—who would they have gotten that would do the same, would never take a bribe? Is there some other omega out there that Jason shares his pup with? If so Jason would like to thank them but he will also fight them if they won't share.

"To the Wayne den." Bruce inhales so quickly it's almost a gasp. Jason ignores him. This ain't about him. "It's been far too long since we've shared a nest."

....OK maybe it's a little bit about Bruce. "Yeah, I'm not going back there. You're coming with me."

"If you think I'm going to nest down in some dal-"

"My nest already has my scent."

Damian considers his proposal. Free under the helmet, Jason smiles fondly at him.

"Your bargain has been accepted. Father, I will return in time to prepare for school."

"Robin-"

Jason flips Bruce off, scoops his pup up into his arms and takes off for his closest den. He doesn't care if the others follow them back to it, he'll burn it down while his pup is at school. Right now he doesn't want to wait any longer to have a proper reunion.

[avvail]

hero x villain whumps/scenarios using poison, drugs or fire? if youre uncomfy w this feel free to ignore!!

how about all of them? :)

tw: fire, drugs, and poison. captivity, betrayal, mentioned minor character deaths

hero has ice powers, and is incredibly sensitive to large sums of heat. villain finds this out and weaponises their weakness.

villain burning hero with a lighter whenever they refuse to answer their questions during an interrogation, and hero is left with burn marks over various parts of their body.

villain keeping a feverish hero by the hot fire, which in turns makes them more delirious and nauseous by the second.

hero being tortured by villain, forcing their head into a pit of hot flames until their eyes are burning from the heat and they can barely see. bonus points if it has long term effects.

hero and villain having a dinner to celebrate a peace treaty between them, swearing they can depend on each other. villain watches from behind their wine glass with a smirk as hero gulps down their poisoned meal.

villain poisons hero's friends, or lover, or partner, and gives them a time limit to find the cure and save their life. they have to endure their suffering and watch them slowly and painfully writhe on the floor.

villain promises if hero poisons and kills themself, they will spare their friends and family. hero agrees, but villain doesn't hold up their end of the bargain.

hero being held captive by villain. hero laces their drink with poison in an attempt to escape. villain seems to see right through their plan, and asks hero to drink it. 'just to make sure', while knowing full well why they can't.

hero fighting villain with drugs pumping through their system, trying their hardest to fight it and stay awake.

villain keeps a drugged hero as a pet, making them completely obedient and complacent, all while the hero's mind is conscious, unable to do anything but watch.

villain offers hero help after a particularly cruel battle with supervillain. they patch them up and feed them a little, completely unaware of villain's ulterior motives. drugging their food in order to safely transport them right into supervillain's arms.

hero is drugged by villain, making them watch as they slaughter their friends and work partners. hero is too weak to even stand up, and all they can do is watch, unable to save them.

[whumpwillow]

Whumpee escapes their binds, and knocks Whumper (Supervillain) unconscious, and then chains him to the furnace, dialing up the temperature, and then they leave.

Sometime later, the heroes who were tracking SV show up, ready for a massive fight...

...only to find the target slumped over in his chains, feverish, dehydrated, and delirious out of his mind.

They unchain him, finding that his back is badly burned. He's crying in distress, writhing weakly and squeaking pathetically as the Heroes decide what to do.

The youngest of the team can't stay detached. She gets a glass of cold water, holding it to SV's cracked lips, and coaxing him to drink it. He gulps it down with desperation, before whimpering out a slurred apology, and nuzzling his face into the young hero's leg.

She strokes his hair, volunteering to look after him, because she can't stand to see him suffer like this.

yoooooooo this got me. the 'squeaking' bit especially mmmmm i can imagine him writhing in pain, his face twisted and eyes screwed shut as he tries to block out the pain that won't cease

I'll refer to our whumpee here as 'villain' for simplicity

the heroes storm the place, their weapons held at the ready, and are surprised to find villain already chained up

they near him and see that he's burning up, quite literally, while chained to the furnace

his face is red and sweaty, his hair is plastered to his forehead and neck, his lips are chapped and cracked, and his eyes open blearily, barely registering that there's anyone there

the heroes see that he's too weak to be a threat and unchain him, but as they peel him away from the furnace, they see that his back is terribly burned, parts of his clothes melding with his skin

he's too dehydrated to even scream, so as the heroes move him he just makes these pathetic little squeaks and writhes in their arms

the youngest of the team can't stand his distress while the others are debating what to do with him, so she gently coaxes him to drink and brushes the hair out of his face

she lets him rest his head on her lap and puts a soothing hand on his cheek. it's hot like fire.

afterward, he's rushed to the hero's medbay to have his wounds treated, but he won't let go of Youngest's hand

she follows him in to the medbay and stays by his side as the doctors apply burn cream to his back and wrap him in bandages

he has to stay in the medbay for a while afterwards so they can pump fluids into him since he's so dehydrated, so he and Youngest get to know each other a little bit

[whump-a-la-mode]

Oooh. Could you continue the feverish Supervillian on Civilians doorstep prompt. If you want?

Oh yes, definently! I loved that one and I hope you like this sequel just as much. The first part of this story can be found here.

CW//Medical talk, CPR, cardiac arrest, food, sickness, fever

A handful of crackers and a few sips of water. That was all that Civilian had managed to get down Supervillain’s throat.

For the patient clientele that Civilian was used to, it would’ve been quite substantial. However, Supervillain was not a twelve pound Jack Russel Terrier, nor a fussy Siamese. Rather, they were a fully grown human. A fully grown human whose ribs could be quite easily counted through the rags of their shirt.

They weren’t going to make it long if all they could swallow was a few crackers and a gulp of water. Yet, it was all that Civilian could get down their throat. What they needed was something substantial, something better than processed wheat.

“The soup will be ready in just a moment.” They announced, raising their voice in hopes to make it through the fevered villain’s congested skull. “Can you smell it?”

The only response was a grunt, and something that might have been a ‘nuh-uh.’ Or maybe it was ‘uh-huh.’ It was impossible to tell, both on account of Supervillain’s feverish state and the blankets wrapped all the way up over their face.

They had been oh, so cold, when they had arrived. Civilian hadn’t been able to help themself from wrapping their ward up in just about every blanket they had. Now, they were sat up on the couch, looking like a marshmallow. Though laying down would have likely been more comfortable for them, their comfort was less important than having a clear windpipe.

“Well, I just hope it tastes even better than it smells.” Civilian replied, more or less to themself. Anything to keep the silence away. “Did your mother ever make you chicken noodle soup when you were sick?”

“Mmm...”

“Mine always did. It’s not as good as proper medicine, but when you’ve got a cold, medicine can only do so much. I do hope you only have a cold... I’ll run out and buy some cold medicine once you’re feeling a little better.”

“Bleh...”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m sure you feel like crap, I’m sorry. Here, how about this? You get down as much of this soup as you can, then I’ll bring you up to the guest room and get you all comfy for a nap. Trust me, once you have some food in you, and a few hours of shut-eye, you’ll feel like a whole new person.”

“Ma... Mm...”

“I bet a nap sounds pretty good right now, doesn’t it?”

Nothing.

Giving the soup one last stir, Civilian turned to look back at their ward, laid up on the couch.

Their ward, who was no longer moving. Their ward, whose face had begun to go blue.

The soup was forgotten in an instant, all thoughts removed from Civilian’s mind-- all thoughts that did not involve bringing Supervillain back to life. In an instant, their mind snapped back to their training during their days in vet school. CPR was the same for humans, right? Of course it was, humans and dogs breathed the same air! But what if they pressed on the wrong part, what if they couldn’t find the pulse, what if-

Body seeming not to pay attention to their racing thoughts, their hand shot to Supervillain’s neck, digging in deep until a vein was found.

A vein through which no blood was pumping.

Supervillain had gone into cardiac arrest.

Medical instinct took over as Civilian practically threw their patient into a supine position on the couch, stripping them of their cover of blankets and tossing the fabric to the floor in a heap. Tearing open their shirt, too, they placed their hands one on top of the other, and began to push.

The heat of Supervillain’s skin threatened to singe their hands, and they knew for a fact that the villain’s powers were not related to fire. No, this was all fever.

Pump, pump, pump, pump

Come on, come on!

Pump, pump, pump, pump

They had been fine, earlier! Warm, certainly, and thin, but...

Their fever. Whatever was causing their fever, it was no simple cold. No. Whatever sickness or weakness was afflicting them was bad enough to kill.

To think, what would have happened if they’d wound up on the wrong doorstep... If they’d been handed over to the heroes...

Pump, pump, pump, pump

The skin was getting colder, the blue hue of their face beginning to saturate.

“Come on, Supervillain! You’re way, way too strong to die of a damn fever! If you’re going to go out, it better be from something cool. Not from this! So get up! Breathe!

Supervillain, breathe!”

A gasp. A sharp, pained gasp as Supervillain’s body lurched beneath Civilian’s pumping hands. As they stopped their thrusting, their patient began to twitch, lungs remembering how to breathe on their own.

First, Civilian’s fingers found Supervillain’s neck, ensuring that the shallow pulse that had been their prior had returned. Finding that it had, their hand next moved to their forehead.

Burning hot. Civilian could hardly bear to touch the skin.

“Hospital.” They bared managed, the administration of CPR having exhausted them. “I’m calling the ambulance, you need to get to the hospital, now!”

Supervillain’s eyes widened. They had come back from the dead mere moments ago and, already, panic was seizing their body.

“No, no, you can’t- No!”

Yet, Civilian was already bundling them up in their arms.

“You may be public enemy number one, but right now, you’re my patient, and I’m your doctor. I’ve dealt with dogs worse than you.

We’re going the hospital. I’m not letting you die on me.”

And, with that, they were off.

[wolves-and-winters]

A White Haze

Request: do u write about supervillain turned whumpee, who are experiencing withdrawal symptoms after they've been drugged by a whumper for quite a long time and the hero/vigilante/civilian is helping them during there symptoms?

Warnings: Drug withdrawal, fever, nausea, very mild vomit mention, scared whumpee, Supervillain whumpee, begging, sickness.

Supervillain.

The most vicious, ruthless criminal in the entire region. He‘d stop at nothing to achieve his own goals, he never hesitated to resort to brutality to get what he wanted.

Even the mention of his name filled people with fear.

He was cold and cruel, the worst of the worst.

And here he was, shivering uncontrollably in Civilian’s bed, soaked in sweat, and deep in the grip of fever.

Civilian sighed, adjusting the covers over his trembling body.

“Pl-please...” He whimpered, so different from his usual commanding snarl. “Please, I-I can’t do this... I... please.”

“Supervillain-”

“Please... j-just give me them.” He begged.

Civilian shook her head, knowing exactly what he meant.

“I can’t Supervillain.  You need to recover.”

“Please.” He whined, even more desperation edging his voice now. “I just want it to stop.”

“It will stop.” Civilian promised, gently wiping a damp cloth over his feverish brow.

He’d been drugged for months. It was how the so-called heroes ensured he didn’t cause anymore trouble. Keeping him chained to a bed, doped out of his mind.

It was no wonder he was addicted to the stuff.

She’d found him totally by accident, just a lowly intern at the base. She’d gotten lost, and stumbled upon Supervillain in his sorry state.

Breaking him out had been surprisingly easy. The heroes didn't have him too closely guarded. Because there was no way he was going anywhere in his drugged up state, and who would ever want to break out Supervillian?

Except she had, and now she was in hiding in her parents hunting cabin, with the master criminal begging her for more of the drug to ease his pain.

“I-I can’t do this... please, d-don’t make me do this...” He moaned, shuddering violently.

“Supervillain, I don’t have it. Any of it.”

He sobbed in despair, whining and writhing on the bed.

Civilian sighed, and sat next to him, tentatively resting her palm on his scorching forehead.

“It hurts.” He sniffled.

“I know it does.”

She stayed by his side as he cried himself into a fitful sleep, feverish and terribly weak.

“I promise it will get better.” She murmured, stroking his hair gently. “I promise.”

[turnthetablesonthem]

Darkness Falls - 5

Warnings: Very mild vomit mention, fever, delirium, sickness, panic, fear, begging, scared whumpee, non-sexual partial nudity, platonic bathing, belief one is going to die, belief that one is hallucinating.

Taglist: @purple-heart-x, @whumpwillow, @briars7, @shydragonrider, @whumpsday, @kira-the-whump-enthusiast, @mylifeisonthebookshelf, @interdimensional-chaos

Take her down, Shadowdancer. Or I will. Nemesis’ voice replayed in his head. She meant it, and he knew it.

Joey remembered what Mark had said, when Joey was stitching his leg up after the prior encounter with Slipknot, about how much he would give to see the smug smirk wiped off of Slipknot’s face.

Joey had agreed, saying they all wanted to see that. But now, looking down at the Supervillain, he was nearly overwhelmed in guilt. This isn’t what I meant. He tried to tell himself, but this did not ease the guilt.

The injured boy shifted with a soft whimper, sweat beading on his face. “Mnhhh.” He groaned.

Joey sat up as Slipknot’s pale blue eyes fluttered open, still glassy with fever. It was clear from one glance that the poor thing was terrified.

“Wh-what’s happening?” He moaned, struggling to prop himself up on his elbows, before collapsing back to the bed with a pathetic whine.

“Slipknot, it’s okay.” Joey said, keeping his voice low and calm as he looked down at the shivering boy.

He shook his head, tears spilling over his lashes, and down his flushed cheeks.

“How is he?” Nemesis asked, appearing in the doorway, her white and red still wet from the shower.

“About the same. I need to go on patrol. See if I can find any leads. I’ll be back in a couple hours.”

__________________

Things had just gotten worse, and it must have been utter hell for Slipknot, who had spent the past hour and a half throwing up in the bathroom. Nemesis rested her hand on his shoulder as he curled up on the floor, crying.

“Ssssshhhhh, ssssssshhhh, it’s okay. It’s okay, Slipknot.”

He just sobbed, hiding his face against his arm. He was shaking, soaked in sweat, his fever was still holding at 104.3 °. At least it hadn’t gotten any worse.

Nemesis sighed, rubbing the Supervillain’s shoulder.

Seeing as he had been held prisoner for three months, Nemesis was surprised by how muscular he still was. Still lean and broad chested, his currently tense muscles rock-hard, and and he was at least 6′3.

It had been hell on Nemesis’ back and arms to half carry him into the bathroom when he’d started gagging.

And there was no way she’d be able to get him back, as he now seemed utterly incapable of getting up.

Nemesis sighed, trying to figure out what to do next when Joey’s voice shouted that he was back.

Nemesis silently thanked whatever foresight had lead to her giving Joey a key, as she didn’t want to leave Slipknot alone, even for a moment. He was already scared out of his mind, he didn’t need any added stress.

“Shadow, I need you in the bathroom.” Nemesis called, gently carding her fingers through Slipknot’s damp blond hair. He flinched, whimpering miserably.

 The door opened, and Nemesis looked up a Joey, even as Slipknot curled into a ball with a frightened sob.

Despite Slipknot’s height and muscular build, Joey was bigger than him. Then again, Joey was 6′6, and almost three hundred pounds of pure muscle. Nemesis, if she had to guess, would have pinned Slipknot at around two-hundred pounds. Significantly smaller than Joey.

Joey’s eyes were soft, as he gently gestured to Nemesis to move out of the way, before lifting Slipknot into his arms like it was nothing.

“Joey.” Nemesis said quietly. “Let’s take him upstairs. To my room. It has a bathroom en suite. Make things easier.”

Joey nodded, even as Slipknot shuddered in his hold. “We need to get him cleaned up anyway.” Joey said.

Nemesis showed him the way, grimacing as Slipknot groaned when Joey set him down in the bath. His glazed eyes widened, and he whimpered as Joey cut the bandages away.

“W-wait!” He begged weakly. “Pl-plea-please no.” 

Nemesis climbed into the tub with him, and pressed the back of her hand to his scorching forehead. The man whimpered pathetically, trying to pull away.

Joey gently pushed him forward, giving him proper access to the wounds on Slipknot’s back. Pathetically, he squirmed and wailed, and Nemesis closed her eyes. She held him, letting him lean against her as Joey turned on the shower, and used the hand-held nozzle to rinse Slipknot’s back off. The supervillain whimpered, clinging to Nemesis.

It was strange. She’d hated him so much, yet now, she felt nothing but pity for the crying, shaking mess that had curled himself against her.

“O-oh God, pl-please.” He begged, pressing his face against her shoulder. “N-no more. I-I- Please, I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright.” Nemesis murmured.

Slipknot jolted with a cry of pain as Joey used a disinfectant soap on his back.

“Hnngghh- please, stop.” He whined, a choked groan slipping past his lips as Joey gently eased him back against the rim of the tub.

__________

Slipknot whimpered, blinking hard to clear his vision. Nemesis inched closer to him, and he tensed, bracing for pain.

But she just sat in front of him.

“It’s going to be okay, Slipknot.” She murmured, putting her hand on his forehead as Shadowdancer tilted his head back.

Slipknot sobbed. Why would they expose his throat if not to cut it?

“Please- I’ll do better, I-”

“Ssshhhh.” Nemesis said gently, as warm water cascaded through his hair. “Sssshhhh, it’s okay.”

Slipknot closed his eyes with a sniffle. There was no way Nemesis would ever help him. Not after what he’d done. Not after how he’d held her underwater.

No, it had to be a dream, a hallucination. Fevers could cause hallucinations, couldn’t they? If only he could think clearly.

A warm, wet cloth gently touched his face, and he flinched slightly, before falling still again, too exhausted to keep struggling.

_________

It wasn’t long before Slipknot passed out again.

“I can finish up here.” Joey said quietly. “Go get changed into something dry. And grab a spare pair of boxers from the guest room. You mentioned that Mark had left a few.”

Nemesis nodded, drying herself off, before changing into a shirt that was several times too large for her, and grabbing a pair of boxers like Joey had requested.

It was about twenty minutes later that Joey carried out Slipknot, who was bandaged again, and still unconscious.

Nemesis stood up, allowing Joey to set the injured man down on her bed.

“You get some sleep too, kid, I’ll make something for you both to eat.” He said, looking up at her. Nemesis nodded as Joey headed back downstairs. Not wanting to leave Slipknot alone by going to the guest room, she curled up on the edge of the bed, and closed her eyes.

[blood-of-ink]

Bleeding Stars

Based on a prompt by @the-three-whumpeteers​

Warnings: Gunshot wound, blood, pus, attempted strangulation, fever, infection, graphic death threat, choke hold, attempted murder, torture, reluctant caretaker, angry caretaker. lady whump (Just a bit) Supervillain whumpee, burns.

Should I write part two? let me know what you think.

Stars danced before Hero’s eyes, her vision going black at the edges as Supervillain’s rough hands tightened around her throat.

Hero bucked her hips, rolling sideways, and throwing both herself and Supervillain of the low bridge, into the shallow stream below.

Supervillain’s grip loosened on the impact, and Hero scrambled away from him

He grabbed her by the ponytail, and she drove her elbow into his stomach. He let go with a grunt of pain.

Hero was really starting to regret becoming an agent. Usually, she did well, but she was facing off with one of the deadliest people in the country all alone.

And she was loosing. He was going to kill her. Hero gasped as Supervillain grabbed her shirt, and yanked her back so violently that she was lifted off the ground.

Then, a knife was at her throat.

“Did you really think you we’re going to win?”

“My team-”

“Will all know better than to mess with me once they see what I’m going to do to you.” Supervillain sneered, tracing the knife down her collarbone, and stopping it in the middle of her chest.

“Now, why don’t we see just how golden your heart is?” He said, a wicked grin spreading over his features.

Hero closed her eyes, waiting for the pain to follow. She opened them again at a gunshot.

Supervillain fell backwards, collapsing heavily to the ground with groan. Panting, Hero sat up, flinching slightly as her team leader knelt beside her, his gun still trained the the gasping Supervillain.

“You okay kid?”

“He didn’t quite get around to eviscerating me.” Hero muttered, as Leader helped her up.

They both looked down at the Supervillain, who locked his gaze onto Hero’s, a last glare full of hatred, before his eyes rolled up white.

The bullet had hit him in the chest, and Hero knew it was bad at one glance.

“Teammate! Call an ambulance to take this scum away. I’m taking Hero to the medics.”

*********************

Supervillain awoke in a brightly lit room, tightly strapped to the bed.

If that idiot Leader hadn’t gotten involved, that troublesome brat Hero would have been dealt with. Permanently. 

The door opened, and Supervillain craned his neck in an effort to see who was coming.

The man was a stranger, but based on his attire, Supervillain guessed that he was a doctor.

“Here to tell me about how much time you wasted treating me?” He sneered, his voice raspy and hoarse.

“I won’t consider it a waste. Not when you’re begging for death, anyways.”

“Prison doesn’t scare me.”

“You’re not going to prison. You’re staying right here.”

“Even less frightening.” Supervillain sneered.

“We’ll see.” The man said, and placed an electrode on Supervillain’s chest.

“What’s that?” Supervillain asked mockingly.

“A shock device.” And just like that, a searing agony flared through the wound on Supervillain’s chest. He gasped, tried not to scream, and waited for the pain to stop.

But it didn’t. It went on and on until finally, mercifully, he blacked out.

**************

Six Weeks Later

*********************

Hero was startled by the door to the safehouse banging open. Grumbling, she rubbed her eyes, listening to the downpour outside.

“James, it’s three in the morning. Is there any particular reason you called us all here?” Teammate yawned.

“Yes.” Leader huffed, and Hero realized that he was dragging a crumpled figure through the door. “For your own safety.”

Hero got up to help him, only to freeze when she recognized the man hanging limply in Leader’s arms.

It was Supervillain.

Hero backed up, next to Teammate, who put her arm around her shoulders.

“Leader, have you gone fucking insane? What is that doing here?”

“Listen. We have never condoned torture. We are not about to start now.”

“Leader, he deserved it. Or have you forgotten that he tried to cut Hero’s heart out?”

Hero shivered at the memory.

“I have forgotten nothing. But, he’s sick, and he needs help.”

“No.” Hero spoke, her voice trembling. “No, I won’t do it. I don’t want him anywhere near me. If you want to save his life, then I want to transfer to a different team.”

“Hero.”

“I can’t do this leader.”

“Yes. You can. He’s in no condition to hurt you. In fact, I’d say he’s too delirious to know up from down in his current state.”

“I. Don’t. Care.”

Leader sighed. “Hero, please. You don’t have to be alone with him. I promise. We’ll all be here.”

“Will we?” Teammate asked. “If you’re so bothered by him being tortured, why don’t you just kill him?”

“Teammate!”

“What? Whatever they did, he deserved. What he does not deserve, is our mercy.”

“This is now about what he deserves, it’s about doing what’s right.” Leader snapped, hauling the unconscious menace across the room, and laying him on the table.

Supervillain made a small noise, full of fear and pain.

Hero ground her teeth. Monster. She thought bitterly.

Leader drew his knife, and began to cut the remains of Supervillain’s shirt away.

The gunshot wound on his chest hadn’t healed at all, in fact, it was worse, oozing pus and dark, viscous blood. The skin around it was deeply burned.

“He’s burning up.” Leader murmured.

“Why would we care?” Teammate demanded.

Hero cautiously crept closer, only to leap back when Supervillain shifted weakly.

“Do we have to help him?” She whined like a petulant child.

“It’s what we do, Hero.”

“Even for him?”

“Yes. Even for him.”

“Fine. But you owe me so much for this.” She snapped, even as Teammate huffed, and went to get the first aid kit.

[shydragonrider]

In the Silence - 3

Warnings: Fever, delirium, begging, surgery mention, pneumonia, antibiotics, oxygen mask.

Taglist: @whumpwillow, @equestrianwritingsstuff, @everynameistakencarrots @whumpsday

and @purple-heart-x

**************************

Bella watched Joe examine Wrath, who was lying limp on the bed. The Supervillain’s fever was concerningly high.

“It’s not an infection. The incision is fine.”

“What is it then?”

“I’d say, based on his labored breathing, and the fact that he inhaled water... that he has pneumonia.”

Bella sighed, not really listening to Ben’s answer. She paced up beside the shivering Supervillian, who whimpered as Joe carefully probed the awful bruising on his abdomen, his grey eyes fluttering open.

"Nnghh- n-no. Pl-plea-se..." He whined, his already uneven breaths hitching, whether from panic or pain she didn’t know.

“So what do we do?” Ben was asking.

“I’ll get an IV with antibiotics, you two can go back to bed.”

Bella shook her head. “I won’t be getting anymore sleep tonight.” She said softly.

“Suit yourself, Belladonna.” Joe replied, stifling his own yawn.

“You set up the IV, and I’ll watch him.”

*******************

Caspian struggled to focus, in his semi-conscious state, he was vaguely aware of voices, but he couldn’t focus on whatever was being said.

His chest and stomach hurt, so badly he felt sick. But he couldn’t muster the energy to move.

He shifted weakly, whimpering miserably at the pain that shot through his body with every breath.

Something cold and hard touched his chest, and Caspian squirmed, but was too sick, and too weak to do much more than that. He was completely helpless.

"Please..." He cried weakly.

“Easy, lie still.”

“W-where ‘m I?” He whimpered, trying to focus on one of the blurry shapes leaning over him.

“You’re somewhere safe.”

Caspian shuddered, panting in hot, uneven breaths. Surely no one would ever help him. It had to be a trick.

Agitated, he squirmed weakly, disoriented and terrified.

I-I c-can’t take this a-anymore." Caspian choked out, too exhausted to keep struggling. He went limp on the bed, whimpering pathetically as his chest throbbed.

“P-please stop. It h-hurts.” He mewled, crying again.

“I know.”  One of the voices said softly. “I need you to lie still a little bit longer. You’re doing well.”

Caspian sniffled, his eyes slipping closed.

**********

Bella gently hushed Wrath’s whimpering as Joe finished attaching the IV to his wrist.

“I’ll be back to check on him in an hour, call me if anything changes.” Joe told her.

Bella nodded, watching him go, before she turned back to Wrath. He was drenched in sweat, and shivering. Wordlessly, she pulled the sheet up over him, watching as he snuggled underneath it with a pathetic little squeak.

It was easy to forget that he was a Supervillain. The worst one in the entire region too. People feared his name.

Yet here he was, curled up under the blankets, shuddering and moaning in pain.

It surprised her, how quickly he had gone from menacing to piteous. Not even twelve hours ago, he had looked so bloodthirsty and vicious. Now he just looked terrified.

Bella sighed, and sat down on her bed, not taking her eyes off her unconscious enemy.