#master caretaker

[dinkflocculent]

Caretaker Master

Part One

The moonlight shined through the window. The crimson blood is in contact with the light. Blood was slowly spilling from whumpee's body. They were alone. They had no energy to stop the flow, yet it wouldn't do a thing even if he did. Whumpee is going to die. Cold, alone. Without any of their loved ones, just their horrible, haunting memories of the last six months.

The sound of pounding footsteps stabbed at whumpee's ringing ears. They were only imagining it. No one was here to save them. Yet that small grip on reality deep inside his mind told him to believe it. So, he listened.

"Whumpee!"

The voice was familiar.

"--going to be okay."

No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't keep his eyes open. His mind was begging him to sleep. Follow the light.

"--eyes open. Whumpee? Whumpee! Look at--"

Darkness. It filled his vision. It was all he saw, and he liked it. It gave him a sense of relaxation and calmness for once in a long time. He didn't want to leave it. He wants to be in this forever.

He opened his eyes, light piercing his vision. It felt like his eyes were burning. The room was so bright. They weren't laying on the hard cold floor. It was a soft mattress. They were in a hospital bed.

The beeping of the machines, IV connected to their arm, and breathing mask was worrying. They could move but were too weak to get out of bed. Whumper had captured them again. But why take them here? At the hospital? Why would whumper want to make them feel better?

The creaking of the doors pierced whumpee's ears. He began to panic. He didn't want to face whumper. Not like this. He slid the oxygen mask off his face. Now to rip the IV drip. He took a deep breath before the pain hit him.

"Whumpee, no! Leave it alone."

The soft, familiar voice stopped whumpee in his tracks in an instant. It was caretaker. They hadn't seen her in years. Was she his new master?

"That's there to help you. We don't want you to lose more blood, do we?"

Whumpee's hand violently shook as caretaker took it. She seemed to notice it, so she went as slow and soft as she could. Grabbing the oxygen mask, whumpee scooted back, thinking it might be drugging him.

"You need this. I know this is scary, but it's here to help you."

Whumpee stared at the mask as if it would pounce and bite him.

"Please? I promise it won't hurt you."

They looked into caretaker's eyes. When she didn't recorrect whumpee, he scooted closer. Caretaker carefully slid the oxygen mask over whumpee. He could breathe better.

"Now, rest. You'll go back to the base in a few days. I'll be right here, alright?"

"M'kay," whumpee said sleepily.

The feeling of drowsiness overcame whumpee. He closed his eyes and slowly fell asleep, caretaker watching him with worry and relief.

This new master seems nice.

[misstycloud]

Yan! Sick Young master x caretaker reader.

Yandere!Young Master who you were brought in to care for. He was known for being exceedingly difficult; his family never managed to hire someone for more than three months, they all got fed up at some point and left as soon as they received their last pay check.

Yandere!Young Master who has a lot of conditions that leaves him unstable. He is not even able to go outside and he rarely eats. Luckily he has his old-money family who cares about him just enough to hire help instead of letting him slowly rot away in a secluded part of the mansion.

Yandere!Young Master who screamed and threw stuff at you the first few times you met. He said he wanted you to leave him alone, that you could even skip work but receive the paycheck anyway(his family wouldn’t notice if you neglected your duties) if you so wished. All he wanted was to be by his lonesome. He never had anyone in his youth and it would remain that way when he was an adult and until the day he died.

This young master was truly troublesome.

Yandere!Young Master that you decided to care for despite his bad temper and hurtful insults. He called you foul names, compared you to filth and made your job a lot harder than it needed to be. Even physical violence like pulling your hair and throwing(more) objects in your direction was not off the table. There was no one to aid you during the especially difficult days since the already-limited staff the house had avoided both you and the young mater like the plague. Staying clear of him was understandable, he had tormented them as well, and they refused to interact with you in fear of you requesting back-up. When they saw a way out they took it, it was as simple as that.

Still, you felt sad for the young master. He had not had the easiest life and was shunned by everyone around him. It really did seem that money could not truly buy everything one needed; the deprivation of support had created his sour personality. While it seemed nice, you didn’t feel like it was right to leech of money you didn’t earn. You wanted to help the broken young man, maybe he would be able to live a somewhat earnest life.

You weren’t sure if you did it because you had somehow come to care for the ill-mannered man, or if it was to satisfy your own need to feel like a good person. Whatever it was, it drove you to try harder than ever to win the young master’s trust.

Yandere!Young Master who was stumped. He did not understand why you treated him so kindly after all the abuse he put you through(yes, he knew he acted horrible but didn’t find it in himself to care). It didn’t make any sense. Why were you approaching him and asking him personal questions while the rest of the staff avoided his room like a bomb had been planted inside? Whenever you’d ask about his hobbies and tastes he’d simply respond with a snarky, “Why the hell do you care?” But no matter how rude he was to you, you never buzzed off like he’d so desperately wanted in the beginning.

Yandere!Young Master who didn’t want you to leave anymore. Truth be told, you made his days feel a lot more worthy than they should’ve been. You're like a breath of fresh air. No servant he's ever had was in your likeness. It seemed like you genuinely cared for him, which is in big contrast to the others.

Yandere!Young Master who began to treat you more kindly. It was subtle in the beginning; he didn't insult you as much, until it stopped all together; he no longer tried to hurt you during his tantrums; the young master eventually started to compliment you at times wether it be your clothes or how you did your hair that day.

Yandere!Young Master who now regarded you as irreplaceable. You had bursted into his monotone life and brought light with you. He could actually smile for once. With you near he didn't feel like he was constantly rotting and had been encouraged enough to wander outside- something he hadn't even though about doing prior to your encounter. You helped him of course and provided safety and stability. He adored getting to cling to you with every finer of his being. Thanks to you he regained his appetite and was growing stronger every day. The young master wouldn't admit it to anyone but his favourite time of day was now mealtime, it was because you would feed him yourself. He would often stare into your eyes without breaking eye-contact whilst you fed him. There was just something so sensual about it. Just the though had him shiver in delight.

Yandere!Young Master who went absolutely ballistic as he suspected you might have a lover. He had overheard you speak to the only male servant right outside his door when you thought he was asleep. He made you laugh- HIM, the good-for-nothing servant boy who never did his job right! What did you see in him? Well, you saw enough to want a date with him. The young master could not stand for it. His blood boiled, how could you seduce him and become the most important person in his life if you were just going to whore yourself out for mere peasants? Did you think you could simply leave him like nothing had happened? Fuck that made him furious.

Yandere!Young Master who reverted back to his old personality, without you understanding why. Now he was mean and ill-mannered again. Every ounce of respect you had earned through hard work and long months had flown out the window in an instant.

Though it stung to see your hopeless expression when he swore at you, he knew it needed to be done. You had to be taught that you couldn't mess with someone's life and abandon them easily. You belonged to him now and he will keep you even if that's not what you desire.

[themastergifs]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, MICHELLE GOMEZ (November 23, 1966)

[whumpingandsmilinglikeanidiot]

Whumpee thinks Caretaker is their new master. Good trope, right? But check this out;

Caretaker doesn't notice.

Because the morning after the day they were rescued, all Whumpee did was get Caretaker a cup of coffee. It was only after then that Whumpee realized new master new rules, and Caretaker might not like coffee at all. So after an hour or so of a panic attack, Whumpee decides to stay put and not do anything.

But Caretaker didn't say anything about that coffee, so Whumpee should probably keep doing that?

And so, every morning, Caretaker gets a cup of coffee, says thank you, that's a nice gesture, and gets done with the day, while Whumpee tries to stay as quiet and unnoticed as possible. Not angering Caretaker is their top priority. Caretaker notices Whumpee is really, really quiet, but hey, they might just like it quiet. They do seem a little scared, but they've been putting off well, so Caretaker is positive that they'll get better with time.

Then Caretaker hears Whumper liked a cup of coffee every morning.

That's.. a strange coincidence.

I hope that's a coincidence.

And they finally try to talk to Whumpee about it, and Whumpee breaks into tears and Caretaker realizes what a mess this is,

[whumped-by-glitter]

Okay, hear me out....

A caretaker with an extremely conditioned whumpee.

Caretaker is forced to "speak their language" to get through to whumpee. Caretaker has to start acting like Whumper to slowly undo the conditioning.

They have to start harsh and strict to slowly teach Whumpee what freedom is, or reintroduce them into their own agency.

Maybe Whumpee was a slave or a pet, and all they know are orders and discipline and reward. Before Caretaker figures this out, Whumpee is listless or catatonic, or maybe self-destructive and reckless. Without order and routine, Whumpee has no idea how to function, their mind is sent into chaos.

Caretaker has no interest in being a master, but to get through the conditioning, to even get them medical help, they are forced to get their hands dirty.... Orders are just necessary- "you're going to the hospital, that's an order" or "I order you to decide on what you want for dinner."

Caretaker never wanted this power and responsibility over another person.

With power, there is also the risk of corruption.

Maybe Caretaker is terrified about walking the fine line between helping their severely damaged and twisted whumpee and becoming the new whumper.

Maybe they get it right, maybe they get it wrong, maybe it's something in between, there's so many directions this could go and all of the threads are so interesting.

[squidthesquidd]

You know what i haven’t done in a really long time? Squishy baby submas dragons

original:

[bloodredfountainpen]

If there’s one thing in fic- honestly even in my own head- that makes me go feral every single fucking time, its gratitude for things that no one should ever have to be grateful for.

A bowl of soup

Permission to sleep

Not being beaten today

Not being abandoned

Basic sympathy

Or simply being loved

Like- Characters A and B are in a relationship, and A has got it in their head that B has cheated on them. Instead of being angry, sad, or just plain hurt, A is grateful that B sticks around, because A thinks they’re so fundamentally unlovable, and really, they’re grateful B even talks to them, never mind wants to be with them. If B wants to fool around on the side, A will wait at home and hope B will kiss them when they get back, because what right does someone so unworthy as A have to demand loyalty from someone as amazing as B? And if A senses B getting bored with them, they’ll make themself as fun and interesting as possible just to keep B around the littlest while longer. Now, personally, I would make it so it really was all a big misunderstanding. B isn’t cheating, nor are they getting bored, and everything comes to a head and they have a tearful convo where all is made clear and A gets some well deserved comfort.

Or or, like A has been a prisoner or a slave so long they don’t know what basic decency feels like, so when they’re finally out of the situation and B gives them a bowl of soup and a bed to sleeps in, A is swearing eternal loyalty because of B’s immense generosity and kindness. And when A drops a glass and it shatters, and B doesn’t kick them out/beat them/starve them/whatever A’s worst fears are, they almost cry at B’s magnanimity. They swear not to waste this second chance- that they don’t deserve but refuse to squander- to be so perfect for now on, that B won’t regret having mercy on someone so clearly undeserving.

[chaotic-orphan]

A crumb of vendetta, I beg of you governa!

- a sick victorian child.

Vendetta (XII)

Read part one // Masterpost // Continued from here

While most people got the imprisonment part down for what Supervillain did to the Heroes, this part is dedicated to @sunflower1000 to coming the closest to what he actually has in store for them…

To the sick Victorian child, I hope you're still alive considering you asked this ages ago... but here, an offering

*~*~*~*~*

Supervillain leaned down and grabbed Hero under the arms and yanked them into a startled standing. Hero stifled a gasp at the suddenness. The room blurred before their eyes; their brain pulsed painfully against their skull until the world refocused. Before they knew it, they were back in their wheelchair and being wheeled back through the arches into the hallway that led them here.

Their room was to the right, but Supervillain wheeled them to the left from the dining room this time. Hero would be lying if they said they weren’t nervous about where exactly Supervillain was taking them. Was he tired of Hero’s antics already? There was something not right about how Supervillain looked when he spoke of the heroes that remembered. Something Hero needed to know; why did he look so cruel and smug when he told them?

And now? This was an impulsive move on Supervillain’s part, and impulsive people were harder to predict than organised ones… but what did Supervillain expect? That Hero would wake up and just accept the fact that they were to be Supervillain’s counterbalance in a room full of his fanatics?!

The hall led to a ballroom of sorts, or at least that’s where Supervillain turned Hero’s wheelchair into. There was a balcony that lined the upper walls, but Hero’s eyes went further up to the ceiling that displayed a beautiful arched ceiling carved out of white stone like bone and a grand chandelier of crystal teardrops.

“Where are we?” Hero asked, unable to keep the awe from their voice.

Supervillain hummed above them. “Impressed?”

“Yes,” Hero said honestly.

“Then where we are doesn’t matter, little Hero, does it?”

Hero swallowed the biting retort they wanted to throw at Supervillain. He didn’t trust Hero, which was smart, but annoying. Hero couldn’t fight back from this fucking chair. They could barely stand without support… but then again— Supervillain wouldn’t have been able to literally change the world if he only thought about the immediate future. He played the long game, and even if he could trust this pathetic version of Hero, once they got their strength back, they would go right back to being a legitimate threat. Especially if he was stupid enough to give Hero back their swords.

Supervillain wheeled them through the ballroom out into an atrium. Hero dragged themselves from their thoughts at the doors to the outside. Supervillain just wheeled them to it, but that’s not what drew Hero’s gaze.

It was the blonde zombified girl standing at attention beside the wall. She was dressed in all black. Her hair tied back into a ponytail, hands behind her back, like a solider awaiting their orders.

Somehow, this was worse than seeing Medic used as a servant. Teleport’s face and clothes lacked any colour. She wasn’t bouncing from foot to foot, filled with limitless energy she just… stood there. Still as the grave. Hero felt the soup curdle in their stomach at the sight.

“Teleport,” Supervillain said, and Teleport looked at him. She didn’t spare so much of a glance at Hero. Hero wanted to speak. To scream. To say— to fucking say SOMETHING! But their jaw locked and all they could do was stare, mutely horrified. “We need your services.”

Teleport glanced at Villain, then at Hero in the chair and Hero leaned forward, eyes wide. Please, they pleaded silently. Recognise me. Please.

“The cripple coming too?” The words had barely left her mouth before her head whipped to the side, a slap echoing through the atrium. Hero flinched at the sound, stunned. Villain was in front of her, moving quicker than lightning across the sky.

“You will address your betters with an appropriate tone, Teleport,” he said coldly, and Hero knew the bastard was smiling his cold smile. “Or I’ll have you put in the dungeons for another lesson.”

Teleport’s blue eyes widened, a protest on her lips but she didn’t get to say it before Hero lunged out of their chair towards Villain. They crashed into the back of Villain’s knees, and they went down, Hero climbing on top of the bastard as he turned beneath them.

“You fucking bastard!” They hissed, drawing back a fist, feral. “Don’t fucking touch her!”

Hands grabbed Hero and yanked them easily off of Villain who smirked up at Hero as they were wrestled back into their chair. This time when Supervillain had Hero sitting in the infernal chair, he produced a pair of power dampeners. Hero froze for a beat.

“No! No, no, Supervillain—” they said but their words fell on deaf ears. Twin shadowed hands grabbed Hero’s wrists and yanked them to each armrest. Supervillain cuffed Hero’s wrists to the arms of the chair while Hero cursed and raged and kicked out at the bastard. “You fucking cowards! You’re scared of me like this, just fucking wait until—”

Hero shut themselves up. The words died on their tongue as they saw Villain with a knife against Teleport’s throat. Once Hero was secured Supervillain straightened and fixed his jumper before a blur of movement and Hero gasped as flames of pain erupted on their cheekbone. They saw stars as they slumped, completely caught off guard at the violence. Of all people they never expected Supervillain to lose his temper so quickly.

Hero didn’t right themselves in the chair. They stared, glared at the spot to their left, where their head had snapped after the almost knock-out punch. Supervillain grabbed Hero’s chin and yanked their head towards him, looking into his glacier gaze that froze Hero to their chair with fear. The taste of blood metallic on their tongue.

“Are you going to fucking behave?” Hero swallowed at Supervillain’s barely-contained-rage filled question. They glanced at Teleport who didn’t look at them and nodded once, slightly, as much as they could. Supervillain smiled.

“Good.” He said, and his frosty rage melted, replaced with a smile, with saviour Supervillain, the charming man. Hero swallowed the lump in their throat when Supervillain walked around their chair again. “Now, Teleport. If you would, please. Put us in the box, I don’t want Hero to do something stupid again so soon.”

“Yes sir,” Teleport said softly. She grabbed hold of Hero and Supervillain, while Villain held onto her shoulder. Hero opened their mouth to protest that three is too many when the world morphed and folded around them. Oxygen compacted into tight space as Hero felt the world contort and pulled around them. Nausea climbed Hero’s throat as they tried to breathe in the liminal space before the world stopped attacking their senses and they could breathe again.

Hero folded in on themselves, the cuffs clinking against the metal of the wheelchair and they sucked in a few deep breaths trying to steady themselves. They didn’t open their eyes or straighten until they were sure they wouldn’t throw up again.

“Are you okay, Hero?” Supervillain asked. Hero hummed in reply, swallowing hard before they finally sat up straight in their chair again. “It takes some getting used to.”

I know, Hero wanted to snap. Teleport is my friend, of course I know that. But they kept quiet. They didn’t want to anger Supervillain anymore than they already have, afraid of the consequences. Not for them, but what Supervillain or Villain might do to Teleport to make Hero behave.

Once the anger receded, Hero finally took in where they were. It looked like they were in some kind of stadium. Hero could barely see anything from their wheelchair, but it looked like an arena with tiered seating like a football stadium or concert venue, except the stage must be in the middle.

Ahead of them a wall of glass exposed the spectacle to whatever entertainment happened here, and Hero jerked forwards. The only response was the rattle of their chains. Supervillain let out a soft laugh.

“Oh, sorry. I forget you’re sitting,” he said coming around Hero’s chair and wheeling them towards the wall of glass. “Here. A better view.”

The glass box was a little more than a quarter of the way up the giant stadium that looked more like an amphitheatre or… Hero swallowed when their eyes fixed on the arena of sand in the middle of the stadium. Their heart stuttered in their chest as all breath left their lungs and Hero shook their head.

“Do you not like?” Supervillain purred as a door behind them opened but Hero didn’t pay it any mind as they fought against their soup coming back up again.

“What is this?” Hero whispered, horror coating every breath. Hero couldn’t take their eyes from the centre of the arena. It looked like a mockery of the guild sparring pit that Hero grew up in, spent their youth training in day after day. They pulled at the cuffs as they leaned forward, staring down at the arena. “What is this?”

“I could tell you, Hero,” Supervillain cooed. “Though I’m sure you already have a good guess. But I think it’s far more entertaining to show you.”

Hero swallowed the lump in their throat as they stared and stared and stared. Hero couldn’t stop the flashes from the war, fighting in the dirt and the mud so like the sandy pit below, the smell of blood and piss singeing their nostrils and sweat, they swore they were back there now as a siren sounded and two heavy portcullis gates lifted on opposite sides of the arena.

Hero could see everything from the box they were in, even the faces of the two people who emerged onto the sands of the pit. The portcullis dropped as they stepped out far enough. Hero’s heart jumped into their chest as they recognised hero Trainee’s sister, Ishka, a water wielder. She had the same golden skin as her brother, her hard, dark eyes framed by her silky dark hair as she glared up at the box Hero was watching from. There was no lightness to her usual happy features. Hero knew Ishka. She was kind, cheerful. Now she looked like nothing more than a cold hearted weapon.

Her dark eyes widened in surprise at seeing Hero, mirroring Hero’s as they stared down at her. Ishka’s eyes glanced at Hero then Supervillain and then at the cuffs around Hero’s wrists they tugged on as they leaned forwards in their chair. Hero swallowed as they realised Ishka had a pair of power dampeners around her wrists too, but with no chain in between.

“They can’t use their powers?” Hero demanded, hands balling into fists.

“No. They can’t. All thanks to you, really.”

Hero’s head whipped to Supervillain. “What?”

Supervillain grinned down at them. “While you were… asleep, I had my best scientists and craftsmen experiment with your power.”

Hero flinched. “What?”

“I needed my gladiators to be able to fight, Hero,” Supervillain said as if it was the most logical thing in the world. “But I couldn’t have them wielding their powers against me or any of the audience so I set my best minds to work and work they did.”

“Gladiators,” Hero repeated, barely audible. They really were going to be sick. Tears brimmed Hero’s eyes as they turned their attention back to Ishka and AnotherHero, Hero didn’t recognise. Wait… no. Wait, Hero knew most heroes—

“He’s not a hero,” Hero said, gesturing at the other person in the arena with Ishka. He was built like a giant, big and burly and thrice the size of Ishka’s lean frame.

“No,” Supervillain said with something like pride. “He isn’t. There were a couple of… little rebellions while you slept. Some people don’t take as well to their memories being adjusted.” Supervillain smiled wryly. “Who knew. So I squashed the petty squabbles and then offered their leaders a deal. Die for their uprising, or live as a gladiator.”

Hero’s body was like ice in the chair. They wouldn’t be able to move their limbs if they wanted to, but… this? This was too much to comprehend. Too horrifying.

Supervillain imprisoned the rest of the heroes and anybody else who dared question him and made them fight each other… for sport?!

“You’re a monster,” Hero hissed.

Supervillain laughed coldly. “It seems a fighting punishment, no? To those who fought a war against me, who killed my people, people who followed my orders… well, their punishment will be to fight to the death.”

A rush of cold dread struck Hero like a lightning bolt ricocheting through their entire body. “To the death?”

“Only on some occasions,” Supervillain said, his eyes glinting with a cruel malice as he drank in Hero’s horror. Hero recognised this vicious Supervillain, the monster behind his well crafted mask. The man that had Superhero killed and dragged Hero back up the podium to face the spectacle of gathered villains. The sadistic beast that lingered deep under his skin, but was always there.

“Besides,” Supervillain said, his hand lifting palm facing Ishka and the other gladiator. “This is only practice.”

He closed his fingers into a fist and both gladiators bowed towards the box before turning to face each other. Hero watched, their heart in their throat as Ishka sprung at her opponent with lethal grace and speed.

Her opponent to his credit didn’t fall for her feint and instead planted his feet and spun on his heel to bring his broadsword up against her daggers, her typical weapon of choice, though… they weren’t her usual ones. The ones she showed Hero once, perfectly balanced for her short stature and skinnier frame.

“You said you wanted an end to this violence,” Hero ground out through gritted teeth. They pulled sharply on their cuffs. “This is barbaric! Controlled violence?! For entertainment, do you see yourself as some fucking roman senator?”

Supervillain shot Hero his charming smile. “Why? You planning on stabbing me in the back?”

“I’m no coward.” Hero spat, yanking on their cuffs again just to do something. Not a coward, but powerless? At Supervillain’s mercy? Their stomach rolled as they watched Ishka spar like her life depended on it.

“This is the cost of losing a war,” Supervillain said, coming around to kneel slightly in front of Hero’s chair. Hero’s glare snapped to Supervillain’s glacier eyes. “Don’t worry, Hero. You’re safe from this fate.”

“And you call that mercy?”

“Yes.” Hero swallowed at the honesty colouring Supervillain’s voice. “I know you won’t see it that way, Hero. Not now, maybe not ever, but in time you’ll respect the cushion of safety you have by my side.”

Hero’s eyes widened in horror. “I would give my life to save all of theirs,” Hero spat, venom injected into every word. Supervillain smiled like a proud father speaking to a child.

“I know. Which is what makes you all the more compelling, Hero. You and I,” he continued, his eyes glittering with something that terrified Hero, “will change the world. Make it better than it was before.”

Hero pulled against the chains of their cuffs. “Better on your terms!” Hero hissed. “You have changed everyone’s memories to follow along with your stupid narrative of Superhero being the bad guy!”

“The victors write the history books,” Supervillain said softly. He dipped his head, his smile extending on one side of his face. “I mean, if you won, I would be in prison right now. As would all my people who fought with me.”

“Humanely treated!” Hero cried. “Not forced to- to fight for your lives through blood sports!”

Supervillain hummed and stood, cupping his hands behind his back as he stared down into the arena.

“A punishment must fit a crime, Hero.”

“Punish me in their stead!” Hero cried. An oppressive weight pushed down on Hero’s shoulder, on their skull, on their chest and it felt like they couldn’t breathe. “Please! I worked under Superhero! I was his second in command! I made the plans that killed so many of your friends. I was there in the war room. Punish me! Not them!”

Superhero didn’t speak for a moment. A single moment that managed to weave that terrible spark of hope in Hero’s chest.

“They chose their side, Hero. Now they must face the consequences.” He glanced at Hero over his shoulder. “As must you. Besides you wouldn’t last two seconds in the arena in your state, and the people love the spectacle of it all.”

“You’re a monster.”

“As are you,” Supervillain replied easily, pinning Hero to their chair. “We’ve both done monstrous things to survive. Don’t act like we are different.”

“We are different!”

“Not in the ways that matter,” Supervillain replied. He glanced to the right of Hero as the doors opened and closed again behind Hero. His eyes brightened and his smile warmed. “Ah, Hero, you are in luck. Meet the overseer of the Arena of Heroes.”

Hero didn’t want to turn their head and greet another of Supervillain’s sycophant, but they didn’t have a choice as Supervillain turned their wheelchair to face the door.

“I didn’t expect you to be here today, sir,” a strong voice answered that pulled at Hero’s heartstrings. “It is only a training day. There are no games tonight.”

“Don’t worry. We just came for a visit. I would like to introduce a guest of mine that will be joining my office,” Supervillain said. Hero couldn’t hear anything over the booming of their heart, deafening all sound, all love and peace evaporated. They couldn’t turn their head. They couldn’t… it would… it would shatter them.

But their brain had to… they had to see and register that he wasn’t dead. That he was still alive.

Hero turned and their breath caught in their throat.

“Vigilante.”

It was him. It was him. He was… he was alive. Beside him stood Villain who smirked at Hero over Vigilante’s shoulder. Hero wanted to slap that smugness from his stupid face, but they couldn’t take their gaze from Vigilante.

He looked good. He didn’t… he didn’t look zombified like Teleport or mistreated like Medic. He looked- Hero’s eyes raked over the uniform that Vigilante wore. Their stomach turned.

Oh god… he looked like one of them.

He smiled warmly at Hero. His voice soft as he said, “hi Hero. Good to see you’re awake.”

If Hero were a house of bricks, they would all be crashing down around them right now. Vigilante knew Hero? He recognised them? Supervillain didn’t introduce them, did he? No. He didn’t, which means… Vigilante— did Vigilante— was Vigilante?

Hero yanked at the cuffs keeping them bound to the chair. They couldn’t help the tears welling behind their eyes as they looked at Vigilante, their Vigilante, healthy and well. Not in the gladiator ring. Not bloodied or wearing power dampeners.

“You… you recognise me?” Hero asked in a breathy whisper. Vigilante’s golden gaze went from Hero’s face to Supervillain’s and back again, an awkward smile on his face.

“Yes,” Vigilante said with a small laugh. Hero’s breathing hitched. Did he… was he?…

No.

No!

Hero couldn’t entertain the possibility that Vigilante was always on Supervillain’s side. They couldn’t. They knew Vigilante; knew him in their soul. This wasn’t Hero’s Vigilante standing before them. The one who told Hero he’d always find them, that he loved them.

His golden eyes went to the cuffs on Hero’s wrists, and he frowned. Something Supervillain clocked too. “When Hero awoke, they were a little… violent,” he explained. “This is for their safety.”

“Yeah,” Villain scoffed, “and mine.”

Vigilante’s eyes lit up with his smile and Hero swore that everyone in the room could hear their heart break.

“What did you do to him?” Hero cried, yanking their wrists against the cuffs. “Vidge, it’s me, please! Please tell me you remember me. Please! Please!”

Vigilante’s eyes widened slightly. “I– I don’t think we’ve ever properly met before, Hero,” Vigilante said. Hero couldn’t restrain the whimper that broke up from their chest. “I… I mean,” Vigilante continued quickly, “I know you were in a coma for a while and that sometimes long-term coma patients wake with new memories and–”

Hero couldn’t take it. They yanked at their wrists harder as hot tears poured down their cheeks, shaking their head as they said no, over and over again as Vigilante continued. Hero ignored him and turned to Supervillain. “Kill me… just kill me, just- just-” Hero yanked harder on the cuffs until they drew blood. “JUST KILL ME! YOU TOOK EVERYTHING…” their voice cracked at the end as they pulled back hard on a blood-soaked wrist, trying to break their thumb and free themselves.

Vigilante stepped forwards, coming closer to Hero and kneeling in front of them. He grabbed Hero’s hand in his and pulled a roll of bandages from his pocket. “Please, don’t hurt yourself, Hero,” he said, and it sounded so like Hero’s Vigilante that they couldn’t help but stare as Vigilante carefully and meticulously wrapped Hero’s bloodied wrist. “You must be weak from waking and hurting yourself more will only delay the healing process.”

Hero stared at Vigilante while he worked. Their heart slamming against their chest and for a moment, a single, logic defying moment, Hero could pretend that it was only Vigilante and them in the world, maybe back in that shack in the trenches, and he was berating them for being foolhardy in battle.

But of course, reality didn’t let Hero have that delusion for long.

“He’s right you know,” Supervillain said. Hero didn’t take their eyes from Vigilante, afraid if they did that he would disappear again. “In fact, Vigilante watched over you while you slept, Hero. Making sure you were okay.”

Vigilante blushed hard, shooting a sideways smile at Supervillain, but he didn’t drop Hero’s fingers, or their hand and Hero held onto his for dear life. “Way to make me sound like a creep, Supervillain.”

“Good looking boy like you?” Supervillain said with a smile in his voice. “I’m certain Hero didn’t mind.”

Hero stared at Vigilante, heart pounding so loud it felt like everyone could hear but they didn’t care. They had to know. “Why?”

Vigilante’s dark hair fell over his forehead as he looked at Hero once more. “What?”

“Why did you watch over me?”

Vigilante ran their thumb over the knuckles of Hero’s hand absent-minded as he considered the question. “I… I don’t know. I just felt the need to be close to you, like… like I’ve known you all my life,” he said earnestly, his golden eyes bright. “Like this isn’t our first conversation.”

Hope struck in the shape of a knife straight through Hero’s chest as they deflated in the chair, in the cuffs, under Vigilante’s gaze. They knew it wasn’t an accident that Vigilante felt that familiarity that Medic and Teleport didn’t. That he was as soft and gentle as he was with Hero before… it all made a perfectly, devastating picture.

Supervillain crafted Vigilante into the perfect trap for Hero and fuck did it work. How Hero went from hysterical in one second to docile and quiet the moment Vigilante touched them. How their body remembered what their mind fought so hard to try and differentiate against. And Hero understood too the peace offering that this was from Supervillain to them, that he had kept Vigilante happy and fed, that he was in this box instead of down in the ring fighting for his life.

Hero swallowed the lump in their throat. They couldn’t rage against this softness. “Funny,” Hero replied hollowly. They could feel Supervillain and Villain’s gazes lock on hungrily at Hero’s reply. “I feel the same.”

Vigilante's smile was a hammer poised to crack Hero's ribs, but they didn't care. They couldn't. They'd do anything to get Vigilante back, anything... even if that meant sacrificing the world and following Supervillain's plans.

*~*~*~*~*

Hehehe, I will refer back to the song that inspired this entire series Gladiator by Jann...

Tag-list— @micechomper @aarika-merrill @silentpotat0 @dutifullykrispyland @gloriousqueen101 @ehobep @alynaevelyn

[whump-place]

When a living weapon Whumpee thinks of themselves as nothing but an object.

And even when they are being treated by Caretaker, they can't just forget what they are.

Surely... Surely Caretaker wants to use them too. That's what everyone else has been doing all this time, and the only thing they are useful for.

Caretaker just want them to be in their best shape because they don't know Whumpee would obey any orders regardless of physical pain, or starvation. They will do anything as long as they can be useful.

Caretaker would find out soon, and Whumpee would be reminded of their place. Just how it was supposed to be from the beginning.

[dinkflocculent]

Maid/butler whumpee and mistress/master caretaker.

I have characters like this. Whumpee is nonhuman (they of course have horns) and can kick butt to protect caretaker. Caretaker can also defend themself, but is constantly in danger because of their salary and power. Whumpee and caretaker are dating. <3

When they are both kidnapped, Whumpee is defiant and won’t break. They would rather be tortured instead of their master, and is extremely loyal. Despite caretaker’s refusal. Eventually, whumper has the last straw and chops off their most sensitive part, their horns.

When they both manage to escape, all Whumpee does is sleep, something they rarely did. All of the guilt they got from putting their master in danger in the first place was soothed by caretaker’s soft shushes and touches.

That’s just my take on a Whump trope of mine. It’s just gives me so many whumperflies. <3

[caretaker-lee]

I just love whumpees who are scared shitless of their own caretakers. They're so scared of doing anything wrong because they just know that if/when they mess up, caretaker will punish them just like whumper did. They don't know when it'll happen, but it will.

[whumpyboo]

Drabble: Caretaker New Master

trope suggested by @caretaker-lee [thank you!]

I'm using they/them pronouns for whumpee and he/him for caretaker, mainly out of convenience and a little bit for personal preference :P I hope that's alright with everyone <3

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Whumpee had already had a few masters in their life. Most of them hadn't lasted long, and most of them hadn't been very nice. Most important of all, though, none of them had been happy with whumpee. None of them had kept them, after all.

So, when caretaker took whumpee in, they promised themselves they wouldn't disappoint another master. Whumpee didn't have to be good this time, they had to be perfect. They couldn't risk caretaker abandoning them as well.

Caretaker was a strange master. Caretaker was nice, for starters. He never yelled. He never made whumpee do things they didn't want to do. They never even had to punish whumpee yet. There was only one thing that bothered whumpee: caretaker never gave them orders. How was whumpee going to be a good pet if they weren't told what to do?

Still, they had done their very best from the start. They had already made the mistake of following an old master's rules with a new one, and that was a lesson they didn't need teaching twice. So they did what was safest: nothing. They sat pretty wherever caretaker left them, waiting to be asked for something. And it took a while, but slowly caretaker started realizing just how useful whumpee could be. He still persisted in asking for things, instead of just telling whumpee what to do- but whumpee was just happy their new master wasn't ignoring them any more.

That was a good sign, it meant their master liked them, that he might even keep them. Even if caretaker was a bit odd, whumpee had started to like being his pet. They had their own bed, warm clothes, and could even eat the same food as their master! Whumpee knew eventually caretaker would realize pets didn't need all of that, but they were determined to enjoy it while it lasted.

Maybe then, whumpee's mistake had been to enjoy their privileges too much. They'd grown comfortable, lazy. They had started to do things without being asked.

And that was why when caretaker returned home, he didn't find the home cooked meal whumpee had wanted to surprise him with waiting on the table. Instead, they found charred food and pots doused in water, ceramic shards scattered all over the floor, and no whumpee in sight.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

[this is already too long to be a drabble, and it feels too long for a tumblr post, so maybe I'll come back with a part two later if anyone's interested?]

nevermind I was having too much fun here's part 2 :P

[justbreakonme]

I love super strong/jacked caretakers with weak or tiny whumpees, especially with the Whumpee-thinks-caretaker-is-their-new-master trope.

The whole “I just have to pray that they mean it when they say they’re not going to hurt me because it would be so easy for them”

“They could kill me without even trying.”

“They’re only being so merciful because they know I’m too weak to fight back so they don’t need to waste their time…”

And of course the caretaker-uses-their-strength-for-good and beats whumpers ass, and suddenly whumpee realizing that, yes, caretaker was a formidable master, but…a protective one too.

[cupcakes-and-pain]

Whump Prompt

Whumpee spent the entire day cleaning. Their skin is cracking, their hands are bleeding, their back is breaking, their face seems eternally stained with tears.

They just want to collapse and sleep, but they still need to make dinner and then wash the dishes and then entertain Caretaker Master and then prepare Master’s pajamas and then fluff Master’s pillow and then make sure Master goes to sleep comfortably and then Whumpee can finally sleep.

Whumpee wants to beg for another break, but they’re terrified they ask for too many mercies. They’re terrified that one day Master will get fed up with their excuses and beat them for once.

[gottawhump]

Room

115

CW/TW: BBU/wru, pet whump, food mention, vomiting. Caretaker is new master.

He’s shaken and shaking as he follows his new owner, knowing he’s already messed up. Punishment delayed is punishment doubled.

“This is your room,” the owner says, opening a door and going in.

It’s a simple room. A closet. A dresser. A desk. A chair. A bed. Soft neutral colors, accented by darker wood. A guest room.

“Yes, Sir,” he manages before his stomach rebels. He rushes to a door near the back of the room, which thankfully is a bathroom, falling to his knees and throwing up in the toilet, acid and bile fouling his mouth and nose.

Disgusting. He stays there, shaking and crying, certain he’s cemented his place in this new household. Disgusting whore.

“I’m sorry,” his new owner says, coming in. “I guess that cheeseburger was a bit much to start with. Maybe you’ll feel more up to soup and toast later.”

“Yes. Yes, Sir.”

He risks looking up, and there’s no anger in his owner’s eyes, only concern.

“Carlisle. My name is Carlisle, and you’re allowed to use it. Or Mr. Black, for more formal times, or if that makes you more comfortable.”

“Yes, Si-Carlisle.” It feels weird, to say his owner’s name. Had even known his last owner’s name?

“Take a shower and clean yourself up.”

“Yes, Carlisle.”

He runs the water in the shower hot, even though it makes him feel dizzy. Even though he wasn’t given permission for hot water. It feels like defiance.

Whatever comes next, he will at least have felt warm for a while.

Afterward, he can’t bring himself to get on the bed. Not before he must. He kneels next to it, and waits.

Later, in the middle of the night, he wakes in the bed, the covers pulled over him. Untouched. Alone.

There’s an insulated cup on the bedside table. He drinks the still-warm chicken broth, then falls back asleep.

Old Friends taglist: @painful-pooch @justplainwhump @redwingedwhump @maracujatangerine @honeycollectswhump @tragedyinblue @taterswhump @nicolepascaline

[chaotic-orphan]

Vendetta (X)

Read part one // Continued from here

Strap in lads, this is gonna hurt.

*~*~*~*~*

Supervillain walked with purposeful, basking strides back towards the stage, villains parting like an honour guard for him as he walked. Villain walked behind, parading Hero after him, the whip cutting into Hero’s wrists and yanking them stumbling forward. Hero felt the coldness of Villain’s shadows possessing them, keeping them upright even as they longed to just pass out.

They didn’t want to fight anymore, they wanted to lie down and die with Superhero. They longed to plunge their… their sword that killed…

Tears somehow had the energy to keep streaming down their faces in bursts. They could still see Grieves striding forwards and grabbing the sword from Supervillain’s hands.

If Hero… if Hero never got caught then Superhero would be— they’d—

Villain dragged them up on stage and kept them by his side this time, letting Supervillain take centre stage. Grieves stood on the other side of the stage, next to Crow and the other boy from before who looked a little paler now, a little less relaxed.

“Superhero is dead. The heroes are scattered. We won!” Supervillain yelled. The shouts and cries of joy and laughter, the stomping and clapping and hollering and whistling, all of it sounded so far away to Hero who just sat staring at stage in front of them. They lost.

They actually… lost.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. The good guys were supposed to win! The good guys won in every book and movie and— it can’t end like this? With Superhero dead, Hero on their knees immobile. Surely, surely someone else will come? Surely… Teleport? Or Medic? Or… or… Hero’s hands balled into fists as a fresh wave of sobs overtook their body.

It was pathetic and childish, and so, so tone deaf to the imminent life altering moment that was before them, but all they wanted in that moment was Vigilante. He’d know what to do. He’d hold them and hug them close and tell them everything would be alright.

Hero wanted them, longed for them, with every ounce of their soul. The grief was like a quilt, dulling their senses and making everything quiet, everything except that ache for the one person they loved; the one person who loved them most. The person they’ll probably never see again.

“The time has finally come for a world where we don’t have to hide our powers, where we can walk free from the shadows. Where the powerless will know who we are, and not fear us, but respect us.” Supervillain continued. He spread his arms and indicated the crowd to quiet down. “I know I promised a world where we would rule, but if I make that world then this cycle of violence will start again.”

Hero looked up, eyes on Supervillain as he spoke. What? Did Supervillain actually want peace all this time?

“I can see your faces, but fret not, friends. We will all be on the right side of history, and it will be the Heroes who suffer in the new world!”

Another burst of claps and cheers. Supervillain turned and gestured at the boy on the other side of the stage. Crow walked the boy up to Supervillain who smiled encouragingly. The boy couldn’t have been older than sixteen, dressed in a black hoodie and jeans. He glanced over his shoulder at Hero who stared at him, too tired to offer any compassion.

“I want to thank each and every one of you here for helping us win this war, forging a new world order, know you will have my gratitude eternally.” Supervillain grabbed the boy’s hand and Hero felt the pull of power at the contact.

Their eyes widened and their stomach drooped. “No,” they breathed. Hero tried to push against Villain’s hold but Villain tightened the collar of shadows around Hero’s throat and squeezed. “No! Get back!”

But their warning was lost in the sound of cheers and applause. That boy… he must be some kind of magnifier, extending Supervillain’s reach of his power but how far Hero didn’t know.

A ball of light erupted from Supervillain and the boy, burning so bright that Hero had to turn their face away to shield themselves from the glare and the light was warm, pleasantly so, and it seemed to get closer and closer Hero. They heard bodies drop around them and people’s cries of surprise and fear and then nothing but a single, searing ringing that echoed everywhere; so loud and clear it was as if Supervillain had dropped a bomb on the battlefield and all that was left was silence and bright, white light, and that ringing.

Hero woke up in the light, stretching for miles around until it was out of sight, encompassing everything. The sky, the horizon, the earth, the ground, nothing was safe from its entombment.

Hero walked along the white ground, footsteps repeating coldly back to Hero’s ears, Villain’s whip and the shadows no longer a concern. Their hands were free. They reached up to touch their face but it was still flakey with blood from the battle, and Hero was in their same clothes. Hero frowned down at their hands.

“Confused?”

Hero whirled, eyes wide as they settled on Supervillain grinning in front of them. He stood casually, one hand in his pocket, his head tilted to the side, icy eyes focused on Hero.

His voice echoed off the expanse of emptiness. “What did you do?”

Supervillain let out a pleased sigh. “I changed the world Hero,” he said. “All I wanted was for the powerful and the powerless to live in harmony with each other. I didn’t want all the bloodshed.”

“You’re a liar.”

“Believe what you want,” he replied with a shrug. He started towards Hero, and Hero braced themselves, lowering their centre of gravity, ready for a blow, but Supervillain just put a hand on Hero’s shoulder. Hero stiffened, straightening. Supervillain’s eyes were sympathetic and kind. “It doesn’t matter anymore now. I won, Hero, and I’m finally ready for you to see my new world.”

Hero blinked. “What?”

Supervillain continued walking past Hero, and Hero turned to follow them. “I had you in stasis for a few months,” Supervillain said. Hero paused, frowning, and the expanse wasn’t just white anymore. There was a black dot faraway that Supervillain was walking towards, leading them towards. “Just while I crafted the new world to my liking.”

“What!” Hero demanded, panic gripping their chest. “But you just— we were just at the stage, at the—”

“Heroes Guild?” Supervillain asked with a chuckle, shaking his head almost fondly. “That was months ago now, Hero. Or was it a year?”

A year.

A year?

Supervillain looked over his shoulder, blue eyes capturing Hero’s in his. “Grieves kept you alive here. I didn’t want you to suffer so I asked him to make sure you wouldn’t remember anything until I was ready to release you.”

Hero swallowed the lump in their throat. Supervillain was beside the black dot now, but it was a door. How did they get here so fast? When were they moving? Wasn’t Hero standing still? Hero’s frowned deepened.

Hero shook their head. “I don’t want to go. I— leave me here, please. Leave me so I don’t remember anything.”

Supervillain shook his head sadly. “I want you to see my new world, Hero. See what you fought so hard to stop, see that the fighting wasn’t worth it at all.”

The door was open. Supervillain was stepping through. “No! No!” Hero protested as Supervillain grabbed Hero’s wrist and dragged them through the open door into more whiteness. “No! Leave me! Leave me here! Please!”

Hero woke gasping, shooting straight up in their bed and clutching at the sweat soaked sheets. Their eyes darted around the room, looking for Supervillain, but they didn’t have to look far. Hero skittered back on the bed, shivering as they stared at Supervillain’s icy, smiling eyes.

“Hello Hero,” he said with his friendly voice. Hero swallowed, their eyes shooting to the door but there Grieves stood, glare fixed on Hero.

“Sleeping beauty finally awakes,” Grieves grumbled. Hero gasped, their chest beating in fretful staccatos, jumping and falling and plunging and pushing.

It’s a nightmare. This is just a nightmare and Hero will wake up and they’ll— they’ll—

Superhero’s face flashed behind Hero’s eyes. Hero’s eyes blew wide and they lunged forward, gripping the edge of the bed and threw up everything in their stomach which wasn’t much. Mostly bile and water.

They heard Grieves moan in disgust distantly as Hero shuddered, another wave of warmth climbing their throat as the battle came back to them in terrifying, vivid clarity.

The war… Vigilante… Teleport… they had lost. They— they lost, and Supervillain— a hand on their back and Hero flinched but they couldn’t move, afraid that if they did it would anger their stomach again and they didn’t want to throw up on the bed.

“That’s it, Hero,” Supervillain said warmly. “Get it out.”

Hero couldn’t reply before they were getting sick again, and then, somehow, they knew they were finished. They wiped their mouth with the back of their hand and sat up, shaking. Supervillain smiled at them.

“Here, sip some water. I’ll get someone to clean that up.” Supervillain said, pushing a glass to Hero’s lips. Hero blinked rapidly, steadying the glass with their two hands and tentatively taking a sip. The water was cool going down their throat, and pleasant. It washed away the taste of bile and acid and Hero wanted to swallow the whole thing, but Supervillain pulled the glass away. “Easy, Hero. If you gulp it down you’ll just throw it up,” he told them.

Hero sat back away from Supervillain’s outstretched hands, away from the water and glared at him.

“Come now, Hero. You could hurt my feelings with that look.”

“I will kill you,” Hero promised, their voice croaking from disuse, but the words were heavy, weighted with a vow that Hero would follow until their dying day. Or until Supervillain’s, whichever came first. Supervillain chuckled and leaned away, setting the glass of water on the table beside the bed.

“You can try,” Supervillain said with a shrug, crossing one leg over the other and clasping his hands on his thighs. Comfortable. Relaxed. As if Hero wasn’t a threat like this.

Because you’re not.

As if they were two friends catching up on lost time. Hero was new to Supervillain’s changed world. They didn’t even know what he did, let alone what his power was. This new world he promised, Hero wouldn’t be able to navigate it properly if he didn’t show them around. All they knew was that Supervillain killed Superhero and Hero would kill him for it.

Eventually.

After a brief adjustment period.

“No?” Supervillain asked, dipping his head to catch Hero’s eyes again. Hero swallowed the dryness in their throat. “Well then, perhaps we can have breakfast together. I can show you around.”

“How lo—” Hero’s voice broke and they coughed, trying to clear the clog. Supervillain grabbed the glass of water off the table and reached it towards Hero. Hero shook their head initially, but their throat was raw, burning and they took the glass from his hands. They almost dropped it immediately, and would have too, if not for Supervillain’s hand catching the bottom on his open palm.

“Sip,” Supervillain said, scoldingly. Hero gripped the glass with two shaky hands. They continued coughing and they couldn’t lift the glass from Supervillain’s hand, so Supervillain moved leaning forwards as Hero hacked. He was beside them in the bed, a hand on the back of Hero’s neck, cool and clammy against Hero’s burning skin and Hero hated how good it felt.

Hero leaned in and sipped some of the water. It settled the burning slightly and all too quickly Supervillain pulled away. Hero cleared their throat as best as they could, and Supervillain waited, patiently, until Hero nodded and Supervillain brought the glass back to Hero’s lips and they repeated the process.

They felt disgusting having their enemy so close to them, having to need his help to fucking drink water because their body was weak. Their muscles atrophied.

“Enough?” Supervillain asked and Hero nodded. Supervillain’s thumb ran over the back of Hero’s neck. “Good.”

He moved on the bed, getting off and letting his contact with Hero drop which Hero was grateful for. Their body was exhausted from that little exertion. They leaned back against the wall and watched as Supervillain placed the glass on the table again.

“How long?” Hero asked, their voice a little stronger than before. Supervillain smiled a little, as if Hero told a stupid joke.

“It’s coming up to the year anniversary since the world changed.”

The confirmation hit them like a train to the chest, like a bowling ball was dropped from the empire state building into their stomach from their ribs, far too heavy and crushing to comprehend.

“What?” Hero asked with a breath, tears pinpricking the backs of their eyes. “You left me in stasis for a—” they swallowed back a sob, “a year?”

Supervillain shrugged, turning his back to Hero and walking to the wardrobe beside the door. “It was necessary, Hero. I needed to solidify my hold on the world, make sure the memory was ingrained deep enough that it would take, and work to destroy records and such.” Supervillain continued, hangers clanging together as he looked through the clothes.

Hero swallowed. Was their brain slow or was Supervillain talking nonsense? “What do you mean ‘make sure the memory was ingrained?’ What did you do?”

Supervillain paused in his movements. He cast a glance back at Hero who was barely hanging onto their threads of consciousness and he started to laugh. Hero wished he were dead in that moment. They longed to grab their swords and spear them through his stupid throat and his lungs, and keep stabbing until he stopped breathing.

“Oh, Hero. I completely forgot. I never did tell you my power, did I?”

Hero blinked at him. They wouldn’t give Supervillain a show. They refused.

Supervillain smiled and turned to face Hero, two hangers with clothes in his hands. His smile was wide and dashing, and pleased and friendly. “I have the ability to alter memories.”

Hero stared. “What?”

Supervillain continued towards Hero, laying the clothes out on the bed. A hoodie and a tracksuit. Neither of which were particularly interesting to Hero at that moment. Supervillain set the clothes down and sat down on his chair again beside Hero’s bed.

“I altered the world’s memories of Heroes and Villains, of powers and the powerless. I made it normal for some people to be born with powers, and didn’t try and hide it from the world like Superhero wanted.” Supervillain said, his eyes glinting with corrupt pleasure, like he was enjoying seeing Hero’s entire world shatter on their face.

“And you know what, Hero?” He said leaning in. “Nobody batted an eye about it.”

“No fucking shit!” Hero seethed, leaning forwards despite their body groaning at them for the effort. “You altered their memories so they wouldn’t bat an eye about it, you dick!” Supervillain chuckled. It chilled Hero to the core.

“No, Hero,” he said softly, shaking his head. “You don’t understand. It’s hard to implement memories that people don’t already want to accept. Well, granted, it’s harder but still do-able. Although, you’ll be happy to know that Superhero’s idea of revealing powered individuals while maintaining their secret identities, made it an easier pill to swallow.”

Hero glared at him, clenching their teeth to stop themselves from screaming, their fingers curling into fists by their sides.

“You can’t just make the everyone forget about our past! The war, the heroes—”

“Oh, yes I can, Hero. Not alone. That’s what the amplifier was for.”

Hero frowned. Amplifier? Their mind scratched back to yesterday— no… it wasn’t yesterday. It was only yesterday to them. But Hero remembered when Supervillain was on stage, Villain keeping Hero on their knees at the back and the— “the boy.”

“Yes. The boy. We had to look high and low to find him, but find him we did. Everything had to go to plan otherwise the war would be for nothing.”

“Why would he help you?” Hero demanded.

Supervillain leaned back into his seat. “Because he wanted to protect his family from it.”

The two of them fell silent. Hero was struggling to fight back tears at Supervillain’s casualness. They wished they believed that Supervillain was lying. They wished they could hope that he was, but Hero knew. They knew that Supervillain was telling the truth, and that fact was attempting to swallow them whole.

“Did you protect them?” Hero whispered.

“I did.” And Hero knew that was true too. It didn’t make them feel better about it. “But that’s not the important thing I want to show you, Hero,” Supervillain continued with a small smile. “I’m sure you’re wondering about what happened to the rest of your heroes, hmm?”

Hero’s heart lurched in their chest. No, they weren’t, and they were horrible for nothing thinking about them, but their mind was so focused on Vigilante, would he remember them? Would he still… would they still?… Fresh tears pricked Hero’s eyes, both from guilt and an overwhelming amount of pain at Vigilante’s possible altered state.

Could Supervillain make him forget about their relationship? Their love? Icy eyes drank in Hero’s obvious hurt and helpless grief. He couldn’t imagine waking up after a year and being told the world has changed.

“Please…” Hero whispered, tears falling down their cheeks as they raised their head. “Please make me forget.”

“No,” Supervillain said softly. Hero fisted their hands in the bedsheets.

“Why?!”

“Because Hero, I need someone who doesn’t agree with me to keep me in check.”

“Maybe you should have thought about that before you murdered Superhero!” Hero seethed. Supervillain’s expression darkened.

“Hmph, yes. Well, Superhero would be far too meddlesome. He would have found a way to undo all my work.”

“And I won’t?”

Supervillain smiled. “No, Hero. You won’t. I have you tangled in a web that you don’t even realise yet. But, don’t worry, I am willing to show you. As soon as you are dressed.”

Hero glared at him. They weren’t ready to see the new world. They didn’t want to go with Supervillain.

“Can’t you put me back in stasis?” Hero asked, their voice a harsh, breathy wish. Supervillain’s smile turned sad. Hero swallowed the lump in their throat, their nostrils flaring as their eyes drifted to the stupid, ugly tracksuit bottoms and hoodie.

“I want a shower.”

“You can have a shower.” Hero nodded. “I had a wet chair placed in the shower for you. I don’t want you fainting on me.”

The forethought that Supervillain had put into Hero’s awakening turned their stomach. Why had he thought of everything? Considered every possible discomfort and ensured Hero wouldn’t feel it? How long had he been planning this?

“Are you ready?” Supervillain asked, standing and extending his hand to Hero. Hero didn’t look at him, didn’t reply, but they grabbed his hand and let him help them towards a door in the corner of the room. He opened it and helped Hero in, and Hero didn’t apologise or care that much that they were leaning all of their weight on Supervillain. Their legs were numb and unused to carrying the load of their torso.

Hero saw the chair eventually, alert eyes scanning the shower, searching for a razor or something g that would let them hurt themselves but of course, there was nothing. Hero shrugged the thought away mentally, they could always slam their head against the ground until they were dead.

Supervillain set them down in the chair. “I won’t insult you by staying, so I have made a couple other safety measures.”

Supervillain pulled a pair of cuffs from his pockets and Hero recoiled, but their body was too slow and weak to respond, to fight against Supervillain as he cuffed their left arm to the right arm rest of the chair. He did the same with Hero’s ankles and Hero didn’t fight him anymore. They didn’t have the energy to fight a battle they knew they wouldn’t win.

“How will I take my clothes off genius?” Supervillain smiled. He held up a scissors and Hero rolled their eyes. “Of course.”

“I won’t look,” Supervillain said kindly, as if that made a difference. As if it would be less humiliating for him to cuff them and cut their clothes just enough so Hero could shimmy out of them in their current state with only one hand free.

“I can’t do anything like this,” Hero said through clenched teeth.

“You needn’t worry, Hero. Grieves made sure you were clean, he let you do the essentials like drink water and use the toilet.”

“Couldn’t have let me eat during that time, no?”

Supervillain dipped his chin back. “You and I both know how resourceful you are. What if you accidentally brushed Grieves and his power failed? You will be fine with just this for today. You’ll understand more about your time in stasis later, but you can rest assured, you’re not dirty.”

With that Supervillain turned the water on and left. It was refreshingly warm, not too hot or cold. Just enough that it returned some heat to Hero’s body that seemed to be seeping from every pore. Slowly they removed the shirt, which was hanging only by the loop of the collar, up and over their head and let the water touch their bare skin.

They sat in the water motionless for they didn’t know how long, long enough for their fingers to prune and only then did they open their eyes. A shelf was near their left hand and on it some shampoo and conditioner and soap. Hero rubbed it everywhere, too tired to try and fight to take off their trousers, they just slipped the soap bar underneath and scrubbed until their skin was red raw.

A knock at the door after Hero was done. “Are you finished?”

Hero thought about not answering him. “Hero?”

“Yes.”

Supervillain walked in and turned off the tap, his eyes closed and wrapped the towel around Hero’s chest. Hero wrapped it further, and told him it was okay to look when their modesty was satisfied. Supervillain unlocked their cuffs and escorted the dripping Hero back to their bed, the towel wrapped firmly around them now. It was soft, white and fluffy.

“I already laid out your clothes. I’ll turn around,” Supervillain said once Hero was sitting on their bed again.

“I assume you can’t make yourself new memories.”

“In the same way I doubt you can negate your own abilities, no. Why?”

Hero picked up the tracksuit, their nose scrunching with disgust. “Shame you can’t just make yourself memories of being stylish.”

Supervillain laughed. Hero glared at his back as they pulled on the half zip hoodie. “Of all the things you have to be angry at me for, Hero. I didn’t think fashion would factor into it.”

“Don’t worry,” Hero answered, yanking their trackies up their legs and tying the drawstring. They were annoyingly comfortable and soft. “I have plenty of anger to go around. And fashion always comes into it.”

“I’ll take your word for it.”

“Do I get shoes?”

“Are you finished?” Supervillain asked. Hero half expected him to turn but he didn’t until Hero said, yeah, I’m done.

“You won’t need shoes for the time being.”

Hero stared at him. “Do you seriously think I’m in any state to run away?”

“Hero,” he said, gently scolding. A tone that set Hero’s teeth on edge. “You can’t even stand up by yourself. I have a wheelchair for you.”

Hero paused, frown drawing their features down. “I am not going around in a wheelchair!”

“It’s either that or I carry you like a child, Hero. It’s your choice.” Supervillain shot them a look and Hero glared back. They didn’t need a wheelchair. They could— Hero could stand up on their own! And they would fucking prove it.

Hero didn’t break eye contact as they grabbed the headboard of the bed and pushed themselves up to shaky feet. Supervillain watched them, saw their shaking muscles and weak legs and their determination as they took a step.

Their ankle folded and Hero almost fell but they caught themselves and let out a startled: “wait!” to stop Supervillain from swooping in and saving them from falling flat on their face. Hero swallowed and pushed themselves back up, sweating from the effort as they pulled themselves to their full height, wobbling only slightly as they lifted their burning gaze to meet Supervillain’s.

“See? I’m fine.”

“I’ll carry you then,” Supervillain said with a shrug, starting towards them. “It makes no difference to me. I just thought you’d want to retain some semblance of dignity.”

Hero backed up. Fear immediately wiping away the determination from before and Hero stumbled back, falling onto the bed and kicking up a leg to keep Supervillain back but he kept coming.

“OKAY! OKAY! Fine! I’ll— the wheelchair,” they said, trying to smother their panic with rage. They hadn’t felt this weak in… well, ever, and it scared them more than Supervillain did. “I’ll take the wheelchair.”

As if on cue there came a knock on the door. Supervillain straightened with his chilling, friendly smile, his eyes twinkling with an awful knowing that turned Hero’s stomach.

“Enter.”

The door opened and a wheelchair rolled through. Supervillain stepped out of Hero’s line of sight so they could get a full view of the door as Grieves walked through, grinning at Hero, followed by a familiar head of jet black hair.

“Medic?” Hero whispered, surprised they could get that word together with the lack of oxygen in their chest. Medic looked at Hero and no recognition flashed across his face. He was wearing an apron, with a bucket and a mop. His eyes narrowed when he saw Hero.

“Who are you?”

“Medic,” Grieves chastised and Medic winced. Grieves turned and placed a hand on Medic’s shoulder. “Don’t be rude.”

“Don’t touch him!” Hero growled, shooting to their feet. The world swam and they grabbed the headboard for support, but Supervillain caught them and started pulling them away, towards the wheelchair.

Medic’s eyes turned quizzical as they caught Hero’s, frowning as Supervillain turned Hero and shoved them into the chair. Hero’s lips curled back into a snarl, about to curse Supervillain out of it when Supervillain shot them a look, his icy eyes freezing Hero in their defiance.

“Would you like the same treatment as the shower or will you behave?”

“You’re a fucking monster,” Hero spat, tears welling up on their lower lids, blurring edges into colours and shapes. Supervillain didn’t move, his expression didn’t change.

“Will you behave?”

Hero grabbed the arm rests of the wheelchair, arms shaking from their white knuckled grip. They couldn’t answer, not verbally, so they nodded stiffly. Once up and once down, almost imperceptible, but Supervillain saw.

“Good,” he said, and Hero could hear the smile in his voice. Medic walked past Hero towards the vomit by the bed and set the bucket down, dunking the mop in. That’s all Hero saw before Supervillain turned their chair.

Grieves was by the door, arms behind his back, a grin on his papery face. Hero glared at him as Supervillain wheeled them out the door, their face flooding with shame. Only when they saw that the hallway was empty did they let the helpless tears fall.

Hero would right this, they vowed.

They would fix everything. They’d kill Supervillain and Grieves, and Villain and all other villains that were conscious to the change— the ones that remembered the old world — but first, they needed to get their strength back.

They needed to learn how the new world worked. They had to play nice with Supervillain while they learned exactly what this world they had woken to was. What a world looked like in Supervillain’s image.

If Grieves had Medic, he probably had Teleport too, but Hero couldn’t know until they saw her with him. And if Grieves had them, then Villain probably had…

Hero swallowed. Surely Vigilante would remember them? Medic and Hero were friends, but— but isn’t love supposed to survive every trial? Hero stared at their knees dejectedly. If Supervillain wiped everyone’s minds… nobody, none of the heroes or Hero’s friends would remember who they are. They’d just think Hero’s another of Supervillain’s generals.

“Does anyone remember me?” Hero asked. Their voice came out so quiet that even Hero wondered if they had asked a question out loud at all.

“No,” Supervillain replied, just as gentle as before. “Superhero is a villain in their eyes, the darkest days of our lives, so I wouldn’t try and cosy up to them by throwing his name around either.”

Hero sucked in a breath. “Did you enslave every hero?”

Supervillain chuckled. “Not all of them. My generals got their first picks. You can guess who Grieves chose.”

Hero clenched their jaw. “You did that on purpose.”

“I did.”

“Why?!” Hero demanded, slamming their palm on the arm rest of the wheelchair.

There was a pause. Supervillain stopped walking. Hero’s heart thumped loud in their chest. They felt Supervillain remove his hands from the chair, and he walked around to the front of Hero. Hero refused to look at him, but it didn’t matter. Supervillain tilted Hero’s chin up with the pads of his index and middle finger, until Hero’s eyes met piercing blue.

“I want you to acclimatise to your new life quickly Hero. Superhero would have run around and tried to form connections and rally his friends in vain to revolt against me. I want you to know that that idea will not be tolerated.” Hero felt their eyes burn with hot, frustrated tears that they refused to let fall. “And it won’t be you who is punished for your insolence.”

Supervillain leaned down, his hands going to the armrests of the chair, fingers wrapping around Hero’s wrists and pinning them as Hero shrunk back in the chair. Supervillain stopped a hair’s breath away from Hero’s face.

“It will be your friends. Medic and Teleport, and the little traitor Vigilante.” Hero struggled against Supervillain’s grip in vain, their blood rushing like a waterfall in their ears, deafening. “And I’ll make you watch as they are hurt for your petty defiance. Do I make myself clear, Hero?”

Hero was shaking. Their lips shut resolutely. Supervillain squeezed their wrists in warning. “Hero.”

“Yes.” Hero hissed. Supervillain smiled, leaning back. Hero swallowed the lump in their throat, grabbing their wrists and putting them in their lap when Supervillain pulled away.

“Good,” he said, chipper and happy. His mood changing as suddenly as a day became a year for Hero. “Let’s get some breakfast then. All this excitement has me working up an appetite,” he said, and he was pushing Hero’s wheelchair through the halls again, as if he didn’t threaten everyone Hero loved.

Everyone Hero loved. People who didn’t remember them anymore. The only person they had vaguely on their side right now was Supervillain, much to their chagrin, but that’s the way it was and would be until Hero was strong enough to fight back.

First, breakfast.

Then they could figure out a plan.

Find Vigilante and they could fall in love all over again, if that’s what it takes… Hero was ready to abandon being a hero during the war for Vigilante, they could do it again now. Stop being a hero and just find Vigilante and be happy.

It would be what Supervillain wanted. What Supervillain asked of them; Not to be an upstart like Superhero, not to fight back futilely. Hero closed their eyes and let Supervillain push them through unfamiliar halls.

They could do this. They would survive this.

End of Arc 1

*~*~*~*~*

Continued here

Orphanage roll-call: @micechomper @aarika-merrill @silentpotat0 @dutifullykrispyland @gloriousqueen101

GUUUYYYYSSS!!!! It’s finally gotten to the part of the story where the title makes sense now~ hehe, also, would recommend for those that want little tidbits/sneak hints/easter eggs I would listen to Jann’s song Gladiator on Spotify for the clues to the next arc of the story

Thank you for reading my happy fic, I love you all so much cause this one’s special, my poor lil baby, Hero is all alone :( with only their nemesis for safety and comfort :(