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whumpacabra · 5 months

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17. Inventory

Panic attack, collapse, exhaustion, difficulty breathing, dehydration, concussion, fever, medical treatment, implied starvation, referenced blood loss, referenced past noncon

AU Masterpost / Previous / Next

Harrison's ears were ringing, every breath aching as though his ribs were freshly broken. Were they broken? He couldn't remember - he could barely breathe.

“Easy now.” Thomas’ voice was soft as he gently held Harrison’s shoulders. “You’re alright. Merrill and Dan are gonna do what they can.”

He nodded shakily, legs giving out as he tried to turn and look at Wolf. Thomas caught him, easing him down to the ground.

“Easy, easy…Jesus, you’re in rough shape too.”

“You’re telling me.” Harrison’s voice croaked, smile forced. The world was spinning, dimming as he choked on his words. He couldn't feel his hands anymore, but he could tell they were shaking. “I’m fine - fine. Comparatively. Could I - water?”

His throat was dry, vision fading gray. He didn’t know how a cool glass of water made its way to his lips, all he knew was that it was cold and bitter and invigorating.

“Easy now, you choke I’m gonna laugh at you.” He blinked up, the woman - Merrill - his head resting on her lap where he laid on the floor. He tried to push himself up only to find her arms stronger than his. “No you don’t - you’re concussed, dehydrated, and running a temperature. You’re staying down until Dan gets a look at you.”

Harrison’s head snapped to the side, relieved to see the shallow but steady rise and fall of the Wolf’s broad chest. He almost looked peaceful asleep. Almost.

“He’ll be just fine. Cut it a bit close but thankfully Dan’s been soliciting blood donations for years. Had some O negative from the Lawers in stock.”

“Thanks.” His voice felt cottony; he wanted more water. Harrison let his gaze wander the garage. Deputy Thomas wasn’t in sight, and Crazy Dan was swapping out his bloodied blue nitrile gloves for a fresh pair. He shuddered as Dan cut away Wolf’s undershirt, baring fresh bruises and still weeping welts.

“Are you injured?” Merrill was looking down at him with clinical but gentle eyes. Harrison almost laughed. Almost.

“Just some bruises and scrapes. Trust me I’m - I’m fine.”

“Hm, any of those scrapes infected?”

“What? No - not that I - ” Lying on his back had one unforeseen consequence: it made it so much harder to cough. Merrill simply nodded at his hacking fit and raised a hand in the air.

“Stetho.” Dan tossed the stethoscope practically blind, but Merrill caught it with ease and put the cold metal against Harrison’s chest as he drew shallow, gasping breaths. “God you sound awful. What did you do, drown?”

“Sort of.” Harrison couldn’t help but squirm a bit as her fingers ran over his too-prominent ribs. Her face darkened, eyes glancing over to Wolf’s painfully still form. Dan was focused, swabbing antiseptic over the burns across his shoulder. She withdrew her hand and put the stethoscope around her neck.

“Does he have any other injuries we should know about? Any illnesses?”

Harrison swallowed, throat dry and words soft.

“He - he was raped. Recently.” His throat bobbed, anger burning in his chest as shock morphed to pity on Merrill’s face.

“And you?”

“I’m fine.” His voice was flat, exhaustion dragging at his bones. “Physically speaking.” Merrill gave a curt nod.

“We’re gonna take care of you boys, alright?” He eyed her, face blank. “Whoever hurt you…they ain’t coming ‘round here without catching some lead. You hear?”

Harrison nodded weakly, eyes flicking back to the Wolf’s steady breathing. They weren’t followed. Not that he knew.

AU Masterpost / Previous / Next

(An AU of my Freelancers series)

#whump #panic attack #collapse #exhaustion #difficulty breathing #dehydration #concussion #fever #medical treatment #implied starvation #referenced noncon #past noncon #freelancers au #a bit of a breather of a chapter (no pun intended)#given how i redistributed the last few chapters this felt like it needed to be separate so. bonus chapter.#survived [redacted] yesterday btw o7 i love political events (lying)

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sakakisilverlining · 2 months

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It's a little burnt, but it's okay. I don't think we're picky on that anymore.

#♤hmph. naturally. [×silverpostings×]#implied abuse #implied starvation #[ask to tag]

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whumpy-arts-and-crafts · 2 years

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Bound 8: Please

Hello. Hi. I'm alive, and I'm sorry. It's been literal months. I didn't forget about this blog, nor this story, my brain just wasn't braining. But, I have a new part out. It is kinda short, but it's here. I hope you enjoy!

@equestrianwritingsstuff @epiclamer @itsleighlove @jadeocean46910 @flywhumper @suspicious-whumping-egg @onlywhump @dont-touch-my-soup @befuddled-calico-whump @kurochan @wolfeyedwitch (tell me if you want to be added/removed)

Continued from here

Blake hadn't uttered a word after Vari had been so violently dragged away from him. He remained sitting in the corner of his cell, though instead of hugging himself like usual, now there was something else in his arms.

In his shaking hands, he clutched the book his former enemy had trusted him with. He held onto it as if his life depended on it, curling up around it with every scream of Vari's that tore a sob out of his throat.

He had been so stupid, so careless. As if Vari hadn't warned him. Blake thought that he could take the blame if things went wrong. Now he knew just how wrong he had been. He wasn't only a bad hero, but also a terrible friend, and Vari was the one suffering the consequences of it.

He didn't know how long he had been crying for, but it was long after the screams had stopped. The sound of firm footsteps startled him, and he scrambled to hide Vari's book under his tattered excuse of a blanket. When Aurum came into view, the hero lunged forward, only held back by the bars of his cell.

"Where is he?" He snarled, and the supervillain had to take a step back. "Where's Vari, what have you done to him!?"

Aurum gave a playful smile. "That is for me to know, and for you to agonize over, dear Ignis." He leaned over, his slim finger under Blake's chin, forcing their eyes to meet. "Now, be good. You wouldn't want your friend to get hurt again, would you? I doubt he can take much more..."

Blake's stomach dropped, and all defiance faded from his eyes. "No," he shook his head, "no, leave him alone! Don't hurt him, please!"

As the last word left the hero’s mouth, his captor's grin spread from ear to ear. "Please," he repeated, "I like the sound of that. But the visuals could be improved, you got to show me that you mean it." He pulled back. "Kneel."

Despite Aurum being shorter than Blake, the hero felt his captor tower over him, waiting greedily.

"Fuck you." Blake spat, "I'll never kneel for you!"

"No? Huh, alright then. How do broken knees sound? It's not like the rat needs to be able to walk around. Oh, burns maybe? I know, perhaps he's had a few too many meals-"

"Stop!" Blake cried out. "Alright, fine, I'll do it! I'll do it, just stop..."

He held his breath, his heart beating in his throat. His ears darted from Aurum, to the ground, to Aurum again. Until he exhaled, and dropped on one knee.

"Hmm, good. You're halfway there." chimed the supervillain.

Blake clenched his teeth so hard he thought they'd crack. Oh, how he wanted to curse at Aurum, to stand up and tell him to just shut his damn mouth. But he wouldn't be the one to sow the seeds from it, so he kept it in, and put his other knee underneath him.

"Please," he mumbled, lowering his head, "Please don't hurt him anymore."

Aurum clicked his tongue. "Louder. And address me this time."

"Please Au-"

"Try Sir."

Blake began to shake, his cheeks turning red. He had no right to worry about his dignity, not when Vari's life was on the line. So he swallowed his pride, and raised his voice.

"Please, Sir. I'm begging you, please don't hurt him. I'll do what you want, just... please."

Aurum's boot slid past the cell bars, nudging his captive's jaw. With a satisfied grin, he spoke. "Such a good little hero. See, all you needed was a little push."

He gave a light kick to his jaw. Blake did not react, rather than a few hitched breaths.

"I'll go see if the rat's still alive. See you tomorrow, Ignis."

He did not wait for Blake's response before leaving.

When he returned to Vari's cell, he was still curled into himself, every breath drawing a pained whine out of him. Aurum moved over, and pulled him in a sitting position.

"Rise and shine." He sang, "Our dear hero behaved. You get to eat today."

Through the pain and tears, Vari stared at him in terror.

"Did you forget your words, dear?"

"N-No, no." Vari rasped. "Tha- thank you, Sir."

Aurum smiled, and dropped him back on the floor with no regard for his injuries.

"That's right. I'll expect you upstairs. Don't take too long."

#blake may be starting to break #whump #whump community #whumpblr #villain whump #heroes and villains #whump writing #hero whumpee #begging #kneeling #supervillain whumper #injuries #burns mention #implied starvation #broken bonea mention

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krazyforkicks · 1 year

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CW: Pet whump kinda(?), implied starvation, blindfolded, stitches mention, kidnapped whumpee, losing hope

Shaking with fear and cold, the small emaciated figure of the pet curled into the back corner of their prison, shutting their eyes tightly as they heard footsteps approaching. The pet had never seen the face of their master. The only time they had dared to attempt a look, their master was wearing a mask and had seen their eyes. The pet had never regretted a glance that badly.

When the pet's master entered the prison, they immediately moved to affix a blindfold over the pet's eyes.

"W-wait— please— I-I won't look— I pro-promise— ple—" The pet was interrupted.

"Unless you want your mouth stitched closed again, I suggest you silence yourself."

The pet shut their mouth tightly, suddenly trying to make even their breathing imperceptible.

For a moment, there was silence as the pet's master worked at binding the pet. "Did you know they're talking about you on the news?"

Of course the pet didn't know that. How could they have?

"Everyone is looking for you. Your ex is the main suspect right now. Most people believe they did something to you. No one expects to find you alive."

The pet felt their heart sink and their stomach twist. Their ex wouldn't do anything to them. They hoped that the police would clear them and move on with the investigation.

"No one is even considering the possibility that you were abducted by a stranger."

At this, the pet found it difficult to maintain any veil of composure. No one was even considering what had truly happened to them? They would never be found— never get to leave this place alive— never see their family and friends again. Despite their efforts to remain silent, a half strangled sort of sob made its way out of the pet's mouth.

Their master paused in their work for a moment. "... I thought I told you to be quiet."

#whump #whumpee #whumper #kidnapped whumpee #tw kidnapped #implied starvation #tw implied starvation #blindfold #tw blindfold #restrained #stitches mention #tw stitches mention #losing hope #tw losing hope #pet whump #whump drabble #whump fic #whump community #emotional whump

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rottmnt-anariaverse · 11 months

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Question for Bishop:

What exactly was the purpose of your experiments? What hypotheses were you testing?

Wouldn't it have been more useful to make sure that your subject wasn't malnourished, as that would skew results?

#anariaverse #rottmnt au #rottmnt #tmnt #rottmnt bishop #tmnt bishop #implied abuse #implied starvation #ask to tag #tw bad science #← adding this half as a joke half so donnie ninjaturtles doesn't come into my house tonight to hunt me for sport #rottmnt ask blog

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proudfreakmetarusonniku · 2 years

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Day 7: The Way You Shake and Shiver.

Takes place during canon Exile Arc. Dream finds Tommy after he wakes up drowning, and after punishing him for nearly dying, helps him warm up so he doesn’t get hypothermia. Warnings for dehumanisation, possessive behaviour, drowning, attempted suicide, hypothermia, abuse, broken bones, threats of violence, and implied starvation.

Fun fact, this was based off a piece of fanart I drew!

AO3 link, if you’d prefer.

Tommy was gone.

That was the first thing Dream noticed, and immediately, panic struck him at the thought. After all this time he’d spent trying oh so hard to help mould him into something better, something useful, something entertaining… the idea of Tommy escaping or worse was simply something that couldn’t happen.

Of course, the second reaction was to shut down the weak part of his brain, the one that tried to set him astray with those cloying emotions that ruined plans and lives, and think logically about where he might have gone.

He wasn’t in the little fenced-in shack that shadow of a ghost was in, and if he was in the mines, they’d be lit up. The forest was free of any sign of him, and he wasn’t curled up in the Tnret and mumbling in his sleep like he would have been if he’d managed to drift off for once. Sighing, Dream made his way to the last place in Logstedshire Tommy could be, the beach.

Dream smiled under the mask seeing footprints in the stand, wobbly and pigeon-toed like how Tommy walked without his leg brace. Thank Prime, he was okay. No one else had gotten their gnarled hooks into Dream’s specimen- he hated it when people took what was his. He didn’t tolerate it with L’Manberg, and he wasn’t going to tolerate it with his favourite pawn.

The smile dropped, however, when he saw where the footprints led. Directly into the fucking ocean.

Dream clenched his fist hard enough that he could feel blood and grounding, stinging pain, the anger in his chest bubbling. He’d told Tommy it wasn’t his turn to die, wasn’t ever his turn to die, yet he didn’t fucking listen. Of course he didn’t, disobedient little shit. Sure, Tommy’s defiance could be charming at times, and was a constant source of fascination, but it was still infuriating.

Quickly unequipping his armour, Dream dove into the water. His mask provided a modicum of protection from the stinging salt, but his view was still blurry, marred with swamp-green and the occasional rust-red that stained all of the plains. Swimming forward, he saw the slightest glimpse of platinum-blond locks and frail limbs, barely visible through the muck, and he launched ahead, clinging hard to the blurry mass that was Tommy, and struggled up to the surface.

Tommy was light enough that it wasn’t difficult to get back to the shore, and Dream climbed onto the solid land, dropping Tommy onto the sand carelessly enough it shifted around him. Tommy’s eyes weakly fluttered open, and he started coughing up a mix of salt water, what little food he had left, and a small amount of pinkish blood onto the sand, thankfully managing to turn enough so it didn’t get all over his hair or his hoodie.

“Dream- I-“Tommy coughed over his words, barely able to speak above a whimper. “Wha- what-“

Dream picked up Tommy roughly by the scruff of his neck and hit him in the face hard, before dropping him back down onto the floor. He unequipped his axe and slammed the handle into his face for good measure, until he could hear bones start to break.

“How could you do that to me, Tommy?” Dream shouted, using the tip of his axe to force Tommy into looking into his mask, pressing it deep enough to just barely break the skin. “You know I care about you! You know it’s not your time to die! Not now, not ever! Are you such a fucking idiot that you can’t remember basic rules? I was worried sick!”

“M’ sorry-“

Dream gave Tommy a sharp kick to his stomach. “Sorry doesn’t cut it! I work every day to help you, to make things better for you, to protect you! And you have the audacity to do this to me? Your best friend? This is why everyone hates you! You just take all the care everyone gives and- and you throw it in people's faces like an ungrateful brat! Consider yourself lucky that I’m a good friend.”

“I- I didn’t mean to, I promise, I promise, I’m sorry, Dream, I-“Tommy broke off into terrified sobs, and Dream looked down upon him, and immediately he felt cold panic shoot through him again.

Tommy was almost blue, and shivering as the freezing water he was coated in dripped down his form. Logstedshire might be hellish-hot in the days, but it was more like Hell frozen over at night. Poor kid must be freezing.

And how could Dream let Tommy die before he’d finished making absolutely sure he’d be able to bring him back?

Dream unequipped his axe, and softened a little. “I’ll forgive you this once, but don’t try your luck. Now, are you cold?”

Shakily, Tommy nodded his head. Poor thing. Dream couldn’t help but pity the boy sometimes. The fact Tommy hated that pity made it all the more tempting.

Dream unclasped his green cape and wrapped it around Tommy tight. He was emaciated enough that he could bundle him up in it like a blanket, and Tommy relaxed slightly into the warmth, still shaking like mad as Dream picked him up gently. He almost looked like a wet cat curled inside a towel, damp curls falling straight against his face and only leaving dull blue eyes looking straight upwards.

Holding Tommy in his arms like a baby animal, Dream was acutely aware of how cold the poor thing was and how much he was shaking. Describing it as like a leaf downplayed the violent intensity, a mix of fear and cold making him constantly shiver enough that if Dream was any less confident in his strength, he might have dropped him.

It took everything in Dream to not laugh. The way Tommy reacted, so energetic in every way, was as amusing as it was fascinating.

Gently setting Tommy in a clearing, as far away from the ocean as the two of them could get without losing sight of the campgrounds, Dream took out a flint and steel. He noticed Tommy flinching away, and that really did make him chuckle. “Oh, Tommy, did you think I was going to burn you?”

Tommy’s guilty expression and the way his eyes were turned firmly to the ground answered that question with a firm yes.

“Don’t be silly, okay? Look, I think I’ve punished you enough for now, haven’t I?” Tommy warily nodded, eyeing Dream as if to see if that was the right answer. “Yeah, you’re right there. Y’know, I was just worried for you. I don’t want you dead.” That’d be far too boring.

“I just…” Tommy swallowed. “I keep wakin’ up there. I-I’m not trying to off myself or-or anything. I don’t wanna break the rules, honest.”

“Look, next time you do it, I’ll just break your legs or something.” Tommy looked at him like he was trying to figure out whether he was joking or not. Dream wasn’t sure himself. “You can try not to, right? For me?”

“… Yeah, sure,” Tommy said, not sounding very sure at all, as Dream set to work laying out a campfire. It was slapdash and uneven, something that’d frustrate him at any other time, but now he needed to get Tommy warm before he froze to death. That was more important than anything else, so he ignored it the best he could as he set the wood alight.

“Is it okay if I sit with you?” Dream tilted his mask up, allowing Tommy to look at his face. That always made him more agreeable. Of course, Dream was going to sit next to Tommy no matter what he said, and both of them knew it, but it was polite to ask.

Tommy nodded. “I- please. I don’t want to be alone.”

Wrapping his arms around Tommy and feeling his shivering slowly start to die down, Dream couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed. Seeing Tommy so frightened, so cold, not even trying to hide the way he shook, that was something new. Something new he hadn’t got to fully document, let alone start the experiments on. He wanted to learn everything about Tommy, yet in his blind panic, he had overreacted. This was just more proof of how much of a burden the curse of emotions was, he supposed.

Oh well, he thought, looking into the flickering tendrils of the flame. I’ll have all the time in the world soon enough.

#whumptober2022 #no.7 #the way you shake and shiver #dream smp #fic #dehumanisation #posessive behaviour #drowning #attempted suicide #hypothermia #abuse #broken bones #threats of violence #implied starvation #primeboys (derogatory)

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otherworldly-whump · 2 years

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Abandoned Hero

Tw: Emotional manipulation, implied starvation, abandonment, knives and blood Trope: Vampire/prey, Supervillain/hero, corruption

There's a soft sound of a bay door sliding shut.

Soft foot steps approach the center of the warehouse, a thin layer of dust coating everything, the place long since abandoned. Whumper stopped, and tilted veir head in curiosity. A figure is bound to the chair, right where xi had been left. Whumper tuts disappointed.

"Well that is unexpected. I really did expect that if I left here for this long your team would have come to rescue you by now. It has been soooo long. I didn't even hide you that well. They seriously must not have given a damn about you after all."

Whumper shakes veir head, and picks up a hose to start washing down the mess and clean up after vemself. When the cold water hits the hero, xi stirs lightly and whines. Whumper gasps, then slowly veir eyes light up as a smirk cross veir face.

"Oh wonderful! You're still alive. The other villains told me that you're shockingly durable, but even I must admit. I'm surprised you survived this long. It's been months after all, poor thing."

Whumpee shudders. Xi is cold, sore, starving and weak. Xir powers might have kept xir alive but just barely. Xir whumper's voice echoing in xir head, reminding xir just how little xir team cared, just how long xi had been left in this warehouse slowly dying. Xi squawked as xir whumper's hand found xir chin and forced them to look up.

"Now then hero. Are you going to be more cooperative this time? I don't think you'll last much longer without help?"

Whumper pulled out a knife slowly, causing veir captive hero to sob in fear. Xi knows xi isn't strong enough to survive interrogation. Whumper looks at them with pity, gently petting xir hair, and continues talking at xir.

"You really need help little hero, and its very, very, obvious at this point that you can't rely on the other heroes dear. I suppose your only option is to rely on me. All you have to do is answer a few of my questions and I'll take such good care of you hero. Just tell me what I need to know"

The knife flashes but instead of coming down on hero, whumper has instead sliced veir own hand, filling it with vampire blood. Hero knows veir blood can heal. Xi looks up, speaking weakly.

"Anything...please Villain I'll tell you anything, everything you want..please don't leave me here again. please I'll do anything"

Whumper smirks and presses veir hand to hero's lips letting xir drink, letting xir heal, before slowly, dramatically cutting the hero free.

"Anything? you'll do anything I say? Why don't we show your so called "allies" what happens when they leave their toys behind. Just take my hand, hero, let me take you somewhere nicer, somewhere you can tell me everything I need to know. Where I can shape you into something that never needs another hero again."

Hero hesitates. Would this be abandoning xir duty? How would the others think of xir? Then hero thought about how long xi had been here, how the others had just let it happen. How they treated xir even when xi was around.

"Well little hero?"

Hero takes whumper's hand. Hero is pulled to xir feet. Hero takes xir first steps in months, stumbling as Whumper helps them. Hero's first steps in months are also xir first steps into villainy.

#whumpblr #whumpee #superhero whump #hero whumpee #villian whumper #vampire whumper #nb whumper #nb whumpee #implied torture #implied starvation #knives and blood #my post: writer shadow #story: hero shadow #whump #otherworldly writes

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farmfreshwhump · 2 years

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Chapter 1: Awake

The first chapter of 738′s story!

Content includes: Lab whump, dehumanization, starvation, caretaker new master/whumper, freezing, 738′s awful self-esteem, and not much else. Actually a pretty tame chapter

Hot. Too hot too hot too hot. Why is it not cold? Specimen 738 is not in its cryostasis chamber. Has it been removed for testing? No. Not testing. Tests ended. Researchers gone. Why is it awake? It shouldn’t be awake. It should be asleep dead unconscious inactive. Why isn’t it? Why has it been activated? Who activated it?

The answer comes quickly, as a woman-- not in a lab coat why who is she-- walks into the room. She’s holding a feed pack, and 738 quickly sits up-- and why is it in a bed?-- to take it. The woman smiles, hands it the pack. It eagerly tears open the foil, eats the dried strips of meat and vegetables quickly so it can get at its favorite part: a little bag of dried fruit.

The woman just stands there next to the bed, smiling. “So,” she asks with something between curiosity and pity, “what’s your name? I’m Adaline.” Adaline... there had never been any researchers by that name, as far as 738 could remember. Then again, how much did it remember at all?

Wait. The scientist stranger had asked it a question. “I--aghk-- I don’t h-have one, ma’am. I am simply Specimen 738 of the National Military Research Program. What do you need me for?”

Clearly, that was the wrong answer, because the woman gives a deep sigh.

----

Just “Specimen 738″, huh? Well, that was a problem for later. Adaline and her team had known that, whatever they found in this lab, it wouldn’t be good. And yet... the creature in front of her didn’t seem to have any reason to be suspended in the cryostasis tank. In spite of its horns, fangs, and inhuman eyes, it seemed scared.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, 738. My team and I are going to be in charge here for the foreseeable future, so I suggest you get used to having us around.” Overly blunt? Maybe. A bit harsh? Almost certainly. But Adaline was tired, and she didn’t even know how she was meant to deal with this creature. She would have to ask [LEADER] what they thought. For the time being, she had to calm this creature down.

“I’ll be your primary handler, alright? And... please don’t be scared. Whatever those Military assholes did to you, it won’t happen again. Not with us.”

(Expect this to be about the length of most of the chapters)

#lab whump #whump #nonhuman whumpee #living weapon #dehumanisation tw #implied starvation #starvation #freezing

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kim-poce · 2 years

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Virginia's Pig

This is a commision requested by @cupcakes-and-pain, using his character, Virginia, from this amazing series.

Words: 1206

CW: hand whump (no nail whump), multiple whumpers, dehumanization, captive, implied starvation, noncon body modifications mention, skining.

=-=

There was only one thing worse than being picked by Virginia to be the ‘toy of the day’, and that’s being picked when Virginia’s friends are over too, a bunch of people that are a few screw ups away from being just another victims and yet act as if they own all the power of the world.

But well, they were lucky enough to be on Virginia's side instead of under her. Pig, on the other hand, wasn’t known for his luck, if he was lucky he wouldn’t be there to begin with. Still, why does it feel like he is the only one being chosen to suffer between everyone else?

“Hey, Pig, missed me?” one of Virginia’s friends asked, their voice was disgusting and terrifying to hear. “What, cat got your tongue?”

“N-no, I’m sorry, I mi-missed y-you,” Pig forced out. It was an obvious lie, but his fear was just as obvious and he hoped with all his might that this would be enough. He held in a groan when another person kicked his side, the pain of the blow mixed itself with the pain of hunger like a hellish cocktail.

“Who allowed you to talk, your idiot? You come here so often and don't even know the rules?”

Pig shivered, he fucked up even before the party started, he is screwed and the laughing and mockering arounf he just proved it, he hoped that the laughing would stop, and regreted imediately when it did.

“That’s enough,” Virginia said, her voice silencing everyone in the room. And if Pig got any more scared maybe it would silence his heart too. “Have I told you why I picked this thing today?”

“You didn’t. I wanted to play Horse!” one of her friends said, and Pig must be a selfish bastard for wishing they would truly just pick up Horse instead.

“So I’ll tell you,” Virginia said, a smirk could be heard in her voice. She placed her big —dangerous, scary, please take it away— hand on Pig’s shoulers, tying her grip as if he would dare to run away. “This stupid thing was caught stealing, what is to be espected from a fucking Pig.”

He could feel his blood running cold, cold sweat dripping from his chin. No one allowed him to talk yet so he didn’t doesn’t matter how much he wanted, and what would he even say? ‘I was hungry’? This would be the same as begging to be starved to death, and he didn’t want to starve, else he wouldn’t have stolen that bit of food from the floor when he thought no one was looking. He should’ve known better than that; there is always someone looking.

———

“Tyler, what should we do with a thief?” Virginia asked, visibiling tightening her grip on the captive, who was a lot more well behaved now than at the start, at least he isn’t fukcing passing out all the time now.

Tyler smiled, he was waiting to be allowed to choose the main punishment for a while, so he for sure wouldn’t let this opportunity pass on, “What else?” he smirk. “Let’s go for the hands.”

The laughing around him showed that he chose well, and more than anything Pig’s dread was so delicious to look at, fuck Horse, this sight is where the fun lives.

Pig whimpered pathetically, he was shivering so much that someone could accuse him of fighting back, surprisingly no one did, everyone’s mood was good, that thing was so lucky.

———

Being Virginia’s toy —being Pig— is permanent, it will only end with his unavoidable death. Pig knows that, but his heart still tries to jump out of his ribcage whenever some permanent change is made on his body. It makes the forever feel real, it makes it impossible for him to hope to get out of that hell.

Does Tyler know that? Do these people even know how fucked up they are? Do they feel guilty or ashamed in any way ever? Or is Pig too much of a thing and nothing of a person for it to matter?

Pig tried to stay quiet, he really did, but who would even be quiet while being strapped down on a chair by a bunch of fucked up sadistics? He had the right to shake and back away, excetp that he isn’t a person so he had not a single fucking right.

The fear that usually keeps all the words in made him speak against the reason. “P-p-lease, don’t, please don’t cut please-” Pig shut himself up before someone else did, tears were alredy corving his whole face, dripping along with the sweat and the torture didn’t even start.

“Oh, you don’t want it, Pig?” Virginia asked, grabbing his chin up, he didn’t look at her eyes, he knew better than that, he also didn’t breathe, not because he wasn’t allowed to, but his lungs just wouldn’t move despites his efforts. “Okay, we won’t cut them off.”

If this was in the beginning, Pig would be so relieved they decided to be merciful, but not now, not anymore, now every sweet word was worse than any threat. Virginia is many many things, and none of them is close to merciful.

“What are you thinking?” a friend of hers asked, running their finger on Pig’s hand, his wrist were strapped down already, and even if they weren’t, he had no permission to move his hand away.

“We leave the little fingers behind and just take the skin away,” Viriginia said, enjoying Pig whimpers and foolish attempts not to cry. “That’s what you wanted, right Pig?”

She let go of his chin and he nodded, what else could he do? Pig closed his eyes when a knife came to view, but he wasn’t even allowed that, as Tyler forced both his eyes open.

“You don’t want me to gouge them out, do you?” he said, sending a chill down Pig’s spine, he was enjoying it way too much.

Pig stared helplessly as the knife on Virginia's friend’s hand went closer and closer, he kept staring as it broke the skin and shed blood, he didn’t scream just yet, he had it worse, he learned to be quiet.

But he just managed to be silent up to the moment Virginia pulled the skin, first so painfully slow but soon —as she had not the paintience or delicacy— pulling it all in one go, tearing the skin away from the flesh, in a new sharp and burning pain. Pig screamed his throat out, barely hearing the laughing and the “Pig is grunting a lot today”

There was no time to breathe, there were so many people, and they were going from both bleeding hands at the same time, making a small cut and ripping the skin over and over, Pig wondered just how much skin can a hand have.

When he was about to shut down, someone pulled his hair from behind.

“Hey pig,” Tyler whispered, “Don’t you dare to pass out now, we are only getting started. Keep looking.”

Pig did, but he couldn’t make out what was blood and what was exposed flesh, he didn’t even remember what he had done to deserve this anymore.

=-=

#whump #whump fic #whump writing #skining #hand whump #multiple whumpers #dehumanization #captive #implied starvation #noncon body modifications mention #famale whumper #my writing

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whumpacabra · 5 months

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5. Human Again

Angst, surrealness (?), hunger, blood, implied starvation, implied torture, vaguely implied past noncon

AU Masterpost / Previous / Next

Harrison cried. How long had it been since he had worn clothes? Real clothes, not tattered rags? How long had it been since he was allowed to feel like anything but a caged animal, bare and vulnerable and exposed?

Too damn long, if he was crying over a pair of ill-fitting trousers, apparently.

The supply room was not helping his nearly hysterical thoughts - the crude bunker he had been privy to as a prisoner was a far cry from the vinyl walls and laminate flooring here. The rusted cell doors, the sand worn floors - the reality Harrison had lived for…however long he had been down here, it had been a facade. Here, there were sleek, modern cabinets full of cheap but comfortable clothes. There was Clorox bleach and Equate hydrogen peroxide and Swiffer brand mops. The labels were all in English.

It didn’t make whatever the Wolf was make sense, but it did plant a seed of suspicion in his gut. Why would a foreign enemy have closets full of Walmart quality t-shirts? Why would they have American brand cleaning supplies freshly stocked but maintain a facade of barbarism?

It was a dissonance he couldn’t reconcile, not now, when he felt alive and human for the first time in months. He filed this knowledge away with the Wolf’s soft German accent, with the red emergency lights that now illuminated the bunker.

It didn’t matter who had captured and tortured and killed his team, it didn’t matter why - not if he died here.

He knew well the aching cramp of hunger in his gut, and he had long gone numb to its pain. But he could tell by the lack of coordination of his hands, the fuzziness of his thoughts, that he needed food desperately. He could go back - back to that room with the water and the drain and the man who nearly drowned him there - and ask the Wolf where they kept food.

The man certainly seemed compliant to Harrison’s every whim, not that this fact was any comfort to the former prisoner.

Harrison could do his own snooping around, armed with a fresh flashlight and a bulky Carhartt jacket that buffered him against the chill in the air.

The main hallway was relatively short - the door to the holding cells at the back, and three pairs of doors on either side of the hall before it ended in a staircase. The first short flight of stairs ended in at an unpowered elevator, with more stairs leading up as far as he could see.

(Not that he could see very far without his glasses.)

Coming down from the stairs that led to the elevator, the first door on his left was locked. The door on his right was also locked. (Okay, maybe he should have asked the Wolf for help- )

The door across from the supply room was unlocked. He wasn’t sure what he had been expecting. He was hoping for a full kitchen, or maybe a microwave and fridge full of so-so leftovers. Opening the door, Harrison lost what little appetite he had, wind knocked from his lungs.

It wasn’t a great improvement from the cells he had spent the last few months sleeping in, save for the blankets and crude mattress pressed into the corner. There was a desk against the wall beside the door, it’s wooden chair in the center of the room.

The pale beam of his flashlight illuminated more than he wanted to see, drying blood pooled around the legs of the chair, staining the concrete, streaked toward the poor excuse for a bed. He wanted to gag, but he barely had bile in his stomach to wretch despite the rancid smell of the violence wrought in this room.

The same smell of blood and sweat and worse that had followed the Wolf into the Box.

He swept the light away from the mangled thin bed sheets, catching sight of a simple trunk beside the desk, clasps unlocked. There were clothes neatly folded on top of it. The Wolf’s clothes: his shirt, his jacket, his pants and boots. All immaculately kept and methodically set aside in spite of the horror that tainted the rest of the room.

AU Masterpost / Previous / Next

(An AU of my Freelancers series)

#whump #angst #hunger #blood #implied starvation #implied torture #implied noncon #past noncon #freelancers au #i had to look up usamerican brands for this o7 the only one i knew off the top of my head was swiffer

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365runesoftheamalgamations · 2 years

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100 Great Drabble Experiment pt.5

we are here with another set of drabble prompts! Actually got an ask basically demanding some more drabbles - cough cough Fear cough cough - so we obviously had to default to its demands, it would have never given me peace otherwise. o(≧∇≦o)

October 08 2022 | Four Asks Answered | Drabbles 12 - 15

cw: slap, mentioned beating, hunger, starvation, thirst, puking, tremble, vague body mutilation, dead limbs Keep yourselves safe. Please let us know if anything needs to be added or removed.

Prompt 12 | Slap | 100 Word Drabble

Open palms hurt more than closed fists. The Villain can at least ready himself for a fist, but the slap knocks his head to the side without any warning, and he spits hard as his cheek explodes in pain. He drags in air, tries not to aggravate his entire right side as he gives the Guard lopsided smirk. “No wonder you needed a Hero. You can barely throw a hit.” It’s the wrong move; instigating more violence is going to get him killed but he doesn’t care. There’s sick satisfaction in it, even if it gets him a worse beating.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Prompt 13 | Hunger | 100 Word Drabble

The hunger isn’t as bad as the thirst. The Villain isn’t concerned with his missed meals. The only thing edible that enters his cell are tiny morsels sitting alongside already rotting food. He would rather not press his luck, especially with how hard they make it to eat, so he leaves the meals unless liquid is involved. So the soup, even dropped and mostly sloshed out onto the cell’s floor is worth the risk. He slurps the amount left in the bowl, tries to bite back the growling in his stomach when it does nothing to stave off the emptiness.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Prompt 14 | Thirst | 100 Word Drabble

The thirst almost gets him. The Hero ends up bringing more water than the Guards could be bothered to. She hates the soft torture they are putting him through, doesn’t realize the extent until too late. He almost makes her spill the canteen, and even when she gives it over, his need for the liquid outweighs his logic. She has to tear the container from his lips, curses as she doesn’t do it fast enough. He barely swallows the water down before he is puking it back up, the Hero spending the next hour helping him learn to drink again.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Prompt 15 | Tremble | 100 Word Drabble

His right hand is useless. The Hero makes a soft noise as she takes the limb in her own hands, the Villain barely grunting as she inspects the hand. It is gnarled and blackened, skin twisted against bones and fingers curled into the palm as it trembles against her hands. There is also the tiny stench of decay and rot sitting too close for comfort; she swallows back bile as she looks up and meets the Villain’s eyes. He shrugs at her, takes back the dead limb and touching against the thick leather band keeping it attached to the wrist.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Master Post | Part Four | Part Six?

Like what we write? Buy us a Coffee! c:

#100 drabble challenge #whump edition #the great motivation experiment #the 100 great drabble experiment #writings #writerscommunity #writingcommunity #writing snippet #content warnings #slap #implied beatings #hunger #implied starvation #thirst #puking #tremble #body mutilation #decaying limbs #rune ⊹ writings

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electrozeistyking · 27 days

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Hello, welcome to The Rare Bites AU! I was going to draw J and V, but my eagerness to show this to you was far too strong. Here's some notes on it:

-the disassembly drones are pretty much starving and scrawny. uzi hates that her colony basically lied to these guys because they're only attacking because they're desperate to feed. she's like "DAMN WE'RE A BUNCH OF FUCKING LIARS HUH."

-j, n and v are some of the rare few disassembly drones that reached close to adulthood. they're all shaky and weak by this point, but still strong enough to take down a worker if they absolutely pushed themselves to do it. their population has been shrinking for years, due to starvation, overheating and killing their own young.

-"And our parents are leaving these fuckers to starve over one stupid deal they failed to uphold and won't even tell us about?! Like, come on! If these guys were human, they'd be all bony and shit! That's gross! What the fuck is wrong with us?!"

-n unwittingly reveals how bad their situation is by announcing that j and v might kill him in order to feed themselves when they find out he's had more than enough to drink (uzi's like "damn" and gives him some extra oil canisters. the workers have enough as is, so she doesn't bat an eye over having to give any up to disassembly drones).

-because these three don't really have a major reason to hate each other, i like to imagine that n, j and v basically fell asleep in a very shaky cuddle pile in order to feel less alone in this cruel world, and eventually begin to include uzi. at that point, they feel safer and start gaining weight and showing their true personalities. :3

-long story short, they start off in a bad place but then everything gets better because of uzi's input. :3

#rare bites au #murder drones au #murder drones n #murder drones uzi #mentioned but still there:#murder drones j #murder drones v #ask to tag #i'm not insensitive i'm just stupid #tw starvation #tw cannibalism #but kind of not so subtly implied??? the babies are being munched on

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princemonarchempress · 17 days

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Had a very vague half-baked Hadestown au on the back of my brain a while back

It didn't go much beyond an excuse to draw siffrins of various siffrinage as the fates... yes i know the change god doesn't technically count as a Siffrin but i was running out

but some unfinished comics below the cut

#isat spoilers #isat siffrin #isat loop #in stars and time #isat mal du pays #isat change god #isat isabeau #isat act 6 spoilers #isat act 6 secret encounter spoilers #isafrin #you have no idea the struggle of trying to decide if it should be Mira or Isa as Orpheus #but in the end I couldn't imagine Loop being mean to Mira in the way they could be to Isa #but in my heart she walks into hell to save Siffrin and Loop actually believes she could do it #cw starvation #cw food issues #I think? it's implied?#I'd rather be safe then sorry

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whump-and-other-misfortunes · 3 months

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Whumpuary 2024 Day 12

12. (Jan 23-24) "You're awake" / Rescue / Unfair Fight

cw physical whump/injury, captive whumpee, intimate whumper, suggestive, mention of starvation, emeto, beating, choking

“You want me to do what?”

“Hit me,” Whumper said with a smirk. “Go on, I know you want to.”

Whumpee shivered, remembering the last time they had tried to fight back against Whumper. Their stomach turned at the memory of how easily Whumper had gotten them under control—beaten them senseless until Whumpee was a crying, shaking mess. And that had been back when Whumper had first taken them. When Whumpee still had their strength, mentally and physically. They couldn’t imagine how much worse they’d fair now in a fight against their captor.

“What are you waiting for?” Whumper asked, closing the space between them. They looked down at Whumpee with amusement. “Ah...are you scared of what I’ll do to you, honey?”

“Please, I don’t...” Whumpee tried to step away, but their back hit the wall behind them. “I can’t. I don’t want to.”

Whumper nodded in mock sympathy. “I know you don’t.” They grabbed one of Whumpee’s wrists and held it up roughly. “Look how frail you’ve gotten, darling. I doubt you could even hit me very hard...”

When they blinked, the tears began to spill from Whumpee’s eyes. “P-Please, don’t make me do this, you know I—”

Whumper silenced them with a kiss, their other hand grabbing onto Whumpee’s hair and holding them in place as they squirmed. Pulling back, Whumper said, “I know. You’re scared of trying to take me in a fight. But don’t forget what happens when you disobey me. I promise, it will be much worse than a beating.”

Whumpee’s breath caught on a sob, and Whumper took a step back. They towered over Whumpee, tall and muscular, with strong arms that could easily break them. Whumpee felt dizzy, hands trembling where they clenched into fists at their sides.

“Come on,” Whumper said with a laugh. “Let’s see what you’ve got. If you impress me, maybe I'll try not to make you bleed.”

Whumpee had to stand on their tiptoes in order to reach Whumper. They hissed in pain when their fist landed wrong, barely drawing a reaction from Whumper but leaving their knuckles sore. They didn’t know how to fight, they didn’t know how to throw a punch, but that didn’t matter. Whumper didn’t want a fair fight—they wanted to humiliate Whumpee, and they wanted an excuse to hurt them back.

“Is that all you’ve got?” Whumper taunted as their captive cradled their hand against their chest. “Aw, now don’t give me those pathetic eyes, honey. You look absolutely miserable.”

“Please...” Whumpee tried again. But that word was as far as they got before Whumper’s fist connected with their face hard enough to knock them back into the wall. Whumpee groaned in pain, trying to stay on their feet.

Whumper grabbed their wrists and pinned them above Whumpee’s head, able to hold both in one hand. “Have I not been feeding you enough? Seems like you’ve gotten thinner since the last time we did this. Weaker.” Their other hand curled around Whumpee’s throat, strong fingers cutting off their air with ease. “Yeah, look at that. You used to be able to struggle more.”

They were right. Whumpee thrashed against their hold, but it didn’t do any good at all. Whumper had broken them down so much they didn’t have the strength to fight back. The hand on their neck pulled Whumpee forward before slamming them back into the wall. Whumpee’s vision blacked out when their head hit the concrete, and their lungs burned with each gasping breath as they crumpled to the ground.

“Fucking pathetic.” Whumper said it almost fondly, kicking Whumpee in the stomach. “I won’t lie, I’ve missed this. You’ve been so good for me lately, I haven’t had much reason to hurt you. I forgot how fun it is.”

Whumpee made a soft noise of pain, struggling to push themself up onto their hands and knees. They were aided by the hand tangling in their hair and yanking them up the rest of the way. “N-no more,” they begged, voice barely audible. “I can’t...”

Whumper chuckled. “But I’m enjoying this so much, honey. Unless you can think of another way to entertain me?”

Whumpee nodded desperately, which made their head spin. Fingers grasped at Whumper’s thighs because they couldn’t get the words out, chest tight and voice choked with sobs.

“Hm,” Whumper hummed thoughtfully. “You don’t usually give it up that easy. Must really be feeling it, huh?”

Another boot to the stomach made Whumpee double over, shoulders heaving as they puked.

Whumper took a step back and watched them with amusement. “Poor little thing,” they cooed. Whumpee was shaking, arms curled around themself protectively. “I don’t think I'll ever get tired of you.”

taglist: @morning-star-whump ((if you want to be added lmk!))

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brainr0t-landfill · 3 months

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🌃Mercurial:

Ghoap x male reader

Chapter One/Prologue: Abstain

"I found you, I found the door."

-Mitski, I Want You

(please mind the tags, I don't know how the UK train system works, English isn't my first language apologies for any mistakes <3)

You kiss them goodbye on the doorway, you make sure their jackets are zipped up, you promise to keep the windows locked and to not go out at night, Simon smiles, his eyes crinkling above the surgical mask.

"Gonna be good for us, hare? Sure hope so."

It's half joking, half threatening and desperately hopeful.You focus on the spot between his eyes as you nod, stomach twisting into knots and hands sweating.

You press your ear to the metal door and listen to their footsteps fading away then you rush to the balcony and watch the black, truck you repainted last month go down the road, through the U turn and disappear, your knuckles white against the railings your forearms stiff, eyes so wide and unlinking untill they water and force you to blink. You're scared that any moment now the other shoe will drop, they'll turn the car around and John will ask you if you really took them for such fools as Simon rumages through drawers and wardrobes laying every bit of your pitifull escape plan on the floor, like a wolf gutting a hare. Then you'll be driven back to the lonely, stuffy shack in the woods in the trunk, hogtied and gagged, feeling every bump on the road.

The trunk opens and you shut your eyes against the onslaught of white hard light, nose stinging from the cold as you curl into yourself out of both fear and well deserved shame, guilt. They're talking above you, familiar voices blurring together and becoming white noise. You feel like an insect pinned down, getting dissected.

Someone places their hand over your eyes, rubbing at your red, runny nose with their calloused thumb.

"Oh lovie."

"Carefull Si, cannea back out now."

There's silence for a second and you know they're exchanging the kind of look that saves their lives out on the field, the kind of look that explains and understands.

"Gotta let him learn his lesson ,hmm?"

"No other choice left."

Simon runs his hand over your face and rubs at your neck, that still smells of someone else. Mature and cold with hints of narcissus.You can see his internal conflict in his darkned eyes and see you can see his attachment, his love, his despration winning out.

You look up at them at Simon's wide set face and his unfocussed eyes dried out from lack of sleep, John bends down and picks you out of the truck setting you down on aching feet, still clad in socks as he flicks his knife out, a flash of fear goes through you, gutted by the same knife you had bought for him on his birthday, how fitting.

"Run 'n I'll break ya legs,."

"Last resort Si, might never heal proper again."

"Wouldn't tha' a good thing by now?"

You hear a sigh, both exasperated and heartbroken.

"Hope not."

Simon holds you in place by the shoulders as John cuts the ropes away, his jaw is set but his sweet blue eyes are wet, tired and you can't help the immense guilt you feel at putting them through this, for pushing them so far, for staying when you knew you'd do this.

Then you lift your face and see it, the cabin it's a box really, no windows and only one heavy door, John had mentioned his father had built one for hunting ,you wonder if it's the same one. You look over the dark wood walls and the door padlocked from the outside, your fear snowballs, all consuming and rattling your ribs. The idea of being trapped in the small, dark space is nauseating, it terrifies you in a way so primal, so reflex you think you'll bolt for a second, you think you'll beg scream, anything, anything. John straightens up and caresses your face.

"Just for a little while hare, just 'till Si n' I are back from this misson, then we'll come 'n get ya, promised we'd never leave eachothe, remember?."

He rips the tape off your mouth and gives you a soft sweet kiss, familiar lips failing to settle you for the first time, well groomed stubble scratchy against your moist skin, Simon presses his cheek against yours.

"It has everything ya need and we'll be back before you know it, just behave yourself and you'll never have to see this place again."

His voices is gravel against your skin, his breath smoke but you can't focus on them pressing against you on either side or the ropes laying undone on the grass.

All you can see is the cabin, the padlock, the wardens, the convict.

You had stayed for a long time in that cabin, long enough for your food to start running out, long enough to grow both lovesick and resentfull, long enough to get yourself together and fix the old, busted hunting camera you had found shoved between the wall and the bed.

You bought two flasdrives a week ago before their deployment and hid them in your tool box, on one you upload images of the cabin, of chains, of bruises, dents in the wall and your room ransacked time and time again.You know it's not a strong case and it's not meant to be. It's supposed to be a reminder for what you did, what you're running from, your sentencing.

On the other flash drive you upload all your happy memories, screenshots of loving wordsand jokes, selfies together, pictures of gifts and vacations, the apartment you saved up for with them. To keep you warm, souvenirs from the last place you settled in, from the last place you let yourself be loved.

You tuck them into the struddiest back pack you own, four changes of clothes, underwear, very basic toiletries, some fancy jewellery you'll have to pawn off later on. The money, fake ID and passport you had hidden in the inner lining of one of the coats John's forgotten about a long time ago, discarded at the back of his closet.

You pack the bag in under ten minutes just the way you practiced, the hard part is the note, you write over and over again palms sweaty and hands shaky eventually you settle on;

'Stay safe, I love you, goodbye.' Flowery language and false promises feel ingenuine when you're leaving everything the three of you have worked for, everything they'd tied their hearts to , it feels cowardly when you're running away. You leave the crumpled up notes on the top of the trash and your shared card on the table. You keep your promise ring in your pocket.

The walk to the train station is torture, every loud step is Simon, every wide shoulder or brown jacket is John, you feel like you're drowning in a pool filled with snippets of them, like driftwood caught in a storm much bigger than he'll ever comprehend. You either dread the day they'll be nothing but memories or salivate for it, you can't decide with the overwhelming panic, the sick excitement.You buy a day pass and a burner phone before you throw away your cell phone.

The bus ride is calmer, when you don't think about the pub you met in, the small flower shop you routinely bought foxgloves and bluebells from, the record shop Johnny loves, the workplace Simon insisted he drove you to whenever he could; the lufe you're betraying, the blessings you're running from.

You sit arms crossed and face hidden under your hood as you watch the city flash by, the further away from home you get the more guilt you feel; guilt for letting them in, guilt for misguiding them, guilt for aggravating them again and again and again untill either one snapped, guilt for leaving when you had just convinced them you wouldn't even think of it.

You swallow it down and watch the city speed away colors blurring like oil paint.

Next Chapter >>

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surplus-of-sarcasm · 3 months

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31st Story, Part 2

TW: Blood, implied past captivity and torture, stitches, wound description, angst, corrupt system, issues regarding figure (brief), bruises, angst, knife, touch starvation

Part 1

Guess who's back with a hella long piece. vacay from college for some time with semester 1 over, woo! enjoyyy 💙

“So how did you sleep?” the vigilante asked as she walked downstairs to find the villain sitting cross-legged on her couch.

“Well,” he answered evenly, emotionlessness overtaking his tone as usual. It wasn't a complete lie; he'd slept better than he had in a long time, but his eyes had wrenched open a little after sunrise, even though he wasn't a morning person. He couldn't relax too much into this life, the knife he took shoved into the pocket of his sweatpants, but she didn't need to know that.

“I'll make us breakfast,” she announced.

“I'll help you out,” he offered, even though he knew she could probably infer what his motives were. He still wasn't taking any chances anyway.

She nodded curtly in response, leading him to the kitchen. And he'd almost wished someone had warned him about the whiplash of doing something so outlandishly casual with your enemy, as he watched her make a sandwich and soon enough followed suit, still hyper aware of the knives and the boiling water in the kettle.

And of course, nothing was lost on Vigilante, even if she probably wasn’t half as nervous as he was, the half-frantic, wild animal wrapped in the poorly fitting garment of someone calm and collected. “Are you always this tense?” she questioned as she sat down at the table and he sat opposite from her.

“Just hungry,” he shot back smoothly, a seasoned liar. Sure, he technically was half-starved, trying to eat slowly just so he wouldn’t retch, but if that was the case, he would’ve relaxed when he ate.

The vigilante said nothing as she took a bite of her sandwich, but her disbelieving eyebrow raise needed no further additions.

The villain’s grip tightened on his mug as he worried his frayed bottom lip between his teeth,”What do you want? If you’re going to question every micro-gesture of mine, then why’d you bring me here?” His voice was hoarse with exhaustion, probably from all the screaming he couldn’t muffle, not that he cared.

“I get it,” the vigilante said placatingly, even though it was clear she was somewhat irritated. She wasn’t a goddamn bleeding heart just oozing compassion and patience, not that he expected any different. “You’re afraid of getting hurt.”

“I am not afraid of crap, Vigilante.” It came out softer than he’d intended, almost as though he was the one trying to calm the situation, a new trait of people-pleasing a new and heavily despised survival skill he’d recently acquired.

The vigilante wanted to argue, but she also knew that from the day she’d walked into his cell and pulled him out, that she’d been walking on thin ice. That the man in front of her wasn’t his normal, unflappable self that could dish out a lot worse than whatever she dared to throw at him, so for the rest of this tense, awkward breakfast, they both remained quiet.

It had taken them about two hours of trepidation spent in the opposite ends of the living room for Vigilante to break the silence. “So, about the plan,” she started.

“Yeah?” he asked, now turning to face her.

“We can’t fight her by traditional means. We don’t have the time to amass an army big enough to rival my sister’s own. The main thing we need to do is find some way to desecrate that shining image of hers,” she explained.

The villain let out a low hum as though he was contemplating something, but the slight shift in the nature of his gaze indicated he’s noticed something. “Knocking your sister off of her pedestal is surely going to gain you some traction,” he noted.

“I don’t care much for the spotlight,” she countered.

“I know. But you seem to care about making sure your sister doesn’t have everything. Still, that isn’t the issue anyway.”

And again, he was right. There is something so utterly sickening of being born in someone’s shadow, of having all your power from someone else’s name. Vigilante was only formidable in people’s eyes because it was required of Superhero’s sister. Again, she’d never claimed to be dramatically selfless.

Still, she took note of how the villain made no effort at eye contact, his eyes trained on the pattern of her wooden coffee table, but she refrained from commenting. “Right. The general idea is, if the adoring public find out what she does to the people in her custo-”

The villain, in his most daring act of the day, had let out a sardonic snort. “Oh, save it. I don’t think you realise that how people like me are treated doesn’t really irk anyone. Because that’s how the world works, it’s easier like that. I’m not the most notorious, but it’s safe to say I’m ‘famous’ enough,” he made air quotations with his fingers, “People usually want to know about the trial, when it comes to people they’ve heard of, but no one gave a damn. No one cared to know I never really got a trial in the first place. Because they were just relieved that the Big Bad Guy was off the streets. Locked up somewhere. It doesn’t matter that my record says I’m guilty of crap I’ve never done. Because technically, I’ve committed my fair share of my crimes, what’s more to the pile? Hell, if it keeps me locked away for all eternity, then why not?”

This time, the villain’s gaze was steely, his teeth gnashed together and his tone harsh, and yet before she’d even commented, the villain was quick to force the muscles of his face to work on pulling it into a blank expression, his hand going to his pocket.

Where, unbeknownst to Vigilante, the knife from yesterday was. . .

It took her a moment to register his words and realise he was right. The likes of Villain wouldn’t garner the sympathy of the same people that cheered when they were locked up, at every suffocating press conference where her sister’s airy voice seemed to ring in her ears.

But how else was she supposed to rouse some sort of public outcry against her sister? She needed the key, the concept, the idea, and from that she could form a plan. It was why she thought of asking the villain in the first place.

“Then what should we do to get people to notice?”

The villain’s pale hand made its way out of his pocket, his expression still nearly unreadable. “Your sister’s clever. She’s almost untraceable, and uncovering her shady past would be difficult. Or actually, more difficult than having her do something terrible now.”

“So you’re saying we somehow force her to commit some sort of terrible crime?”

“Force is the wrong word. It wouldn’t be a choice she wouldn’t make on her own accord. And that’s our selling point. No one needs to make her pull underhanded crap because she’ll take that choice anyway. And from then, whatever it is you want to reveal is actually going to have a basis.”

The villain straightened his posture, pulling his now slightly loose fitting hoodie down so straighten a wrinkle only for it to come down with a strange difficulty, like it was stuck to his skin, the man letting out a soft hiss.

“You alright?” she asked.

“Fine,” he answered curtly, getting up. He knew exactly why his jacket had stuck to his form in the first place, and he really didn’t need Vigilante’s supposed concern. There’s a lot worse he’d seen in his life, in those three months alone than some old scratch reopening. Walking into his room, he shrugged his hoodie off in front of the mirror only to notice that the stupid scratch was in an area he could barely reach, deeper and uglier than he thought, blood running down it in crimson rivulets, exposed tissue that was barely healing showing too. He didn’t know where the gauze was, or how he’d even manage treating the wound. And somehow, his past vanity, or rather basic awareness of his appearance that he now called vanity hadn’t completely faded away considering he noticed bone and skin where muscle used to be and the ridiculous amount of bruises adorning his figure in various shades of dusty purples and browns; every sign of how his captors had turned him into a punching bag for all their sadistic cravings.

“Villain?”

Hell no. He didn’t want anyone in this room with him while he looked like this, frantic again and wishing he could rip his hair from its roots. He almost didn’t care that he was still bleeding and it hurt to shift even slightly, or that his wound felt warm to the touch and was probably infected. He sat there on the bed, gripping onto the sheets like they were the only thing tethering him to the world around him. “Just,” he faltered. As much as the villain hated it, he couldn’t do crap right now without her help. He bit his lip again and exhaled slowly. “Come in.”

She cursed softly when she looked at the wound, the scarlet already snaking down his lower back now. It didn’t take her long to come back with a whole lot of first aid equipment. “This’ll hurt,” she said slowly.

All she got was a low grunt in response as she pressed antiseptic-soaked gauze to his back, and even though he barely let out a noise, didn’t move out of the way, his shoulders still tensed up under the pain.

Involuntarily, she stroked a hand through his hair, a reflexive action even though the vigilante wasn’t particularly touchy, especially with her enemy turned ally of convenience. He turned to stare at her, looking nothing short of surprised, but not irritated or afraid. He turned around again as she stitched up his wound and tended to his other scratches, surprised how well he was holding out. The villain barely flinched through the process, but again the man had always been surprisingly enduring.

The villain seriously didn’t remember the last time anyone had tended to his injuries, even before getting captured. He’s sure someone did, during the times he couldn’t do it himself, but no one had ever run a hand through his hair when he’d tensed up or anything of the sort. He despised the fact that it hadn’t irritated him, instead he was left there dumbfounded, half-wishing she would do it again and half-grateful she refrained from it, from making him feel so bloody exposed like that. This entire ordeal, how strangely gentle the vigilante had been with him, how he slowly relaxed even though the idea of being this vulnerable, this close to one of his enemies terrified him.

The villain didn’t like to feel things that weren’t dry, controlled anger or smugness or absolutely nothing. So he didn’t, pretended he couldn’t until he believed it.

Every lie dies in the end, no?

The vigilante had got up to hand him a new t-shirt that he slowly pulled on, minding his wounds but still refusing any help with it. “Thanks,” he mumbled awkwardly.

“Y-you thank people?” she asked, half out of genuine surprise and half to lighten the mood.

The villain didn’t smile, but his lip twitched up ever so slightly with a half-smirk, “I’m a villain, but I’m not a complete tactless bastard.”

“I guess you could say that, and you’re welcome. I’ll just go clean up. Put your jacket in the basket over there.” The vigilante looked down at her bloodstained hands, and the villain gave her a curt nod.

He was lucky she hadn’t taken the jacket herself, or noticed the knife somehow, and he could still keep it. It felt even scummier after right now, when she could’ve just let him bleed out, or made it worse since she was this close to him. He didn’t even know what she would try the second he was no longer useful.

Carefully, he lowered his form onto the bed, letting out a soft groan. This was the strangest stage of his life yet, he presumed.

So many times, life is about choosing the worst option, the choice you’d swore to never make, about condemning yourself to being at the mercy of the unknown. People will scream at you to avoid the lion’s den, but sometimes it is the only shelter from a raging storm ready to destroy you into nothing. And yet, maybe there is wisdom in the most foolish decisions, and safety in the most dangerous risks. Because even if you’re riddled with deep wounds and scars, even those can heal under care, even in the most unexpected places.

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