May 31, 2025
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Concussed villain gets kidnapped?
Villain showed up on Hero’s doorstep, heaving in breaths as they slammed their fist on the door. Their arm was ridiculously heavy, and it took everything in them to throw it mercilessly against the wooden door. The effects were meagre knocks that Villain prayed Hero would hear.
If Hero was even home.
What if they were working tonight? Fuck, why didn’t Villain think of that? Their head was pounding so they rested their forehead against the cool wood, letting out a shaky, shallow breath, trying not to anger the fire in their ribs. Blood continued to trickle from their hairline down over their eyes and dripping onto their cheeks.
That wasn’t good.
They heard footsteps behind the door and Villain almost broke down there and then, relief flooding them like a tsunami of feeling, washing away everything that was keeping Villain upright. Tears poured down their cheeks at the thought of safety, hero looking after them… their hero. They could tell them about Superhero’s plans.
They could tell them… Villain put a hand against the door and pushed themselves backwards. They would’ve fallen if not for the arm that snaked around their waist. Villain blinked dumbly and glanced down. Arm around—?
Before they cry out or scream in warning a hand clamped over their mouth and Villain was ripped away from the door and into the shadows. Villain thrashed, struggling in their attacker’s grip, all their screams and cries muffled to nothing but silent pleas.
The door opened and Villain’s struggles renewed but Hero wouldn’t be able to see them from here. Hero wouldn’t know they were even there!
“Hello?” Hero asked into the darkness and Villain whimpered against the hands holding them in an iron cage. Villain threw their body forward, back, trying to dislodge their attackers arms but they didn’t budge even a little.
“If you want Hero to continue to draw breath, Villain, you’ll come quietly.”
Villain froze at the voice. That was… Superhero… the reason why Villain was in this state in the first place. Villain’s struggles renewed as Hero stepped out of their house. If they could even sense something was amiss so close to them then they would investigate. Hero would have to investigate, right? And Hero was in danger too!
Villain had to warn them, they had to!
“Hello?” Hero asked, a note of agitation creeping into their voice.
I’m here! Villain wanted to scream. Hero please! I’m right here.
A pinch in their neck and Villain’s fruitless struggles seized, their blood running cold. They flinched as cold liquid was pushed into their neck. No… no, no, no, no. “That’s it, Villain,” Superhero whispered. “Don’t fight it.”
The hazy world blurred even more and Villain fell back against Superhero’s chest, the fight leaving them almost instantly. What did Superhero drug them with?
Their eyelids shut and Villain forced them back open, with a gargantuan effort. The last thing they saw was Hero frown and close the door before their entire world faded to black in the arms of their enemy.
Injustice
Supervillain looked around at the many guards that surrounded her. She let out a low, humourless chuckle, running a hand through her hair as she turned slowly in place. Some stood stoically. Others shifted nervously, readjusting their stance, readjusting their grip on the trigger of their guns. Some trembled.
And then, finally her eyes fell upon Superhero. He stood nonchalantly, hands in his trouser pockets, but his eyes… his eyes betrayed him. He was hungry. Starved to see her like this, and his eyes took it all in; her ragged figure, the strands loose from her ponytail that swayed in the wind, the blood stain growing under her ribs that was too far up to hit anything important. He looked as if he wanted to live in this moment forever, and document it in his mind’s eye so he could come back to it and relive it over and over again.
Christmas Snippet 2024
Merry Christmas everyone! Here's a present for you!
Villain was just about to open their next present when the doorbell rang. The chatter and laughter from the team died down. Who could that possibly be?
“Maybe it’s Christmas carolers?” Sidekick asked.
“At our base?” Supervillain asked, “unlikely.”
The doorbell rang again, followed by weak yet persistent knocking.
“I’ll get it,” Villain said, setting their parcel down.
They headed to the foyer and opened the front door. They stood frozen in shock for a few minutes.
“Well, Villain? Who is it?” Henchman called.
Villain took a minute to find the words. In front of them stood their very own nemesis, Hero, shaking in their hero suit and staring up at them with big, sad eyes.
“I um… I didn’t know where else to go,” Hero said quietly.
Villain blinked. They had never seen Hero like this before, all pathetic and so terribly small. And injured, they noted, as bloody patches on their suit grew wider and redder.
“Villain, come on,” Supervillain put a hand on their shoulder, “who is- oh!”
“S-sorry,” Hero chattered, “I can leave, I didn’t know you were having a party.”
Hero choked on a sob at that last part, as though the very idea of parties was traumatic to them.
“Come inside,” Supervillain said.
Villain opened the door wider for them, holding an arm out should Hero need steadying. It turned out that they did; they were just over the threshold when they collapsed into Villain.
Villain half-carried Hero inside, setting them down in their armchair that they had been sitting in just minutes before.
“I-I’m staining your furniture-” Hero protested.
“Meh, it adds to our aesthetic,” Sidekick said dismissively.
Henchman draped Hero in a blanket and handed them a mug of hot cocoa.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Villain asked gently.
Hero shook their head, tears forming in their eyes.
“It just, it hasn’t been a very good Christmas,” they said quietly.
They did start sobbing at that, their tears making little ripples in their drink. Supervillain took the mug and set it on the side table. After a while, Hero sniffled.
“Can you tell us who did this to you?” Henchman asked.
Hero wouldn’t meet anyone’s gaze. Hesitantly, they nodded.
“My team,” they said.
The criminals exchanged quick, bewildered glances with each other.
“Your team?” Supervillain asked, “why would they-”
“Said I was making us look bad. Everyone else has impressive powers and then there’s me who’s only good for ‘whipping up homemade popsicles.’”
Villain’s hands curled into fists, but they tried to contain their anger for Hero’s sake.
“They d-did all this,” Hero gestured to their wounds, “then said not to come back.”
Hero put their head in their hands and started crying once more. Sidekick put a hand on their shoulder in an attempt to comfort them.
“I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with their Christmas presents now,” Hero said.
“They don’t deserve-” Henchman started to growl.
Supervillain held a hand up.
“Well, you know, Christmas isn’t over yet,” they said, “would you like to celebrate with us?”
Hero looked up.
“We can have a room made up for you just how you like it,” Supervillain offered, “you won’t be alone, and you can stay indefinitely, or for however long as you feel comfortable.”
“But I’m not a-” Hero started, “I can’t do what you all- I’m not a villain.”
“So what?” Villain said, “we could all use a moral compass, you’d be our live-in hero!”
“You don’t have to answer right now,” Supervillain said, “how about we get you patched up and go from there?”
Hero looked taken aback, as though kindness from others had eluded them all their life.
“Yes please,” they said.
…
It was well into the evening when Hero started showing off their favorite party trick- making it snow indoors. Sidekick tried to catch snowflakes on their tongue while Henchman brought in a tray of cookies. Supervillain added a few flames to the fire with their powers.
“Where did Villain go? They’re missing the snow!” Sidekick said.
“Right here!” Villain answered, coming inside with a present.
They set it down on Hero’s lap. Hero blinked, then looked up at them with wide eyes.
“You didn’t have to do this!” they said.
“Oh I think I did,” Villain smiled.
Hero tore at the wrapping paper and opened the box underneath. They stared slack-jawed at the gift inside. A fleece, weighted blanket with snowflakes scattered across the fabric.
“I hope it’s okay I kinda ran with the superpower theme,” Villain said nervously, “but I know you get cold faster than anyone, and the weight helps with anxiety and- oh!”
Hero had jumped up and hugged Villain as tightly as their stitches would allow. Villain hugged them back.
“I love it, thank you,” Hero said, squeezing tighter.
“Yep,” Villain choked out, “can’t breathe.”
Hero finally released them, beaming widely.
“Hey, look!” Sidekick pointed to the ceiling.
The pair looked up at the mistletoe dangling over them.
“Oh, Villain, you don’t have to if you don’t want to-”
Hero was cut off by Villain’s lips pressing gently against theirs. Hero had never felt this close to melting before.
Henchman and Supervillain cooed, clapping soflty. Sidekick stuck their tongue out, regretting that they had pointed the plant out.
“Merry Christmas, Hero,” Villain said.
Hero smiled, the sparkle back in their eyes.
“Merry Christmas, Villain.”
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The Hero and the Infant: part one
Is this title my cheeky little nod at EPIC the musical? Absolutely, enjoyyyyy!
*~*~*~*~*
The heroes came running when the world was on fire. They always came running. Hero was at the bar, where they always were, watching the news. A neat whiskey clutched between bandaged fingers.
The door slammed open. Hero didn’t have to turn to know it was Superhero’s sidekick. “Hero –”
“Not interested.”
“But Villain –”
“I know. Don’t care,” Hero replied. Daryl, the bartender, shot Hero a look and Hero pretended to not see it.
Sidekick sat on the stool next to Hero and ordered another: “whiskey; neat.”
“Mmm, I love being bribed,” Hero smiled, winking at Daryl.
“Villain’s destroying the city.”
“I didn’t ask.”
“And you’re here, drinking.”
“Perceptive,” Hero purred, taking the whiskey glass from Daryl and pouring the honey liquid of it into their glass. “They’re a minor,” Hero whispered to Daryl conspiratorially.
“I’m not.”
“Well, then. You’re on the clock. Can’t fight crime if you’re impaired.”
“And yet somehow you manage.”
“Somehow, I’m always called in on my day off. Blame your boss for disrupting my plans. Not the other way around, sunshine.”
Hero took a sip of their drink. In their peripheral vision they saw Sidekick turn their body to face Hero. Mmm, getting serious. Hero loved serious Sidekick. It’s like a puppy trying to be mean.
“You know Villain best –”
“Bullshit. Your Superhero knows them longest.”
“Villain likes you best,” Sidekick amended, and Hero nodded.
“So? Are we match making heroes and villains now? Is that Superhero’s excuse, hmm? Will that same explanation slide if I come up against a new villain?” Hero put on a high-pitched voice as they said: “oh I’m sorry superhero. This new villain’s rising sign is Virgo. I’m a Scorpio, we’re gonna clash.”
“This is different, and you know it.”
“How is this different? Because your beloved Superhero says so? Are you just a little dog with no mind of your own? Does Superhero whistle and you come?”
“I’m not here to trade insults, Hero. God knows that could well be your superpower,” Hero took the words as a compliment as the kid continued: “I’m here to ask you to help me stop people’s lives being ruined. Normal people’s lives. Fuck Superhero. Fuck villain. Fuck the whole fucking system. I’m here to ask you, to help me. Please.”
Hero looked at Daryl and Daryl looked at them. Hero rolled their eyes and tipped their head back, the whiskey running hot down their aching throat. Then they stood. Empty glass on the bar. Hero shrugged their trench coat on and patted Sidekick’s shoulder fondly.
“Pay Daryl for me will ya? And a big tip, for the inconvenience. See you tomorrow, Daryl,” Hero waved over their shoulder. Whistling as they walked out the door of their local pub.
“Thanks Daryl,” Sidekick said, paying the man and leaving a generous tip.
“Thank me all you want kid. Hero’ll just be back in here after the fight. It’s good to see them getting out, even if it is under these circumstances. Y’know ever since –”
“I know, Daryl. Thanks.”
“Later kid.”
Sidekick followed Hero out the door, where Hero was waiting a lit cigarette hanging from their lips.
“So,” Hero asked, flicking their zippo lighter shut with a satisfying click, shooting Sidekick their signature lazy smirk. “What’s Villain up to today?”
*~*~*~*~*
Continued here
could you maybe do some hurt/comfort with villan and hero?
Broken fingers weren’t unusual. The hero could truly manage that, it was a familiarity that would bother them on bad days but never truly stopped them at work. Sometimes the hero would wonder if there was a limit. If one day during training, their fingers would just budge and give out completely.
If there was a stop codon which determined the end of their function. It was terrifying to think about but with each day of punishment, it became more of a possibility. Something they had to expect. Something they had to fear.
The superhero always said it was important for the hero to be prepared, no matter what, no matter the injury. And the hero knew they were right.
So, it wasn’t surprising their hands were pretty much useless against the villain today. Last night the superhero had used a metal pipe. Practically, one hit would have been bad enough.
Shattering bones and forcing bruises and swellings — by now, the hero didn’t scream anymore when the superhero used a new method on them.
One hit would have been bad enough. But the superhero had decided on two.
The hero’s throat was still burning. And they hadn’t been able to make coffee this morning.
“Stop.” They didn’t listen to the villain. Instead, they pulled the bandages around their fingers tighter with their tumb — the only finger the superhero had spared this time — and scrambled on the ground until they could push themselves up with their shoulders. Warm blood flooded out of their nose in a long uncomfortable stream and gathered around their lips. Likewise, they felt the sticky liquid on their temple, making their hair kiss their head disgustingly.
It had started six months ago when a mission had failed for the first time.
The hero’s team had been unprepared and completely backstabbed. In the heat of battle, everything had overwhelmed the hero who had been in charge of the operation. They had acted, obviously, but lost the trail of the villains.
They had also lost four friends that day because of a fucking mole. The only logical response to that was to prepare the hero better and get them used to pain and broken bones. Even battered and bruised, it was their responsibility to protect the team.
So, the superhero had slowly started to push up their pain tolerance and broke more fingers every month after training.
One time, the hero needed surgery and a bone replacement. That didn’t hinder the superhero, though.
“Please, stop,” the villain said. Their weapon disappeared within seconds and the hero actually wanted to cry out of relief. To not use their fingers and just rest was something so ancient, it was already disappearing in their memory.
Everyday tasks were hard. Doing the laundry was the worst.
The hero lived alone. It was pure hell.
Most of the time, they hid their fingers. Especially when grocery shopping. They would only buy stuff with little weight and bite their cheek when they had to slam their food onto the counter.
The villain raised their own hands as a peace offering. They were suspicious, had been for weeks now. The hero had noticed when their fighting style turned into something more defensive. Now, their eyes dropped to the hero’s finger for longer than the familiar five seconds.
“What the fucking—” The villain walked up to them and their hands — their incredibly healthy and definitely not broken but oh so beautifully soft hands — were on the hero’s wrists. “Oh my god.”
They held up their hands and slowly freed them from the bandages.
“Oh god. Oh fuck. Jesus Christ.” Raw terror was burnt into the villain’s features. Their breath shuddered as they heard the hero whimper. And the hero…they felt the tears rising, and the back of their head started to hurt. “Hospital. I’ll get you to a hospital.”
The hero’s tears spilled instantly. They wanted to agree. They wanted to grovel at the villain’s feet to thank them.
“I can’t— the superhero. If they find out—” With the back of their hand, the villain pushed the hero’s tears away. They were so terribly gentle.
“They did this?” they asked.
“…yeah. Are you mad?”
“I am furious. But not at you.” The villain brilliantly suppressed their wrath. Their numb persona was broken already but the little bits of emotion shining through the cracks were of concern and shock. Unexpected.
“I’ll get you to a hospital, darling,” the villain whispered.
A week later, the superhero’s dead body was found. More than 200 of their bones had been shattered.
Depending on the counting, the adult human skeleton is said to be composed of 206.
check out this one
Concept #14
Hero allows themself to be captured by Villain because Superhero convinced them that they are a villain and that everyone would be better off without them. Hero may or may not be feeling slightly self-destructive, because why wouldn’t they believe the city’s biggest and strongest hero? And Villain may or may not be just a little bit mad about this.
a villain saving a hero from being mind controlled
Villain stepped cautiously into the old boxing gym. Hero was in the ring, fists flying against an instructor that was more clear and distinct than even Hero themselves. And he wasn’t going easy on Hero.
Hero, a younger version of them, was covered in a thick sheen of sweat like oil clinging to their skin. Villain could tell they’d been here for hours, maybe doing the same drills, maybe others. He watched, hands in trouser pockets as Hero’s right hook hit the pad weaker than it should’ve.
Instructor moved lightning fast and suddenly Hero was on the floor. Villain jerked forward, prepared to step in before Hero grunted with effort and he paused. Villain knew that sound all too well and it froze him in his movements. A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he saw Hero throw their weight backwards, tumbling feet over head in one fluid motion and stood gracefully again, ready to fight.
Villain had seen that move too many times, heard that infuriating heroic grunt that conceded a little exertion but it didn’t mean Hero was finished. They were just conceding a point to their opponent and the next round was about to begin, a reset button.
When Instructor spoke it was murky as the scene swirled around them and Villain made sure not to hit off any of the furniture or items in the new setting which looked like a… museum, or a library.
Hero was tucked away in a corner, hunched over a desk, a little older now, hair falling over their face as they read from one of the many books scattered around them. Villain smiled at Hero’s reading glasses that were wide as saucers. They looked like such a little nerd. Nobody would think they were looking at a hero, nevermind the Hero themself. Their lean physique was hidden under layers of clothes, a turtleneck and a chunky cardigan that made them look softer, their edges more round.
Their eyes a little more hollow.
“Hero.”
Hero’s head snapped up, violet eyes meeting Villain’s. Hero swallowed, their gaze darting around the room before they settled on Villain again.
“You… you can’t be here,” Hero whispered, fear lacing every word.
Villain walked in further and took the seat opposite Hero, sliding into it and resting a hand on the table. “And yet, here I am,” Villain said at a conversational volume.
“If Superhero finds out—”
“What can he do? Hmm?” Villain asked, tilting his head. This close Hero looked worse than Villain feared. Fuck. Even for Superhero this was fucked up. To keep Hero locked in a trance like this, scared of disrupting any memory they were forced to relive over and over.
The dark circles around Hero’s eyes glowed a dim purple like a bruise, but Villain recognised it as Nokio’s ability, shutting down the mind, trapping the consciousness within so Hero’s body could be puppeted without resistance; forced to obey commands they weren’t even aware of.
“Some of us need to study, Villain,” Hero snapped, the purple veins flashing a bright— bright purple colour. “I can’t fail this exam—”
“You don’t need to study, Hero.”
“Just because you’re a genius—”
“You’ve already sat your exam, Hero.”
Hero froze. Blinked. Stuttered. They tilted their head at Villain. “Are you— is this some kind of psyching me out kind of trick? Because it won’t work.”
“We have already sat these exams, Hero. You know it. Deep down, somewhere inside you knows I’m right.”
“Villain—”
“We both passed and got our Hero licence. You were obviously second best,” Villain said with a grin like a knife. “But we can’t all be geniuses, as you say.”
“This is a weird joke,” Hero said eventually with a scoff and looked down at their book again. Villain glanced down too. He couldn’t see any words on the pages. Just lines of black writing.
“Fine,” Villain shrugged leaning in. “What exam are you studying for?”
“The Hero licence fin—”
“I know. Which exam?” Villain asked, cutting Hero off. He pulled his chair in until his torso was flush with the wood, clasping his fingers together in front of him and tilted his head to the side.
“The—” Hero said, trailing off. Their eyes wandered and a troubled look crossed their features. Their eyes burned purple. “The…” then they shook their head and let out a breath of a laugh. “God, I can’t remember. I must have been studying too long.”
“Okay,” Villain shrugged. “Just read what’s on the page you’re reading then.”
Hero’s eyes narrowed at the challenge. “Fine!” They said with a scoff as they looked down again. “The… uh— the…”
Villain watched with an eagerness as Hero’s features pinched on their face, a crease forming between their brilliant brows and a furrow forming over their forehead. Hero’s grip tightened on the book, their hands began to shake.
“Villain…” they said after a moment, looking up with wide petrified eyes. “Why am I calling you Villain? That’s not your name. Your hero name was other hero. I remember. We picked it out together. And when you changed it to Villain, god I—”
Villain smiled and sat back. Hero’s physique morphed again, older again, but at least now they looked like the Hero Villain knew from the present. Comfortable clothes, a hoodie and a pair of sweatpants with a white tee, that made it easy for fighting and going for groceries.
The library changed around them again, bleeding away to a black, voided emptiness.
“Villain, what’s going on?”
Villain sighed. “Finally. That took longer than it should have, Hero.”
“Why are you— what’s—”
“Superhero hired Nokio to subdue you and make you work for him, hide you away in your mind so you would be an obedient little—” before Villain could finish he gasped, cutting himself off. His air felt breathy, unreal as a spike of purple coiled rope erupted from his chest.
“VILLAIN!”
Villain fell to his knees. “You just couldn’t leave well enough alone, could you Villain?” Nokio’s voice boomed around them, echoing off nothing. High pitched and grating, so the same as Villain remembered. Villain reached out to grab the spike.
It’s not real, it’s not real, it’s not—
Twin coils of rope wound around Villain’s wrists, thorns like the ones you’d find on a rosebush stuck into Villain’s skin, knotting itself like barbed wire around him.
“Villain!” Hero gasped, dropping to their knees in front of Villain. Villain smiled, blood dripping from the corners of his mouth. “What do I do? WhatdoIdo? How do I help? Villain?!”
The tears in Hero’s eyes pulled at Villain’s heartstrings. God. He forgot he still had those. “Fight, Hero,” Villain gasped. “I can’t help you. But fight, Nokio is nothing compared to—”
A shrill scream and Villain was torn from Hero’s mind and back into their body. The force of the expulsion shot them back across the room and Villain gasped, spluttering, grabbing at the phantom spike in his chest.
He grinned. All he had to do was wait. Hero would free themself, and then Superhero would have something to really worry about.