daydreamed-snippets

[daydreamed-snippets]

hey what's your banner from? its v nice

So I got it from here

I liked a lot of their backgrounds. Um, I probably should give them credit in my bios or something. I didn’t think about that.

Anyway, working on more writings. And I will continue my last snippet of villain left as a present for hero sometime hehehe. Allergies are kicking my butt so I’ve been sleeping. A lot. 

Thanks dear! Love hearing from you, or anyone really :-)

[daydreamed-snippets]

@f3ar-prompts -- so your spin on the old trope inspired me. :-)

They left them on their back porch, tucked into the side of their concrete stoop where the security camera’s all-encompassing gaze couldn’t quite reach. Not that it mattered at the moment. That camera was unruly anyway. Only recording what it wanted to record. Which could be good and bad varying on the situation. Hero only noticed the shivering body when their dog had exited the doggy door to take a piss and the little beast hadn’t come back after twenty minutes. When they ventured out to look for Fido, they found a surprise instead. Stretched out along the bottom of the stoop like a piece of rolled-up paper that has tried to curl in of itself one too many times, was the villain. Zip-ties securing them to the railing like paperweights.

Hero went in to flip on their porch light, then came out again, shivering too as the cold nipped at their senses. They crouched, peering carefully into eyes that burned theirs. A simple note was taped to the gag over the villain’s mouth. The hero plucked it between two fingers.

Happy Birthday, the note read, –A Friend.

Odd, it wasn’t their birthday. It wouldn’t be their birthday for a least seven more months. Still…

The hero looked over the villain again.

Their mask was still on, somewhat crookedly. Most of their costume was torn, leaving bare skin exposed from shoulder to hip, and what wasn’t covered by cloth was painted in cuts and bruises. A tapestry to the eyes.

The hero loosened the gag so villain could talk, and the latter spat.

"You took your dear sweet time.” Their teeth chattered. “I’ve been out here for hours. Now untie me."

"What is this?” The hero tipped their head.

“How should I know?” The villain started to struggle but it was clear that whatever altercation they had gotten themselves into earlier was taking its toll now. “What did the note say?”

“Happy birthday. A Friend. You’re obviously not the friend.”

“Obviously.”

“So,” Hero posed again. “What is this?”

“What does it look like? Kidnapping. Abduction. Unlawful seizure..." Villain’s fixed stare was like fire, and they tensed against the restraints. A tempest brewed underneath pools of amber. "Let me go. A goody-two-shoes like you can drop me off at the nearest police station. No one has to hear about this."

"The note says otherwise."

Villain’s breath did something. It stuttered. That bravado melting into uncertainty. The hero’s heart sped up a bit. A pleasant sensation spread through their chest. "Pardon?"

"The note says I should keep you."

The villain sputtered. "You told me the note says happy birthday."

"It does. And the note implies that since it's my birthday, or the ‘friend’ thinks it’s my birthday, that you are my present and I should keep you."

The villain’s mouth snapped shut, a bit stunned at the comment. But hero was already moving on. They wanted that feeling again. It was starting to fade despite the situation, despite the promise held in that note, despite the tension they felt with villain. A tension that could give into something more. If they only seized the opportunity.

Hero reached out, pressed an open palm to quivering muscle, hot under their touch. They may have been out here for hours but it did nothing to slake the heat radiating from them. Feeling as they went, the hero glanced to their face to see a reaction. They were rewarded with the villain’s eyes widening and breath hitching.

“Don’t—”

Hero ignored the plea, hand traveling downwards. Then upwards. They stoked scars and new cuts alike. Getting small jolts of pleasure from the contact of skin, and the villain’s obvious discomfort. Villain’s next words were said quietly through clenched teeth after a while after the hero’s hand smoothed over their heart. “People can't be given as presents."

"But no one would bat an eye if you went missing. Criminals disappear and reappear all the time.” They sighed, running a lazy finger from the villain’s forehead down to their cheek, tipping up their chin. “What if I keep you?”

"Why are you asking me what this is if you have no intention of--"

"Just seeing if this is a trick, or if it's a trap,” hero said, finger stroking small circles against their jaw. “Or if you have any idea of what's going on."

"I…don't. I was sure this was all just a cruel joke, and that once you discovered me, I’d be spending the night at the local penitentiary."

The hero hummed. The feeling was dissipating again. They eyed the mask.

This was mean to be some big thing, wasn’t it? The um-masking of a villain. They’d seen whole premises in kid’s cartoons shaped around this one plot point. So when they slipped their fingers under the stiff fabric and peeled it away, the hero ate up the villain’s panicked reaction. Gobbled them whole. It was a feast of smooth plains, and freckled skin, and a ruddy complexion that complemented their olive skin. Freckles. They almost chuckled. Hero would have never guessed. The villain was unknown to them but sweet-looking. Easy on the eyes. And with the mask gone, their emotions were utterly bare.

“The hell! Why would you—” They thought better of it, hero leveling them with a look. The villain licked their lips, starting again. “You are the most innocent hero I know. You’re respectable. Tolerant. Why not hand me over? Why this?”

"Off the clock,” the hero clarified. “I'm the most innocent hero you know off the clock. I’m respectable when I’m not on the job. The tolerant part, well…there’s a part of me that likes certain things. Like to act things out. Likes to experiment. I’m curious. And lonely. Just had a breakup. They couldn’t handle what I like, what I want.” Hero broke the ties with a twist of their fingers and yanked the villain close just to feel their breath on their face. “Maybe you can.”

“Hero, don’t do this. I—just take me to prison. Hero, arrest me. Take me to the authorities.”

“I might,” the hero whispered, swallowing the well of saliva that gathered in their mouth. “If you please me. Then I might release you to the police. I just might.”

They had trouble throwing the villain over their shoulder and muscling their way up the steps, but they managed. The door banging shut after they entered. That dog following through the doggie door. They’d have to take care of whatever the security camera may or may not have caught. If they were lucky, it would be a frozen image or nothing at all. No one needed to know about their birthday—not birthday—gift.

Whump Prompt #192

Hero and Villain Prompt

One is left at the other’s lair, gagged, trussed, and with a decorative bow and tag reading “Happy Birthday -a friend”

#other peroples prompts #my wriring #a good spin on old trope #hero #villain #villain x hero #hero x villain

[daydreamed-snippets]

Daydreamed Snippets #24

A particular hobbled troll, living under a particular crumbling bridge has finally decided that challenging everyone who crossed their bridge and shaking down humans for money wasn't cutting it. They were poor, and worst of all, they were hungry. So, after catching a rather stirring broadcast on the local radio, the troll decided to pack their things, charm their face into a more comely human visage, and head to the city to become a televangelist.

#prompt #troll #trolling #convince me otherwise #i would like to see someone actually continue this #my writing #and have a good day

[daydreamed-snippets]

Daydreamed Snippets #23

The villain’s gaze lowered. They found themselves unable to hold it steady. A single question itched on their lips. “How does that stay on?” they asked finally.

Hero’s face brightened, ready to show off their accomplishment. “Oh, lots of tape.”

#prompt #my writing #hero #villain #don't you ever wonder? #some of those costumes tho

[daydreamed-snippets]

Daydreamed Snippets #22

“Don’t look at them. Look at me.”

At the villain’s command, the hero’s eyes snapped back to them, monsters still crawling upon the outside of the dome over their shoulder. The villain spread their fingers gently over the hero’s chin. Reverent almost, though they remained void of expression. Starring at the hero with an eerie, unnatural calm. Like what they were doing didn’t matter at all. Like they hadn’t built this hovelled haven and appointed the hero to protect it. Like the two hadn’t grown close over the years. Like they weren’t now commanding the horde to destroy it all.

“Why?” The hero shook with a gasp.

A twitch. A slight turn of the lips, right at the corner of their mouth. Could you even call it a smile? The villain took in a breath. “I want to see your expression when the glass finally breaks.”

#prompt #my writing #hero #villain #hero x villain #villain x hero

[daydreamed-snippets]

Daydreamed Snippets #21

It was the way that everything was consumed by the flame that had the villain’s mouth turn up at the corners, displaying a ghastly row of glittering teeth.

"It's just my nature, hero.” Villain’s smile widened, almost to the point of pain. “I have no other excuse."

“It’s your tendency, villain, not your nature,” the hero shot back, maneuvering away from the fire, but still keeping a clear line of sight. “It’s what you gravitate towards when you think you have no way out. It’s what you do to ease the excruciating pain that you feel. In truth, we both have the same nature. Everyone had the same nature. We’re all human. You and I are both capable of great good and great evil.”

The hero took a step forward.

Just one step.

But it was enough to force the villain a step in retreat.

“You have every excuse, villain, and that makes you redeemable."

#prompt #my writing #hero #villain #daddy issues? #mommy issues? #or just general life issues? #villain's like how dare you come for me like this

[daydreamed-snippets]

Daydreamed Prompt #20

“Where are you taking me?”

Hero yelped, almost dropping their quarry in their great haste to evacuate the lair; villain's knees slipping from the crux of their elbow, tumbling onto the ground before hero was able to sweep them up again. "You're awake, sleeping beauty?" they asked in a titter, forcing a smile. They laughed when they became nervous. Imposing humor in humorless situations. "Wow, I didn’t even have to kiss you this time. Guess we both dodged a bullet. Look, ah, you didn't move when I came in. So I just assumed..."

"I'm resting," the villain's reply was quiet. Barely a whisper.

"You looked dead."

"If you thought me dead," said villain, eyes fluttering open to give a noxious glare before almost immediately blinking shut, "why not leave me?"

Snorting, hero made sure to keep the amused tone in their voice. It cut down on the rising alarm. "I said that you looked dead not that I thought you were. If you were—" Their throat closed and they cleared it, pulling the villain closer, stepping over the mess of battle. "Look, I know we're not… I know that we haven't..." They cleared their throat again, trying a different angle. "I followed you, after everything. I knew you lost your lair when the demon attacked, but…”

I didn’t know it was this bad. I didn’t know that you had nowhere else to go.

“You looked bad back there,” the hero continued with a swallow, and a tilt of their head towards the villain so both heads touched. It was uncharacteristic of them, but at the moment they didn’t care. There was no one around to watch. “You took a hit. Bought us some time. I honestly didn't think you'd make it here.”

"Where are you taking me?" Villain’s voice was skeptical and faint. Characteristic of them.

Hero stopped at the entrance of the lair, or what was left of it. Sunlight playing with shadow as trees waved their branches at them. It felt good stepping out of the dark, hobbled, and altogether destroyed refuge. It felt good to have the villain’s breath fan over their neck. It felt good for them to do what they wanted for once, and save who they wanted to for once.

“To someplace safe. To my place,” they said, preparing for a bounding leap. “Just hold on.”

#prompt #my writing #hero #villain #hero x villain #villain x hero

[daydreamed-snippets]

Part One Part Two

Personnel in crisp cream uniforms walked the brightly lit hallway with a purpose; either conversing with each other, gazing at datapads, or rushing off to who knows where. Supervillain nodded to some in passing; taking the time to pause with others. Sidekick squeezed in closer, stepping on the back of their boots, grazing their shoulder against supervillain’s arm in a pathetic endeavor to just hide. No one warned them about the trepidation that tugged at their soul, nor did anyone prepare them for the general neurosis of it all. The lights overhead strained their eyes, and the cloister of people moved like an insect hive, an incursion on their senses. They could feel a headache forming. Their various cuts and scrapes burned. Their knees hurt too, body still twitching from electrocution.

And they were all staring at them.

Keeping their head lowered, eyes affixed elsewhere, sidekick could still see all of them through their peripheral. Supervillain’s ‘team’ consisted of far more people than the association originally thought. They tensed as each gaze befell them; probably taking in their tattered costume, unkempt hair, and the collar around their neck.

Eyes curious, judging, questioning.

Shame itched at the back of their neck, screaming to be scratched, but they kept their hands in front of them where they could be easily seen. At least the supervillain wasn’t parading them around, so there was that. The leash was lax and discrete enough so long as sidekick didn’t resist.

But who were they to resist now? They were powerless. It was done and over. Supervillain won. Teammates had no idea where they were if they were even looking for them at this point.

Cramming their eyes shut, they tried to hold onto those little ribbons of faith that gleamed at them through this emblematic darkness. Usefulness dictated importance, which in the Hero’s Association meant a role working with the team. Here it would be no doubt ensure their survival. Usefulness drawing the line between life and death.

They wanted to live, but being of use to the enemy churned their stomach. Policy made no room for turncoats. An informant maybe, but they had no mercy for traitors.

So be an informant.

What was the layout here? What were the dimensions of this hallway? How many doors did they pass? Count the number of people, sidekick. Gather information, no matter how scant. Be docile to the enemy, but pragmatic to the team.

Sixteen. They already passed sixteen people. Good. The Hero’s Association would see just how useful they were once teammates rescue them out of this sterilized hellhole. They will rescue them.

Sidekick bumped into supervillain again, a warm, solid presence, and supervillain turned, looking down. “I’ll let you hold your leash, puppy, if that would make you feel better. At any rate, you keep stepping on me and I don’t want my boot scuffed." They made a motion of unwinding the wire from their wrist and handing it over. But when sidekick moved to take it, the supervillain drew back. "But remember,” they said, voice holding a dark promise. “If you choose to bolt know that I have hundreds of people under my command in this annex alone.”

Sidekick gulped.

Hundreds? Hundreds? So this wasn’t just an assortment of random villains and a handful of henchmen? This was an organization in of itself. One that could rival the Hero’s Association.

Holy shit.

In dismay, sidekick nodded numbly and the wire was placed in their hands. They murmured a thank you before realizing it, and the supervillain started again, sidekick stumbling to follow.

Let it be knowledge to tuck away at a later time. No matter how small, knowledge always proves to be advantageous.

They walked a few more meters and when supervillain stopped again. This time sidekick followed suit keeping a healthy distance between them, shuffling a bit, and looking dubiously at supervillain. They keyed something in a pad—out of sight—and a door swished open.

Their breath caught and, sidekick raised their chin. Here was their cell. They’d probably rot in here, or spend a majority of their time recovering from torture and wondering when their next session would begin.

Hope against hope, they wished it would be clean at least. Were they ever? The association gave no indication on cell parameters, or any information really save for the unpleasantness of it all. Sidekick wasn't delicate but they were averse to pain in general. They were told it made for a bad hero.

Sidekick hesitated, realizing that they should say something smarting. Brave. What would teammates say if they were in this situation? Something wisecracking and sarcastic. But then again, whenever sidekick opened their mouth the supervillain always had some observant retort. Something comment to off-balance them, and set them on their toes.

They opened their mouth anyway.

A hand on the small of their back maneuvered them through the threshold.

Supervillain stepped in as well, and the door slipped back sealing shut, leaving them in complete darkness. Walking past them, their captor roused a computer interface with a verbal command, and the area rustled to life.

Sidekick’s eyes widened at the sight.

This wasn’t a cell. These weren’t even quarters. This was a well-furnished apartment with a full kitchen, dining room, and living area. A hallway split off to their right, where sidekick assumed the bathroom and bedroom lay. No windows, but large light therapy lamps joined regular ones behind traditional furniture and on end tables. A sudden contrast to the hard lines and surfaces of the garrison hallways, an apparent appeal to a softer aesthetic.

What the?

“It’s late,” supervillain called making their rounds, checking on something sidekick was unaware of in the adjacent room. “You will take a shower, and have something to eat before settling in for the night.” Their words held no room for argument.

What kind of game was this? Sidekick leaned back against the door willing for it to open. Policy stated all enemies would treat captors roughly. That they would have no regard for their corporeal needs. Unless this was all a ruse. To get sidekick to trust them, to get them to join the supervillain’s team.

"Don't worry, your collar won't zap you if it gets wet. Medic isn't that sadistic. Not without permission." They came back into the room, eyes sliding back to sidekick with a hidden glint. “I could always bathe you myself, puppy…”

Ducking their head, sidekick shook it vigorously at supervillain’s knowing chuckle. Directing them down the hall, supervillain steered them towards the bathroom: a single shower, sink, and toilet. Newly cleaned. Immaculately decorated. They turned on the shower, showed sidekick how to adjust the temperate then left after unknotting the wire, unleashing their collar. The door remained propped open, a subtle warning not to close it.

A glance down the hallway to assure themselves that the supervillain had indeed left, sidekick shed their costume, tearing a bigger hole in the sleeve in their haste to behind obscure glass and out of the open. Granted, it wasn't like there was much preventing supervillain from entering again.

Still, they glanced back before quickly stepped into the shower, relishing the hot water on their stiff muscles. Blood and grime pooled on the tile floor, circling the drain. It shouldn't have surprised them how much there was. The team called them in to act as a diversion as much as an escape route. Sidekick was hit, but not hard as the wires spread paper-thin cuts along their arms and legs. It was not really that bad if you compared it to broken bones and missing limbs.

It stung like hell though.

The only soap available was one held in a dark grey bottle. Uncapping it, the scent of muted fern and something like vanilla filled their sinuses. Fresh. Admittedly soothing. Bringing it to a good lather, they quickly scrubbed themselves, breathing in the aroma more and more until it clicked. This was the supervillain’s scent they were covering themselves in. In fact, everything smelled like this. Everything in this part of the garrison smelled like it the moment sidekick stepped into the room.

It was maddening.

It was intoxicating.

Sidekick finished up quickly, shutting off the valve, and stepped out, wrapping a towel hanging on a large ring around themselves. It shouldn’t be intoxicating. It should be revolting, or at least off-putting.

Their costume was missing, they soon realized a little too late. In its place a crisp cream uniform, the same as the ones they’d seen everyone else don. Supervillain did sneak in when they were showering, probably when their back was turned. Color filled their face again, as they caught the reflection of themselves in the mirror. Neck red from maltreatment, and a bit too pale.

Taking no chances for their captor to return, and truly appreciate the view, they pulled on the uniform quickly, combed fingers through their shoulder-length hair, and called it a day. What did it matter how they appeared? They couldn’t go home. The team abandoned them, and the supervillain was being… odd. Nothing mattered and all the rules were bent.

They padded out and took a seat in the dining area where a chair had been pulled out for them.

“This will be soft on your stomach,” supervillain said, placing a plate before them before easing into the other chair. “I don’t want you vomiting on my carpet, puppy.”

“I don’t—” sidekick glanced up, searching the plains of their sharp face. The circles under the supervillain's eyes were more than noticeable, in the temperate light they were etched in stone. Supervillain made a noise for them to continue. “I don’t like being called puppy.”

“Give me your real name, and if I like it better than puppy, I’ll stop.”

Their already clenched jaw ground tighter; a compromise they were unwilling to make. Picking up the spoon, supervillain held it aloft, food tucked neatly on it, and directed it to sidekick’s lips. “I need you to eat puppy, so I can go to bed. I don’t want to your pathetic mewling in the night.”

Sidekick’s teeth ground together.

“Have you ever used your portals to injure anyone?” The change in subject was sudden, and sidekick’s lips slackened. “Have you ever cut someone in half before, or even just a limb?” Sidekick looked away, nervous fingers playing with their sleeve. They couldn’t help but tremble. The answer was a resounding no, but they be damned to articulate it.

“Have you ever killed anyone with your portals?” The question brought the sidekick’s attention back, and they tried to fix the supervillain with a dead stare.

They should have known by now it was impossible to win a battle of wills when they looked into the supervillain’s eyes. There was a darkness there so deep, it moved. It took shape. Haunting. Plotting. Sidekick could practically see the desire to devour them completely reflected in those stirring pools.

“I’ll take your silence as a no,” they said evenly, after a beat. “Have you been given combat training?”

Yes, the basics, sidekick thought, but nothing which could defend against a supervillain.

“Have they given you any training besides making you housebroken?”

“I’m not—!” The opportunity supervillain had been waiting for came, and they shoved the spoonful into sidekick’s mouth with a look that dared them to spit it out. They chew slowly, stomach in knots but it was good.

“Let me guess, you’re not a dog,” supervillain supplied lazily. “Eat.”

“I have had training. In multiple areas,” they picked up the spoon with a shaky hand, stomach rumbling. “But I’m not going to answer your questions. If captured, policy states that I am not to give out anything besides my affiliation to the Hero’s Association. I am not going to give you any information," they let out a shaky breath, a spoonful of food in their cheeks, "not even under extreme coercion. Teammates would never forgive me, and the Hero's Association has a zero-tolerance policy."

“What kind of ‘heroes’ organization punishes you for breaking under torture?”

Sidekick’s voice squeaked. “That’s not what I said. They’ve… been good to me.”

“In what way?”

“I-I’m not answering that.”

Supervillain relented, and sidekick ate in tense silence.

Once finished, the supervillain led them to the living room. A small cot pulled out from one of the couches. After dressing it, supervillain pulled out a chain from one of the end table drawers and clipped it to a ring recently drilled into the wall. They then handed sidekick a glass of water and tucked a small pill into their hand.

“No, I—”

“It’s melatonin, and it will help you sleep. It won’t put you to sleep.” They poured several into their hand and tossed it into their mouth as they wandered to find water. “You’ll need it," they called. "You’ve been shaking since you got out of the shower. Get some rest.” Their footsteps became more distant as they went down the hallway to the bedroom, bed creaking as they entered it.

The lights clicked off and the sidekick was left in darkness.

They shrugged into bed, pulling the light sheets over themselves while kicking off the comforter. A cold sweat claimed them, and they stared at the ceiling for the better part of three hours, thoughts churning, churning, churning.

So what if they’d never hurt anyone with their powers before, that didn’t mean they weren’t a threat. That didn’t mean that the supervillain could treat them like a patsy. It didn't mean that they were incapable.

They could do it if they wanted to.

They could do it to supervillain if they wanted to.

Why, they were just sleeping in the next room. Sidekick could hear deep breathing and the stutter of a dream-filled sigh. There was no need to use their full power to slip a link in the chain or to silently creep over to the room. They could make a sliver of a portal for half a second, and endure the buzz from their collar.

Sidekick set their plan in motion.

After the mini-portal, they blacked out for a second and woke with a gasp. Part one done. They were free, chain hewn in two. They probably had moments before anyone noticed, so they needed to move quickly.

Have you ever used your portals to injure anyone?

Supervillain's words came back to them, as they wandered the hallway, honing in on the dark bedroom. They stepped through the threshold, a thought sparking of how they were invading. How a bedroom spoke of intimacy, a cozy and solitary space.

A single red light blinked from the ceiling corner. Sidekick's eyes were already well adjusted to the dark that they could see supervillain's outline on the bed, lying on their back, arms spread out defenselessly.

They could picture it now. Sidekick fails the demon supervillain. Sure they might die in the process, but it would serve the association. It would cement them in the annals of heroic feats.

Have you ever killed anyone with your portals?

Moving to the side of the bed, sidekick’s hands hovered, not yet touching. Faltering in their pursuit. Where was that rage their felt earlier? Where was that appetite for vengeance? It was there, they could feel it under the surface, but it was a poor substitute for bloodlust. A poor replacement for the mindset needed to end a life.

Could they do it?

"Why don't you go back to bed like a good little labradoodle? You don't have to stomach for this."

Sidekick almost jumped at the sound. Hands reached up to boldly clamp onto their wrists.

"Let me go!"

"I warned you, puppy."

They lunged for the supervillain's throat, the heat back again. Volatile, it roared to life. Erupting, unpredictable, but sidekick was grateful for its presence now. It wasn't bloodlust, but it possibly could be damaging enough.

Supervillain pulled them on top of them, and sidekick's legs swung around their body, hoping to get a better angle to grip their neck. "You think I'm going to cooperate with you? I will fight you at every turn. You will regret keeping me alive. I will gather enough intel that once I escape, teammates will be able to take you down."

"If they want you back."

The statement made sidekick pause. "What did you just say?"

"If," the repeated, slowly, the next words in a rhythmic manner. "If they want you back."

"What do you mean if?"

Supervillain's eyes drift up to the red light winking steadily at them.

Blood drained from sidekick's face.

"It records video, but no sound. Makes it easier to edit, I'm told. And I have people in my employment that can edit anything. They can and will make this little tussle we've having look like a lover's tryst." They let go of sidekick's wrists and trailed a pitying hand down their cheek. "What would teammates think of you once I send them this video of us in bed together? Would they jump to the conclusion that we've been joined this whole time? That our affair was the reason why you closed the portal? Did you choose to stay with me? Or would they assume that since you have such a weak constitution, that it only took one day for me to seduce you?"

"This was a trap. You knew," sidekick licked their lips, and supervillain's eyes followed the movement. "You set this up from the beginning."

"I set up fail-safes in case you chose this path."

"You tricked me."

"You disobeyed me," they said, voice hardening and a chill crept down sidekick's spine. They sat up, moving sidekick to their lap, and gripped their chin roughly, face inches from theirs. "I was nice before, and you squandered my kindness. Now you will face the punishment."

Wire detached from the ceiling like vines, wrapping themselves around sidekick before they had a chance to scramble off the bed and bolt. Their feet lifted off the ground. Once again they were suspended, drawn tightly to the four corners of the room. Supervillain didn't spare a glance at them as they got out of bed, and left the room, all but ignoring sidekick's screams.

#not my prompt #continuation #my writing #sidekick #supervillain #part 3 #just keeps getting longer and longer #part 4 after I've taken a break from this story

[daydreamed-snippets]

hello! i absolutely adored your addition to gingerly’s prompt ask :) i was wondering if you could continue it, and no worries if you can’t! thanks <3

I realize the more I write this the longer it’s getting. I probably have imagined six parts or more???? I have other WIPs that need attention, but I am so, so, so, so thankful that you like the first part of my prompt response to @gingerly-writing I’m going to post this and then part 3 hopefully tomorrow 👀 👀 👀 👀Maybe??? then take a small break to post some other stuff. Lol this is a continuation I didn’t really plan for, but am definitely excited about!!

@chibicelloking @lolafaiy

Part One Here

A dull thrum of voices stirred sidekick out of surly drowsiness. The articulation of words was muddied, coming across as garble before snapping into clarity the more they roused. There was “monitor vitals”, “recommended range”, “even by a fraction” that registered in the back of their mind. Teammates must be running some tests again.

But they couldn’t move. Not a muscle. They weren’t paralyzed, they were just restrained. Which was odd because that wasn’t—

They felt the string back around their neck again. That feeling of dread rustled, usually abating when they returned to headquarters and the familiarity of their bunk. Memories came no longer concealed by lethargy. Of the teammates being pinned down by supervillain. Of their oh-so-brave self-sacrifice. Of teammates using The Machine to pry open a portal. Of sidekick losing consciousness in supervillain’s arms. 

Sidekick held their breath, letting out a quiet moan. It didn’t work, did it? Teammates didn’t make it to that sewer way after supervillain choked them into unconsciousness. And if they did, they were unable to save sidekick. They were captured.

So what now? 

Policy would have them stay mute. To be uncooperative. To trumpet bravado and bare their teeth. 

Policy would have their self-sacrifice complete its course to martyrdom. 

Feeling their sinew stretch to uncomfortable lengths, the sidekick’s mind fortified itself, resolved to do their due diligence. They could die for the cause. They were trained to do so. Engrained by doctrine, encouraged parables of valor, and promises of glory. They weren’t a hero, yes, but they’d surely get a hero’s burial. A hero’s honor, and admittance to the halls of the nobly fallen. After all, it was promised to those slain for the cause. 

Noting how their wrists were held high above their head and were bound together, sidekick tensed their muscles against the wire to test how well it held their arms, chest, hips, and legs still. They were hanging in midair, everything was drawn taut, everything perfectly balanced so that the threads bowed them back like a rag doll on display; fraying and terribly exposed. 

At least it didn’t cut their skin this time.

The easy solution: they could mount a daring escape by making a portal around themselves. No on second thought due to calculation risks, they could make approximately 47 mini portals, severing the strings. Then once they got a better gauge of the room, they could make one large enough for them to drop through. They doubted they would be able to go far, maybe outside this room after they opened their eyes and calculated the circumference of it. Their weakness lies in the fact that not knowing where they were meant they were limited in where they could go. Power hinging on all of the maps in their head. If they could just see it on the map then they could calculate the needed trajectory and portal to it. 

But they had neither the time nor the luxury for that now.

Taking all 47 at a time, sidekick opened dime-size portals an inch above where the wires met their skin. Calculations playing in the background of their psyche. They had to be precise—they must have caution or risk searing flesh from bone. Wire fractured and cracked in midair, and sidekick dropped a small length, feet hitting the floor, knees buckling. 

They barely had a second to get up.

A shrill alarm, jarring, and ear-splitting sounded. 

Fire followed, blazing across their skin, only somehow from the inside radiating out, originating from their neck, and spiraling down. They writhed under the voltaic ministrations, convulsing until it ceased, finally falling limp.

Someone came to stand before them, and sidekick considered the familiar boots warily before flicking their gaze up, proximity kick-starting their heartbeat. And it ran wild. Supervillain settled before them, appearing polished, normal costume hidden under a button-up shirt loosely tucked into a pair of trousers. A light pea coat pulled the ensemble together. Their expression, however, looked like they were ready to pounce, eyes veiled behind a tight expression.

“Perfect. You’re awake.”

Should sidekick go for bravado, or would a more fearful submissive approach best serve them, now that their escape attempt has failed? Unsure, sidekick opted for a mix of both, figuring, at any rate, the body count associated with supervillain alone would suggest that they tread carefully. “Wh-what did you do to me? My teammates—”

“Your teammates don’t know where you are, and it’s going to stay that way for a while." They crouched agilely, a panther before a frightened yearling, tucking a finger under their chin to hold their complete attention. "I would advise against doing anything that would jeopardize your standing with me, puppy. Like trying to use your power to escape. I am not what one would call longsuffering. I may have shown you a smidgen of my mercy but don’t expect it to be par for the course." Supervillain motioned to the room with a nod. "If you’re wondering where you are, may I present to you my humble garrison. This is the medical wing, with medic and assistant behind me. We’ve removed the association’s tracking device, and replaced it with something far more fetching.”

Trailing a thumb down their neck, supervillain fiddled with the band around their throat, a neatly fitted collar. How did sidekick not notice that? It felt not much different from supervillain’s wires—something foreign and constricting. Ears burning, their face paled, sweat lining their brow. If this could get worse or more humiliating, they weren’t sure how. 

Threading a finger through the ring, supervillain wrenched sidekick off the ground, onto their hands and knees like a true dog. 

A strangled mewl tore from the sidekick’s throat. 

“You do get the gist of this, don’t you, darling? You’re a clever one. Make a portal without my direct order, and this device will give you an electric shock that will render you immobile at best, unconscious at worst.” Their shoulders lifted in a slight shrug. “And it hurts like hell, or so I’m told so that should be incentive enough.”

Oh no. 

This was worse. 

So much worse than anything sidekick had endured at the Hero’s Association. Ignoring their basic human needs, ok. They can handle that. Belittling them, playing passive-aggressive games? Cool, cool, cool, cool. The occasional punishment? Everyone endures the intermittent blow or two. Suck it up, sidekick. But humiliation like this? They wanted to crawl under a rock and never be seen again. 

“Y-you,” they stammered, dread churning, turning into something they hadn’t felt in a while. Rage. “You, you, you jerk!”

“You jerk?” supervillain echoed a deep chuckle. “Dear lord, you know you should be thanking me, my very young and inventive labradoodle. One, for not taking your life as I had wanted. Two, for not ringing out your delicate neck despite that little stunt just now. And, three for rescuing you from such neglectful owners—” 

“I will never thank you for that!”

Silence filled the room, allowing the mechanical hum of lab equipment to permeate. Medic and assistant tossed glances at each other over supervillain's shoulder, as a shadow passed over supervillain’s face. That thumb returned to sidekick’s lips, the latter’s breath catching at their misstep. “You said they.”

“W-what?”

“When you spoke about your teammates, and how they’ve been fighting me all of these years. You said they. Not we’ve been fighting, but they. You haven’t used a single possessive pronoun when speaking about the six of you—or anyone in the association for that matter.” 

No. No, sidekick didn’t mean it like that. They belonged. They were a team. They are a team.

“You keep them separate from yourself,” the supervillain continued, stoking their cheek absently. “Whether consciously or unconsciously, you do. From the short time I discovered that it was a person and not a machine behind the Hero’s Association’s success, I’ve learned this: your ideals are of self-immolation. You offer yourself up as a lamb for your teammate’s success; for the association’s success. You foolishly stare down your enemy in hopes for what? Recognition? Adoration? That’s clearly not working, is it? I simply called you a dazzling diamond in the ruff, and you flushed like someone newly in love.” That tone was back. A wanton timbre for power, and sidekick face colored on command. They brought their hand up to hide it. “Your actions are like a puppy: young and misguided. Training will fix it.”

Throwing them a salacious grin, supervillain called another thread to their hand and knotted it around sidekick's collar ring. Easing off of their haunches, they stood, the wire going slack. “I will delve into these mysteries soon enough. Just as you will come to discover, in due time, that you are much better off with me than against me.”

Sidekick blood boiled, finally at the tipping point. 

They saw red. 

Supervillain thought they knew them? Thought that they were such an open book? Palms fisting, sidekick wanted very much to strike out at the supervillain. To wipe that knowing looking off their face. A feat, they realized, that could accomplish with words. And something this time with more punch than ‘jerk’. Screaming, they let out an uncharacteristic string of curses; ones they’d heard in passing, ones that had even been directed at them. Being a human gateway didn’t afford them many friends their own age or otherwise, and the other heroes were quick to ruffle their hair, and blame them for mishaps than befriend them.

Supervillain didn’t move. Even to tighten the leash. 

But medic spoke out. 

“Eh, yo, villy, your puppy be barking at you. Want me to shut them up?” Their crisp white coat stood in neat contract to their rich skin; voice speaking of hardship and closely won battles. Finger hovering over their datapad.

“Give it a minute,” supervillain said, as sidekick let out one last cry, fists hitting the cold tile, utterly spent. They bent over, muscles quivering in release. “See, it wasn’t necessary, medic. This particular breed responds to a more patient touch.”

“All that patient touch and you gon’ be wondering why you got missing fingers. Look, I don’t know about pets, but, this seems real sus.”

“Good thing you’re not in charge of them.”

“I guess, tho, I just be saying,” they let out a sigh, shaking their head, returning their attention to a beeping screen. “You know how much I love them pathetic animals.” Medic shot a look at sidekick, as their eyes bounced between the two, mouthing I don’t, and slid their thumb across their neck when supervillain wasn’t looking. 

Sidekick almost whimpered. 

Supervillain flexed their hands, fingers gracefully dancing as wires loosened from the ceiling, fell in a heap on the ground then receded altogether, sheltering in the supervillain’s pea coat. Only the one wire connected to their collar remained visible, wrapping itself around the supervillain’s wrist that. Like a bracelet, they tucked it away in their sleeve, then opted to move rather than command sidekick to heel. 

Lurching forward, sidekick had no choice but to follow. 

#others prompts #continuation #sidekick #supervillain #part 3 soon

[daydreamed-snippets]

“There you are.”

Nimble fingers gripped the back of sidekick’s collar, clamping down on that damned mini-cape and hauled them away from their rapidly dwindling portal.

Stumbling ungracefully, sidekick fell flush against an unyielding chest whose inhumanly quick reflexes wrapped a single strand of razor-sharp wire around their throat. By comparison, their own movement felt lethargic, springing into action a second too late, clawing at the enveloping thread as if it would do much to save them now.

“Ah, don’t move. My string will only serve to sever your head from that pretty little neck of yours,” the supervillain said, and for good measure lifted the wire a mere hair’s breadth higher. Digging a line of red into the sidekick’s skin—forcing them on their tiptoes. “So you’re the taxi service behind Hero Association’s whole operation.”

Dread which pooled in sidekick’s stomach during every mission erupted anew: an effervescent twist of fear and adrenaline. It had always been there, even with their teammates. Especially with their teammates. But it never felt this close to the surface as it did now. Never this raw. Bile rose in their throat. Their mind struggled to fight it down.

“Tell me,” they felt the supervillain shift, lips brushing against the shell of their ear, directing their gaze to the place where their pathway of escape once stood. “You could have kept that portal open, but you didn’t. You closed it once your teammates were safely through. Why?”

“You’re. A. Monster,” the sidekick bit out, laboring for every breath. “They’ve been fighting your henchmen and villains for years. No one has even been able to come close to beating you. They’ve—”

Sidekick faltered there. They didn't want to say it. Fearful of how this demon would react. In truth even getting near supervillain was a death sentence. Every tombstone, every missing limb was a testament to supervillain’s merciless brutality.

The latter hummed, lips stretching to a smile against the sidekick’s sensitive skin. “It’s good to know that my deterrents are not left unfelt. But by compromising yourself—giving yourself up so that your teammates might not suffer—you’ve just handed me the key mechanism to the downfall of your entire association. Who will rescue your heroes when they put themselves in danger? Who will shuttle your organization forthwith?”

“We have a teleportation machine.”

“Not as precise, I’m assuming, nor as powerful.” They hummed at the sidekick’s silence. “It’s truly fascinating how you do this. How many portals can you create concurrently?” Their voice shimmered in contemplation. They sounded giddy. If a deep, flat voice could hold the nuances of giddiness. “Because I’ve counted 106. The amount of reserved power needed for such a feat is astronomical.”

The sting on sidekick’s throat lessened, and the supervillain’s fingers tangling with locks of hair that had fallen out of their topknot, massaging the hinge of their jaw, working to unclench it. Wire still hooked on their thumbs. A tantalizing reminder not to flee. “Who’s the strongest hero on your team, hm? It’s always some moronic electrical type, isn’t it? Well, they pale in comparison to you. The amount of mental fortitude and discipline needed to do half of what you do is in no simple terms brilliant. You keep each portal's form regardless of how many you make. You ferry your teammates safely each and every time. Without fail. You are a dazzling diamond in the ruff.”

Sidekick’s breath hitched. Oh, that sounded very akin to praise. That sounded too much like unbidden accolades to stoke their shattered self-esteem. The framework of compliments spilling from supervillain’s lips. Speaking it directly into their ear so they wouldn’t miss a word.

Sidekick's stomach fluttered a bit. Supervillain sounded impressed. When was the last time someone was impressed by them?

“I’ve noticed other things besides physical prowess,” supervillain went on. “Like how no one in that association actually knows your sidekick name. They just call you, ‘Sidekick’. Like they couldn’t be bothered with learning your name. You're just their pet." Sidekick stiffened at those words, a bit incensed. "They also don’t include you in their briefings, do they? You look so confused on the battlefield. A lost puppy cowed by their master’s call.”

That was not true. Sidekick squirmed. This was becoming uncomfortable, and not just physically uncomfortable. They didn’t want to hear this. Not from this world’s greatest evil. Who were they to judge their situation? If only they could tune them out—

Perceiving a change, the supervillain swung them around, hands fisting in their hair, wire still circumferencing their neck, but going lax completely. Bringing them face to face.

Supervillain's eyes were lidded, leisurely picking them apart, now not just with words, but with a piercing gaze. It reminded the sidekick of a cat, able to see into their very soul. “I notice you have 87 ‘teammates’ with those five idiots being the primary. And out of those 87 ‘teammates’, not one of them shields you. Not one of them checks on your injuries. Not one can even muster up a thank you for all that you do.”

Sidekick gritted their teeth. “I’m not going to join you if that’s what you’re getting at with all of this.”

“No?” Supervillain raised an eyebrow, head tilting to the side. “Lucky for me it sounds like you don’t have to. It sounds like I can just pick up your dropped leash and heel you to my side.“

Sidekick swallowed and focused on something else. For just a second they listened to the drip, drip, drip of sewer way drainage. They were underground, though sidekick wasn’t sure exactly where underground. Supervillain was right about that. They never really knew where they were going. They were only told to hone in on a specific teammate's signal and create a portal.

If they were honest with themselves they felt like a magical genie or a Pokémon, to be direly summoned, battled, and then holstered once spent. They might as well have been saying their own damn name for the amount of time anyone listened.

And when they were called, man. It was usually to a fiery battleground, bodies littering the torn pavement, making that feeling of dread stir heatedly. Opening and closing as many portals as they could muster simultaneously while catching enemy fire. Nursing injuries, or pulling out injured teammates. Knots would grip their stomach, and they would double over afterward in the locker room, shell shocked.

If they were honest with themselves, it wasn’t the battles they faced that was the worst part. It was not knowing where or when they could happen. Being ripped out of bed, or the bathroom, or a shower for an emergency. To be told to make a portal halfway across the country. The general disregard for what they were doing at the time bugged them more than they wanted to admit.

At least the faces of their teammates reflected some sort of horror as sidekick closed the portal on them. Sidekick's team didn't disregard them entirely. But if they were honest with themselves, they were surprised they looked back.

“…I-I’m not. I’m no one’s dog, or pet, or whatever,” they said slowly, cheeks burning, flushing all the way up to their ears. They wanted to look elsewhere. Tried to look elsewhere but the supervillain’s gaze was absolute, all-encompassing with an underlining gleam of unchecked hunger.

“I wish I could believe that,” they said, concern evident in their voice. Sidekick could do without the concern. It didn’t feel right.

Something festered behind the sidekick, they could hear it. The start of another portal, machine-made this time. The crackle of air splitting, the slow opening of a pathway from point A to point B. Supervillain flickered a look at it. Their expression almost bored.

“Those nitwits are back at it again,” they grumbled, detangling fingers from their hair to put pressure on a particular point in sidekick’s neck. “My original plan was to decapitate you and leave your corpse for the association. Maybe mount your head on a pike in the city square.” Sidekick’s eyes widened even as their vision swam. The supervillain gave a light shrug. “But I’ve changed my mind. I’ve decided to adopt this adorably gifted labradoodle. I think you’ll fit in nicely with my team.”

Terrified, a small portal winked open, big enough to fit a foot. It was all the strength they had left. A panicked portal going who knows where. It fizzled out as they lost consciousness, the supervillain ensuring sidekick’s body crumpled into their arms. They also ensured that their ‘teammates’ on the other side caught a glimpse of supervillain with their sidekick before tossing a small EMP to the pathetically unstable portal.

The last thing the teammates saw was supervillain’s sneer as they hoisted sidekick over their shoulder before their gateway fizzled out.

Hey, I love your prompts and some of the neglected sidekick ones got me thinking. What if there was a sidekick with a sort of non-combat/utility power, like creating portals. The hero organization uses them as basically a taxi service, running them ragged, all the while, not one of the heroes so much as gives them a second glance. But a villain (super-villain or not) spots them and sees how poorly they're treated. If they were sympathetic, how might they react?

Oh snickerdoodles, I just saw one of your posts about leaving things vague enough for people to tack onto, so if it makes it easier feel free to discard my previous ask. It occurred to me as I was running with another prompt so I put too much into it. Sorry again!

hey no problem! your request is FAR from the most specific I’ve had, and I also really appreciate the consideration in your second message even if there’s no need to apologise <333

I love the idea as well!! using the sidekick as a taxi service, never letting them fight so they can’t advance up the ranks, refusing to understand the limitations or exhaustion of their powers, summoning them to dangerous battlefields with villains they have no hope of beating if they get pinned down--it’s all so tasty! and then a villain cottoning on to what’s going on and either being genuinely sympathetic and wanting to help, or realising how useful a teleporter would be on their side and how easy it would be to improve their treatment enough to convince them to swap sides.......OR BOTH! both is good ;P

someone should uhhhhh write this 👀👀;P

#other prompt #my wriring #supervillain #sidekick #maybe part 2 if anyone wants it #idk #too many wips

[daydreamed-snippets]

“I'm afraid I may have misunderstood. I—”

“You heard me,” the villain sneered, boxing them in a corner of the compound's boiler room. The hero swallowed, cradling their broken arm. Feeling that if they let it go the agony of the break would bring them to their knees, thus conceding to the villain’s request. Holding it this way allowed them the least amount of pain, and their last bit of dignity.

“I certainly didn't—"

“Always so polite," the villain tsked, flicking thier eyes up for a beat. The most elegant eye roll the hero's ever seen. The villain let out a dramatic sigh. "What a pleasant mask to hide behind. One can always strip you of your outer mask—that hero’s mask—and you would still be covered by this civil, posh little persona.”

A hand crawled up the hero’s bad arm, enticingly, forcing them to bite their lip to stifle a cry of agony. They flinched away but there was nowhere to go. Tapered fingers walked the rest of the way up the hero’s neck, wrapping around their throat. “Can I accomplish what all others have failed at? Tell me, what will happen if enough pressure was placed on that mask you have around your soul? In how many pieces would it break? And what would I see underneath it all?”

The hero remained silent. Daring to look away, even. Did it have to come to this? Beaten, bruised and humiliated in the backroom of the villain’s compound?

The villain’s thumb teased their jawline, forcing their wayward chin back into submission. “Tell me, little hero. What are you hiding?”

Their voice cracked with emotion, tears stinging their eyes. “There is no one in this world that really cares to know.”

The villain cracked a smile, showing a brilliant row of teeth. “I do.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Beg.”

#others prompts #my wriring #hero #villain #villain x hero #hero x villain #prompt

[daydreamed-snippets]

Daydreamed Prompt #19

The villain and his posse--mostly henchmen--come to the hero's funeral. Laughing, taking pictures, acting obnoxious. All the while the sidekick's in the corner, clenching their fists together so hard that they bleed.

#prompt #story prompt #my wriring #hero #villain #henchmen #sidekick

[daydreamed-snippets]

Daydreamed Prompts #18

The villain shivered in the hero’s arms, and the latter couldn’t tell if it was from the cold or something else. "I could have died trying to save you," the hero spat, finally breaking the silence.

"But you didn't. Count it a blessing, darling. Besides," the villain said after a beat. Loud enough to be heard over the wind. "No one asked you to come. I don't know why you got involved. I had it sorted."

They snorted, shifting the villain, getting a more comfortable grip, inevitably drawing them closer to their chest as they leapt from building to building. They shook their head. "When are you going to learn your lesson? So help me, I've got half a mind to drag your ass through the city. Maybe a public shaming will do you good. Maybe you’ll get the idea then." The hero could feel the villain stiffen in their arms. "Pull something like this again, and I will do it. And I swear to you, no one would do anything to stop me."

The villain's hand was quick, slithering up the hero’s throat, tightening menacingly around their pulse. "Try it," they said, voice low and dangerous. "And I'll break your neck. You've underestimated me twice now. Careful, dear. It will be the last mistake you make."

#prompt #my wriring #wrtiblr #hero #villain

[daydreamed-snippets]

Over 100 followers! Yay! I feel so honored!

Kind of an update. The funeral for my mentor went well. He was a great person, so it was a good celebration of him. My father is not out of the woods, and quite honestly determined to kill himself by not resting like he should. He’s a grown ass man so there’s not much I can do about it but take turns staying at his house with my siblings to make sure he rests (doesn’t always work).

On top of ALL of that, my best friend tried to commit suicide about a week ago. Been in the hospital until yesterday. I was finally able to see her, as we talked for almost six hours. She’s not good, but doing better than she was. As much as can be expected. I’m a nervous wreck…

But just wanted to say,

Tomorrow cannot be assured. Today alone is ours.

Do some self-care. Don't put things off until tomorrow. It's not always promised. Keep on living. You are precious to someone. And if you don’t think that so, then let me say you are precious to me. I know I don’t know you but a life is a life.

#100 followers #appreciation #update

[daydreamed-snippets]

Daydreamed Prompt #17

“What makes you think I’d do that for you?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” the villain said, a quirk to their mouth as they pretended to think. “My charming demeanor. My near-perfect phasic. The fact that there’s no one else around to hear us conspire.” 

The hero snorted, crossing her arms. Completely closed off to him. He took a step closer, shrugging nonchalantly as he went. “Perhaps it’s my pleasant aroma. Red ginseng, mixed with Tribulus, and just a hint of fenugreek. Plus my own boosting additives of course.”

“Is that supposed to mean anything to me?”

“It will in a moment.” 

She glared at him. This hero was a tough cookie to crack. Every other hero had succumbed to the slightest waft of his plant pheromones. He could usually see it in their eyes. Minds going blank. The euphoric giddiness. Like standing next to a celebrity, or someone you greatly admired. Their heart would race, serotonin dumping into their system making them suggestible. Easy to control. Those who smelled his pheromones would do anything for him. All he had to do was ask. But not this one. He tried it on her several times amid battle. She was all hard stares, bold stances, and a no-nonsense twitch to her brows. He went back to his lab, needing to make it stronger just to reach through that thick skull of hers. 

So he did.

The villain strode up to the hero, letting his aroma drift over her. She breathed in, eyes dilating. Dropping from that defiant stance. Mouth slightly agape.

Perfect.

“Now about that favor,” he drawled, drawing a hand down her cheek. 

She grabbed him by the wrist in a vice-like grip. The villain’s eyes widened. She couldn’t possibly be fighting through—

Warm lips found his and she kissed him. Fully. Completely. Open mouth and dominating, with fervor and unabashed hunger that he didn’t think she possessed. One hand fisting into his hair, holding him steady. Removing the other hand from his wrist, she trailed a burning line down his chest. Coaxing a reaction.

He tried to pull away and she went with him until his back hit a wall. Her fingers wandered, finding the sensitive spot at the nape of his neck, and he moaned into her mouth. Gods, why did he moan? But her touch was not like before. Not like when they’d fight. Yes, there was very little gentleness now to her caresses, just like when they’d come to blows, but there was also a need there that was absent before. Of course, it was absent from before. She'd never shown any emotion other than an annoyance when it came to him. It would be a lie if he didn't find this little intrigue utterly attractive.

His own hands found her waist. This needed to stop, but the villain didn’t know how. He was mortified yet curious. 

He needed air.

He tapped her waist and she paused, finally breaking for breath, lips ghosting over his own. Her voice was low and husked. “Why don’t you do me a favor?” she asked, eyes still dilated. Still under the control of his pheromones. She tugged at his villainous uniform. “Take this off.”

#my wiritng #hero #villain #hero x villain #villain x hero #prompt

[daydreamed-snippets]

TW: Sorry, I’m in a mood. Talk of Suicide. Abuse of prescription medication. Underage drinking. Hints at abuse

It was quiet here in the bones of the old house. Cold. Drafty. Wildlife feasted on the general decomposition of trim. Faded tile and decaying drywall dangling at odd angles. Bricks lay uprooted by greenery. Furniture slowly losing its form was arranged haphazardly throughout the house. Winn could see her breath hang in the air, curl in a tight spiral before dispersing into the night. A single electric lantern kept watch beside a nest of her own making: a bedding of dried leaves, her favorite crochet blanket, and a little radio faintly playing an upbeat tune.

Oh, and a bottle of whiskey and every fucking antidepressant and mood stabilizer those bastards had ever prescribed for her. 

Playing eenie meenie miney mo, she uncapped a half-empty bottle of citalopram and popped all of it into her mouth. She took a swig, throwing her head back to ensure she swallowed. Looking around she supposed it was a fitting epitaph. Her end would be here, in this broken mausoleum, a showcase to humankind’s fundamental need to create something sublime but ultimately fail in its maintenance. To conceive something beautiful but become indifferent and bored with it, letting it fall into ruin. Wreckage that is only redeemable by nature itself. It would be nice, she thought, if something productive, beautiful even, grew out of her decaying life too. 

Then maybe everything would have been worth it.

Absently plucking at weeds poking through fractured flooring, she huddled over on herself waiting for the drugs to take effect. Her stomach turned as she tried not to think. Tried not to repeat the same question over and over in her head.

How many times did she have to lose everything to take the hint? How many times did she have to hit rock bottom before her knees buckled and her legs snapped trying to stick the landing as she broke herself to please everyone?

For her, the answer was four. Not that that matters now. Cause now it was too late. Now she finally gets it. Now she gets why her Mami was so unhappy. Why Miami's boyfriend, Leonard, wasn’t happy. Why her doctors weren’t happy. Her teachers, her friends. Everyone. Why the world was unhappy. Maybe her death would make them happy again.

A breeze picked up, whistling through the gaps. It sounded like someone was whistling and walking around the house, wooden planks creaking. That should have terrified her but her mind was starting to feel a pleasant, sleepy haziness. She took another half-empty bottle by her feet and downed the contents, choking on her own saliva and the aftertaste of the alcohol. 

Thoughts continued to rush in, unabated, like a broken dam. Each empty bottle held its own story, mostly of the times Leonard lugged her to another shrink, to “fix” her while her mother sat in the car, finding solace in a glass bottle wrapped in a brown paper bag. Finishing it before Winn’s hour-long appointments were over. 

None of it ever seemed to satisfy Leonard. Not that he ever waited for her to finish her prescription before shoving the next pill down her throat, deeming the previous one ineffective when she would have another episode. Promising that the next drug would be it. That the next one would work. And she believed him. Each and every time, she believed. Whatever was wrong with her, these next pills would fix it.

But they never did. 

Soon it turned into, why can’t you be like x? Why can’t you just do x? Your attitude is why x is happening to you. Do you even want to get better from x?

She could put anything in for x. The equation stayed the same, with one common denominator: 

Her. 

Winn. 

She was the shared numerator whose value was always zero. And anything that is multiplied by zero forever equals zero.

Another half-filled bottle, another swig. Her heart started slowing down. So did her breathing, face becoming flush. She was having a hard time keeping her eyes open. 

Another floorboard whined under stress, and a voice followed it. “That is an especially painful way to die, dear one,” someone called out to her. “Overdoses can be messy affairs when attempted through the unpredictability of drugs.”

A surge of fright course through her. Who was that? A ghost? Leonard? She didn’t know. They remained out of sight. She looked up through the smog of her mind, unaware that anyone had breached the house grounds. She curled more into her nest. 

It couldn’t be Leonard. At least she didn’t think it was him. It was hard to tell right now. It didn’t sound like him. Her chest wouldn’t stop stinging, though, at war with medical sedation and her adrenaline. Trying to play it cool, she schooled her tone, wishing she had a taser on her. Cursing how stupid she was to come here without one. “You lost?” she called, scrubbing her face with the bottom of her palm, her coordination clumsy. “The main road‘s that way.” She pointed, not exactly knowing if that was the right direction anymore. “House gone to be destroyed in the morning. The bots won’t check to see if anyone’s in here before they start smashing.”

“That’s why you’re here, isn’t it?” he asked, coming into view. It sounded more like a statement. “Because you don’t think anyone will find you before they start demolition.”

She squinted at the man in an impeccable blue suit, refusing to answer. Definitely not Leonard. But…

“Mmm, I know you,” she said scrunching her eyes, fighting to place the face, fighting to find a name. Yes, she has seen him somewhere, but her mind could only remember one location in which she encountered him. A place shrouded in metaphoric perception and youthful symbolism. A place that is both romanticized and villainized oftentimes in the same breath. A place she could only visit when she closed her eyes at night and slipped from this reality to another. 

“The man of my dreams. How—?” She swallowed, thoughts tripping over themselves. Her speech started to slur. He squatted in front of her, full weight on the balls of his expensive shoes, keeping his immaculate attire away from the dirt of the house. He moved gracefully, and though his smile looked concerned it was still every bit disarming.

“Uhh, I mean man from my dreams,” she stammered. “Uh, how is this?” It dawned on her. The part of her mind that was still intact. “Hallucinations. I’m dreaming. I-I’ve passed out.”

“You have not,” he said, making no move towards her. Simply staring her down with hooded eyes. “At least, not yet. And though I am, how did you put it, ‘the man of your dreams’, I’m not some figment of your imagination, Winnifred. I am quite real, and I’m here.”

Winn barked a laugh, “Oh my gods, for real? ‘I’m here’?” she mocked. “Everything’s good, I’m here.” She grabbed the bottle, his eyes following, and took a sip. “Fo sure, like that would really matter now. You can get your damn hair swirl outta my face with that.” 

She made a move for his hair, uncoordinated and choppy, catching herself when she leaned forward too much and fell onto her hands. It took a while. He remained still for her, attentive, but unmoved. She was able to ruffle his dark blond hair out of its slicked-back position, wrapping a finger around the bit of lock that fell over his brow without falling again. 

Their eyes met.

Realizing what she was doing she yanked her hand back as if burned. Confusion swept through her. He raised an eyebrow, the corners of his mouth twitching. “Convinced?”

“I can touch people in my dreams, it’s just...” It’s never felt so real. 

She reached for another prescription. Clearly, she was delusional. Clearly, this was a trick. She poured out the oval-shaped pill preparing to swallow it whole. It was quite possible that she was out cold, body slumped over like the furniture of this house. Quite possible she was unconscious and this was her mind’s last chance at providing her with a final comfort. A childhood sentential to keep watch as she fades away.

She tilted her head back, arm poised to sling the pills into her mouth. 

The man moves. 

He shifts to catch her wrist in a light but firm hold. The bottle slips out of her fingers, clatters to the floor, along with the pills, dropping between boards and out of reach. Winn curses. 

“Don’t touch me,” she said pulling away easily. “You don’t know me like that.”

“Listen to me, Winnifred,” his voice held a command. “I have not moved heaven and earth—I have not rescheduled my life just to watch your throw away yours. I do know you. I’ve known you since you were four years old. I’ve visited your dreams since your first nightmare. I’ve watched over you the best I could from afar.

“When I said, I’m here now, it wasn’t meant to be crass or derisive. So many people have let you down in your life, I being the chief among them. But I am here now. Things will get better. Let me prove it.”

“That wasn’t real. And dreams isn’t knowing someone.”

He tilted his head. “I know that your father left you when you were six. I know that your mother has been bounding from boyfriend to boyfriend, looking for validation but never really finding it. Each suitor worse than the last. The current beau is a monster called Leonard.”

She gulped, running a hand over her face. Tucking a curl behind her ear. He watched, gaze overly familiar. Possessive without even touching her. Eyes extracting what he wanted. She imagined he didn't take no for an answer. She imagined he changed outcomes to fit his ambitions. 

She felt unable to hide. 

“I know what he’s been doing to you,” he said, voice changing.

“H-how?”

He let out a breath of air. “I know this because I’ve seen your dreams. I know you’ve been having a recurring one of Leonard assaulting you, and then ending your life. It may happen in different facets and different places, but the theme is resoundingly the same. You also have recurring dreams of your mother’s lifeless body lying on the side of the road while traffic rushes by. Sometimes hitting her, most of the time not.” He adjusted his cufflinks, before completely abandoning his position to sit on the grassy floor. “You’ve been having these particular dreams for a while. It is because you venture into Leonard’s dreams each night, before going to your mother’s. It’s not unusual for someone with your abilities since they are the closest people to you. You’re able to see what Leonard will do to you, whether he’s willing to admit to his own perverse desires or not. And you’re able to view your mother’s darkest fears. Of being abandoned by everyone.”

“You’ve always had a talent for dream wandering and precognitive dreams. You were once able to control your dreams, steer away from the nightmares with my help.” 

“I can’t anymore. It’s too—” her voice cracked, and she was reminded of his face. His words. How Leonard taught her to hold her breath, to clamp down on her tongue. He taught her to hide truths, and keep secrets. To bear the scars without screaming, and conceal them. He showed her to shut up while her dignity—her pride—would rage beneath the surface while he was near.

“Those dreams are just dreams. That’s what Leonard said.” She needed to adhere to that. If anything could appease Leonard it was that. And she needed to appease him. Her mother was too weak, too afraid for her own life to safeguard Winn’s, and yet too desperate for a man to head out on her own. Besides if they ran, Leonard would eventually find them. He always found them.

“Trust me, like you once did,” his voice was soft, yet it cut through her racing thoughts like a well-crafted blade. He held his hand out to her, the gesture speaking of promise and nostalgia. Reminding her of how of a strong presence he was in her dreams. The one bit of sanity in an array of insane characters and worlds. He slew monsters, clothed her when she was naked, stopped her before she'd slip into a free fall. Laughed with her. Held her when she cried. He was kind to her. Above all, he showed her tenderness when no one else did.

“Remember me,” he went on, “as I was. I can be that for you again, in this waking land. You can still choose to come with me and leave all of this sorrow behind. Or,” he withdrew his hand when she turned her head, refusing to take it. “You can choose not to, and I will sit with you until you lose consciousness. Then I will carry you to the nearest medical facility where they will pump your stomach, and a physiologist will evaluate you. One not worth the paper their license was printed on. They will, in all likelihood, lock you away in a psychiatric ward, to be forever treated as a pariah. It’s your choice.” 

Her eyes jerked back towards him. He said it like a threat. Winn supposed she was running out of time. She wanted to trust him, but… she hadn’t seen him in her dreams for two years. He said that he’s there for her, but he hadn’t been. And she’d learned that being alone felt safer. 

She pulled back, making a move to stand. Maybe he’ll let her go. Maybe he wasn’t even here. His fingers didn’t act like a vice when he grabbed her earlier. She easily slipped him then. Maybe she can do it again. Maybe—

Her legs buckled under her, nerve endings on fire. She vomited, hopefully not on him. Gods, not on him. Her vision blurred, darkness edging the rim. She felt hands on her but wasn’t for sure. She was dazed. She needed to resist. Or maybe she needed to give in. She couldn’t open her eyes though was mildly aware of the feeling of being lifted, of a certain weightlessness. 

Winn was heaved against a strong chest. Instinctively, her hands went up, fingers curling and uncurling around dream man’s lapel in a display of rebellion or surrender, she wasn’t sure. She wanted defiance but it was so easy to just give in. Darkness claimed her.

Like it mattered because he wasn’t really there. Right? 

#My writing #writblr #not a prompt #dreams #Winn #creative writing #Relictus City

[daydreamed-snippets]

Update...

Hello

I won’t be posting for a couple of days and probably won’t check this blog. My mentor passed away last week and I’m going to his funeral tomorrow. Also my father had major surgery Tuesday and we didn’t think he was going to make it, but thankfully he’s home now and recovering. Family from out of town are driving in just to see him. Maybe for the last time, idk. 

Anyway I’m almost to 100 followers so I’ll post an appreciation post soon.

Love you all. 

Thanks ❤

#update 2.25.2021