toomuchponytail

[toomuchponytail]

Prompt Fifty Six:

The brackish water in the tank sloshed violently, the Villain watched the water overflow and run down the sides pooling on the concrete of their base with an unaffected gaze. 

They kept ruffling and re-arranging their jacket, dissatisfied with how it was laying. the sloshing slowed, became minuscule waves only barely going over the sides. They were remembering how when they’d been small their mother had taken them and their sister to the pet store to look at all of the colorful fish, since they’d been too poor to go to the aquarium, Villain smiled at the memory, it was one of only a handful of good ones from this accursed city. 

Villain sighed, annoyed, long suffering, and pushed a button on their watch, a mechanical grinding signified that the mechanism was still working, (you never knew around salt water and disrepair) and the thick rusted chain that was hanging from the massive reel and into the tank started to wrap around again, pulling up the slack and drawing the hero up from the tank. 

The moment their head cleared the water hero gasped air into their burning lungs, only to choke on it, retching and coughing as they tried to breathe. Swinging in the chains that held them suspended in their air like a hooked fish, dripping blood and water back into the tank. 

Villain gave hero a moment to collect themselves, checking the stocks on an app on their phone, they were down, the Villain frowned sourly, they knew that money came and went but they did hate to see it go. When they glanced up at the sodden hero they could see that they were sneering at them, teeth clenched in defiance, but their eyes were bright with fear, and that was a victory in progress. 

“Well?” Villain asked, dropped their phone back into their pocket, “Do you have anything you want to tell me?” 

“You’re not going to get what you want!” Hero threatened, their useless struggling  making them swing aimlessly, “You’re acting like you don’t know what’s at stake here!” 

Villain scoffed, “I know everything, except where my turncoat sidekick is hiding,” they shrugged, “That’s where you come in, you’ve already admitted that you know where they are, now just tell me and we can finish this another time,” Villain’s face darkened, their voice dropping to a threatening whisper, “after all, I know how afraid you are of drowning, I can make that a reality.” 

Hero swallowed, they looked away, “I..I can’t.” 

Villain didn’t even dignify that with a response, they pushed the button on their watch again, and hero tumbled back into the tank. 

Villain didn’t pull them out again until the hero’s struggling failed to produce anything more than ripples, they were struggling more frantically, gasping for breath as they panicked. 

“I have more time than you hero,” Villain observed, “So tell me where they are!” 

“..I-I ..c-can’t!” Hero groaned miserably, their voice raspy from coughing up water. 

Villain rolled their eyes and dunked them again, observing a bit unhappily that the hero’s struggling was growing weaker even if their resolve wasn’t. They frowned to themselves, usually hero was an easier nut to crack when water was involved. 

When Villain pulled them out of the tank hero was on their way to passing out, they hung limply against the harsh rusted chain, fresh blood carving rivulets down their arms and legs where the metal was sharpest. 

“Last chance,” Villain whispered darkly, “Tell me or I’ll drop you in and leave you here to drown!” 

Hero shuddered, it took the Villain a moment to tell that hero was crying, “I-I don’t wanna d-die like this,” they wept, tears streaking down their face, “Please, don’t let me die like this.” 

Villain hummed softly, “You don’t have to hero, just tell me where they are.” 

Hero was close to hyperventilating, “People died..last time, at the pier... I failed because I was-because I was afraid...I always fail.” 

Villain remembered, they’d been able to trap hero underneath the waves, had been more than a little surprised when hero had given up so easily. 

 “Nobody--nobody else is dying be-because of m-me,” hero promised, letting out a shaking breath, “n-not anymore,” they swallowed, a raw determination in their eyes. 

Villain scowled, frustrated rage sparking just below the surface, he wasn’t going to get through this time, and if there was something that displeased him more than loosing money it was realizing he wasn’t going to get what he wanted, “Very well hero,” he observed darkly, “have it your way.” 

With a final rattle of unwinding chain hero disappeared beneath the surface.

Fine then. 

Villain settled with himself, reaching for his phone again as he turned to leave--hearing the water slosh over the sides of the tank behind him, knowing the hero wouldn’t last long--he’d never had much of a use for heroes anyway. 

#HERO X VILLAIN #whump #drowning #water torture #Hero whump #bleeding #angsty hero #angst #hero blames themselves #not good enough #prompt #writing prompt #whump prompt

[toomuchponytail]

Yo, prompt 46 is soooo good! If you want, you should write a continuation!!! I love your writing so much!

Did I totally drop off the face of the earth and stress quit/forget my password to this account for like a year? Absolutely not, I have no idea what you’re talking about. I have no words. 

Here you go I’m sorry. 

“So, darling, tell me again,” the Villain grinned, he settled more into his throne, the one he’d stolen from hero’s family, the one he’d killed so many for and would kill so many still to keep--”Tell me how you surrendered because you fell in love with your enemy. Tell us how you failed, again.” Hero was kneeling on the floor beside him, they were in front a gathered crowd, a group of assorted nobles, some of them had rallied behind hero when they’d gone to stand against the Villain, all of them hero had let down.  Hero’s hands were shaking almost imperceptibly being so close to the Villain, no matter how much time had passed since that final battle it never got any easier to be around someone he detested and feared so much. “Go ahead,” Villain mocked, “I’m sure we all would love to know what the kingdom--what the lives of all your people, you friends--your own family is worth to you huh?” Then with a harsh kick that sent hero to the marble floor Villain laughed, “g’ahead, spill the beans!” “I had to--save them..” Hero started from their place at the Villain’s feet, shame burning in their chest, even as they assured themselves that they really had done the right thing...whatever that was. They couldn’t bring themselves to meet any of the noble’s eyes. “They were dying and…” Hero’s voice hitched, “I don’t have anyone else--I couldn’t lose them too!” Hero wasn’t sure what was worse anymore, the fear and disappointment in the faces of people who had once been their friends and allies, or the mad cackling laughter as the Villain made them relive everything over and over again, squashing rebellions before they even started by letting everyone see how hero had given up. That they had been broken.

Later

The last thing that the antagonist was aware of was warmth. Soft and all encompassing, they curled into it even though the minute shifting ached something terrible. Like their muscles were full of knives. Then there was rumbling, low and deep in the earth like it was being torn in two--the antagonist didn’t have time to be concerned before they sunk into the darkness leaving the warmth behind. Then they were cold. So cold that it ached, like the chill was a living thing that curled around them and sunk into their veins like poison. Their chest filling with it like bitter lead--stealing breath from their lungs and leaving a negative pressure behind. A Vacuum. A drawing out. An ending. The terrible sucking feeling grew, they were immobilized.  Freezing, the ache in their chest making it too difficult to even draw a breath, they tried to gasp--to scream. They had no idea how long they spent there in the darkness, how the wrongness of sticking around in that void filled them with dread. Then. The antagonist’s eyes shot open as they gasped air back into their lungs, life back into their body, only to lose it a half-second later and hack it back out again coughing painfully. Hero was there, looking down at them concern in their tired eyes, the antagonist realized, with a soft sort of surprise that their head was in the hero’s lap. To the antagonist, even when coughing themselves back to their grave it was a welcome sight.   But something was wrong, as the antagonist caught their breath it all came flooding back to them--the reluctant partnership, their last desperate battle...their own death--the antagonist’s expression went from contentment to growing horror as they stared up at the hero still holding them in their arms. Now the antagonist realized that hero was dressed as one of the Villain's palace guards, their eyes bloodshot and darkly circled. “Hey,” Hero started in a near whisper, “How are you feelin’?” They weren’t even trying to mask the fondness that they now knew they felt for the antagonist, the fondness they’d sold their soul for. To the antagonist that fondness, was proof enough that they were both doomed. “Wha..” The antagonist croaked, only to lose themselves to coughing again, something rattled sickly around inside of them, they couldn’t quite get a full breath. Hero held a glass of cool water to their lips, “Here, drink this, I dunno if it helps with...coming back.” They were in a cell, the antagonist realized belatedly, they felt the walls rush in to meet them with muted horror, they were in a cell again, just like the beginning of all of this. Their eyes traveled back to the hero. “ Y-you...didn’t,” The antagonist begged more than asked, one cold hand grasping hero’s wrist weakly, “yo-you..” Hero didn’t say anything, they looked away in shame, “I-I couldn’t let you die,” they said finally. They were so pale, it was obvious that they had been suffering in the time since the battle, “I’ve been down here, every night since you...waiting for you to wake up.” “B-but the prophesy!” The antagonist insisted, “You were ‘sposed to save the world from him.” Hero smiled sadly, looking far older than they were, “In that moment the only one I knew I had to save was you, and, before you ask, yes, it was worth it, no matter what to me it’s worth it.”

[toomuchponytail]

Is there going to be a part 5 to the hero, and now antagonist getting drugged saga? Because I would love one. Also you're amazing

AWWW!! You’re amazing!!! part 5 of poisoned hero is here! Thank you for taking the time to read it! I am always open to doing continuations, I don’t normally plan on doing more of something unless I’m asked because I always choose things to continue that no one seems to like, (my tastes are garbage, but what’s new?) but I love getting requests!!! :D  

Thank you so much for your kind words, I hope you like it!! 

I hope you day is full of moonbeams, I hope some of them spill out over a honey colored wooden floor, like silver pools, gathering under windows full of stars. I hope that each star reminds you that you are not only from this world, but are made of starlight and moonbeams and honeycombs. I hope that you know, in these moments of ordinary magic that you are one of the most extraordinary, incredible parts of  this earth, both dust and angel wings. 

Rest in all the moments that you come across. 

[toomuchponytail]

Could you please do a part 5 of the poisoned hero? I'm absolutely loving the story !

AHH! Hey Anon!!! I totally can!!! Thank you so much for taking time to read it, it means the absolute world to me!! I’m sorry it took me so long to get to, my life’s a tad wild this semester!

Here is part five. I hope you like it!! :D

I hope you have a day that reminds you of an expansive sky, bright blue and almost oceanic, close enough that it feels like a low ceiling, like it’s resting on the crown of your head. Red sand cool underneath your bare feet, a massive dusk-green cactus reaching like crooked fingers for the sky. Everything is silent except the buzzing sizzle of life around you. 

This is where you belong, nothing above you for miles, plenty of air to breathe, and your soles planted firmly in the soft sand. The sun is going down, but the sky is blue, still blue before it gives way to the rich silky darkness of night. You are safe here, content, as whole and bright as the unbroken sky. 

May you never lose your way without finding another. 

[toomuchponytail]

Poisoned Hero #5

Here, as promised like a week ago (Sorry, I’m a bad goblin) part five of poisoned hero!

Continued from part one here (hero drugged at the club), part two here (The antagonist beats up some guys in an alley), part three here (The antagonist takes some risks to save hero’s life), and part four here (Where the hero wakes up and the antagonist is kidnapped). 

It really means the world to me that you guys are getting enjoyment out of my little labors of self-indulgent fantasy, and I’m feeling one more in this series(?!) if someone wants it? 

Whoo! 

I’ll admit I’m mad at this, I tried to make the words come out, but, ya’know...the words do what they want sometimes. Also, so long, I’m sorry! I’ve got a lot of words, they’re just not good ones...

Anyhoo, enjoy! I love you all so much. :,) 

Hero drummed his fingers anxiously on the van’s steering wheel, eyes trained to the entrance of the large abandon looking warehouse that the crime boss had told them to come to. Sidekick was seated in the back of the van, fiddling with the crime boss’s ring, out of sight so that no one would get suspicious. 

“They’re late,” hero grumbled, “I think we need to go in.” 

Sidekick hissed when they pinched their finger in the pliers for the fourth time, they looked up at hero sharply, “It’s only been twenty minutes, he’s making us stew on purpose.” 

Hero nodded but didn’t look convinced, stopping their incessant drumming to take a sip out of their water bottle, “I don’t like it though,” they muttered softly, “What do you think he’s doing to the antagonist in there huh?” 

Sidekick set the ring aside and took a deep breath, momentarily defeated by the odd locking mechanism, “We can’t know that, we only have what they sent you, don’t get bent out of shape before we know how bad it is okay?” 

Hero sighed, “You’re right,” they relented, “I’m just worried because if it’s some poison or something that was affecting them like that….Like pulsing with electricity or something, I won’t know what to do to help them,” hero threw up their hand helplessly, “I’m not a fucking chemist or whatever like them, I barely passed my chem labs.” 

Sidekick snorted, “If I hadn’t helped you you wouldn't have passed them at all,” then their expression sobered, they picked the ring back up, “We’ll figure out some way of helping them hero, okay? We can’t worry about things before they happen.” 

Hero nodded and went back to drumming and watching, a sick feeling growing in their stomach as the minutes ticked by with no appearance or message from the crime boss. 

No news is good news right? Hero uselessly tried to rationalize to themselves. 

“Got it.” Sidekick proclaimed, jolting hero out of their thoughts, they looked back to see Sidekick with the ring open in the palm of their gloved hand, a fine off-white powder spilling onto their palm. 

“What is it?--Damn it sidekick don’t breathe it in!” Hero exclaimed as sidekick took an exploratory sniff, “What if it’s poison?! Or cocaine?!” 

Sidekick shook their head, carefully taking an empty pill bottle and dumping the powder inside, “When you were out of it, The antagonist was doing all these tests to try and determine what you were dosed with, they told me it was very likely a new form of chemical weapon someone was interested in buying.” 

Realization washed over hero, “And the crime boss was here in town on business, he was supposed to meet with that CEO guy, the one who might be the Villain.” 

Sidekick didn’t say anything, their wide terrified eyes said all that they needed. 

“And..” Hero started again, his voice taking on a slightly haunted tone, “What are the odds that that is all he’s got of it?” Hero’s voice had dropped to a fearful whisper.

“I mean,” sidekick rationalized, “If you were selling something to a criminal you wouldn’t want to travel with your whole supply right? It would just get stolen, that’s why doing business with criminals is a hopeless venture,” they smiled in an almost self-satisfied kind of way, leaning back in the seat. 

“Yeah, well,” hero replied tersely, “Tell that to all of the hundreds of thousands of arms dealers and drug pushers huh? The criminal kingpins and gang leaders? Maybe they’ll buy your do-good-cause-crime-doesn’t-pay bullshit, because I won’t.” 

“Is it ‘cause you don’t have the money?” Sidekick smirked, winking at hero when he gaped for a moment at his partner. 

Hero huffed, they were on edge, it made them fidgety and irritable, they didn’t dignify sidekick’s comment with an answer, “We can’t afford to be wrong sidekick,” their voice approaching a whine, “what if the deal is going down right now? What if that’s why the crime boss isn’t here to make good on our deal?” 

Sidekick sat up, their eyes widening in worry, “That wouldn't be a bad idea hero, or, actually,  it would be a bad idea, a very bad idea.” 

Hero went back to watching the warehouse, resuming his tapping on the steering wheel in his I’m-working-out-a-problem pattern, sidekick recognized it from the nights of patrol when they’d gone over the chem lab homework. 

“We’ve got to do a sweep of the city hero,” Sidekick stated, their voice taking on a frantic edge, “If we’re right…” 

“If we’re  right we go in and free the antagonist before we do anything else,” hero said flatly, his fingers still working out his problem as well as the plastic-leather covering on the steering wheel, “They’ll get lost in the chaos, die before we can get back here, plus, we might need their help.” 

“But if we miss the trade off...you know how impulsive Villain is!” Sidekick squeaked, “If we’re right and the CEO is Villain, or even if he works for him, that means that he’s going to do whatever he’s planning to do in a matter of hours, remember the weaponized hornets?!” 

Hero shuddered at the memory, hand going unbidden to his left shoulder as if covering the ghost of a hurt there. 

The drumming stopped abruptly, hero turned to them and smiled brightly, a determination gleaming in their eyes, “We may already be too late,” hero was already pulling on his mask, readying himself to enter the warehouse, “Ready?” 

Sidekick sighed, “Sometimes I really regret signing my name next to yours on that blood pact we made as kids.” 

“Pretty sure that’s not a legally binding contract sidekick,” hero quipped, throwing open the door of the van and climbing out. 

“Whatever,” sidekick replied, following them, “My word is my bond.” 

“You sound like your dad,” hero responded knowingly, as they made their way to the rust colored door. 

Sidekick shrugged, “He had his moments…”

Hero scanned the building for cameras, finding none he put an ear to the door, “I don’t hear anything inside…” he muttered. 

Sidekick made quick work of the padlock, picking it effortlessly, hero shouldered the door open, glanced around quickly and nodded to sidekick, the duo entered the warehouse and let the door close behind them. 

It took a moment for their eyes to adjust to the darkness. The main room was huge, like a hanger for a plane, completely empty, there was a staircase leading to an upstairs area and a rusty looking catwalk, a few doors lead off to what looked to be offices. 

“You take the left and I’ll start on the right,” hero offered, sidekick nodded and was off, flashlight already in hand. 

Hero didn’t risk the catwalk, the thick layer of dust over the rusted metal told them that the crime boss and his guys hadn’t either. 

Smart man. 

Hero opened the first door easily, but didn’t find anything except a folding card table and a single computer monitor and keyboard, if they thought they’d have the time hero would have liked to have broken into it, he was pretty handy with computers, but that was the rub wasn’t it? Being a hero seemed to mean always running out of time. They pulled the door shut behind them, shaking their head. 

“Hero?” Sidekick’s voice cut across the hallway, “I think you should see this.” 

Hero followed their partner’s voice to the first room on the left, another office, except this one’s contents were much more revealing, it was full of tables covered in a fine layer of an off-white powder, a mound of silvery bags of raw chemicals in the corner, hero didn’t need to know what they were, he recognized the skull and crossbones as a universal bad sign. 

“Shit,” he breathed, looking wide-eyed at the chemicals, covering his mouth and nose uselessly with his sleeve. 

Sidekick who was mirroring his reaction almost exactly did the same, “you see the blue prints?” 

Hero hadn’t, their own flashlight zeroing in on what sidekick was talking about, tacked up on a tattered cork board were the blueprints to the city’s water system. 

Hero sucked in a breath, “shit,” they said again, staggered by what this meant for the city his mouth suddenly dry as sand. 

“Remember the report we got last week?” Sidekick prompted, “About the odd activity at the water treatment plant? We ignored it because testing came back normal and that guy is always a little...off.” 

Hero nodded absently, studying the blueprints, there were a few black marks in a few alarmingly key spots, “He’s going to dose the whole city….Maybe he already has,” Hero murmured, horrified. 

“This was never about the ring was it?” Sidekick’s voice rang with desperation, “It was something to keep us busy so that the deal could go down without an issue.” 

Hero turned, “we’ve got to find the antagonist now.” 

“You think he’d help us?” 

Hero shook their head dismissively, “Even if he won’t, he’ll be able to tell us what we’re up against, if we can find him that is,” hero felt like he couldn’t look away from the blue prints, the city, his city, his chest felt tight, for a long moment he wanted to just close his eyes and unsee it, just climb into the back of the van and have sidekick push it into the river, he’d already failed, what if people got hurt? The police would never listen to him in time, they thought he was just a manic who ran around the city in a mask making trouble for them, maybe I am, he thought to himself. Is this my fault? Did I invite more crime into town by busting up smaller operations? Hero felt sick. 

“Three more doors to go hero,” Sidekick put his hand on hero’s shoulder comfortingly, “We’ll find him, even if we don’t, I’m here with you.” 

Hero let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding, now was not the time for spiraling, he managed a wan smile that didn’t reach his eyes, his partner always knew what was going on inside of his head, “Let’s go.” 

Hero and sidekick split up again, hero’s heart filled with hope when he saw that the door he went to was locked, “Hey sidekick! Come help me with this!” 

Sidekick was at the door in record time, this lock was dealt with even easier than the padlock on the front door, and it swung open into a pitch black room. 

Hero shone his flashlight into the darkness, it looked bare, just an empty concrete room...then. 

“Pl-please...” A raspy voice begged from the darkness, “...T-turn the light off.” 

A chill prickled down hero’s arms, “Antagonist? Is that you?” Hero couldn’t be sure, the voice was more of a weak croak than anything...

“H-hero?” The voice wavered filling with desperate hope. 

 Hero turned off his light and stepped into the gloom, sidekick followed, shutting the door behind them, the dark was all encompassing, and in stepping from relative light to complete darkness hero and sidekick were immediately lost in it. 

“I’m here,”Hero answered,”where are you?  he found himself whispering, it felt more natural in the darkness. 

“The...vial,” The antagonist started in bitter desperation, “There’s a vial,” he groaned, “On the desk, it’s the...It’s the antidote,” there was a sound like metal scraping concrete, chains? Hero thought it was chains, sounding like the worst sort of bells he’d had ever heard. 

Hero swallowed, no time to panic, feeling his way across the room he stumbled once, loosing his balance in the dark, but sidekick was right by his side, grabbing him and keeping him from falling. 

After a few moments of blind groping hero found the desk, another moment after that his hand closed over a syringe. 

“Got it,” hero affirmed, somewhere the antagonist made a soft choked sound in the dark. 

Hero crouched to the floor and felt along the concrete until he found the chain, using his fingers to ‘see’ he followed the chain to the person at the other end, he realized as he got closer to the antagonist that he could have skipped feeling along the chain and just followed the sound of the antagonist’s labored breathing. 

The antagonist gasped when hero’s fingers brushed the back of his hand, “s-sorry, jumpy.” 

The antagonist seemed to be on the concrete, curled in on himself, hero could feel the heat radiating off of him from where he was crouched next to him. 

“I-inject me…” the antagonist commanded weakly, “Please, I-I can’t last much longer li-like this…” 

Hero frowned in the dark, “What if this is some poison instead of the antidote? What if it kills you?” 

Hero felt the antagonist’s hand close in a vice-like grip on his wrist, “Then we hope it’s faster than this,” their voice was hollow, full of bitterness, “Quick hero, I can’t stand it.” 

“What if I kill you?” hero insisted, already readying the syringe. 

“I’ll get over it,” the antagonist promised. 

Hero took a deep breath and injected the solution into the antagonist’s arm, sight unseen, the antagonist let out a tremulous breath when it was over. 

“What now?” Hero asked. 

“Just..just wait a minute,” The antagonist didn’t explain anymore, he sounded exhausted and in pain, hero wanted to be able to get a better look at him, in the dark like this it was impossible. 

A few long minutes passed, hero realized he was still holding the antagonist’s hand, he thought about pulling away, but the antagonist hadn’t pulled their hand away either, so they figured that it was alright. The antagonist's breathing slowed and evened out eventually, hero could almost feel him relax, all the pain fueled tension dissolving.  

“Hero? Still alive over there?” Sidekick’s worried voice cut across the gloom, hero thought that they had a right to be worried. 

“Yep,” hero replied, “if this is what passes for life nowadays.” 

“You two are adorable,” The antagonist noted, his voice was still weak and raspy, “Although I can’t help but wonder if I would have been rescued ages ago if the daring duo were a little more focused on heroism and less on poorly timed comedy.” 

“And he’s back,” hero noted dryly, then he sobered, “Can we turn our lights on now do you think?” 

“I think I can handle it,” The antagonist answered, abeight, a little hesitantly. 

Hero flicked on his flashlight, turning to the antagonist to see his reaction, while he squinted sensitivised eyes against the light he didn’t look like it was affecting him too badly, hero nodded at sidekick who turned his light back on as well and made his way over to join hero on the floor. 

Hero glanced the antagonist over in the light of sidekick’s flashlight beam, he was leaned up against the wall, chained to the floor by his left wrist, it was bloody and bruised, like he’d tried to yank it out of the shackle, but, other than that he didn’t look physically injured, he just looked exhausted, like he hadn’t slept in weeks. His normally sharp bright eyes dull and bloodshot, dark circles that looked more like bruises underneath them, he was shivering, even in the heat of the room, hero wondered if it was a result of whatever he’d been poisoned with. 

The unlikely trio looked at each other for a long moment. 

“So…” Antagonist started, his teeth chattering, “He’s got access to something that interferes with a body's electrical impulses, it makes all stimuli extremely painful, pretty sure it’s mixed with a lot of stimulants, I don’t know if that’s necessary to the mix or was to keep me awake.” 

“But you’re alright?” Hero asked concernedly searching the antagonist's face, “The antidote worked?” 

“I think so, the pain is gone, but, who cares about that? In high enough doses I think it would overload pain receptors, maybe even kill someone,” they sighed shakily, “I would have thought it was pretty cool except--” 

Sidekick interrupted them with a hug, the antagonist stiffened, their brain seemingly fried by the ambush, “we’re glad you’re okay, we were worried,” sidekick’s voice was too close to their ear, the antagonist knew he should have pushed sidekick away, said something sarcastic, but their eyes found hero instead, they were suddenly aware that hero was still holding their hand, it was warm and solid, real, hero’s was smiling, they were relieved, it was as plain on their face as the streaks of dust. 

The antagonist didn’t understand, but their available arm slowly wrapped around sidekick, hugging them back, when sidekick let go, the antagonist noticed that their chest burned, but they dismissed it as a possible side effect. 

“Let’s get you out of here,” Sidekick went to work on picking the lock that was keeping the antagonist chained to the floor, gentle where the antagonist’s wrist had met the unforgiving metal. 

“What happened?” Hero asked quietly. 

The antagonist looked away, “I was jumped, common criminal move, they got my watch off of me too fast for me to use it.” 

“The crime boss?” 

“His “people” sure,” the antagonist rolled his neck, spell seemingly broken, he pushed himself off of the wall and sat up, the trembling was easing, but it was leaving behind an unnerving weakness, “they got me here, laughed at me when I told them you and I were enemies, and then he injected me with something….It wasn’t fun.” 

“Were you in that white room?” Hero asked, unable to help himself, “everything just sort of melt around you?” 

The antagonist shook his head, “No,  it was like I was on fire. All of my nerves sizzling under my skin,” The antagonist shrugged, “Later he gave me something else, paired with an electrical current to exacerbate it, but no white rooms.” 

Sidekick gently pulled the shackle open, the antagonist cradled his injured wrist against his chest. 

“Can you stand?” Hero asked. 

The antagonist looked at him sheepishly “I can try,” hero helped him to his feet, he managed to stand for a moment before his knees buckled, the muscles in his legs trembling and aching like he’d been running for days. Hero caught him easily, looping the antagonist’s arm around his shoulders, “Whoa! Got you,” he smiled without even a hint of mockery, “Sidekick, can you get his other side?” 

Sidekick obliged, taking the antagonist’s other arm, together the three of them walked out of the dark room where the antagonist had been kept prisoner. 

They started for the stairs, “Wait,” the antagonist interjected, “Aren’t you going to show me the room with the pounds of drugs?” 

Hero and sidekick exchanged a look. 

“What?” The antagonist was getting tired of not being in the loop.

“The room’s empty, all we found were the packaging materials,” hero admitted, shifting to get a better hold on the antagonist, impatient to get going. 

“We have a sample, but otherwise it’s just the bags like the ones in your lab,” sidekick added. 

“Wait,” the antagonist started, “The drugs are gone? Like ‘in the wind’ gone” Their voice had risen in panic, “Like the crime boss has taken them to sell gone?” 

“Yeah,” sidekick swallowed, “about that.” 

“I hate to ask this considering your state but we think that the Villain is planning on dosing the city by dropping the drugs in the water, and if you feel up to it we’d like your help...again,” hero added uneasily. 

The antagonist looked from hero to sidekick and back again, he took a measured breath, hero couldn’t help feeling concern wash over him, the antagonist looked worse out here in the light, his skin had taken on a grayish tone, and he seemed to be fading by the minute now that the stimulant’s properties were wearing off, “Alright,” he agreed, “But if we’re going to make a difference at all, we’ve got to hurry, I’m crashing, after I pass out I’ll be no use to anyone for hours.” 

“By then it’ll be too late,” hero whispered, already starting to move again. 

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” the antagonist agreed.

#HERO X VILLAIN #whump #drugged #poisoned #poison mention #tw drugs #tw dark thoughts #poisoned antagonist #boi does not know how to accept hugs #sorry #race against time #DRAMA

[toomuchponytail]

Prompt fifty five:

Hero had been waiting for this day since they’d been rescued, the day they finally got back to their team, got back to work. They had to bite their cheek to keep from grinning widely as they rode up in the elevator, it had been a long hard road to get back here, but it would be so worth it. 

They felt a little dizzy when the elevator rose, nothing abnormal, they still had some recovery to do, but the doctor had cleared them for desk work, and even though at one time they would have looked at that with contempt and frustration they were so excited today that they felt effervescent. 

The elevator dinged brightly, announcing their floor, Hero picked up their suitcase, they didn’t have anything that they were working on right now, so it was more for show, but they knew they’d get some cases to start in on as soon as those glass doors closed behind them. They tried to walk normally to those doors, even if they wanted to run towards them, the extreme rightness of this, the feeling of coming home after what they’d been though was so amazing it almost felt like a dream. 

They walked into the office space, doors swinging behind them, “Good morning!” Hero called to their team brightly, they’d let some of their gruff exterior slip since the rescue, it had been stupid to think that they were alone, that no one cared about them, they were a part of a team that had worked hard to find them after months of torture and imprisonment. 

Hero  went to their desk...there was a new computer at their desk, open to some data base, a mug of coffee half consumed, Hero didn’t understand. They turned around, confusion on their face, and for the first time they realized that no one would meet their eyes. A stranger returned to the Hero’s desk, they nodded politely to hero and went back to their computer. 

“I don’t....I don’t understand?” Hero asked no one in particular, they turned to a teammate closest to them, one they’d helped to take down a crime group last April, “What’s going on?” 

Before they can answer, leader interrupts them, “hero,” they start evenly, “You don’t work here anymore.” 

Hero feels their chest tighten, all of their bubbly joy sinking into their stomach like a cold stone in a pot, they didn’t understand. “What?” They blink, no one will look at them, it’s like the rest of their team is pretending that they’re not even here. 

Leader sighed, “Hero, look, we appreciate what you did, your sacrifice saved a lot of people, but don’t you think it’s time for you to do something else with you time? I mean,” Leader shook their head, “You were our sniper, do you think you can keep your hands from shaking long enough to do that again?” 

Hero felt like they were sinking into the floor, it was true, they couldn’t keep their hands from shaking anymore, the doctor had told them that there had been some nerve damage, probably from when the Villain had driven those knives into their hands... “I..I can do other things, the doctor said it would get better in time--” Hero lied, grasping for anything. 

The leader smiled almost condescendingly, “I’m sorry Hero, we’re a team, not a care facility, we have a job to do, and you just can’t do it anymore,” leader shrugged like their hands were tied, “I’m sorry,” they repeated uselessly. 

Hero nodded, feeling numb, they made an effort to keep looking at the floor so that their ex-team couldn’t see their eyes filling with tears. They picked up their suitcase with trembling fingers, (it always got worse under stress) and went back out the door, how could I have been so stupid? They thought to themselves, How could I have thought that they’d want me here when I’m useless? 

And somewhere deep down unbidden, their mind whispered something to them, Villain was right, I’m worthless like this. 

#HERO X VILLAIN #Aftermath #hero whump #rejection #self loathing #tw bad thoughts #tw gun mention #self blame #prompt #writing prompt #kinda sad #worthlessness

[toomuchponytail]

Continuation of Fifty Three:

Nobody wanted this, least of all me, (just kidding, I’m actually having a grand ol’ time with exploring this, I never write fantasy/magic stuff really so it’s weird and different for me), I wasn’t going to add to this because it’s terrible, or what have you, but, I realized that that’s my whole shebang, so here is part two continued from here. TW for slavery, gas lighting/ manipulation/ Stockholm syndrome-esc stuff, as well as some brief tongue stuff mentioned and some stuff with rope sores. 

@constellationwhump

I put a keep reading so that this isn’t cluttering up my thing...or your thing...

It was easy to quell rebellions, the master thought to themselves, their eyes glinting coldly even as their cold fingertips ran gently through their soothsayer’s thin hair, a smile playing at the corner of their mouth. The soothsayer was exhausted, their head laying in the master’s lap, eyes moving quickly underneath dry eyelids.

It will be a pity to replace him. Inevitable and difficult, never had the master met another who had power like he did, his soothsayer able to wipe out his enemies with a dream, with the power of imagination. 

He chuckled to himself, he hadn’t been able to stop himself from using the boy’s power up as fast as he could, it had been too addicting to see such power enacted by a person who didn’t even know what they were doing, to see how quickly his enemies fell before him. If the boy knew he’d probably be distraught, given how weak and sensitive he was already he’d probably just give up and die right there, the master had played around with the idea of telling him what he’d done, how his brain was special just like he’d been telling him, but it was special in the same way that a guillotine was special, because it was terrible and deadly. He didn’t have much time left anyway, he’d been wasting since harvest, his power finally beginning to feed on the body that it stemmed from. 

He didn’t need him for much longer anyway, this part of the country was ravaged, the towns leveled by fire, the ground scorched and barren, the people starving and terrified, ready for someone to step up and deliver them from an angry god, the master planned on it. He’d wiped out all the others, only his castle remained as a symbol of the former monarchs, the people needed a leader, and the master was just about ready to give them one. 

The boy would die and he, the master would rule, just like it always should have been. How it was going to be before his father had cast him out of his own family for his governing--for the execution of three worthless thieving stable boys! Back then he had not gone by the name of master, back then he was prince Basteir the learned. He seethed at the memory of the betrayal for a moment, allowing the anger to well up inside of him, his dark eyes crackling with intensity as he unconsciously clenched his hand in the boy’s hair pulling it severely, the boy whimpered in his dreamless sleep, but didn’t have the strength to rise. The master sighed, letting the memory of his final confrontation with his brother sooth his anger. 

Where anger was hot and uncontrollable revenge was cold and intelligent, the master had learned this lesson very well. Looking into his brother’s eyes when he’d delivered the tongue of his son to him in a small velvet box had been delicious. 

Now he was here, ready to take back the throne that was rightfully his anyway, all he’d needed was a little bit of luck, and the power that this stupid boy had possessed. They’d have called it a gift from the angels when he was young, but now it didn’t matter what you called it as long as it belonged to him. 

The master slowly pushed the boy off of his lap, propping him up against the back of the wooden chair he’d once tied a valuable prince to and cut his tongue out to send to his father. The boy called it his wooden throne, the master smiled almost fondly down at the waif of a person he’d nearly used up, he smiled at him like a person smiles at someone below them, someone stupid and re-tightened the ropes, making the boy whimper softly in his semi-conscious state. Not asleep but dreaming. 

The master left the dungeons humming almost inaudibly, his long coat trailing behind him, sure that he knew everything going on in his soon-to-be kingdom. He was wrong, people drunk on their own power and sure that their rage has cooled often are, at this moment a man is climbing the side of the mountain on which the castle sits.  He is dressed in coal colored clothing, a knife clenched in his teeth, his anger is red hot, the intent of murder burns through his blood like poison. 

Oh what a tangled web we weave. 

In the dark the soothsayer starts with a groan, he sits up as best he can, leaning against the ropes helpfully keeping him upright in his throne. He frowns slightly, confused, something doesn’t feel right, something feels different, final, like a door has closed somewhere that had always been open and he’d been unaware of it. He strained to find his power, the odd drawing slippery struggle to pull it forward, the feeling that he was trying to focus on two things with all of his intensity at once. Then...Nothing. 

He frowned, dismay gathering in his chest, he tried again, tried to find the part of himself that made him worth something to the master, find the ribbon that ran through his thoughts and once he’d gotten hold of he’d be able to have a vision again, but it felt instead like he was rolling a knot around unable to find the end. 

He squeezed his eyes shut tight in the darkness, and concentrated for all that he was worth, there was a sputter of some kind, a painful blot of red in his mind, he grimaced and tried to push through it, his head ached and his ears began to ring, blood flowed freely out of his nose and ears, fumbling, fumbling, then, just when he started to feel like he might pass out, he closed his concentration over the end of the red thread. 

Triumphant, the soothsayer lets it slip from his concentration, shaking with effort, and slumped back against the chair, he’d been more sure everyday that at some point he wouldn’t be able to fulfill his purpose anymore, that he would let the master down. reassured that this wasn’t yet the case he let his eyes slip closed again, he was so tired, he needed rest so badly, most days the bone-deep exhaustion was all that was left of him, he knew that one day he’d reach for the ribbon and rip himself to pieces in the process, he figured that it would be worth it. 

The man in grey had reached the castle, using several long metal rods he’d fashioned for the job he had climbed up the castle itself, silent as a night wind and had transitioned over the wall and into a window, tucking himself into dark corners with practiced ease, he forced himself to take even breaths to try and calm his fluttering heart. No one had gotten this close before, and for the first time he allowed himself to believe that he might have a chance to end the senseless unrelenting bloodshed. He searched the castle carefully, his soft soled shoes ensuring that his steps were silent, he’d almost gotten to the top of the left tower, the right one had been empty, he knew he only had a tiny window before Bastier the mad found him. Found him and cut his heart out, all his work and struggle to get here would be wasted then, and he’d join the endless collection of people bowing before Bastier in death...but he didn’t have time to think about that now. 

There was a heavy wooden door at the end of the hall, a study door if he’d ever seen one, he was overcome with sureness that the mad fallen prince was behind it. He took a steadying breath readying the knife in his hand, he crept towards the door, resolve strengthened, not willing to take any longer than he needed to to do what he had come here for. 

Nothing could have prepared him for what was behind the door. 

The room was mainly empty, some hay scattered over the floor, it was freezing cold, the rest of the castle had a chill about it, a creeping bone ache that sunk into a body like a knife, but in this room the man could see his breath. There were no windows, some light filtered in from old and dripping fluorescent box lights, yellowed and buzzing like insects. All of this, though disconcerting he barely noticed, all of his focus was on the boy in the middle of the room, tired  tightly to a chair.  He was so skinny, nothing but skin stretched over slight bird-like bones, he was mostly naked, his chest bare, ribs visible. His skin in the places it wasn’t blossoming with bruises or angry sores was almost blue from the cold. For a moment the man thought he was dead, his head leaning back against the chair, his dry lips slightly open, his eyes closed, but the man saw the boy’s painfully thin chest expand with breath and he knew that he was wrong, for some reason this corpse of a person was alive, alive and hurting. 

For a long moment he hesitated at the doorway, knife in hand but forgotten, torn between his mission and the compulsion to help the boy in the chair. If we went on to find and kill Bastier, and if he was successful, there might be a chance that the war would end, he reasoned to himself, his eyes fixed on the younger man’s painfully shallow breaths. But he knew, even as he stood in the doorway thinking about leaving that he would never be able to, there was a good chance he’d never reach Bastier, that he would die or cut into pieces by degrees as the mad prince was known to enjoy, here he could rescue a person. Even if they still died it would be worth it to free then from this terrible place. 

The man stepped inside of the room, shutting the door behind him, using the knife meant for murder to carefully cut the cruel bindings that held the other man to the chair. The man grimaced and grit his teeth as he had to peel the rope out of the skin in several places where long use and repeated injury had made the skin and rope one thing, leaving long sores weeping blood that ran down the boy’s chest, shoulders, and arms. The man wished he had more time to further check the boy over for injury, but in the low light and still here in the castle, time was of the essence. When the bloody ropes finally fell free, the boy groaned, struggling to open his eyes. 

When he managed to get them open the intruder was momentarily startled by the man’s olive-tan colored eyes, they were unsettling, for some reason, as washed with fevered delirium, dull with the pain of long suffering as they were, they made the intruder feel like he was very small, the intruder shook his head to rid himself of the crawling feeling in the back of his skull, and carefully put a finger to his lips, “I’m getting you out of here alright? Can you tell me your name?” He whispered. 

The other man stared at him blankly from half-lidded eyes, the soothsayer knew that the man was a new development, a new face, maybe he was a new master? But he was too tired to decipher what that might mean for him, he could barely register the pain, a stinging sensation that had crept into his conscious, nothing like the splitting his head was doing, he was so tired and dizzy...Maybe if he just closed his eyes the man would go away? Maybe if he closed his eyes he could rest...

The intruder gently tapped him on the cheek with one warm thumb, the soothsayer opened his eyes again, oblivious to the minute trembling running through his abused body like a current. 

The man seemed to sigh, “You don’t have to worry anymore, alright? My name is Bastion and I’m going to get you out of here,” the intruder tried to keep his voice as gentle as possible. 

But the soothsayer can’t say anything, he’s suddenly too dizzy to keep his eyes open, blood is rushing in his ears, he shudders, grimacing in pain as a vision starts unprompted for the very first time, slicing unbidden through the red thread like it was made of fog. 

#whump #blood #magic whumpee #caretaker has arrived on the scene #the master's a real piece of work #slavery #gaslighting #manipulation #weakness #prompt #whump prompt

[toomuchponytail]

Could I maybe request an injured villain and a very reluctant hero caretaker who really wants nothing to do with the villain, but is convinced to help by another hero, and eventually warms up to the villain? Thank you!

I’m sorry that this took so long to get to Anon! But here you go! It was already really long, so the ‘hero getting used to Villain and warming up to them’ will have to be a separate part! This went it’s own way, so before you get mad at me know that I was only partially responsible. :) Thank you so much for requesting! I won’t be able to put it into words how incredible getting asks is! I know I’ve been doing this for almost a year but still...you are so great for trusting me with these amazing ideas! 

Thank you for all that I’m worth(It’s not a lot, but it’s something!) 

I hope that your day is a can of sweet fruit juice, after a long walk on a dusty road,something aromatic and refreshing that cuts through frustration and makes you feel revitalized. I wish you a day of needed refreshment after struggle, a meeting of goals and a celebration of the effort when the goals stay in the distance for another day. I wish you the ability to celebrate surviving, the ability to be renewed, and the ability to appreciate how hard you work whether you get where you want to go today or tomorrow. 

Take that can in your hands and marvel at the way the condensation wets your palm, at the delicious chill that travels up your arm, you’ve made it here Anon, and that is worth celebrating. 

I’m so proud of you! :D 

Look out for part two! (if you’re still interested after all of this time that is...) 

Hero dumped cream in their coffee, stumbling around in the kitchen, eyes bleary. They made their way to the kitchen table, sitting down heavily and wincing at the soreness in their back and shoulders. It had been a long night last night, they’d caught a gang of car thieves, but none of them had gone down without a fight and hero had been alone last night, sidekick off with their girlfriend in Maine to meet the parents…

Hero sighed, and took a long drink from their coffee, comforted by the warmth and familiar mix of bitterness and sweet cream. 

Before he could register that there was someone on his porch, a skill he’d needed many times over the last three years, there was a frantic pouding on the door. 

Hero jumped, startled by the sound, fear curled up catlike in the base of his stomach adrenaline a more powerful stimulant than coffee he stood and crept to the door wide awake, snatching his powerful sonic longblade from the table as he went. 

He was careful to not make any sound as he went across the old wooden floor, his bare feet making the task a little easier. 

Not many people knew where he lived, this wasn’t his base it was his house, and he took security very seriously, not serious enough to have a doorbell camera like other hero had bragged about, but serious enough. 

Hero peered through the peephole in the door, holding his breath, breath he let out in a frustrated grumble when he saw Vigilante peering back at him hopefully. 

Hero opened the door, already feeling tired again, Vigilante meant well, but they were young and impulsive, plus he wasn’t always the most trustworthy, and he wondered abstractly what they’d gotten themselves caught up in this time. 

Then he caught sight of what Vigilante was holding and almost slammed the door in their face question answered. Vigilante was supporting a barely conscious Villain, they were pale and mumbling nonsense soaked to the skin, they weren’t wearing their mask and hero could see that they’d been beaten, their face was swollen and covered in bruises. 

“Vigilante what the…!?” Hero ducked behind the door trying to obscure their face, they started to close the door on instinct, Villain was bad news, why Vigilante had taken him here and not to the police was a mystery to him. 

Vigilante grinned at hero relief evident on their face, extending their elbow as if to keep hero from closing the door all of the way, “Hero I can explain!” They said brightly, likely they had rehearsed this on the way over here, “But, um, you’re probably not going to like it.” 

Hero glared around the door, “Why Vigilante? Just take him to the police!” 

Vigilante shifted uncomfortably and looked down, “We’ve actually just come from there I’m afraid,” then, as if suddenly remembering some vital piece of information they looked up again, “Oh, and don’t worry about them seeing your face, they’re way too out of it to actually know it’s you, they were calling me sidekick when I pulled them out of the canal.” 

It had taken hero this long to realize that Vigilante was also soaked, they looked half-drowned actually, their clothes were slick to them, they slicked their dripping hair back with the hand not holding Villain, “You going to invite us in or…” 

Hero stood in the doorway silently for a moment, knowing full well that they were going to invite Vigilante inside, but wanting to teach vigilante a lesson. 

They shouldn’t have bothered, when they sighed finally and stepped aside, Vigilante tramped into their house without the slightest qualm, dripping on the floor and half-dragging half-carrying Villain in with them. 

Hero crossed their arms over their chest after they’d shut the door and bolted it, never mind one of the most dangerous people in the city was already inside of their house, they looked at Vigilante sternly, “So? The explanation is..?” 

When Vigilante looked up at them again they realized how exhausted they were, dark circles under their eyes, arms shaking with exertion, hero dropped their false sternness, “What do you need from me Vigilante?” 

Vigilante seemed to melt with relief, “The police did this to them,” They motioned to the Villain who’s mutterings had given way to weak shuttering, “I need you to keep them here and help them get better while I build a case against the Villain stopping squad.” 

Hero frowned, he’d heard rumors about the violent and often inhumane tactics that the VSS used against people they’d deemed enemies of freedom, it was somewhat well known that if you were a questionable person in regards to morality in the city you stayed away from the police. 

But while they would not be against Vigilante putting a stop to the VSS, there was no way in Hell or heaven or anywhere in between that they were going to help Villain, and certainly not at their own house! 

“Absolutely not Vigilante, I’ll do a lot of things to help, I’ll go undercover, I’ll try and join the VSS to get dirt on them, but Villain is my enemy, and I’m not having them here even if they are too out of their mind to know it’s me.” 

Vigilante’s face fell, “But you’re a hero?” They stated uselessly, “You’re the one who stands in front of the people who need protection.” 

Hero shook their head, looking away. 

“I don’t understand,” Vigilante continued, “I’ve seen you help mob bosses and gang members, even that band of thieves last year that almost killed you, why not help Villain?” 

Hero stewed for a moment, fumbling for the right words to say, “Because it’s him! All of those others were only out for their own good, they didn’t want to hurt people, they just wanted to not be hurt anymore themselves! But Villain? Villain actively hates good, he schemes against it, he’ll go out of his way to cause trouble even when there is no benefit for him! He’s evil with a capital ‘E’!” Hero’s face was reddened and he was breathing hard, he raked a hand over his face, somewhat surprised at his own outburst. 

Vigilante looked angry, “You done?” They asked without giving hero a chance to answer, “Because I’m hearing that you, the person who is the beam of hope for this corrupted city, the person who has talked me out of using violence at every turn is refusing to help someone who really needs their help. And why? Because they’re a ‘bad guy’ well, hero, guess what? I’m a bad guy too where VSS is concerned!” Vigilante’s voice had risen to a shout, their face was flushed, their eyes shining, “Villain was captured trying to rescue me from them! They weren’t going to do to me what they did to him but he didn’t know that! So our, irredeemable prince of drama and careful apathy broke in, by himself, and got himself captured! For ME! But he’s just evil, capital E and all that, nothing good about him or whatever.” 

Vigilante started towards the door, turning away from hero so that he couldn't see the tears in their eyes, “I’d heard the stories too hero, but I didn’t care too much until they came for me, because these people are the bad guys right? They break the law they pay the price, guess what hero?” they sniffled, voice breaking, “That’s exactly the logic that the VSS uses.” 

Hero swallowed, feeling rightly guilty, they reached out and put a hand on Vigilante’s shoulder, Vigilante shrugged them off, “Listen, Vigilante I’m sorry okay, I didn’t know…” Hero knew that they were going to regret this decision, but their mind was made up, “And if it means that much to you, I’ll help Villain alright? But just this time, and just because it's you asking.” 

Vigilante turned around, “Really?” They asked carefully, “you’re not going to turn around after I’m gone and call the VSS?” 

Hero shook their head in disgust, knowing that after what they’d said it was a viable question, one that made them sick, “I’ve never called them, I won’t start now.” 

Vigilante sighed, a bit of mischief returned to their eyes, “Does that mean I’m right and you’re wrong this time?” They asked, biting the inside of their cheek to keep from grinning. 

Hero groaned helplessly in frustration, “Yes, this time.” 

Vigilante Smiled brightly, just then Villain murmured, hero’s face sobered, “Here,” they said, “Help me get them to the couch.” 

Hero helped Vigilante support Villain's dead weight to the couch, once he’d been deposited Vigilante sat down on the floor next to the couch, looking spent. 

Hero’s heart twinged in sympathy, “Why don’t you go up stairs and take a shower? It’ll warm you up, and I’m sure I have some clothes that’ll fit you, sidekick and you look about the same size.” 

Vigilante smiled gratefully, “You sure?” They asked, already going up the stairs. 

Hero glanced a little nervously at Villain “I’m sure, you’ll need your strength to be able to stop the VSS, plus hopefully you’ll do it fast?” 

Vigilante chuckled and didn’t answer them, leaving hero and Villain alone in the living room. 

Hero hesitated a second before carefully removing Villain’s wet clothes. Once they’d gotten them off they looked at the damage, hero realized that Vigilante was right to be afraid. 

In the better light Villain looked dead, not that he’d looked particularly alive by the early morning sunshine, his chest was covered in bruises, several stab wounds were still weeping blood, not to mention the older scars, healed to raised memories of pain and survival. 

One of the wounds in Villain’s side was particularly deep, the edges of the wound an angry infected red. Now that they were looking at them they could see Villain’s face was flushed with fever, the shivering and weak muttering made more sense now. 

Hero sighed and went to get their medical kit, remarkably well stocked, they cleaned Villain’s wounds carefully before bandaging them and wrapping Villain in an oversized blanket. 

When they were finished Villain had stopped shaking, they’d moved from delirium to a peaceful sleep, 

Hero was forced to admit to themselves that while Villain was asleep they weren’t too bad to look after, the worse part would come later when they would wake up in hero’s house, weak and confused. 

But, hero reasoned as they heard Vigilante coming back down the stairs, they would cross that bridge when they came to it.

#HERO X VILLAIN #Whump #reluctant caretaker #Villain whump #Vigilante #Hero #Argument #Blood #Infected #Fever #Prompt #Writing prompt #Whump Prompt #part 2 coming soon

[toomuchponytail]

Prompt Fifty Four:

Rain was too gentle a term for what the weather was doing, hero was soaked to the bone a few minutes into their patrol, the howling wind blew right through their uniform, they were shivering and miserable. What’s worse is that they had a job to do, Villain had been sighted downtown, and wherever that monster went there was pain and destruction to follow. 

Hero made quick work of searching the downtown area, they didn’t want to be out in this storm any longer than they had to be, after an hour they had almost given up on finding Villain, maybe the sighting had been fake, or maybe they’d decided to hold off because of the rain, cause a little destruction another day instead. 

Hero headed down one last alley, they were on the old side of town now, these alleys were still brick paved, the putrid scent of wet garbage back here was a wall of smell, hero crinkled up their nose in disgust, they turned to leave, as they did so, something caught their eye hunched in the corner by the dumpster. 

It was Villain, smell forgotten hero crept close carefully, ready to attack at any moment, as they got closer to Villain’s crouched form they got the sense that something was wrong, Villain was breathing in shallow panting breathes, one arm wrapped around their middle their eyes were squeezed closed. 

Hero was about to pounce on them to try and retrain them before Villain knew that they were even there, but then they saw the blood, it was splashed up against the bricks, pooling around Villain on the alleyway, oozing between Villain’s fingers. 

Hero made a small surprised sound in their throat accidentally and Villain’s eyes shot open, for a moment all that shone in those normally self-assured mocking eyes was fear, raw and animal, then it was replaced by pained annoyance. 

Hero suddenly felt cold. 

Villain waved their bloody hand absently, “Get going, nothing to see..to see here,” they struggled to sit forward but didn’t manage to budge, they blanched and sunk back to the wall with a groan. 

“What happened?” Hero exclaimed, suddenly finding his voice and ability to move again, he stepped closer, convinced that Villain was hurt far too badly for this to be a trap. 

“Th-this?” Villain slurred, “This is what happens when you’re the bad guy, comes with the territory,” they glared at hero, “you think after a fight I’m magically cured?” 

“Who did this to you?” 

“It doesn’t matter, now get!” Villain sneered, baring bloody teeth, it reminded hero of a beaten dog, one that had to fight constantly to keep itself alive, hero felt his chest tighten. 

“I can’t leave you like this,” hero said, they went to grab Villain and help them up but Villain flinched away from them violently, cowering in fear.  

“I know you hate me...Just...Please...leave me alone...” Villain whimpers, turning away from hero’s hands as best they could. 

“It’s not...Damn it Villain! Just stop and look at me!” Hero’s aggressive tone surprised themselves, they balled their hands into trembling fists at their sides, squeezing their eyes closed,“I want-” their voice broke and they swallowed convulsively feeling like their heart was ripping into burning pieces, when they spoke again their voice was gentler, a raspy whisper,”I want to help you, please let me help you.” 

Villain was watching them carefully, even through the dirt and obvious pain their eyes were clear almost sharp, hero realized they were watching for hero to take it back, for the softness to go back to being an act something not real and controllable. Realizing this broke hero’s heart even more than they thought it was capable of breaking. 

When hero didn’t take it back Villain shivered, their eyes darting nervously around trying to see some trap or sign of hero’s friends, when they didn’t their eyes snapped back to hero, “What...What then? Hmm?” They were trying to keep the breathless hope out of their voice, forcing a tired transparent sneer instead, “You get me somewhere...dark and then...then you..you turn me over? Keep me locked up? Torture me for the whereabouts of my people?” The rush of questions dazed them, they closed their eyes against the wooziness, their head dipping back to the bloody bricks, “M’tired of alla that,” they muttered dizzily. 

Hero swallowed, trying to keep their voice steady they felt so useless, so angry, they wanted to say so many things, they wanted to threaten the agencies that had turned Villain into this, wanted to promise them that they wouldn’t do anything to them, that they were different, they wanted most of all to tell Villain that they wished that things were different, instead they settled on saying “I’m sorry that there are people who made you think that there are no good heroes left, and I’m sorry that I failed you.” 

Villain opened their eyes at that, all pretenses gone they looked back at hero through the dripping rain with confusion on their face, maybe a little fear, this was uncharted territory after all, “h-how do you mean?” They asked, strength giving out, folding to the soaked ground, hero ached to catch them, but didn’t want to startle them further, they stepped forward slowly, crouching down at Villain’s side, putting a gentle hand on their forearm as they watched Villain struggle to keep their eyes from rolling into the back of their head. 

“I’m a so-called hero, I save people, but I didn’t save you.” 

Villain looked like they wanted to protest, they settled for pointing at themselves with a weak smirk, “notta person,” they slurred. 

Hero smiled back at them and was surprised how much the joke hurt, like it was a piece of broken glass they’d swallowed, their face went back to seriousness, “Please,” they begged Villain, “Let me help you, I want to help you.” 

“Caus it’s your job?” Villain guessed, trying in vain to muster up the strength to sit up, they only managed to wince and slide further to the ground. 

“Because I want to.” 

“Because you’re a good person?” Villain quipped, not quite sarcastically, they were out of options, literally backed into a wall, the gaping wound in their side wasn’t helping either. 

“Because you’re worth saving,” hero stated simply, hero removed their glove, offering their now volurnable hand to Villain. 

Villain looked up at them with a terrified form of gratitude, skin contact was the only way the Villain’s powers worked, hero was demonstrating good faith that Villain wound’t immediately kill them, never mind that Villain was too weak to muster any power right now, hero didn’t know that. 

“C’mon, let it be over,” hero prompted gently as Villain stared at their hand transfixed, “It can just be over for today if you want, but just for now, let’s put this behind us, huh?” 

Villain ripped their eyes off of hero’s hand, off of hero’s startling display of trust and genuine help when Villain was at their absolute weakest, when they would be so easy to stop permanently, to stomp into dust and rid the world of, “What about tomorrow?” Villain asked timidly, still not quite brave enough to trust hero like hero was trusting them. 

Hero smiled almost bright enough to be the sun, Villain thought that in the dark of this alley it wouldn’t be hard to get them confused, “We’ll deal with tomorrow when we get there, not a second beforehand.” 

Villain reached out and took hero’s hand, it was warm and smooth, larger than theirs, they shuddered at the contact, feeling small and defenseless, now that they’d decided to trust hero their fear borne strength was waning, their world started to tilt sickly around them, the pain became a thundering mess in their trembling nerves, they pitched forward leaning towards hero with the last of their strength. 

Hero didn’t let them down, they caught them, gently lifting them, the last thing that Villain heard before finally giving in to unconsciousness was hero’s unwavering voice somewhere close to their ear, “I’ve got you buddy, I’ve got you.” 

Then there was nothing.  

#HERO X VILLAIN #Whump #Beaten #afraid of heros #Villain whump #Good hero #City full of bad heros #Hurt #trust #caretaker hero #blood #passing out #prompt #whump prompt #writing prompt

[toomuchponytail]

It feels like an odd thing to ask, but I was wondering if I could use all the lovely compliments you always add to your asks and answers. Your writing is incredible, and every little note in the beginning feels so sweet and personal and I wish to share them. Hence why I feel the need for permission. You are wonderful, and your blog title holds only irony. Keep doing what you do fren. *Hugz* ˊᵕˋ

Hiii!!!! Oh my goodness you are too sweet to ask! Of course you can! I’d love it if you spread around some compliments, the world always needs more. :D 

Thank you for asking and for being so nice, you are too kind! 

(Whew, now the pressure is on ;) ) 

I hope that you have a day that reminds you of the color yellow, bright sunshine and daffodils, ducklings bobbing in a bright blue pond, lemon drops and golden honeycombs. I wish you dandelions, daisies, and sunflowers, I wish you that feeling when you close your eyes while laying on your back in the grass and the light shines through delicate eyelids making what would normally be darkness soft pink warmth. 

I wish you brightness when you don’t need it, and more when you do. Have some sunshine, more is on it’s way I promise. 

[toomuchponytail]

Prompt Fifty Three:

Different from what I normally do, more psychological than physical, warnings for slavery and Stockholm syndrome-esc stuff as well as sort of brain-washing/gas lighting. 

More requested stuff is coming namely #bridgeplan #5 and more poisoned hero, but my garbage brain wrote this instead, I’m very open to continuing anything if anyone wants that...It just might take me 89 years. 

Before it all happened he’d been happy, as happy as a person born low could be anyways, he’d always known there was something wrong with him, something that set him apart from the others, but before, well before is was more of a nibbling at the back of his brain, a word he’d almost forgotten the taste of when it slipped across his tongue, it hadn’t yet grown into this inescapable thing that consumed his every hour, stole his sleep enough to drive him almost to madness. 

Maybe it would have stayed like that if he’d never broken into the castle in the first place, just a tiny voice that insisted that he was different than other people, maybe he never would have had to know how much. 

He barely remembered the sun now, save only moments where it would come to him again suddenly, memory so strong he’d be momentarily overtaken by it, sunny days smelling like grass, hay, and fresh bread, the warmth of the sun on his shoulders, children laughing, the tress buzzing with crickets....But then it would be gone just as fast, and he’d be back sitting on his wooden throne the ghost of grass tickling the soles of his feet, and he would no longer be sure if it had been a memory, or if he’d created it accidentally.

He often wept after these ‘visions’ they were worse to him than the ones full of pain, fear, and fire that the master asked him to manifest for him, worse than the smog and sharp lingering smell of burnt flesh and blood that often stuck in his nose after his master had come to ask him for something. Back then he’d been allowed into the golden sunshine, been allowed to see other people, there he’d felt free even if that wasn’t the case. 

Now he was alone, save the master, save the few guards he’d see on extremely rare occasions, this great empty castle cold enough to leave a chill in his bones always, his nose numb from a cold that never ended, his fingers and toes aching if he ever got them warm. His existence whittled down to a handful of waking lucid hours, and long periods full of vivid waking dreams that left him trembling with discomfort, weakness, and most notably, power. 

At first, when he’d been able to control it he’d relished the feeling of the power warming him with some sort of inborn fire even if it the visions scared him with their reality, but he’d obliged to please the master, happy to keep his bones from being added to the pile in the muddy stinking moat that went around the castle like a ring of Saturn. Now it ached like the cold, like his joints, like his head every time the master wanted the future told in just the way he wanted, imagined bloodshed and all. 

Except... 

Except lately that voice, the same one that told him he was a little different from other people, had started to insist that the visions weren’t imagined at all, that they were real.  It asked him, in those precious spare moments between being over taken by horrific visions if the flames had felt real this time? If the screams had been just right? If the smell of burning had been choked his throat with ash? 

He’d wondered at the answers of course, he’d always thought it strange when after a vision his throat hurt like he’d been inhaling smoke, or he’d have bruises on his body from where arrows had struck him from battles imagined around him, but that had been earlier on, and he’d rationalized it to be from the rough treatment and inhaling dirt in his cell. As time went on these ‘side effects’ grew worse, as did his weakness, there was a sense of drawing, an ache of chill, and then a sensation of trying to draw a breath underwater, then the vision would start, leaving him weaker than before. The master fed him well, tried to make him as comfortable as was able, but he was never able to rest for long without his visions, thus he was never able to regain the strength that he’d once possessed. His mind was broken, sometimes he babbled incoherently, he bled often from his nose, mouth and ears, he bruised and never healed, his hair had grown brittle and dry before starting to fall out,  he spent most of his time propped up in the wooden throne without the strength to even lift his head. Even still he was content here, his mother was taken care of by him being held in the castle, and he was different, he was special. 

Then, just last week he’d gotten too close in one of his visions to a pillar of fire that had been engulfing a  barn, suddenly his arm had ignited with white hot burning, he’d screamed, the pain ripping him out of the vision and sent him spinning mentally, he’d torn the sleeve of his robe off, revealing an imprint of fire, his damaged skin weeping blood. 

After that he’d been very afraid, almost afraid enough to ask the master about it, but he so often forgot now, and consciousness didn’t stay with him for very long, but when he could he still wondered what he was actually doing, when he did his chest felt heavy with fear, he became more aware of how trapped he was, how helpless, he could barely walk anymore, all of his power going into his visions. 

Sometimes when he felt very afraid he would picture the fields, the sun on his shoulders...The sound of water singing in the brook, the smell of dandelions and roses intertwined....

Nevertheless, he knew that it was easy to reminisce, to look back at his past with the warm glow of sunny nostalgia, it wasn’t easy to accept the fact this this was the place that he was free, here in these castle dungeons he was able to do what he was meant to, here sitting propped up in a wooden chair so cold it seemed to be made of marble he had meaning. He was soothsayer to the master of this land. The master had told him that other people would kill him for his visions, he was different, wrong, only the master saw him for what he was, something good, someone with great power, the master often gently hummed to him, brushing his hair out of his eyes, told him that no one else would ever care for him the way the master did. 

The master would never lie to him, and so he never even imagined what it would be like to be anywhere else, to wish for anything other than this would be blasphemy to the only one who’d ever cared for him. 

And when he fell into a few minutes of fitful sleep, his body twitching from exhaustion and the never ending power pulsing through weakness thinned veins, he smiled, knowing that this was home. 

#whump #Psycological whump #magic powers #magic weakness #gas lighting #manipulation #cruel whumper #ignorant whumpee #somebody needs to rescue him! #He also needs a name #ps. he's dying #prompt #writing prompt #whump prompt #blood #weakness #cold

[toomuchponytail]

Prompt Fifty Two:

Their reluctant partnership started when hero’s life was threatened and they’d had needed a ‘different’ set of eyes on the odd puzzles that the prospective murderer was sending them. 

Villain had agreed for a price of course, plus they always loved puzzles, so it beat being bored. 

At some point it became sharing a pot of terrible coffee with your worst enemy both of them crammed into a ratty booth at the 24 hour diner working over scraps of the clues trying to piece the identity of the guy together. 

They had decided on the diner because it was neutral ground, a welcoming place in a bad neighborhood. They had to make an agreement not to fight, a few times both of them came close to breaking that agreement. Each of those times they’d left the diner sure that the partnership was over, but each time they inexplicably found themselves back again the next night, sometimes they even shared jokes about getting so bent out of shape.  

Neither of them could remember who had offered their house first, but it was definitely due to the availability of better coffee, shortly thereafter hero had let their baking skills shine, offering cookies, coffee cakes and scones to go with the coffee. 

Villain had been impressed.

There must have been a point when their automatic response to their enemy showing up on their porch stopped being to ready for battle, but neither of them marked it, but it was decidedly after grudging acceptance had given way to an odd shared fondness, a soft sort of friendship forming in all of those moments when hero shared a little about their life and Villain complaining about something ridiculous one of their henchpeople had done (Calling them henchpeople had been hero’s idea).  

Sometimes they even got together after a battle, once or twice after a battle with each other, hero would be laid out on the couch, an ice pack held against their head as Villain read them the next set of messages, sometimes stopping to change the ice, or get hero a glass of water (can’t have you shirking your part of the deal, you said we’d solve them together remember?) or Villain would be camped out in bed, ribs bandaged carefully by hero while they’d protested and hero would bring them a milkshake (Can’t win em all right?). 

They even stopped looking for weaknesses in each other’s bases, opting instead for movie nights, gripe sessions and attempting to solve each new problem as it came, (they’d narrowed it down to one of five people). 

Then Hero disappeared, (Villain was the one who actually reported them missing, after hero had failed to show up at their base). Villain had torn across town to hero’s cramped apartment, finding it trashed, and a trail of hero’s blood starting in the kitchen and leading out the front door to the street. 

Villain had stood there in the street, unsure of which way to go, fog slowly rising, until the police arrived, they asked the Villain several questions, all of them fairly offensive. 

Villain answered them all, their cooperation flabbergasting the police, when they finished being questioned the Villain had put their team to work, going methodically through the five people that they and hero had narrowed the list down to. 

On the third one they got lucky, one of Villain’s henchpeople had even seen hero inside, beaten, gagged, and tied to a radiator. 

Villain arrived looking to deal with the deranged obsessive themselves, murder in their intentions as well as their eyes, but when they’d gotten to hero they’d passed their weapon to one of their people in favor of carrying hero outside. Hero had been confused, drugged and hurt, but the moment they recognized Villain they’d relaxed a little, they fell asleep in the car on the ride over to Villain’s base.  

Hero was fine, they’d had much worse, just a broken wrist, some bruises, a broken nose and a couple of black eyes to match. Villain had them wrapped up and bandaged in no time, after all they’d had some practice. 

When hero had woken up they’d thanked them, both for the rescuing and for helping them in the first place. Villain had told them it was nothing, and that they still expected hero to hold up their end of the deal (Wouldn’t dream of dropping out now). 

Later hero had gone home, feeling a little off, after all they’d caught the guy who’d been threatening them! Villain had ended up being a good ally and they’d survived without too much damage, why did they feel sad?  Like something was gone? 

It took them a few days to realize that they missed Villain. (They realized this at breakfast, coffee cup in hand). 

And when Villain showed up somewhat sheepishly later that night with an expressive bottle of champagne rationalizing their need to ‘celebrate’ the end of the case, their reluctant partnership really did come to an end. Their friendship, on the other hand (Neither reluctant nor begrudging) was only beginning. 

#HEROXVILLAIN #Whump #Hero #Villain #Kidnapping #Reluctant partnership #enemies to best friends #Start to an epic friendship? #Cute? #2fluffy #Prompt #writing prompt #hero and villain prompt

[toomuchponytail]

Caretaker/reluctant caretaker having to force feed a whumpee pain or sleeping meds bc they're panicking too hard to listen to reason and/or keep refusing to take meds out of fear that its poison

Anon! Thank you for submitting this! I really like this one, (I actually think I’m going to do forced sleeping pills soonish in addition to this one because I liked it so much--you could say it is my jam this week, lol) I hope this is sort of what you were hoping for? 

Thank you for being awesome! 

I hope your day is hot sand and cool water, the duality of beach days, both the sand and the sandwich, hopefully not as one entity. 

I wish you the strength to get through the bad knowing that the good is on the way, waiting in the wings, and that your feet don’t burn with all the steps you’ve taken on this weary earth. 

But if they do I wish you lake water, deep and dark and refreshing. 

Take both care and smooth stones from all the beaches life gives you. 

Enjoy! :D 

Hero pulled into base as the sun crested over the city with all the enthusiasm of a convict returning to prison. 

He sat in the car as the engine cooled, scrubbing a trembling hand over his face, his eyes felt like they were full of sand, the muscles in his arms and shoulders burned fiercely when he shifted to open the door, he walked up the path to the door on legs that felt like rubber. 

As he fumbled briefly with his keys he began to fantasize about falling into bed and just sleeping for ten--maybe even twenty four hours, it would beat the hell out of what he was doing ever since super villain had resurfaced, catching sleep half hours at a time during the day, or while off watch at base. 

He’d actually managed to do something last night, catch a few of super villain's guys robbing the Gadinia st. bank, when he’d questioned them after stopping them one of them had actually given him a lead as to where super Villain’s base was. 

It was a win--one he’d follow up on after he’d gotten some sleep, he wasn’t much good to anyone like this, let alone the whole city. 

He set his keys on the counter, pouring himself a tall glass of water to try and cut the dust he felt in his throat. 

It was oddly peaceful in base today, the main room was actually completely empty in fact….Where was everyone else?! 

Hero jumped into high alert, glad he hadn’t taken off his cuffs when he’d entered like he normally did, he began to methodically sweep the building, room by room, clearing it in the unnatural silence. 

His mind, though sharpened by adrenaline was still in a buzz of exhaustion, it felt like his thoughts were traveling to him through a mesh sieve. 

Had his team told him that they were going to be somewhere else? He couldn’t remember that, but he wasn’t 100% sure either. As he cleared the last room he heard the door burst open, followed by the voices of his team, all of them talking at once in a wall of frantic sound that made him more nervous than he had been in the silence. 

He rushed to the mainroom hearing the sounds of desperate struggling, was one of them injured? What was going on?! 

“Where were you!?” One of the other heroes called to him accusingly when he rounded the corner, the other hero was helping leader, their sidekick, and two other heroes contain the heavily struggling antagonist who was bleeding badly from a wound somewhere in his side. 

The antagonist was panicking, trying to push the other off of him, there was an odd wild disconnected look in his eyes, they looked scared and lost, like a hunted animal. 

“I didn’t--My phone got smashed, what happened?” Hero stuttered, blinking as his team fought the antagonist into the room and laid him on the couch,  as soon as they tried to let go of him he tried to bolt, struggling to escape as if his life depended on it, only to collapse to the floor, not strong enough to get anywhere. 

Hero hadn’t seen the antagonist in more than a month, they’d been so preoccupied by super Villain that they hadn’t even checked up on their regular nemesis’s whereabouts. They could see that the last few weeks hadn’t been kind, they were much thinner than they had been the last time they’d seen them, their eyes were wild and shone with raw panic, they were mumbling half spoken pleas in a broken painful croak of a voice but they sounded resigned, like the mercy that they were begging for they didn’t expect. 

“Stop! No more, no more! Please!” They groaned, turning away as best they could. 

The other hero made eye contact with hero over the weakly struggling antagonist, “We don’t know,” they said grimly, “We found them collapsed in a dumpster, an informant called it in.” 

“Can you bring in some bandages hero?” Leader asked, they were trying to put pressure on the antagonist's wound, they pulled up the antagonist's shirt, trying to get a better look at what they were working with--what they saw made them gasp, all the sound in the room died, hands loosened their hold on the antagonist enough for them to pull away and curl in on themselves, pulling as far away from the heroes as they could with a choked groan. 

The antagonist’s torso and back were ripped to shreds, covered in raised angry welts and ragged edges of flesh that wept blood. 

They’d been whipped, burned, beaten, hero wasn’t sure what was worse, they swallowed hard to keep from being sick, leader had gone pale, they looked down at the blood on their hands, the antagonist writhed with agony behind them, seemingly in too much pain to stop moving. 

Other hero had stepped back when the wounds were revealed, “Who’d do something like that?” They whispered in horror, watching as the antagonist’s movements grew weaker, the shuddering more pronounced. 

“Super Villain would, if they wanted something from them,” Hero stated through clenched teeth, “We’ve got to do something!” 

“First we do this,” leader snapped, steeling themselves to the task at hand “Bandages, please.” 

Hero went to the medical cabinet, retrieved rolls of bandages, a bowl some warm water, a cloth, and a small bottle of strong pain relievers.

When Hero got back into the room leader had positioned other hero, their partner, and the others to what were hopefully less painful holds for the antagonist. They’d gotten their better holds on him, in his weakened state is wasn’t difficult to restrain him anyway. 

“Look around antagonist, it’s us, hero’s over there, you’re safe,” other hero tried to reassure, but the antagonist didn’t seem to hear them, they were still trying to pull away, babbling weakly in supplication. 

Other hero winced as they tried to hold the antagonist gently, they didn’t like thinking that in their struggle to control them they’d hurt them even more than they were hurt already. 

Hero handed the supplies to leader, who took them grimly, hero sat by the antagonist’s head, keeping them from whipping it from side to side like they had been, they smoothed the antagonist’s sweaty hair away from their face.

“N-no,” the antagonist groaned, when they felt leader gently grasp the bottom of their shirt, when the leader started to remove their shirt, unsticking it from their wounds the antagonist screamed, ragged and broken, hero winced, feeling a pang of guilt, he couldn’t help but feel responsible for this. He took two of the pills from the bottle and placed them in his palm, “Antagonist? Can you hear me? Hey, you in there?” he tried to keep his voice from shaking. 

“No, no please,” the antagonist choked out, “I don’t--can’t! Please! No more!” 

“We’re helping you okay? Can you take these for me?” Hero held the drugs up for the antagonist to hopefully see, but the antagonist didn’t seem to understand them. 

“Please,” they begged,“I can’t take it anymore.” 

Hero set his mouth grimly, taking the antagonist’s jaw in his hand he opened it gently, forcing the pills inside the antagonist's mouth despite the antagonist’s weak thrashing. Hero hoped that the antagonist wouldn’t choke, but they needed them to swallow those pills, they were delirious in their current state, too out of it to know that the heroes were helping them. 

The antagonist tired to spit out the medication, but hero clamped their hand over their mouth, they struggled violently for a moment, perhaps thinking they were being drugged by the people that hurt them, but they couldn’t keep it up for more than a few tense seconds, they didn’t have anything left. 

The antagonist swallowed the pills, sagging into themselves in both defeat and bone-deep exhaustion, when the leader started to gently wash their collection of wounds the intensity of the pain only helped to send them into unconsciousness. 

The antagonist passed out hurting and held down in a strange place by foreign hands that he didn’t have the strength to fight anymore. 

#HERO X VILLAIN #Whump #Villain whump #bleeding #Antagonist whump #Begging #delirious #forced medical help #team caretakers #exhaustion #prompt #writing prompt #whump prompt #captivity?

[toomuchponytail]

Prompt Fifty One:

“If you don’t let him go, I’m not responsible for what happens.” The gang leader leaned back, tucking his jacket back and showing off the guns on his belt, his face lit up from the red and green neon lights coming in from the bar across the street, he was almost pretty--and far too young to be here, he shouldn’t have known that this was going on at all. He was also far too young to have such cold cruelty in his eyes, he sneered, his palm coming to rest on the grip of one of the pistols. It was a gesture that said go ahead. 

The old one loosened his grip on the spear with the markings that kept shifting from blue to green and back again, he did not loosen his grip in the bleeding man’s hair, too much rode on this sacrifice, he didn’t savor it, but he knew his duty, no one would ever accuse him otherwise. 

The bloody man groaned, the old one noted with some distaste that he was coming around again, the gang leader had slowed him down, and he’d only had four hours to begin with, he could feel the plates in the earth groan beneath his feet, it was almost time. 

“You don’t know what you’re dealing with,” the old one spoke, it was a truthful statement, but one that sounded threatening, he tried to fix his inflection, “This has to happen boy, neither you nor I have the power to change it, it’s fate,” he spoke the word with such reverence that it seemed to echo in the empty shell of the burned out apartment building. 

The gang leader chuckled, but the old one could see that the dark in his eyes didn’t go all of the way through his soul, “I don’t believe in fate,” the gang leader raised the gun, and despite all of the blood, the sight of the battered man being held aloft by his own bloody hair, despite the weird staff that seemed to glow, and despite the old man dressed as a wizard, his hand didn’t tremble in the slightest. The last thought he had before the air in the room was replaced by trembling and the ground folded under their feet, the dark coming in like a presence, was that he figured his father would have been proud of him. 

That was when it started. 

#whump #gang leader #tw gun mention #threatening #beating #sacrifice #fate #prompt #writing prompt #whump prompt #Past trauma #magic? #Idk

[toomuchponytail]

Prompt Fifty:

“If this is where you want it to end so be it I guess,” the Antagonist makes a point of looking disinterested, hero is cradling their sidekick’s broken body, tears trickle down their face unchecked, they don’t even see the Antagonist. 

“It’s okay now,” They whisper almost hopefully to their too far gone sidekick, “It’s okay, you did good, you come home now with me.” 

The Antagonist rolls their eyes, and points their weapon at the hero, “He’s gone, and if we don’t move we’re going to be just as dead, The Villain likes to return to the scene of the crime, remember?” 

Hero doesn’t move, they are brushing dirt and blood off of sidekick’s face, making soft clucking sounds like a mother wiping off a dirty toddler, their mind is broken, they haven’t accepted that sidekick is gone. “Man, leader’s been so worried about you man, we’ve all been worried sick, we didn’t want something to--something to-something to have happened to you,” the end of the sentence hitches, hero freezes his gentle brushing, the tears come unbidden, to hero it feels like he’s breaking in to, he can’t breathe, hero buries his head in sidekick's chest, still for all the world. 

“You’ve got a choice to make here hero,” The antagonist drawls down to the sobbing hero, taking his head in his hands, hero doesn’t stop crying, not even to face his enemy, he doesn’t think that he can stop. 

The antagonist slapped him, hard and stinging across his face, the shock made hero gasp, the heaving sobs abating some due to shock, “Listen to me you fucking wimp!” The antagonist thundered, “You can’t do anything more for this sidekick, he’s fucking dead! But you have a choice to make here and now, one time offer! Let it all end here,” The antagonist makes his voice high and whiny, “The bravery, the heroism,” his voice drops back to a growling sneer, “All that shit you’ve been preaching that got your friend killed, or..” He crouched down closer to hero, his eyes growing rapturous, “Or, you join me, get a little old fashioned revenge and then for good measure I’ll let you in on a secret,” the antagonist smiled, looking a little mad, “Sidekick doesn’t have to die here, none of this has to happen this way, I can bring you right back here and change the way it goes down, sidekick lives!” 

Hero’s eyes were shining, he knew it had to be a trap, but one glance as sidekick’s pale and somehow empty form he knew he had to do it, he was desperate, “I’ll do it, whatever it takes,” he swallowed, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand, “if he lives I’ll do anything.” 

The antagonist smiled cruelly, “I know you will.” 

This was the place that it ended after all, for a person who’d dedicated his life to saving the world, hero’s decision in this very important moment was was started the end. 

Like grains of sand tumbling through an hourglass. 

You only have what you have what you have and then it’s over. 

Or not. 

Remains to be seen. 

#HERO X VILLAIN #Hero #whump #emotional whump #Villain #Join me #Hero corrupted #Sidekick death #maybe like interdepartmental travel? #Antagonist #The end #? #prompt #writing prompt #whump prompt

[toomuchponytail]

Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays! Thank you for writing for us and doing all that you do. Hope you have an amazing day!!

Ack! I’m sorry! Thanks for the holiday wishes Anon! I really appreciate them! I ended up taking December off due to personal reasons, and thus missed your cheery greeting! I just didn’t want you to think I was ignoring your kind message! (The world was ignoring me in December). Any who, thank you so much for enjoying my trash-stuff, I love creating it! :D 

I hope your day is a field of violets, soft and sweet and gentle, “you’ve been too hard on yourself,” the flowers whisper, “it’s time for you to be happy where you are now instead of looking towards tomorrow, ya’know?” they nod their heads as a warm summer breeze blows combs through them, “Don’t you think you’ve done enough?” 

They are right, you are worth something immeasurable even when you do nothing for other people. 

You are a field of blooming violets, daffodils, daisies, don’t let anyone treat you like you are not a field of flowers. 

Sending love and a floral scented breeze. Thanks again! :D 

[toomuchponytail]

Hello amazing writer! I was wondering if I could request a fic where the whumpee just cannot be broken, and in the end, defeat their captor? Thank you.

Oh, Anon I thought you’d never ask, (Also I cannot accept that title, but gosh almighty I’m flattered, thank you Anon, you’re way too good to me!)  I’m a huge sucker for this prompt, I feel like it’s a trope we really don’t see enough. Everyone wants broken characters who forget everything about themselves and suffer until that’s all they are anymore (Don’t get me wrong, I like that too sometimes) but man, oh, man I love a good unbreakable whumpee staring at the whumper and just going: “No.” 

To sum up because I got super long winded:

Me: Big sucker

You: Really exceptional at submitting prompts/requests

I hope you get to be as happy today as you made me by requesting this! (That means standing in a forest far from the city and your flashlight burnt out, marveling at all of the silent darkness gathering around you comfortingly like a cloak. 

You superb forest spirit you. Live your dreams. 

(Also this came out a tad darker than I expected, but never let it be said I’m all cotton candy clouds and sunbeams and never gunmetal and alleyway gravel, I am gunmetal flavored cotton candy clouds goshdarnit!)

Also long, so sorry! (If for any reason this isn’t what you envisioned I can scratch this and do it again but slightly to the left, just let me know!) 

He’d been at it for three weeks. 

When he’d agreed to take this job it had seemed easy enough, get the message runner to turn on their friends, and collect fifty G’s for their troubles, and an additional ten for every address that the messenger coughed up. 

He expected to be able to induce one hell of a case of pneumonia in the delivery boy.  

The Whumper was meticulous, he’d done his research, the messenger didn’t come from a violent background, he had a solid head on his shoulders, and was a little on the younger side, all of this made getting information easier. 

He’d been proved correct when they’d grabbed them on the street, at the first growled threat of starting to attack bystanders the messenger had hardened up, clenched their mouth in a firm line, (as if he couldn’t see their lower lip tremble) and come quietly. Idealists were very easy to deal with if you knew how to get to them. 

And of course the man did. Sometimes when he was between jobs he wondered if he should teach a class: Interrogation for the financially unstable and morally questionable. He’d make a shit ton of money too, nobody was better than him, he’d gotten hardcore family guys to break in just 16 hours, they’d cried and begged for forgiveness afterward, but he’d informed them rather helpfully that he wasn’t a priest and that they could shove it. In fact he’d never met anyone he couldn’t get to turn inside of a week, and that was hardened career criminals! 

At least he hadn’t until he’d taken the messenger.

The man had been interrogating and enforcing for all sorts of people for almost twenty years now, working with the Foresters for almost ten, he’d gotten good at ‘reading the room’ so to speak. He’d expected the ‘canary’ to start singing long before he’d even gotten him to the abandoned motel on the outskirts of town, he seemed the skittish types, he had figured it wouldn’t even progress into too much violence, let alone anything heavy. 

This delivery boy was just a kid after all, some idealistic fool that had picked the wrong side in this when the Foresters had taken over. No biggie. 

But he’d been wrong, so wrong, for the first time in his career, now looking at him, still tired pitifully to the chair, hanging against the zip ties that held him there, not even seeming to care that they bit viciously into his skin. In short the guy was wrecked, beaten repeatedly until his upper body was mainly one solid bruise, a rainbow of muddy painful color and swelling, beaten until his eyes swelled almost closed and teeth were knocked out, beaten bloody and senseless time and time again. 

And still he’d said nothing! 

He’d given no names other than his own which the man had already known and not cared about, to the man the messenger was a tool, an unwilling Swiss army knife that worked to make him money, but boy, that guy had to have some screws loose or something, the man had never had anyone last this long without breaking! 

He’d tried electricity then, jolting him until he convulsed without the aid of the rusty clamps. Until he went into shock and the man had had to take a break so that he didn’t kill him without getting what he’d wanted from him. 

When he’d come back from that place of panic the man had threatened him again with the electricity, knowing that he couldn’t use it again so soon but hoping for a chink in the armor, a ray of wicked hope…

“I’ll keep going until your skin sizzles off, tell me the names!” He’d struck him, making the chair wobble under the force of his blow, “You smell that burning? It’s you! You’re fried, dead already, so tell me the names! Where are your contacts?!” He’d screamed in his face, expecting tears and a final break through, that was what normally happened to him. 

But the messenger had smiled weakly up at him, his head only being held up by the man’s grip in his tangle of dirty dark hair, “If M’dead, th-then thanks, S’been a pl-pleasure,” the messenger had rasped back between shallow panting breathes, causing the man to let go of his hair with a sneer of disgust, the messenger’s head hung limply on his chest, “Dead m-men tell-tell n-no tales,” he’d gurgled through the blood in his mouth, choking and wheezing through his ground up lungs. 

This was when the man had decided to get serious, that has been five days ago, and other than bodily the delivery boy hadn’t broken at all. 

He’d broken his knees, his hands, bone by bone listening to him cry, and then the odd shell shocked silence accompanying each snap  for the other hand, he figured his boy had been though some trauma that hadn’t been in the file. At this point the man started to respect him, just a little, nothing crazy, he’d decided that when the time came and he’d gotten what he’d wanted,  he was going to kill the messenger cleanly and end his suffering the quick way, not his normal triple gut shot and then bounce routine he’d relied on for years.

If he broke that was. It was starting to seem doubtful. 

Finally, he’d caved and decided that it was today or never, his boy the messenger didn’t have many days left in him as it was, he’d taken his long Bowie knife and driven it through him and into the chair on the other side, the guy was too far out of it to do much more that gasp and shudder. 

“Tell me,” the man had said gently, cupping the messenger’s chin in his large bloody hand to lift it up, something the messenger had lost the strength to do more than a week ago, “Tell me and I’ll end it right now, no more hurting, Tell me and I’ll let you rest in peace.” 

The messenger didn’t respond, he continued to gasp for breath that didn’t seem to come, to the man it seemed like his messenger was emulating a fish left to die on a dock, so close to the water, so close he could smell it, but instead he’d chosen to dry drown. 

The messenger was looking him straight in the eye, for some reason this made the man uncomfortable, he’d killed several people in his days, in fact, he’d go so far as to say he’d killed a lot of people, women, men, no kids on purpose, but sometimes when you’re working with the Foresters you gotta fish or cut bait. 

And he’d always been a fishing man. 

But the way that this unbreakable delivery boy was looking him in the eyes while they could both hear his blood dripping onto the old mud caked carpet felt deeply wrong, and the man looked away before the messenger did, feeling not exactly guilt or empathy, but as close to it as he’d come in a great long time. 

The man was shaken, just enough to go out and smoke a few cigarettes until his hands stopped shaking. When he’d finished his third he decided that he was probably just hungry, maybe he needed to sleep, this kind of work took a lot out of a person, and he’d been at it a long time. 

Three weeks. 

Longer even than when he’d had to get Mal Gerring’s number from his favored son and lieutenant Paulie Gerring, that had been before the Foresters had taken over, crime had been better organized then, not on the books in your face like it was now,  but there had been something to admire about it. The romance of seedy hotels and driving his beat up car around the country, listening to regional radio and chain smoking, taking body parts back to waring mob families… Now he had a nice car that had cost more than his first house, but the job hadn’t changed–it never did, just the people paying changed. 

He sighed in nostalgia as he watched the sky darken, Paulie had only lasted five days. Message boy had him beat by two weeks. Maybe no more after this, maybe the messenger was his last, maybe he’d teach that class to other guys the Forester’s wanted to hire, working for the government had a lot of benefits–especially for the morally questionable. 

The man shook his head, if he hadn’t been busy reminiscing, if he hadn’t been so sure that he was the best, he might have heard the stood creak, he’d untied the messenger days ago, he hadn’t thought he’d been able to move if he could barely hold his head up, plus with the mangled hands he didn’t think he’d be able to do much harm. 

For the second time in his long and questionably successful life the man was wrong. 

Before he realized what was happening there was a sharp pain in the men’s temple, a crushing thunk that faded almost immediately to darkness, he didn’t even have the time to groan before he lost consciousness and slipped into the inevitable. 

Standing, or rather, sort of hunched over kind of holding himself up on the raining and swaying violently over him the messenger dropped his weapon, it was the handle of the Bowie knife he’d had to pull it out by degrees, stopping every time his eyesight started to darken, he clutched a hand over his dark wound and staggered over to his would-be murderer’s collapsed body, he raked numb broken fingers over pockets, searching until he found what he was looking for: the small black burner phone that the man had taken from him when he’d first gotten here. 

Phone cradled in broken hands he slumped to the porch, mostly laying on the stoop, he didn’t have long now, every movement was white hot and unsteady, to say that he hurt would be an understatement, but he still had a job to do, he was a messenger after all. 

He carefully dialed the number, pushing the buttons almost make him pass out, he kept whiting out with pain as the broken bones in his hands shifted, he cried out as he did it, not allowing himself the mercy of stopping now. 

Finally, after long agony filled minutes he pushed send, thank god for the universal cell towers! thank god for jamming software! the phone rang, he laid his head down on the stoop, fighting to keep his eyes open. 

It rang again, a droning buzz in his ringing ears. 

Please. 

It buzzed. 

Please pick it up! God, he’s so tired. 

It rang again, his heart sunk into his stomach, he knew that he wouldn’t be able to dial another time, he was already more out of it than he should be, this was it. 

It rang once more, he figured he’s have to leave the message on the voice mail, he knew that wasn’t allowed, too many people died that way, but then again, he wouldn’t be around for the higher-ups to yell at him. 

“Hello?” 

God bless her. 

“Nez,” he rasped, surprised to feel a lump of tears forming in his throat, he figured hearing a friendly voice after so much was making him sort of sentimental. 

“Shit! What happened to you? We’ve been so worried!” 

The messenger ignored her, he didn’t have enough energy to explain, “Nez, four-ten Walnut, lots of kids there, you’ve still got some time, bring Ralphie, the combo is 6899437, got it?” 

When Nez speaks again she’s quiet, it’s almost intimate like she’s whispering in his ear, “Where are you?” There is horror in her voice sure, but also hope, Nez hasn’t grasped yet that hope can kill you. 

“Last one Nez, I’m going dark,” he croaked, his eyes slipping shut, he focused on the voice at the other end of the line. 

“Oh Fuck, We’ll track you! We’re coming! Just don’t hang up! Please! Don’t hang up!” 

The messenger assumes Nes says more but he can’t decipher it, message delivered he sinks below into the dark. 

#Whump #tw gore #tw broken bones #whumpee #whumper #Messenger #broken hands #broken knees #stabbed #I guess not a prompt? #huh #weird #drabble #unbreakable #OC?'s #I'm sorry