tiredtreebranch1

[tiredtreebranch1]

The Scientist?

“Sometimes it feels like everything I know is weighing me down.”

The hero glanced up at the scientist. This was the first time they had heard them speak since the hero had ‘saved’ them from the villain’s lair. They waited to see if the scientist would continue.

“It’s something they don’t tell you about pursuing knowledge. The more you get the heavier it weighs on you.”

The hero nodded slowly.

“And it’s not even the morality of what I know, that doesn’t bother me. At least I don’t think so. It’s the simple things I don’t want to let go. Everything from before now, before the turn to villainy. Things from high school.”

The scientist had the hero’s full attention now. They weren’t sure where the scientist was going but they wanted to find out.

“I used to be obsessed with history,” the hero’s eyes widened, and they added, “surprising, I know.”

“Really?” The hero couldn't help but ask. Everyone knew the scientist as the evil genius behind all the villain’s technology and poisons.

“Yes. Historical knowledge is the hardest for me to give up. I know everything from the inception of farming to the pyramids to the Russian revolution till now. There’s just something so intriguing about it all that I cannot bear to give it up.”

The scientist took a breath. They paused for a few seconds contemplating. They slowly began again, as if unsure whether to continue.

“I feel guilty from time to time that I’m not devoting my whole mind to the sciences, that I waste space with silly wars and ancient farming techniques. Do you know Sherlock Holmes? I’m sure you do.”

The hero nodded.

“I envy the man. His detachment from any unnecessary knowledge is astounding. I just can’t seem to do it, I’ve tried. Holmes is a detective first and foremost. The problem is that I’m not a scientist. I know you all see me as one.”

The hero looked at them questioningly. They were a scientist. It was their whole thing.

“Of course you do, I can’t blame you for that.”

The scientist paused, their bones seemed to turn to lead, weighing their shoulders down and forcing their eyes to stare gloomily at the floor.

The hero took a gamble, “tell me why you aren’t a scientist.”

The scientist looked up at the hero, “why?”

“Why not?”

The scientist seemed to consider it. They sat up straighter and made eye contact with the hero.

“I’m not a scientist because that’s not the only thing that I am. It’s like how you’re not a hero. Just because that’s something I do doesn’t mean it’s all I am. You can say it for anyone. The villain isn’t a villain. The sidekick isn’t a sidekick. I’m a history nerd and I love to cook. You’re a reader or a baker or a whatever. You’re not just what everyone says you are.”

The hero stared at them. They’d always been The Hero.

“It’s something everyone seems to forget and endeavours to make you feel guilty over when you do remember,” the history nerd said.

“I can’t remember the last time someone cared about anything but my science brain,” the cook admitted.

The hero sat there in stunned silence.

“Maybe you don’t understand but I think you should. Just because you’ve saved all the people that you gave doesn’t mean that’s what you have to make your whole identity.”

The person sighed and looked away when the hero gave them a blank stare. A bone deep disappointment appeared to fill them. As if this was something they’d become so accustomed to that they couldn’t bring themselves to be surprised by The Hero’s lack of understanding.

The air grew stagnant again.

“I like knitting,” the knitter whispered into the thick silence.

The history lover looked up and smiled.

[tiredtreebranch1]

I'm Sorry

The cold metal held against their head sends shivers down their spine. They try their best to squash down their body’s natural response to the situation. Despite that they find their body shaking roughly as they kneel on the damp concrete floor. The shadows that envelope the rest of the room swirl around the single light swinging from the ceiling. Their mind races at the possibilities hidden in those dark corners. From torture tools to monsters. But really the freezing promise shoved on their skull trumps all other worries. They feel a sob crawl up their throat despite their best efforts.

“Hero,” the looming presence behind them shushes them.

The Hero clenches their eyes shut, a silent sob wracking their body. This was how their life is to end? What about the blaze of glory promised to them?

They flinch heavily as they feel cold fingers wrap around the nape of their neck. They whimper as the presence slowly runs their fingers through their hair.

“It’s okay, Hero. It will all be okay.”

Hero chokes in disbelief.

As the presence, the villain, continues their soft, reassuring touches the hero feels worse and worse. They feel their small amount of remaining resolve cracking. Their will to live overpowering their will to stay strong, to embody the hero they show the public. They slump onto their knees.

“Please,” they beg softly.

“I’m sorry,” is all they get in response.

And as they sob quietly, they feel the villain remove their hand from their hair.

“I’m sorry.”

The loudest explosion they have ever heard rings through their ears before sharp and quick pain sears through their skull.

Then.

Nothing.

[tiredtreebranch1]

Everything Else

Moments in life #1

Roses

A Meadow Full of Skulls

Fault?

♫ It's The End of The World As We Know It ♫

Nice???? Creative??? Compliment

Just a sentence I wrote

Poison Killed The Cat

[tiredtreebranch1]

Villain and Hero stories

Not specifically just villain and hero stories but from that kind of world

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Forgiveness (Hero and Villian)

Oh, What Alcohol Can Reveal (Hero x Villain)

Prompt Response (Supervillain/Villain)

God, This Dagger Hurts pt.2 (Heros's Sidekick and Villain)

Why, Oh Why is Your Warmth So Enticing? (Hero x Villain)

If I Asked You Not To Leave, Would You Stay? (Hero's son and Hero)

I'm Sorry (Hero and Villian)

The Scientist? (Hero and Scientist)

[tiredtreebranch1]

Prompts

Prompt #1

Prompt #2

Prompt #3

Prompt #4

Prmpt #5

Prompt #6

[tiredtreebranch1]

MASTERLIST (:

Finally decided to do this.

Here you can easily read everything I've posted.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Prompts

Villain and Hero Type Stories

Everything else

[tiredtreebranch1]

If I Asked You Not To Leave, Would You Stay?

Jacob hated school. And he hated the alarm that woke him up for it even more. It haunted his dreams, awakening him at exactly 7:00 am every weekday.

He aggressively smashed the button on the phone to silence the alarm. In the sweet quiet afterwards he laid for a few minutes before convincing himself to roll out of bed.

He slipped on a jumper and trudged out of his room and down the hall.

In the kitchen he came across a note on the bench. It read “got called into work. See you after school. Love you, Dad.”

Lately his dad was constantly being called into work. Unfortunately due to the nature of his job he was unable to simply refuse. The villains and monsters of the city weren’t going to wait for him to have breakfast with his son.

He poured himself a bowl of cereal, lazily eating it while scrolling through his phone. He half registered what posts he saw, dog, dance, meme, hero’s, dad, stand up, llama, draw-.

Suddenly he registered that he had seen his dad and quickly scrolled back. It was a video posted an hour ago titled; Electric Phoenix pummelled by city’s villains. It was of his father fighting a horde of the most infamous villains in the city. All by himself.

Quickly Jacob searched up the fight and found a livestream.

“Ooo. That looked like it hurt,” came the voice of the person recording.

His dad was surrounded, attacks coming with ferocity from all sides.

He looked on the verge of collapsing. Barely holding himself against his enemies.

Electricity thrummed visibly around him, close to losing control and attacking everything nearby.

Jacob needed to help.

As quick as he could he changed into black pants and a tight shirt that wouldn’t snag on anything. Next he needed to find a mask.

Running to his Dad’s room he punched the code into the pad hidden in the back of his Dad’s wardrobe. A door slid open and Jacob stepped into the elevator. The doors closed and the elevator dropped. The doors opened to the sight of his Dad’s secret base.

Without thinking he headed to the drawers and started searching through for a spare mask. There had to be one somewhere!

Just as he was giving up hope and debating whether or not to just go he spotted a black mask lined with a bright red peeking out from under a pile of documents. He grabbed it and ran to the elevator.

In seconds he was out of the house running down the street. He pulled up the livestream again, looking for a sign or something to tell where his Dad was.

He didn’t recognise anything.

Keeping it open he kept running.

Suddenly a burst of fire exploded over the buildings in front of Jacob. He was close but he needed to hurry.

Jacob quickly skidded around the corner and came face to face with a sight that would haunt him for forever.

His Dad was kneeled on the ground, a protective shield of electricity wavering over his huddled form. He was covered in wounds and looked like death was trying to coerce him out of the world.

The city’s villains sent attack after attack at the shield, yelling taunts and laughing maniacally.

Jacob steeled himself and ran at the nearest one. He didn’t know what he was going to do but he’d be damned if he didn’t try.

He jumped on the back of the villain, bringing them down out of pure surprise.

As soon as they recovered they grabbed him and chucked him to the ground. They went to stomp on him but he quickly rolled and stood.

When looking into the face of someone who he knew wasn’t going to hesitate to hurt him he wavered. In a split second decision he turned and ran. To the middle of the fight.

To his Dad.

He slipped in and out between villains and beams and levitations bricks. He went unnoticed until the villain from earlier called out.

“Stop that kid!”

And in a blink of an eye every villain had turned to Jacob.

“Damn” he muttered.

Despite the city’s strongest villains staring him down and slowly turning their powers on him he kept running.

He saw his Dad look up when he realised he wasn’t being attacked anymore. He saw as his Dad’s eyes widened at the sight of him. Saw his mouth open as he yelled at him to leave. But he didn’t stop. He needed to save his Dad. He couldn’t let him die.

And then the first hit struck him. A beam to the back sent him sprawling into the concrete. He quickly recovered and kept running. He was so close. More attacks came, some grazing him and some hitting him head on.

He kept running for as long as he could but eventually the attacks became too much and he collapsed.

He heard the sizzle of electricity and looked up to find his father standing over him, electricity running through his every cell, spilling over the edges.

And with renewed energy his Dad began to fight again. Beating back any villain who dared get too close.

Electricity shocked every Villain that dared get near. Dared to get near his son. Deep exhaustion was nothing compared with the intrinsic need to protect.

Jacob rose unsteadily to his feet. He needed to figure out how to help.

“You need to leave when I give you the chance,” came his Dad’s serious voice, gruff from the exertion of pushing himself.

“What? No way!”

“This isn’t up for debate!”

“Well it’s not happening. I will not leave you to die! I can’t lose you as well as Mum!”

“And I can’t let you die like I let her,” his Dad said loudly over the sizzle of electricity, but soft with pain.

Jacob stared at his Dad, watching as bolts of electricity fizzled out too quickly. He was slowly faltering. Knees buckling and arms shaking.

Before he could help everything was over.

Instantaneously everything in his Dad collapsed and he dropped to the ground.

“NO,” Jacob distantly heard himself scream.

The villains converged on them. Someone grabbed his arm, pulling him away.

“You need to get away,” the someone whispered to him.

Looking up he realised it was his Dad’s nemesis. He wrenched his arm away and sprinted back to his dad.

“Come back!”

He pulled and pushed at the villains, trying to get them away from the only person he had left. He wouldn’t let this stupid job take another if his parents.

The villains shoved him back but he refused to let them take his Dad. Eventually one grabbed him and shoved him to the ground.

“Stay down.”

He rose and went to punch them.

They caught his wrist mid swing and swiftly stabbed him in the side, leaving the dagger and him to crumble to the ground.

He dazedly looked around. Through the villain’s legs he could see his Dad. He needed to get up but his body was slowly losing its ability to move, his wounds and exhaustion taking control. He saw his Dad roll. Their eyes locked and all his Dad did was look at him fondly. In this moment full of terror and pain his Dad just looked like he wanted to hug him. His Dad mouthed something at him. Jacob scrunched his face up in confusion. His Dad did it again and again until finally Jacob realised what he was trying to say.

I love you.

“I love you too,” Jacob whispered almost silently.

And with that the whole world exploded.

A wave of electricity sent him and the villains back and away from his Dad. He felt himself flying into a wall and saw other Villains flying away.

His Dad had sacrificed himself for him.

His head felt hazy and he couldn't keep his eyes open.

He had lost his Dad.

———

When Jacob came to, he discovered he had been thrown by the blast into a dark alleyway. He was covered in scrapes, cuts and burns from the blast and onslaught of attacks from however long ago. The dagger from however long ago was still embedded in his left side. He clutched into it hoping to keep it in and prevent blood loss. Pain seared through him anytime he moved so he stayed still.

His hands were slowly being drenched in blood from where he clutched to the wound.

His cries of pain slowly turned into small sobs. All the energy and adrenaline drained out of him, leaving him with puffy eyes and a dull throb from his side.

He sat with his head leaned against the alley wall and legs splayed out across the cold concrete floor. His legs and limbs were starting to go numb with the cold and lack of blood.

He couldn’t believe that his dad was gone. Actually gone. Not coming back. Never able to say goodnight to him again. Never able to make fun of stupid shows with him. Never able to make his super secret recipes. Never able to smile or laugh again.

Pushing down the new welling of tears he turned his attention back to his situation. He had no idea what to do other than to not pull the knife out. And that was just because of books and movies. He had no way to stitch himself up and he thought he might actually die if he had to do that. Not that he’s not going to die anyway. Walking wasn’t an option as he felt close to passing out and his legs didn’t seem to work.

With a groan he shifted slightly. His lower back was starting to hurt from the odd and rigid position. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the wall.

Just as he was beginning to fall into the darkness he felt someone grip his shoulder.

Jacob begrudgingly opened his eyes to see a shadowy figure crouched in front of him.

“You’re going to be okay,” a voice he recognised from somewhere assured him.

He just sleepily looked at the person.

“I’ll get you to the hospital,” they said as they moved closer to Jacob.

He struggled to remember where he had heard that voice before. It was familiar.

Jacob was slowly embracing the dark once more as he distantly registered being lifted in the air.

“Come on,” abruptly he realised it was the villain that had tried to drag him away from the fight earlier, his Dad’s nemesis.

His head lolled back onto a shoulder and his eyes slowly slipped closed despite the presence of the enemy holding him.

“You’ll be okay.”

———

On the 21st of May at Mount Tamunnal Cemetery there was a total of two funerals.

Two gravestones.

Two holes in the ground.

Two caskets.

One body.

One funeral seemed to have the whole city attending it. Everyone wanted to mourn and say goodbye to their hero. Thousands of people filled one end of the cemetery. Thousands of flowers laid on a closed casket that stood next to the grave amongst those of other fallen heroes.

The other gave host to two people.

A son who mourned his father with a stoic expression and suppressed tears.

And a nemesis who mourned the loss of an old friend.

Both caskets were lowered into their graves at exactly 12:30 pm. Simultaneously burying the idea of the hero and the man behind the facade.

As the crowd slowly dispersed two were left standing a little apart in front of a pair of graves. Graves marked with the real names of hero’s that everyone else knew only by mask.

“You’re dad was my oldest friend,” the taller man swathed in black said softly.

“You weren’t his friend. He hated you,” Jacob said with a glare at the ground, unable to look at the man who let his father die, “you murdered, burned and destroyed everything you could find and he had to abandon everything everytime you got a new idea in your twisted head on how to ruin everyone’s day.”

“And yet despite all of that I was never his enemy.”

Jacob ducked his head.

“Not really.”

With that the man turned away and left Jacob to his grief.

Left him to pick up the pieces of his destroyed life. To take up the mantle of the hero.

[tiredtreebranch1]

Poison Killed The Cat

Poison no.24 he read. The vial only sat on the second shelf. Hundreds of small crystal vials filled with different coloured liquids were meticulously arranged in the towering cupboard. Each one had a neat label either numbering them or naming the known ones; cyanide, hemlock, belladonna, and less known ones; strychnine, curare. The cupboard was ostentatiously labelled ‘POISON’. He had been looking for the bathroom when he had glanced at the cupboard through an ajar door. How could he not be interested in such a beautiful dangling carrot. He didn’t care that any normal person would have run. Run and left this house. But instead, he had slipped into the room and cautiously opened the door to the cupboard.

Now as he stood their beholding the terrifying (but impressive) sight. He didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t reasonably return to dinner with an obvious psycho, but he doubted he had it in him to confront the host. He could possibly call the police. But was it safe to do so inside the house? Maybe he should just backtrack to the common sense he had ignored earlier. The instinct that when you see something so obviously dangerous that you should run. Activate the flight response. He didn’t even have a fight response he was just curious. He was a cat, and he was about to be killed.

But yes, he would sneak out. It was the best option. As slowly as he could he closed the cupboard door, keeping an ear out in case he heard any footsteps.

“Adam, Adam, Adam,” came a mockingly disappointed voice from behind him. He whirled around, wincing as the cupboard door closed the rest of the way with a slam.

Standing in the doorway was the host of the night. Henry.

Adam tried to take up a defensive position, straightening his back and throwing back his shoulders.

“What are you doing in here? The bathroom is further down the hall,” Henry said with a further mocking undertone to his words. Adam felt like a fly stuck in a web with a taunting spider.

“Well, I was, uhm,” Adam scrambled for an excuse, “I was looking in here to see if this was it and noticed that the cupboard,” he gestured behind him, “was open and I figured that you probably didn’t want it to be, so I came in to close it,” he ended with a gasp for air.

“Oh, isn’t that odd? I would swear that I closed it last time I was in here,” Henry said with fake confusion as he strode closer.

“Yea. That is odd,” Adam said carefully as he started to edge his way away from what would end with him in his coffin.

Henry nodded emphatically, “just so I know, how much did you happen to see?”

He said it in a way that conveyed genuine curiosity, but his gaze conveyed a threat.

“Barely anything, almost as if it was empty,” Adam forced out a laugh and glanced at the door.

“Right, right,” Henry paused where he stood with his arms crossed over his chest as if he was considering something.

Adam took this as the perfect opportunity to make a dash for the door.

Quicker than Adam had expected, Henry had stepped back into the open door and closed it with his back.

“Tsk, tsk. Come on, you must know that by now I can’t let you leave.”

With a click of a lock Henry looked Adam in the eye and spread his mouth into a malicious smile.

“I can’t have you spilling my little secret, can I?”

Adam shook his head, not really in answer to the man, he was just shaking all over.

“I knew you’d get it!” Henry said gleefully as he stalked forwards.

Adam stumbled backwards, “I promise I won’t tell anyone!”

“Of course you won’t,” Henry pulled out a chair from the side of the room. It clanged against the cold stone floor as he placed it right in the middle of the room.

“Sit.”

Adam took a step back and away from the shadowed chair, “why?”

“Well, we have to make sure you keep your promise, don’t we?”

The rest of the night was a blur.

[tiredtreebranch1]

Just a sentence I wrote

They had never been one for dramatics but it seemd the occasion called for it.

[tiredtreebranch1]

Why, Oh Why is Your Warmth So Enticing?

Hero sat in the middle of their cell. All four walls were made of bars and then another four walls of fortified concrete stood a metre away. Behind that were guards upon guards. And then Villain.

Hero had been sitting here for an unknown amount of days contemplating. Scheming. Waiting. Their mind was just on the edge of grasping an escape plan.

They had been sitting here for days and their legs were starting to hurt. They hadn’t eaten, they hadn’t been given anything to eat. They hadn’t slept. They were asleep while conscious. Their gaze was glazed over, eyes open but unseeing. They could feel the coldness of the floor but nothing else. No sound. No smell. Nothing.

They wondered if they had been left here to rot. They had never been kidnapped before, so they weren’t sure how this all worked. They had thought they would be tortured or at least hit. They had just been drugged then tossed into this room to wake up. Their only bruise was from the supposed tossing.

A faint whirring buzzed through the room. Something that wouldn’t have been noticed if even the air had been moving. Hero ignored it in favour of believing it was just their imagination. They were finally going crazy. Good. This imprisonment would get a lot more interesting.

The whirring stopped and the room was once again left in silence. Hero mourned the sound.

Next came footsteps though. Something churned languidly in Hero’s mind. Footsteps? Didn’t something usually make those?

Next came the whispers, the mumbling. Like something was being said but Hero just couldn’t understand. Like they were just waking up.

Finally came the touch. Something other than the cold graced their skin. A warmth wrapped around their bicep. Their empty consciousness leaned into the warmth. They hummed lightly. The warmth spread to their face. Their jaw felt like it was glowing. Their cheek. Their temple, their forehead.

“Hero.”

A sound broke through the whispers and silence. It was different. Clearer.

“Hero. Look at me.”

Look? Their eyes no longer saw though.

A breath of air flowed across their face. A ruffling. A coolness joined the breath against their lips. They pulled back. Why had the warmth left?

After some time of Hero cringing away from the coolness the warmth returned to their jaw. The coolness was back on their lips, but the warmth didn’t leave this time. The cold spread into their mouth. They had forgotten they had one.

Hero frowned. What was going on? More cold spread into their mouth as the cold wet their throat.

The coolness pulled away.

“Alright,” came a whisper.

Hero’s frown deepened. Their brain squirmed. They were missing something, they think. Some crucial bit of information. Their mind stumbled and tried to right itself.

The warmth reached their head. A light brush through their hair.

“Come on, Hero. Focus for me.”

Hero found that they wanted to focus. They wanted to know where the voice was coming from. Wanted to find the warmth.

They tried their best to concentrate as the warmth stroked through their hair. As nails ran softly across their scalp.

They scrunched up their face when they became aware of a pounding headache. They squinted their eyes against the brightness of the room. They watched as shiny metal bars and white walls came into focus. They groaned when they realised how badly their body ached. They needed some strong painkillers.

“Are you back with the living?” Came a voice from behind them.

Hero jolted and immediately regretted it. Moving made everything so much worse. Warm arms pulled them back and fingers trailed back to their head.

They were sitting in someone’s lap.

When did that happen?

“Do you want more water?”

Hero nodded and closed their eyes against the pain. They would figure out who it was once they could move without dying.

A glass was touched to their lips, and they opened their eyes. They went to grab the glass with shaky hands, but the glass was pulled back.

“I don’t want you dropping it. Just drink,” the cup returned to their lips.

They huffed but opened their mouth to let the water in. They essentially chugged the rest of the water, there was not enough in their opinion.

“I don’t have any food, but we can sort that out in a bit,” the voice said as they pulled the cup away.

Right, the voice. Hero had to figure out who it was. Nothing moved behind them but they could feel the chest of whoever it was they were snuggled up to. Their hand continued to run through Hero’s hair, something Hero realised they had melted into a long time ago. The voice’s other hand now rested on Hero’s waist. Who could this be? Hero highly doubted it was any of the guards, they would get in a lot of trouble for doing this. It definitely wasn’t any of the Hero’s team because they would have gotten Hero out first before trying to revive them. That really only left one person.

It couldn’t be.

Hero took a deep breath, “Villain?”

The syllables raked their way out of Hero’s voice. They were sure that their attempt was more croaking than any actual words, but the person seemed to understand.

“Yes?”

Hero jerked forwards but Villain’s arm held firm around their waist. Hero was a lot weaker than they had anticipated, usually they would be able to easily pull away from just one arm. It was kind of pathetic that they couldn’t.

“Don’t move. You need to rest,” the hand that had stopped when Hero tried to move resumed brushing through Hero’s hair. The bastard definitely knew that it was making Hero turn into a puddle.

They needed to stop this.

“Because you left me to starve in a room!” Hero cried, indignant.

“Hush, you’ve only been in here for a few days. You’ll just feel a bit gross for a while, but you’ll be fine,” Villain chastised as if Hero was overreacting.

“A few days too many,” Hero said, disgruntled by Villain’s flippant attitude towards leaving people in rooms to starve.

Hero felt Villain’s chuckle reverberate through their back.

They sat there in silence. Hero tried to work past their groggy mind to figure out what they were supposed to be doing. Villain still combed through Hero’s hair delicately. Hero hated that they loved it. Villain’s fingers send the occasional shiver down their spine when they reach the nape of their neck. Their other hand still rested firmly on Hero’s hip, another thing Hero hated that they didn’t seem to mind. They hated that despite being fully lucid they still leaned into the warmth that rolled off of Villain. This was dangerous.

“Well,” Villain runs their hand down the back of Hero’s head, Hero shivered and scolded themself for it. Villain dropped the hand from Hero’s head to Hero’s waist where it tightened along with the other hand. Hero felt themself being lifted off of Villain and cried out in surprise. Once Hero had been situated back onto the floor Villain stood gracefully and grinned down at Hero.

“I better get you some food,” Villain smirked, at how frazzled Hero looked at the sudden loss of comfort.

With a whirl and a clank the bars and concrete door opened to let the striding Villain out.

The door slowly closed again, leaving the Hero once again trapped in solitary.

They hated that they missed Villain and their warmth already.

[tiredtreebranch1]

Prompt #6

They wouldn't leave and yet they couldn't stay. They had to protect it, but it would mean their death. But if they didn't protect it everyone else would die.

So they stayed. Their life was nothing agaisnt the life of everyone. They wouldn't be ashamed to give up their life for this.

[tiredtreebranch1]

Prompt #5

Staying in one body was never their thing. They weren't a settler. They always got bored eventually. Eventually they ran out of new things to do with the body. So they disposed of it and went searching for a new one. One to do it all over gain with.

[tiredtreebranch1]

Prompt #4

"You're not like us! You're weird and unusual! You're not normal!" yelled the crowd at them.

"But why would I want to be normal? Especially when normal is you."

[tiredtreebranch1]

Prompt #3

"Will you be okay?" she asked as they walked from their past.

"Eventually, I guess, but probably never fully," she replied, hooking her arm through theirs,"but all I can do is try."

[tiredtreebranch1]

Prompt #2

Life would never be the same they told them. But that confused her because life never stayed the same. every second it changed. Adapted. Crumbled then built itself up again. Life would never be the same but life never liked to be.

[tiredtreebranch1]

I read this in Jim Moriarty’s voice before realising that this actually wasn’t a quote from Sherlock

#122

“All these endings are so bo~ring… just the same old show of heroes and villains. All these plots just keep happening! So… why don’t I introduce something new~?”

[tiredtreebranch1]

God, This Dagger Hurts (Pt.2)

Two people asked for a part two and that's more than enough for me to have reason to write it.

Enjoy!

Part 1

~~~~~~

Sidekick tried to steady their breaths. They felt like their lungs were trying to escape their chest aided by their heart hammering a hole through their ribs. Or maybe they could escape together through the hole in their side.

As sidekick breathed in deep, they felt the stitches in their side pull. They held their breath and closed their eyes.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four. They felt the stitches ease as they slowly released the trapped air from their lungs.

God, they might throw up.

They had been lying in this hospital bed for a full day now and along with going stir crazy they also had to deal with the constant anxiety. But they couldn’t let their guard down. They needed to stay alert. Just in case Villain tried something.

This was thought despite the fact that Villain had shown no aggression to Sidekick. Villain had not so much as threatened Sidekick since they had found them in that alleyway. It was kind of weird considering how much Sidekick had been warned of them.

That being said they hadn’t actually seen Villain since they had been handed off to Medic to stop the bleeding.

Sidekick breathed in again, repeating the calming method they had been taught. Breath in for five, hold for four, out for six.

As they breathed out, they opened their eyes. They relaxed further into their hospital bed and looked up.

Right into the eyes of Villain.

Sidekick yelped and jumped with surprise, “what the hell! When did you get here?”

Villain grinned, obviously amused.

“Only a minute or so. Didn’t you hear me?”

“No!” The anxiety that had been simmering within Sidekick turned up to a boil.

“That’s alright,” Villain said and sat down in the armchair next to Sidekick’s bed.

Sidekick stared at Villain. Villain gazed back while making themselves comfortable in the chair.

When Sidekick couldn’t handle the silence any longer, they spoke up, “why are you here?”

“Because this is my base?” Villain said, tilting their head.

Sidekick sighed internally at Villain’s innocent act, “why are you in this room?”

“Am I not allowed to see how my nemesis’ sidekick is recovering?”

“The fact in itself that you're letting me recover is weird enough. Let alone the fact that you're interested in how I’m doing it,” Sidekick said truthfully. This non-threatening side of Villain was confusing.

Villain chuckled, “yes, I suppose it is.”

Sidekick started at Villain both annoyed with Villain’s evasive answers and wary of where this was all going.

Villain sighed and held steady eye contact with Sidekick, “you’ve done nothing wrong so why would I hold the actions of your employer against you? As far as I’m concerned, you’re just some kid I found in an alleyway who would have bled to death had I not helped.”

“But you’re the villain! It’s not supposed to matter either way! You’re not supposed to be helpful and kind and going around patching up random kids!” Sidekick cried, they didn’t like this.

“Not everything’s so black and white Sidekick. Just because I’m the Villain in your story doesn’t mean I am in everyone’s.”

Sidekick stared bewildered at Villain. They didn’t want it to be complicated. They needed clear lines they could draw in the sand and say “if you’re past here then I am allowed to not like you”. They needed Villain to be a monster so they could destroy them without feeling bad.

Villain shoulders slumped in disappointment, “I know that it might not make sense with everything you have experienced, and everything you’ve seen Hero experience. But just because you and the ‘Hero’ Agency,” they held up air quotes here and almost spat the name, “have labelled me as a monster does not mean I am.”

When no coherent response came from Sidekick Villain stood with a bone deep sigh.

“I just hope one day you will realise you’re not necessarily fighting for the good side,” and with that ‘Villain’ left.

Sidekick didn’t see them for the rest of their stay.

---

Two days later Sidekick awoke in their own bed. They had no recollection of how they got there, only remembering falling asleep the night before.

They were left with no note, only new bandages around their mid-section and painkillers bathed in the morning sun on their bedside table.

They heard ‘Hero’ clamber up the stairs and they turned over in their bed.

God, that dagger had fucked them over.