l1ttlenightmare1

[l1ttlenightmare1]

Hey sorry I think I asked in the wrong place (I am new to tumblr, sorry :) ) but I was wondering if you could write about a hero fighting a villain past the point of exhaustion because they want to hurt/punish themselves and the villain notices and tries to get them to stop? (Also very sorry about submitting it to the wrong area, I love your writing so much)

"Hey, we're not done!" The hero shoved the villain in the back.

The villain turned.

The hero moved to shove them again, heart beating wildly, and the villain pushed back. Hard. The hero's spine hit the wall and the villain followed, punching hard enough that the hero's ears rang sweetly. The villain moved to hit again.

Maybe it was the hitch of their breath that gave the hero away. The way their eyelids fluttered. The fact that they didn't try and lift a hand to defend themselves.

The villain paused.

The hero panted, dull pain throbbing through their body, head spinning where it rested against the cool brick wall. They were, by their own assessment, a few good hits away from merciful oblivion.

They twisted their lips into a cocky, goading smirk. Blood-flecked and bruised.

The villain's eyes were dark like an oil slick in the dim light. They lowered their fist.

"What's the matter, coward?" the hero asked. "Had enough already?"

"You want this," the villain said.

The hero was somehow not prepared for the villain to notice, let alone to acknowledge it. It was excruciating to hear it out loud. None of the others had noticed.

The fingers of the villain's other hand untangled from the front of the hero's shirt, moving to their throat as the hero's knees nearly buckled. It steadied them.

The hero opened their mouth to protest that they wanted to stop the villain, yeah, but the villain squeezed. The words turned to a desperate wheeze. The want, the need, an ugly festering wound.

"Jesus," the villain said. With regret. With something. "Why?"

"Sod off." They batted at the villain's hands. "If you're not going to fight me-"

"-This isn't a fight. It's just a beating when you're that exhausted."

The hero's face flushed. "I'm fine."

The villain yanked them, suddenly, unbearably, to the light. The lamppost illuminated the shadows under the hero's eyes, no doubt, with unforgivable clarity.

"H-hey-" the hero protested.

The villain's gaze raked over them. It seemed to see everything. The hero wanted to scuttle back into the dark, into the violence, like a cockroach.

"Why?" the villain asked again.

"You're being really weird about this..."

"And you want me to hit you again. Tell me why."

"Why do you care?!"

"Do you think you deserve this?"

The hero flinched.

The villain nodded, just once, like that confirmed something. "Some of that is older than me." They found a bruise on the hero's wrist and pressed down, making the hero gasp. "I'd give this about a week? What happened a week ago?"

The hero wrenched back. They were effective enough to slip free of the villain's grip, but not so effective that they didn't stumble and land on their ass in the gutter.

The villain's head tilted, studying them.

"Stop looking at me," the hero snarled.

"Stop trying to fight me just to hurt yourself."

"Fine!"

"Fine." The villain turned away. Then, they turned back. Their jaw worked.

The hero pushed, wobbly and frazzled and aching, to their feet. The villain steadied them. The hero glared. The villain seemed unfazed.

"I'll hit you," they said, "if that's what you need. But not like this. This is - reckless."

"What?"

They weren't sure where to start unpicking that. The fact that it almost sounded like the villain was concerned, trying to help, or why this in the grand scheme of everything was what the villain had decided was reckless.

"You can't just go goading people into trying to kill you." The villain's voice was measured. "But if you were going to stop just because I told you to, you probably wouldn't be trying to get your arse kicked in the first place. So next time you want that, come to me. We'll figure it out."

"You weren't kicking my arse."

"You look a few minutes from passing out."

"That's just my face."

The villain raised their brows, unimpressed.

The hero folded their arms, making their ribs pull. Another wave of light-headness washed over them.

"How's your face," the villain said. Flat.

"Still wondering why you care."

"You don't deserve it."

"Don't."

The villain said it so simply, as if they could possibly know that. The hero flinched again, in a way they hadn't during any fight that week. It knocked more air out of their lungs too than any blow.

"You asked," the villain said. "More than once."

"It would be kinder just to hit me if you're having a bizarre burst of conscience."

The villain snorted. Their gaze remained stormy. The hero didn't know what to make of it.

"And if I turn down your offer?" they asked.

"Other people are scared of me, even if you're an idiot. People don't like touching my stuff. They like breaking it even less."

It took the hero a moment to process. They gaped.

The villain shrugged. "Your choice."

"This is none of your business."

"You made it my business when you picked a fight with me."

"Well, I wouldn't have done it if knew you'd react like this!"

"Yes." The villain's voice was horribly, terribly, soft. "I know."

The hero swallowed and they scrubbed a hand over their face, not sure if they wanted to claw their own skin off or sob. The adrenaline of the fight left them shaking as it drained a way. All pain without the reprieve of unconsciousness, the overwhelming agony of it to make the shame and the guilt and the regret feel small.

The villain patted their cheek, just hard enough to sting, not hard enough to do any damage. The hero didn't know if it was a peace offering or a temptation. Cruelty or more unnerving kindness.

"Come along," the villain said. "Let's get you home. I want to get my clothes to a washing machine before your blood stains my coat..."

Dumbly, reeling, the hero followed.

[l1ttlenightmare1]

sillies

[l1ttlenightmare1]

[l1ttlenightmare1]

adhd will get you thinking "i should make this doctors appointment" every day for 7 months and counting

[l1ttlenightmare1]

Teeth of the Valley

[l1ttlenightmare1]

the whole "lipstick on a pig" thing makes no sense because the second we gave a pig access to makeup she became god's cuntiest soldier

[l1ttlenightmare1]

astronomy club sent up a weather balloon w a gopro in it last friday. put in three packs of fruit snacks so they could have a giggle over eating fruit snacks that had been to space.

balloon went up into inner space, about 90,000 feet. came down right near the dinosaur park. a few physics teachers drive out to get it, crack it open on the way home to start watching the footage.

fruit snacks are missing.

multiple sources confirm that fruit snacks were put in balloon and sealed in with duct tape. physics teachers check entire balloon. no fruit snacks.

physics teachers watch footage. all 7 hours of it. right in the middle of footage, there are about 8 minutes of visual and audio static when balloon is in orbit. no other interference with balloon recorded.

conclusions: ???????

[l1ttlenightmare1]

its ok Noelle…. they’re just like that😭

bonus krusielle

[l1ttlenightmare1]

[l1ttlenightmare1]

Finished my first character sheet for art fight but thought you'd guys might wanna see it too!!

[l1ttlenightmare1]

And we've got Otter-Wan!!!

@catawampuscorner baby clones in onsies continues to live rent free in my brain, and Cody-Bee needed a friend. I didn't write down the changes I made when making Cody (like a boss apparently), so Obi-Wan's dimensions are a bit bigger, and I couldn't be bothered to undo everything and fix it. I figured it was just for me, and I don't mind the imperfections.

Maybe I'll do a big Fox next. Or 🎶 Baby Monnk doo doo doo doo doo doo🎶

[l1ttlenightmare1]

is this anything

[l1ttlenightmare1]

insta doodle requestsss

[l1ttlenightmare1]

Hello! Could you write a snippet on a hero x villain relationship where they're both cursed to live as long as the other one lives (which means they cannot kill each other & if one of them gets hurt the wounds also appear on the other's skin) but they used to be lovers so they kind of just hold the biggest of grudges against each other but deep down still miss the love & intimacy they once shared. Sorry if this is confusing, I can't find a better way to word it

"You know," the villain dragged the tip of their weapon across the floor, scarring through it. "This would be so-" they swung, decapitating the head off one goon and then another -"much easier-" a third crumpled to the floor, screaming, "if you could resist the urge to play the hero." They shoved the sword through the stomach of a final goon, before looking at the hero. "For five minutes."

"They were awful people!" the hero protested. "Someone had to stop them."

"We're bleeding," the villain hissed. "You ruined my goddamn coat. Again." They stopped, the tip of the blade pressed beneath the hero's chin - which, really, was just a bit overdramatic as they both knew the villain wasn't going to hurt them. At least not in any permanent way. "And getting kidnapped is a terrible example of stopping someone, fyi."

"I was gathering information."

The villain glared at them. "It's like you don't even want to be immortal."

Some days, the hero wasn't sure they did anymore. Eternity was a long time. Especially alone.

"No point being immortal," the hero said instead, with a shrug, "if I have to change my whole personality and hide in my super high security compound all the time instead of helping people or doing anything. That's not living."

The villain's jaw clenched. They cleaned the sword with deliberate spite on the hero's jeans, before sheathing it and moving to pick the hero's cuffs.

Without the villain's gaze piercing their face, the hero closed their eyes briefly. "Look," they said. "Things got out of hand. It's not like I-"

The villain hurled the cuffs on the floor with a loud clatter.

"And I know you only came to save me because -"

The villain caught their chin in a biting grip, squeezing as they dragged the hero's head to the side, so they were facing each other. The hero's breath hitched. They could see the indentation of nails forming on the villain's skin, where they held the hero.

They eyed each other.

The hero swallowed.

It had been a while since they'd last seen each other. They tended to stay close, due to the connection, but they didn't see each other. Not in person. In person always felt...the distance made it easier to forget the full force of what the villain was, what they had been, the aching familiarity of them.

Seeing the villain was like having an old fatal wound torn open all over again. Seeing the villain was the memory of nights cuddled close, of how they had so wanted a chance to be together forever, how chasing that desperate dream had ruined them.

If they wanted to pass on a message to each other, they could just scrawl it on the back of their hand and have it show up on the other's in a matter of moments. Convenient, but...

Some days, the hero woke up with kiss-bruised lips like a personal attack, and some times the villain woke up with an eager mark upon their throat. When the villain charmed and seduced, it was the hero who would buckle weak-kneed against a wall too at the onslaught of touch and feeling. Some times, the villain told their partner to do exactly what the hero had always done, playing the memories like a tune on the hero's skin as they lay alone in their bed.

They were never sure if the villain meant that as fondness or cruelty. They weren't sure if the villain knew either.

Little signs of life. Little signs of I am here and I will always be here.

They had rules. There had to be rules when anything one of them physically felt was echoed in ghost in the other - pain, pleasure, all of it thrumming in a connection that they could try to drown out, but couldn't.

Mostly, they kept to the rules. Mostly.

"I'm sorry," the hero said then, softer - because when they'd felt the first punch land, when everything went to hell, their first thought had been for the villain. It always was.

I'm sorry I hurt you.

I'm sorry I scared you.

I'm sorry I did this to us.

"I'm just - sorry," the hero said.

"You look like crap," the villain replied, and let go. "You're coming home with me until you're less of a liability."

"Actually-"

"-Wasn't a request." The villain turned, and stalked away. "Come."

And the hero was tired, and aching, and they wanted a hot bath and a way out and a way back to before it all began. They didn't want the fight that would come if they provoked the villain any further on one day than they already had. They'd done that before.

So they followed.

And they let the villain take care of them.

And they tried not to let their stupid heart think it was anything other than self-preservation anymore.

[l1ttlenightmare1]

You know for the first 18-ish years of your life everyone your age is mostly doing the same things and then all of a sudden every year for the rest of your life somebody your age is getting divorced while somebody else just learned what a leaf is and you have no idea what’s going on or what you’re supposed to be doing

[l1ttlenightmare1]

[l1ttlenightmare1]

Waynes on a Game Show

“…You’re all related?”

Dick: “Technically. Spiritually. Legally. Emotionally. And on Tuesdays.”

Jason’s buzzer is a gunshot noise. Tim hacks the scoring system. Damian threatens the opposing team. Cass answers everything with alarming accuracy.

Bruce just stands there like a wall in Armani, winking and acting clueless. Himbo-esque. The crowd eats it up.

They win. They win hard. The host fears for his life. The audience cheers. Gotham trends #WayneSweep for 3 days.

Clark watches it live and texts Bruce:

“You couldn’t point out Gotham on a map? ”