avvail

[avvail]

prompt #106

“I told you to trust me,” the villain murmurs raggedly against their lips, a desperate plea lost in their flesh. “Did I not? This is fine. We’re fine, just kiss me.”

[avvail]

prompt #106

“I told you to trust me,” the villain murmurs raggedly against their lips, a desperate plea lost in their flesh. “Did I not? This is fine. We’re fine, just kiss me.”

[avvail]

prompt #105

“I know you can do good,” the hero’s sidekick gently assured, their voice laced full of gentle encouragement. They playfully nudge the villain’s sidekick’s shoulder, their eyes gleaming with care. With hope. “I’ve seen the way you try and help people. I know you’re capable of it”

The villain’s sidekick barely managed a tight smile across their miserable face, glancing at them fondly. “Collateral damage is more your thing, after all.”

They laugh, their head tilting as they placed a gentle hand on their shoulder. “I know you can do it. You’re my best friend, and I care a lot about you.”

The villain’s sidekick’s smile slowly fades, and a melancholy look gradually fades back into their face. They turn away, their shoulders heaving with a sigh. “I’m sorry.”

“Hey, it’s okay,” they assure. “You don’t have to apologise.”

“No, I mean,” they murmur, and the other sidekick’s blood runs cold as the metal of a muzzle digs into the back of their head, and they hear a sharp click. “I really am sorry.”

[avvail]

poison/venom for bingo event?

The hero only knew something was wrong halfway through the fight.

They’d kept up with the supervillain’s unpredictable fighting style, dodging and twisting and countering when they needed to. They had trained to adapt; this was no different. The file on the supervillain was a constant reminder in the back of their mind.

But the hero, just a little too late, realised something was wrong.

The scratch marks on the flesh of their arm stung, the muscles twitching occasionally. It might not have meant anything if they weren’t starting to lose feelings, a tingling, odd numbness weighing them down. Each new dodge became sluggish, a hairs breath away from another slash. Their knees wobbled every time they tried to right themselves.

The hero blinked through spots in their vision. There was even an uncomfortably clammy sweat building up at the base of their neck, tingling through to their fingers.

“Something wrong?”

The supervillain’s voice lilted with a twinge of knowing smugness, and the hero grit their teeth. If they could think of a witty remark, it’d be firing off the end of their tongue like a snake. But they couldn’t. Not only was their tongue too thick, but their mind was fogging over. The supervillain wasn’t even attacking, now. They just stood there, head tilted, mischievous glint in their eye.

The hero’s feet staggered against the concrete, until they’re sure they got all twisted up, and they thudded to the ground with a moan of pain.

“What is…?” Their throat tightened, feeling a throbbing pain shoot through their limbs. The heat increased like an inferno through their body, and they grit their teeth, fingers scrabbling against the ground. This wasn’t in the file. The supervillain didn’t care to work with others, so they knew this fight was just between the two of them.

They felt the air rush out of their lungs at another throbbing spell.

Through squinted eyes, they watched the supervillain dust off their hands casually. As though the fight hadn’t even inconvenienced them. Sweat beaded across their flushed forehead.

“Is this—”

“Venom?” A smile broke out across their face. “Clever.”

The hero’s fingers twisted into their shirt. They were struggling to breathe, the pain winding through their bones and squeezing their organs.

“How?”

“Are you confused because it wasn’t part of your files?” The supervillain cooed, and they leisurely picked some blood out from under their nails. The hero’s blood. “The Agency hasn’t changed, I see. It’s almost as though they want you to fail.”

The hero’s knees scraped across the ground, in some feeble attempt to crawl away. A sharp kick delivered to their ribs sent them sprawling, a cough choking in their throat. They immediately curled into a tight ball, the pain now so vibrant through their body they couldn’t tell up from down. Footsteps prowled closer to them, the supervillain crouching over them with dissecting eyes. They pulled something out of their jacket, glimmering under the lamp post.

The hero’s unfocused eyes only just managed to catch a glimpse of what it was. A vial.

The supervillain smiled. “Antidote.”

The hero lunged with the last of their strength, but the supervillain easily manoeuvred away from their clumsy efforts. It only resulted in a bruise on their chin from clipping the floor.

“It’s getting harder to breathe, isn’t it?” Their murmur send shivers down their spine, and if they’re voice commanded it, the hero felt their lungs tighten. They wheezed, mouth parting to desperately suck in as much air as they could. It was crippling; not just the pain, but the fear. If they didn’t get that antidote, then they were going to die.

“I need you alive, though,” the supervillain sighed, shaking the vial of liquid enticingly. “I want information. You can probably see where I’m going with this.”

The antidote, for information. The deal warred in the hero’s mind, the or else a stabbing dilemma in their mind. Another wave of pain wracked through their body, their nose wrinkling in response. The supervillain admired that look, even tapped their nose with a smile.

“So?” They prompted. “Better answer quickly.”

The hero opened their mouth to speak, but could say nothing. So instead, they frantically nodded their head. Once their mind was clear, once the threat of this crippling venom was gone, the hero could think about this stategically. Leaking information about the Agency, or whatever it was the supervillain wanted, was a rabbit hole they were unwilling to go down.

Happy with their agreeable nature, the supervillain popped the lid off the vial. The hero’s mouth watered, their chin jutting up, watching as the supervillain leaned down, and tipped the liquid onto the floor.

Their blood ran cold.

“The venom will take about an hour to kill you,” the supervillain sighed, a horrid glint in their eye. “That gives us plenty of time for a chat first. Don’t you think?”

@badthingshappenbingo

[avvail]

HOLY CRAP YOU’RE BACK!!! Tbh you’re one of my favorite writing blogs; all of your posts are just so incredible!

thank you sm 🥺

[avvail]

welcome back, how do we go about with prompts on kofi?

honestly, just use the donation feature. that way, you can pay as little or as much as you fancy. i'm grateful for anything! i've even had some bigger commissions for stuff over on @avvail-whumps that i will get round to posting little snippets of. i'm just happy to write and gain some motivation back :)

[avvail]

are you still taking prompt requests?

do you have many to do already?

i do have 100+ requests in my inbox right now. for that reason, i was going to limit requests to kofi instead, but i think i'll keep my inbox open for requests as well for now!

[avvail]

aahhh i love the new story!!! ive missed you on my dash

thank you! i've been so busy with uni that i've simply not had the time or motivation for tumblr at the moment. i'm trying to write a little more, do commissions, just to help set up for second year finances and maybe have the time to keep writing here! it's a bit dreary, but i'm happy to be back :)

[avvail]

Hi, hope you're having a good day today! I was wondering if you could do a scenario where a detective relucently lets a vampire superhero feed on him? mlm, perhaps?

“This is usually the other way around,” the detective hums, one hand in his pocket and the other tapping away the ash at the end of his cigarette. The superhero stands on the rooftop, spine stiff and his expression one of anxiousness.

The detective can practically smell his uneasiness in the air. He’s hiding in the shadows, almost as though he’s too frightened to come out.

It makes him scoff.

“If you need my help on a case, I’m balls deep in the copycat killer case right now,” the detective told him firmly, already building a strong wall to the hero’s protests. Not that he’s making any. “So stop lurking in the shadows like you’re gonna bite my heart out. Jesus, it’s creepy.”

The superhero hesitates, and then steps out of the shadows. He looks worse for wear, and the detective’s eyes roll up and down his form with a clear air of judgement.

“Man,” he hums. “You look like shit.”

The superhero frowns at the cloud of smoke tumbling from his lips, his nose wrinkling in grim annoyance. “Can you put that out?”

“It’s a free country.”

“It stinks,” he snaps.

“Not my nose, not my problem,” the detective raises a brow. “What’s got your panties in a bunch? You’re gloomy.”

The superhero bites his tongue, deciding not to bite. He swallows the insult, his stiff shoulders sagging with a small sigh. The detective steals a few scrutinizing glances at him. Just to observe.

“I need...” He sighs sharply. “I need to feed.”

The detective’s gaze hardens. He already knows what he’s going to ask. “No.”

“Please?”

“I said you keep that shit away from me and I won’t hurl your ass in the nearest prison cell for taking a bite out of those innocent folk,” he reminded him sternly, a flicker of anger sparking in his eyes. “Don’t make me go back on it.”

“I’ve not been feeding,” the superhero whispers urgently. “I can’t. You know I’m new to this and I don’t know what to—”

“The answer is no. Jesus, I can’t believe you dragged me from my work for this.”

The superhero’s gaze softens. He looks crestfallen. “Please...”

The detective swallows back the words teetering on his tongue, drilling an intense gaze into the hero. He notices the eye bags, the pale complexion, and he definitely looks worse for wear. Sickly; the detective’s expression hardens, spitting out a sharp curse. He runs a hand through his hair, stamping the cigarette out under his boot. The orange tip fades into the rain soaked cement.

Why him? He almost wants to ask. He’s a detective, and he should figure this stuff out. He remembers when he pulled the superhero from the wreckage those few months ago, the bad shape he had been in.

This vampire stuff had really knocked him down. The detective hadn’t seen that old confidence in months.

He groans. He should say no. Instead, he rolls up his sleeve.

“Make it quick,” he growls. The superhero’s eyes brighten, and he takes a hesitant step forward.

He goes to grasp at the man’s arm, hesitating just before their skin touches. He notes the way his throat bobs, and then those eyes dart nervously to his neck. The detective knows the question before he even asks.

“Your neck, can I—”

“No,” he snaps, jerking his arm to redirect his faltering attention. “You’re already on thin ice. It’s this, or it’s nothing. Take your pick.”

The superhero’s lips press into a thin line. Then, he nods tersely, and flounders around him for a moment.

“You should sit,” he urges. “You’ll probably get dizzy, and—”

A sharp glare cuts him off. He gets the command. Shut up and hurry up.

The superhero takes a deep breath, thumb prodding the smooth surface of the detective’s flesh for a moment. He seems to simply admire the rush of blood underneath, before he pierces the flesh with his fangs. The detective holds back an instinctive hiss of pain, the sharp pricks almost zapping right up his spine. The superhero might have stopped to make sure he was okay before feeding, but he’d been starved for so long, that he lapped at the beads of blood straight away.

It’s an odd feeling; not unpleasant, but not easy to ignore.

The detective’s jaw clenches, and when the superhero is done, he hides the wound.

“Let’s not make this a habit, huh?”

[avvail]

prompt #104

“So we’re skipping the niceties now?” The hero hums under her breath, a terseness to her jaw as she’s spun around once more. The music swells dramatically for the climax of the song, meeting the villain’s eyes through the slits of the mask.

“Whatever do you mean?” She purrs, arm purposely closed around her waist so they’re dancing impossibly close to one another.

Masquerade or not, the hero recognises the villain. And in turn, she knows the villain recognises her.

“Let’s not beat around the bush,” she frowns. “You know who I am. Why are you here?”

The villain laughs. It’s almost as entrancing as the music itself, the swell of strings concocting jaunty chords. Her perfume feels almost suffocating, hand in hers and legs dancing smoothly around each other. Everyone else seems like a blur, only focused on the woman in front of her.

“For you, of course,” the villain whispers by her ear, hand dragging along her hip until her fingers dig into the seams. “I wondered if by the end of the night, I might see what you look like without this gorgeous dress.”

[avvail]

prompt #103

“How was I supposed to know you loved me?”

The villain raised an arched brow at them in disbelief. “It was obvious.”

“You threw me off a fifteen story building the other week alone.”

“In the name of love.”

[avvail]

i’m writing prompts again from time to time! requests are open and welcome on my ko-fi - you can buy me a coffee, request your prompt, and i will post it on my blog for you :)

prompt #102

“It must be suffocating,” the villain hummed, a fine whisper on their tongue and their fingers dancing a waltz through their hair. Soft strands curled around their finger, an absentminded and thoughtless movement.

They leaned down to kiss their temple, a chaste little thing that barely stirred the hero awake. Tucked against them as though they were lovers, as though this wasn’t a dangerously deceptive painting of their relationship.

“But that’s okay,” they whispered, patting the hero’s cheek. “I’ll take you away. From everything.”

[avvail]

prompt #102

“It must be suffocating,” the villain hummed, a fine whisper on their tongue and their fingers dancing a waltz through their hair. Soft strands curled around their finger, an absentminded and thoughtless movement.

They leaned down to kiss their temple, a chaste little thing that barely stirred the hero awake. Tucked against them as though they were lovers, as though this wasn’t a dangerously deceptive painting of their relationship.

“But that’s okay,” they whispered, patting the hero’s cheek. “I’ll take you away. From everything.”

[avvail]

Hello everyone!

It’s been a long time and I can’t promise I can return to this blog anytime soon. With my exams finished, I am making my change to University and moving out - finance is a struggle and I am doing everything I can to help myself out as living will be extremely difficult.

I have set up a Ko-fi page here!

This is merely a suggestion and not a requirement - any kind of tip or donation would mean the world to me and really help me out in the long run.

I have also opened commissions! I may not be active on this blog, but if you would like to commission a piece, hero/villain, any whump pieces, or else wise (SFW and NSFW), then you are more than welcome to. It would mean a lot to me and help out so much, as well as keep my writing going!

I love you all (and I miss being on Tumblr🥲) and thank you so much 🩷

[avvail]

Not dead promise. Middle of exam season, slowly killing me, cannot write. Words no appear. Will likely be back sometime mid June when I’m all finished and have the time. I’ll come back to the BTHB and get all of them written when I can, as well as some new prompts! Love yous see you soon promise <3

[avvail]

prompt #101

The villain’s fingers closed around the sidekick’s throat, digging so hard into the skin, it was already blooming with red marks. They gasped, choking and grappling uselessly at their wrist, but nothing was working. The hero shakily lifted themselves onto their knees, tongue spitting out words before they could stop themselves.

“Stop!” They blurted, their voice shaking. The sidekick’s eyes were wide with terror. “Stop it, just–just let them go. Let go of them. I’ll give you whatever you want.”

The villain calmly turned their head towards them. The sidekick squeaked when their grip tightened in a cruel, almost mocking gesture. “And what would that be?”

The hero released a shuddering breath. Their pleading eyes met the villain’s, relaxed and unbothered. Their lips quivered.

“Me?” They breathed.

With the way the villain’s lip twitched into a knowing smirk, the hero knew they had given the right answer.

[avvail]

(enemy turned caretaker)

During a fight, Villain accidentally ends up triggering Hero's trauma but Hero keeps it together until they find an alley to have a silent panic attack in.

(love the Bingo idea btw!)

The hero couldn’t breathe.

They had barely managed to slip away from the battle undetected, terrified of what might have happened if they’d been unable to. They can feel their sharp nails digging into their neck, as if trying to remind themselves that the villain’s hands aren’t crushing their windpipe, but it’s too late.

They’re spiralling ridiculously bad, and they can hardly suck in a sufficient amount of air.

Their head is so loud. Even when they’re leaning against the wall of the alleyway, it’s so overwhelming that they feel as though they’re going to fall. Even when something grips their shoulder hard, the hero can barely feel it, like they’re somewhere else completely and everyone else is as invisible as the air they can’t even breathe.

“Hero,” the villain says curtly, trying to get their attention. The hero’s eyes are wide, unfocused, and they don’t miss the pale sheen from the lack of oxygen. They frown, tugging their hand away from their neck. It’s purpled with the villain’s handprint, and their brow twitches.

“Stop that,” they snap, gripping their wrist tightly. “You’re bleeding.”

They tug the hero down to the ground, their lips pressed into a thin line when their jerky movements make them feel almost bad, knowing they were the cause of this panic attack. They press their hand hard against their mouth, forcing them to meet their eyes.

The hero squeals, cutting off their breath. They try to pull away, but the villain keeps them pressed to the wall, unmoving.

“Snap out of it,” they snap, their voice low, intent on trapping the hero’s attention so they can’t think of anything else. “Just look at me.”

The hero barely does that, the terror evident in their watery eyes. They squirm and wriggle, their fists pounding against the villain’s chest, but their hand doesn’t budge, and neither do they.

“Keep looking at me,” the villain growls, and the hero does. For a long few seconds, their shaking hands stutter to a stop, and there’s a flash of lucidity in those wide eyes. Only when they start to pale from the lack of air does the villain finally release them.

They suck in a sharp breath, forcing themselves to take long, deep inhales of air for at least a minute or two. The villain watches intently, just to make sure they don’t spiral again, and the hero swallows uneasily, wincing.

The bruises around their neck suddenly make the villain feel a twitch of remorse again. They supposed that was off limits from now on, not if it made the hero feel like this.

“Tell me five things you can—”

“I’m not doing that,” the hero rasps, their face contorted in discomfort as they focus on getting the air back into their lungs. The villain raises a brow, but they don’t say anything.

“Indulge me,” the villain hums.

They shoot them a glare, but regardless, they comply. Silently. They don’t speak, but they can see the hero’s eyes flicking around, and their mind ticking away as they process everything around them. Finally, they look back at the villain.

“Good,” they sigh, rising to their feet. They hold out a hand for the hero to take, but they ignore it, remaining on the floor. Stubborn, the villain comments in their own mind. “Is that something that happens often?”

The hero quicky looks away again, rubbing their arm. “Not really.”

Not unless they strangle them again, the villain mused internally. They make a mild note that although victory was what they were aiming for, they weren’t going to play dirty. But they didn’t have any intention to stick around.

“Let’s postpone this for another day,” the villain says dismissively, waving a hand. “This was a mood killer.”

They bristle defensively. “Sorry, I can’t control it, asshole.”

The villain shrugs. “I’m not talking about the panic attack. I’m talking about helping you.”

The hero goes quiet.

“This won’t happen again,” the villain continues, an edge to their tone. They were enemies - any normal villain would have taken advantage of that panic attack, or even the discovery of a weakness of theirs. Taken advantage of it; they hate how they don’t want to.

“Are my morals rubbing off on you?” The hero sneers, and the villain is somewhat pleased there’s a flicker of that fire again.

“Let’s be clear, sweetheart,” the villain scoffs. “We’re enemies. That’s not going to change.”

@badthingshappenbingo