#heroes and villains

[unapologetically-horrible]

“Villains don’t get happy endings.”

“Yeah? Then watch me take mine.”

Fucking mood board, Rumple. Same.

[the-modern-typewriter]

Hello! The way you write so eloquently always astonishes me, I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of your work. Would you be able to write some hero/villain whumpee/whumper for us? I haven’t seen any of that in a while and I LOVE it! Thanks for all the amazing writing you do, I want to mix it all up in a stew and eat it. <33

"You know, this would be easier for you if you just -" The villain aimed a sharp kick at the hero's ribs - "stayed down."

The hero doubled over to the floor again, wheezing. Dull and not so dull pain throbbed through their body. "Nah," they managed. "You enjoy it too much. Couldn't deprive you."

Before they could claw their way up onto hands and knees, yet again, the villain placed a boot on the side of their head. They didn't put any pressure. But it was there. Ready.

The hero froze.

A moment passed, two, broken only by the sound of the hero's ragged breathing.

"Look at you," the villain said softly. "You're halfway to broken in all but spirit. Isn't that enough?"

"Gonna have to break me the rest of the way if you want to get through me."

"No, darling," the villain said. "To do that I merely have to apply a little pressure."

The hero swallowed.

They felt the villain's weight shift, not hard enough to crack their skull open like an overripe melon, but certainly enough to grind their cheek into the concrete. To make them infinitely aware of the way a melon or a brain might look dribbling pulp.

Their bruised, bloodied fingers flexed on the floor. The villain hazed in their vision.

"To do that," the villain said, "all I need to do is shatter your kneecaps the rest of the way so you can't get up. However hard you try. Crack your spine, perhaps."

The hero shuddered. They wished the fear wouldn't come, but it did, like bile. Anxiety lodged in their chest.

"I could then leave you to the mercy of whoever finds you," the villain continued. "You see your will, indomitable though it may be, cares very little for the limitations of your meat sack. Is that the path we need to go down to make you understand that?"

"Screw you."

The villain laughed, without mirth. "Is that fear or recklessness talking?"

"If you can do all that, why don't you?"

"Maybe I'm enjoying myself too much."

"So what you're saying is..." The hero made a sudden grab for the villain's leg, and yanked, rolling to dislodge their positions. "I could do anything and you wouldn't finish it."

The villain landed hard on their knees. The second after that, they'd snapped both of the hero's wrists.

The hero gasped with pain. Black spots danced behind their eyelids.

The villain grabbed a fistful of the hero's hair, dragging their swaying body up in mirror before they could hit the ground.

"Or maybe my ability and willingness to hurt you does not extend to my fucking pleasure." In an instant, the villain's voice was a growl. "Stay the hell down. What is wrong with you?"

"You're the one keeping me up." The hero's voice slurred. They realised they probably shouldn't say that. Shouldn't admit to that. It was getting a little difficult to focus.

The villain's grip on their hair tightened, pulling their head back further as the villain rose to their feet once more. The hero was left contorted, peering wobbly up at them. The villain's other hand cupped their cheek. The anger faded, leaving behind only implacable waters. A leviathan submerged.

"Not looking to make it easier on me," the hero said. "Looking to make it harder for you. Sorry. Wouldn't be doing any of this for easy. May as well commit, you know?"

They weren't sure if they meant the words as conciliatory or goading, but the villain snorted. They patted the hero's cheek.

"Well, now I could accuse you of enjoying it too much," the villain said.

The hero laughed. Or maybe they just sobbed. Choking on it. On the pain on it.

It would be nice to stay down. To not get up again. To rest. To just...stop.

"You'll pass out eventually," the villain replied. Half kindness. Half cruelty. "And I'll move on. I put in contingency time for dealing with you, you're not saving anything."

"But I'm trying."

"But you're trying."

The villain pressed a kiss to the hero's head then let them unceremoniously drop the floor. They stepped back as the hero wheezed all over again, coughing up a glob of blood.

The villain rolled out their shoulders. They checked their watch. They waited.

The hero forced themselves up again.

[writinggremln]

Prompt 2

"Supervillain," Villain's mouth was dry, "don't... don't do this."

"I warned you. I gave you an order." Supervillain's voice was eerily calm. "You deliberately dissobeyed me."

Villain gulped. "Supervillain, please-"

"Be quiet." The voice of the greater villain turned harsh, their grip on the bound hero under them tightened, causing Hero to whimper in their gag. Villain shut their mouth, cold sweat dripping down their face.

"Did you think I wasn't going to find out?" Supervillain's jaw clenched. "How exacly were you going to go about this, Villain? Were you hoping to, I don't know, possibly fake your deaths and live as normal civilians far away from here, happily ever after?" Both the hero and the villain flinched. Supervillain's mouth curled into a mocking smile. "Oh, you can't be serious."

Villain took a small step forward. "Supervillain, listen to me," they begged, hands up to show they were unarmed, "we can talk about this. Please," they met Hero's gaze and their heart clenched at the fear in their captured lover's eyes, "please don't hurt them."

Supervillain only huffed out a small laugh. "You think I'd let you go unpunished?"

Villain paled as Supervillain suddenly grabbed Hero's face, their nails scratching the crime-fighter's cheeks. "You listen to me, Villain. And you listen well. You see them?" They cocked Hero's head forcefully toward Villain's, who clenched their hands into fists at their lover's muffled cry of pain. The supervillain continued, a flicker of sadistic amusement flashing in their eyes. "Take a good, long look, Villain," they smiled slowly, "because this will be the last you'll ever see of them."

[maybeitsalivescribbles]

Sidekick in distress (4)

Part 1 part 2 part 3

(this is going to turn whumpy, so...bones are broken and all that kind of stuff)

Detective stood behind a pillar, looking at the devastated parking. After years in this town, he knew better than saying “no one could survive that”. Then again, not a lot of people would have shrugged off what had caused that devastation either.

It’d taken a lot of wreckage to climb and a lot of swearing, but he’d finally found a torn cape. Supervillains loved their capes. He couldn’t imagine one letting it behind willingly. Whatever else went down, the fight had hurt both of them. There were no bodies around, though. No hero, no villain, no citizen, nothing.

Something was terribly wrong. He raised his head. There was no helicopter in the cloudy sky. No firefighter, no ambulance, no caped jerk in the air or on the ground. That part of the city wasn’t that remote. He barely dared to breathe while exploring the ruins. He kept throwing glances behind his back, as if some attack was imminent.

He gritted his teeth. He had to find something. Last time he’d checked, Supervillain had a lot of flaws, but they weren’t radioactive. It was fine. He’d made a quick stop to his office first. His gun was burning him through the holster. His fingers gently felt the cannon before he took another step.

He kept on exploring, trying to breathe as softly as possible. A large stone landed just in front of him, making him start. Detective looked up. It’d been the hat of an impressive mount of wreckage. The whole shivered, hesitated, then decided it was a good moment to collapse in his direction. He ran as fast as he could while the ground trembled under his feet. When it calmed down, he went back and jumped on the new piles. His eyes grew wide.

Emerging from the stones, there was a mangled hand. It had long nails, a ring around the fourth finger, both characteristics he knew for having been strangled by that hand not so long ago. It was still attached to an arm, but the rest was buried under tons of wreckage.

He turned around, his fist pressed on his mouth. After some deep breaths, he slipped on the hole. He pressed the wrist, making sure there was no pulse. There wasn’t. No livid fingers closed on his own. Detective shook his head, took a picture, climbed back, and sent it to Healer. Someone else had to have this evidence. The immediate answer was:

“Get out of here. Please.”

“I’m not planning to settle there,” he texted back. “Going back now.”

“Hey there.”

His head snapped up. His hands froze, clinching his phone.

“Hey,” he answered to Hero, who was walking towards him with a smile.

Oh, they’d bullshitted all right. Their walk was fast, with no limp or hesitation at all despite the treacherous ground. They barely had dust on them. Detective glanced at the traces they left on the stone, as if they were walking on sand.

“What happened?” he asked. “I wanted to park there.”

Hero laughed:

“You haven’t heard? I just fought a villain. I send a warning to all citizens to stay out of this place.”

“Ah, didn’t get the message, sorry.”

“Don’t be. I’m glad I found you.”

“I feel so much safer now that you’re here,” assured Detective, whose heart did his best to stay in his chest.

They smiled at each other. Hero held out their hand.

“I need your phone,” they said.

“Sure.”

Detective gave it to them, with the security code still on. Hero took it and slipped it into an inside breast pocket.

“Hey, I thought you needed this!”

“Yes. I’ll call Sidekick with yours, since they won’t answer for me. I think they’ve blocked my number.”

“The kid? They’re out of town?”

“They were kidnapped. Corrupted, if you wish. If you want my guess, I think they were convinced to run away by another consumed by jealousy. A pathetic insignificant man, wanting to make someone greater than him fall. I thought I recognized this voice.”

A heavy silence fell, during which Detective counted the beatings of his heart. He looked around. What for? He wasn’t fast enough to get away. Hero shook their head, looking at the frozen man with pity:

“I can nearly empathize, you know. You are, after all, a relic of the past. A rusty chariot in a world of limousines. That must be hard.”

“I’m surprised you recognize me. I thought we peons all looked the same to you.”

Hero chuckled:

“You, a father? Don’t make me laugh. Sidekick’s parents don’t have any money for a lawyer. Hell, I’m not even sure if they know that job exists. I gotta say, I never thought you’ve stooped that low.”

“At least I’m not throwing a tantrum because a kid doesn’t like me. What, is your job too hard for you? Do you need a fourteen year-old to hold your hand?”

Hero considered that thought for a moment, their gaze lingering:

“I did it for them, you piece of shit,” they said flatly. “For their own good. So you’re going to give me the code to your phone, and we’ll all have a little conversation to set things right.”

Detective opened his mouth, then closed it. He had no word. None. Not when he had a mangled hand in his head. Supervillain had handled him like a puppet, and Hero had squished them like a bug. There weren’t a lot of things left to say, even less to do.

So he stepped backward and aimed at them.

Hero looked at the gun, at the man’s face, and began to laugh. They stretched out their arms in an inviting gesture. They didn’t stop laughing as bullets flied, first around them, then straight at their heart.

“Did you get that out of your system?” they asked pleasantly.

Detective answered by a grin that made them pause. Putting the old gun back in the holster, he had the grim satisfaction of seeing Hero patting their heart, changing colors, realizing what he’d been aiming at. They took his phone out of their inside pocket, then theirs, trying to see if either could still work.

“It’s not that good,” he told them with a sad smile.

Hero looked at him, their face now devoid of all expression, crushing the remnants of his phone in their hand. Something turned very cold in Detective’s chest, but he didn’t run. It was no use, and besides, he didn’t want to.

“Well, at least this won’t take long,” he mumbled, hands in his pockets.

A wan smile appeared on Hero’s face. Their fist raised slowly. Detective instinctively leaned in that direction, brandishing his elbow as a shield. The hit didn’t come, but the ground suddenly shifted from his feet. While his head landed harshly, two hands grabbed his leg and squeezed and bent it in an impossible angle. Dazed by the fall, he didn’t even scream. The world went blurry under his eyes, hearing only the sound of his breathing while the other leg received the same treatment. Pain came, but muffled, gentler than it should have been. For a few seconds, all sensations were gone. When he could think again, it was to realize that Hero was on the other side and dragged him by the collar of his jacket.

Instinctively, he tried to fight back. He couldn’t even reach them, and an instant later he found himself just above the hole where he’d found Supervillain. They both exchanged a look, then Hero pushed. The crash was as unpleasant as possible. Detective curled himself as much as he could, biting his fist to muffle a scream. Gritting his teeth, grunting like a dying animal, he used all the strength of his arms and arranged himself in a sitting position, his broken legs in front of him, as straight as possible.

Hero was looking at him from above, but rather distractedly. When they talked at last, his voice was calm, slightly hesitant:

“I think…I think you helped Supervillain. You were desperate for money, and you accepted their offer, betraying me and the whole town. Sad, really.”

They smiled at Detective’s death glare:

“Don’t let it get to you. It’s just in case your corpse is found, but I don’t think so. Do you know how many explosives they use to get rid of old buildings? They told me, I was shocked. Of course, this might take a while before workers come. A couple of days, maybe a week. They wait for my approval, you see, and...well, I wanted to have mercy, but you had to piss me off.”

Detective stayed silent. He looked without a sound the aperture above him being covered by beams no normal person could have lifted on their own. The metal clanged loudly, as some gigantic nail shutting his coffin for good. After an eternity or two, it stopped. With a shaking hand, he took his flask from his jacket, drank the last sip of cocoa left, and threw it away. As adrenaline and shock wore off, pain came in waves through his legs, burning his shattered ankles.

Then, and only then, he let out the sob he’d been repressing.

*

(next part is coming soon, I promise)

Back to Hero x Villain Masterlist

[unnameablethings]

concept:

supervillain × henchman with the twist that the supervillain is a sort of cartoon foppish dramatic gay villain with gonzo schemes and no bodycount. and the henchman is secretly a grimdark ultrapowerful Apex Predator supervilllain who came to Stake Out the competition. got mistaken for a henchman and found this so fucking funny hes just 100% committed to the bit.

hes carrying around boxes of fucking Acme Corporation sticks of dynamite. hes dressing in the matching stylish outfit. hes managing the other henchmen to execute gonzo schemes flawlessly. genuinely the most fun hes ever had in his life

his dumbass gay boss has literally no idea the lengths he is going to behind the scenes to make sure nobody interferes with any of this shit.

(apex supervillain, in his Supervillain Disguise. homoerotically and terrifyingly flirt/threatens flamboyant supervillain. smash cut to this poor man lying face down on a couch unpacking this with the very attentive henchman)

("hes going to eat me maybe????? but GOD that was the HOTTEST fucking thing thats ever happened to me. but i might DIE?? do u think he LIKES me...."

henchman: i think he does :3)

the ruse comes out when someone who the apex supervillain didnt catch comes to ACTUALLY challenge/harm his gay boss in public and apex supervillain is like. yeah no we're not doing this. time for the power of unfathomable violence.

gay supervillain promptly has a FULL MELTDOWN. oh my god the blood. and also. "you LIED TO ME???"

apex supervillain, apologetically: "I was waiting to see if you'd ever figure it out yourself. And the longer it went the funnier it got."

gay supervillain: "I TRUSTED you!! you were my BEST HENCHMAN"

apex supervillain: aw. past tense?

[f1sh-bone]

Concept of a villain wounded so badly they aren't recognizable anymore, with the hero finding and taking them in, only to realize who they are helping later on, as conflicting emotions such as anger, fear and genuine empathy arise in them, safe me

I need you

Please

Please safe me concept of a villain wounded so badly they aren-

[assortedcriminality]

prompt #2

“Shit, you’re way more tired than I thought,” Villain said, easily dodging a poorly-aimed kick and ducking to avoid a malformed punch.

“Not tired,” Hero grunted, pausing the fight to half-fall into a wall, using an elbow to support themself. “Mmfine.”

Villain raised an eyebrow. “I see. Then you’ll be able to easily escape when I do this.”

Blindingly fast, they grabbed Hero’s shoulder and shoved them hard to the ground. The crime-fighter let out a sharp cry, pain radiating through their back. Their nemesis was on top of them before they could even think to move, straddling their hips and pinning their wrists to the floor.

“Go on,” Villain said, eyes gleaming as they locked gazes with their enemy. “Get up.”

[save-the-villainous-cat]

The villain couldn’t help but stare at the hero.

They’d gotten thinner, the villain realized.

“Listen...” The villain brushed the hero’s chin with their fingers until they took it altogether. Slowly, they leaned forward, but the weary eyes didn't meet them. “Just let me help. Just let me say the words, let me do the evil monologue and join me.”

The hero brushed the villain’s wrist with their fingers.

“You’re fully aware that I cannot do that.”

“Come on.” The hero shot them a sharp look and for a second, the villain considered retreating. With a groan, the hero leaned against the wall. Ultimately, they sat down, clearly too tired to stand up. “This is eating you. This stupid job, this stupid costume. When was the last week all your bones were intact?”

“It’s not that simple,” the hero argued. They frowned and even that looked like it was draining. The villain tried to, but they didn't understand. They feared they would never be able to fully grasp what the hero was aiming for, nor why they were so adamant.

“It is that simple. Your obsession with justice is ludicrous," the villain said. "You know the law doesn't function as a guide for moral decisions."

"I can't just watch and let people die, can I?" the hero answered. Their fingertips against the villain's wrist were cold and very slowly, it dawned on the villain that they were shaking.

At first, the villain didn't say anything. They simply kneeled to be on the same eye level as their counterpart. Then, they took the hero's face into their hands.

"You also can't blame yourself every time someone dies." The villain leaned in, nearly instinctively, and lowered their voice. "Please, just come back to me."

Their lips brushed the hero's cheek and they closed their eyes, taking their time to concentrate on the proximity and calm down their racing heart. They didn't want to think about the past, they didn't want to think about the endless fights and the many tears. It was all gone now - right now, in this moment, resentment didn't linger.

All that remained was affection.

"Please," the villain begged again. By now, they were hugging their hero, holding them closer than ever before, taking in deep breaths and burying their face in the hero's shoulder. They could feel the hero's hand move; snaking up their back and eventually finding a place in the villain's hair.

It was unbelievably painful to hold the hero like this. It was unbelievably cruel as well. All the things they had thrown at each other before, all the insults and the schemes, all those plans and conflicts...still being able to hold so much love for a person felt specifically dreadful to the villain.

But then again, the hero wasn't simply a person. Once, they had been everything.

"Please come back to me," the villain begged again. "This is killing you. This job, it..."

They felt the tears.

God, they felt the tears. After months of pushing their feelings away and replacing them with rage. After months of suppressing their emotions, they could feel how heavy their heart truly was.

They pulled away, blinking tears out of their eyes, and stared at the hero who had already let their tears roll down their face. The villain brushed them away.

"It is so exhausting," the hero whispered. Their voice was shaking.

"I know."

"And it hurts so much."

"I know, darling."

"But I can't quit, I can't- I mean, there is so much pressure and so many people are counting on me and if I fall, I mean...I'm not a person anymore, I'm a symbol of hope and inspiration and if I...I can't, I just can't-" The hero took in a trembling breath and the villain hugged them again, softer this time.

"Take a break, please. I can't stand this anymore." The villain pressed a kiss to the hero's cheek and slowly, let their fingers intertwine. "I can kidnap you if that makes it easier."

"Yes," the hero said. "For a few days, okay? Just a few days."

Given the hero's physical state, a few days turned into two weeks.

[kaiwewi]

Their First Villain

Secret Santa gift for @the-modern-typewriter Prompt: "Scary villain x hero in a Christmas setting of your [the writer's] choice. Could go spicy, could go whumpy, could go unexpectedly sweet!" Hope you like this! Merry Christmas!! 🎅🎁

“You recognised me,” the villain observes, his tone unnaturally flat. His face betrays no emotion.

“Kinda hard not to, with your…” – the hero tilts their head at where the villain’s magic continues to spread, coiling around their limbs and securely fixing them in place – “…snake thingies?”

The individual tendrils really do vaguely resemble snakes, although the magic in its entirety reminds them more of some writhing alien monster plant from an old Sci-fi B-movie whose title they cannot remember. It’s not a good comparison anyway. The movie hadn’t been scary at all.

They experimentally try to wrestle one of their arms free, but despite the magic’s apparent fluidity, the moment they push or pull in any direction, whatever give appeared to be there all but disappears and they can’t move a millimetre.

“Oh.” The villain’s eyes widen. “You can see it.”

“See it. Feel it. Didn’t expect it to be this hot.”

An awkward pause follows.

They are decidedly not blushing. It’s just warm. All of them is so warm now that the villain’s powers have moulded themselves around the hero like something liquid but alive. Wherever the tendrils touch bare skin – their ungloved hands and that area just above their ankles where their pants don’t quite meet the rims of their boots – the raw energy buzzes, prickles just short of stinging.

They’d been shivering just minutes ago in their much too thin poncho and the not seasonally appropriate Agency office uniform. Well, they still are shivering, just no longer from the cold.

Where the villain’s magic is fever-hot, his scrutiny runs icy.

“You can see it, but not fight it,” he muses. “How curious. The Agency must be understaffed to send their defenceless little office drones out into the field.”

The hero would be glaring if the villain weren’t underscoring the point by pulling his magic tighter with the mere flick of a finger. That small, anxious sound that escapes them in response brings a self-satisfied grin to the villain’s lips.

“It’s Christmas,” the hero says, once the magic has settled again.

The villain raises a brow.

“Most of the regulars are on holiday, Christmas being a time best spent with family … or so I’m told.”

“Yet you are working.”

“Don’t have anyone.” They aren’t technically without family just … Sometimes, family isn’t a place of refuge and welcome. Not a home to turn to for holiday celebrations or company. Some families fashion themselves exclusive clubs with strict rules that refuse or revoke memberships as they please. The hero forces some levity into their tone. “I have nowhere else to be today, so, I’m helping out here.”

The villain chuckles. “Helping is perhaps not what I would call that.”

“Hey, I did recognise you,” they say, defensively.

“And look where that got you.” His smile is sharper than before, meaner. “Am I your first villain? My heartfelt condolences.”

They don’t dignify that with an answer. But the answer is yes. The villains they watched being interrogated through one-way mirrors at HQ don't count.

“Pity,” the villain says with zero warmth, “that you couldn’t just look the other way. What is it with you people that you're always so eager to cause unnecessary conflict.”

“Reporting suspicious behaviour is kind of my job.” It comes out barely above a whisper and carries the distinct cadence of an apology.

“Ah yes, and my mere existence struck you as suspicious behaviour because …”

Admittedly, once they’d recognised the villain, they hadn’t taken the time to consider his appearance beyond the magic he’d been wearing around his shoulders like a particularly weaponizable scarf. The lack of a combat suit in favour of a sleek, dark coat over a woollen jumper and cargo joggers – either an outfit designed to blend in or just what the villain happens to like to wear when he isn’t working – hadn’t registered any more than the total absence of weaponry other than his powers. And while he could have hidden those better, it’s not like he could have simply left them at home.

There hadn’t been time to ponder. It had all happened so fast. Their eyes had met, and a moment later the hero had already been scrambling away from the crowd, past a stall selling mulled wine and into the nearest alley, where they’d scrolled through their contacts with stiff, unfeeling fingers. The villain had caught up with them before they’d managed to call for backup.

Their gaze darts to the remnants of their smashed phone, sprinkled across the muddy snow, mere metres away but entirely useless even if they could reach it.

What if the villain hadn’t had anything nefarious planned? What if the hero’s brain had naturally jumped to the most prejudiced conclusion all on its own?

Of course, it is unfair to treat his mere presence as if it is a crime. But the things he could do ...

They think about the parents with their cameras, filming their ice-skating children, the squealing toddlers on the merry-go-round, the nice old ladies selling tea out of the back of a car.

“You could be a danger to all those innocent people,” they defend their judgement.

“And you could be a danger to me,” the villain replies coolly. “Would be unwise, letting someone roam free who can pick me out of a crowd with a glance. Perhaps I should thank you for revealing yourself. Very ill-advised. But quite convenient. You were so obvious about it, too.”

He has crossed the distance between them while speaking. Close enough now to reach out and tuck an unruly strand of hair behind their ear with his cold, slender fingers. His other hand settles almost gently on their throat, atop the magic that has slivered around their neck at some point during the conversation.

The tip of a new tendril is in the process of worming its way lower, nestling into the collar of their shirt. It laps against the crook of their neck and they cringe away from the touch as much as the magic allows. It doesn’t hurt. It would be so much easier if it did. The touch is light; it kind of tickles and, given the overall direness of the situation, the hero really isn’t in the mood for that. Or, they shouldn’t be.

Unhelpfully, their traitorous mind supplies them with a thoroughly inappropriate image of what else someone who isn’t the enemy could be doing to them with magic such as this.

“Tell me,” the villain says as the power shifts upwards, tilting their chin back with the movement, so his nails can bite into the newly exposed skin below their jaw, “is there anything else troublesome about you, or is it just the eyes?”

He looks most pleased when their breath hitches despite their best efforts to remain stoic. His grip tightens. He’s studying them intently, staring at their eyes like those are priced gems he considers adding to his collection.

Maybe, underneath the mockery, he actually does consider them somewhat of a threat. If he didn’t, why would he be looking at them like that.

It’s stupid, truly and utterly stupid, to feel flattered. This is not respect, they know, just sharp, calculating consideration. His attention promises imminent danger, might turn lethal at any second. It’s not something they should revel in. Still, it feels good, too – being seen.

Has anyone ever really seen them before?

Or perhaps that is the lack of oxygen speaking.

They struggle to focus their vision but all the twinkling Christmas lights in the trees are starting to smudge into dull, red and golden blurs. Vertigo is clawing at them.

There is absolutely nothing they can do against the villain's grip. They're so pitifully out of their depth.

They think about their bland, only half-furnished two-room apartment; their first day at the Agency HQ; their nth day – no more eventful than the first – sitting at the exact same desk in the exact same office and working on the exact same old computer; their colleagues’ looks of pity when their 14th application for a transfer to field work is being denied and their boss tells them, in stern admonishment, that their skill sets just aren’t suited to solo missions. They think about her condescending smile when she finally does assign them the Christmas market job, clearly convinced the worst thing that could possibly happen here is people getting drunk enough on punch to start throwing punches.

They think of their first split-second impression of the villain as just another guy standing by the ice rink with a cup of something steaming in his hands and a mellow, unguarded smile curving his lips.

They hope this montage doesn’t count as their life flashing before their eyes. It’s way too sad a summary of their depressing lack of accomplishments.

They think, with equal parts age-old bitterness and new-found sarcastic vindication, about their colleagues’ infantile, unofficial, end-of-the-year office rankings where flashier heroes with more impressive abilities always receive titles such as most likely to hook up with a hot reporter or most epic battle or best one-liners.

Meanwhile, all the hero has to show for are three consecutive wins of least likely to die on the job.

Which might have been a reassuring sentiment if it weren’t so clearly code for “you’ll never be a real hero”. Real heroes risk their lives on the job all the time.

Well, look at them now!

Will their colleagues manage to come up with a new title for them in time, they wonder, if the villain kills them now, just a week before this year’s poll results will be released?

Most unexpected death has a nice ring to it.

They should be trembling in terror. Might have, if the villain’s magic weren’t encasing them so – tight but soft and deceptively warm, lulling them in. The sticky heat of it leaves them squirming, stuck in a confusing limbo between gooey not-quite-discomfort and hot-bath sluggishness.

They’re drifting. Until they’re not.

It’s impossible to discern how much time has passed or when exactly the villain has released them; but their thoughts are beginning to clear and their brain catches up to the fact that there is air in their lungs again, and that the breathless, hiccuping gasps uncontrollably tumbling out of their mouth aren’t sobs. It’s laughter.

“Are you enjoying this?” The villain sounds incredulous.

They shake their head. “I don’t know,” they manage, between hysterical giggles. “Maybe. Yes?”

“How did you know I wouldn’t kill you?”

“I didn’t.”

That startles a short laugh out of him.

“I’ve never” – they pant, still struggling for air – “felt this alive before.”

“That sounds ... unhealthy.”

There is a long pause in which the villain silently stares at them while they are more or less regaining control over their breathing.

“You wouldn’t get it,” they say then, perfectly aware they must seem most unhinged. “Bet you don't even know what boredom is. Because your life is fun. Mine is not. I practically live at my stupid job, and my stupid job doesn't even pay well. No one there gives a fuck about me. And nothing exciting ever happens. So can I please just have this one damn moment without being judged?”

The villain hums, low. “And here I thought we were ruining each other’s days.” He presses a hand to their forehead. “Did the heat fry your synapses?” he asks, sounding more amused than concerned. His other hand comes up to cup the nape of their neck, as if he can’t help but reach out. Just as they can’t help but lean into the cooling touch. His gaze drops, as if drawn, to their lips. “Or, are you just naturally this unusual?”

They can smell gingerbread and mulled wine on his breath.

“Are you going to kiss me?” they ask, because yes their synapses are definitely fried and they do not care about consequences, awkwardness, or sanity anymore.

“Would you like me to kiss you?”

“I’d certainly much rather be kissed than killed. Obviously.”

“Obviously,” he repeats, smirking. “But we've established I’m not about to kill you. And that wasn’t a yes.”

“It’s not a no either.”

“Not how consent works, darling.”

They scoff. “You didn’t ask for consent first when you strangled me five minutes ago.”

The villain laughs again, in genuine delight judging by how his magic ripples and purrs.

“Okay, fair enough,” he whispers, shifting so his lips almost brush theirs.

The kiss that follows is sweet, surprisingly chaste, and initiated by the hero.

“So, since you mentioned earlier you have nowhere else to be today,” the villain says, afterwards, mischief gleaming in his eyes. “Have you ever had the pleasure of being kidnapped?”

Pleasure, as it turns out over the course of the next few hours, is an understatement.

If anyone at the office were to find out what the hero has been up to during their first (and best) and possibly only solo field mission, not only are they guaranteed to get fired, their colleagues will also surely create an entirely new office ranking category in their honour:

First to be seduced by a supervillain.

[the-cypress-grove]

Prompt: 220

"You've been stabbed, you're going to medical!"

"It's fine. I've been stabbed loads of times. I know what a serious stab wound feels like, this is more of a scratch."

"..."

"Ah."

"You've been stabbed 'loads of times.' "

"That sounded more reassuring in my head."

"You're going to medical."

[wiingdings]

cat people

[the-modern-typewriter]

“You know,” the hero said, as they touched down on the villain’s rooftop. “People keep telling me I’m yours.”

“Do they.”

The villain seemed entirely unperturbed by both the statement and the intrusion; eyes possibly closed behind their shades, all artful laziness as they sprawled upon a deckchair by the pool. Their long limbs seemed to stretch for miles of unmarred skin. It was obscene. A brazen promise that the villain needed no armour, no defences, whatsoever.

“With varied looks of awe, jealousy and absolute terror,” the hero said.

A smirk curled the villain’s lips, then, just briefly.

“You wouldn’t happen,” the hero crossed the space between them, “to know anything about that, would you?”

The villain slid the shades up when the hero blocked the sun; looming over them, hands on hips. Their head tilted as they considered the hero. Their gaze simmered.

The hero leaned down slowly, bracing their arms on the back of their chair on either side of the villain’s shoulders. They raised their eyebrows to repeat the question.

“You know,” the villain said, “normally when you get in a mood to interrogate me it’s at least about less obvious things. Don’t tell me you’re getting slow on me now. You’re much too young and pretty to be taken round back and shot because you’re past working age.”

“I’m not yours.”

“Babe.”

It seemed impossible that one word, so fond and so mocking all at once, could contain quite so much chiding. The hero’s face burned.

“I didn’t agree to this.”

“And I’m sure the earth didn’t sit down and have a formal chat about orbiting with the sun either,” the villain said, “and the moon didn’t negotiate tide times with the ocean. C’est la vie. The facts of the universe remain.”

“I’m pretty sure we are not a fact of the universe.”

“And yet…” The villain hooked their fingers into the front of the hero’s shirt, tugging them closer, until their lips were inches apart. “Like a gravitational pull, here you are.”

The hero kissed them, then, savagely.

It was their first kiss, but the villain didn’t miss a beat. They slid their legs apart so that the hero could settle with one knee on the lounger braced between them. They tugged the hero’s shirt again like perfect choreography, the elegant execution of another mastermind plan, drawing the hero closer still. They claimed the hero’s mouth, in turn, despite the fact that it was so clearly not a claim that needed making.

“You are such a piece of work,” the hero muttered, breathless. The moved to bite the villain’s neck, obnoxiously higher than the line of their collar. “You can’t just go around telling people I belong to you. Screw you.”

The villain laughed. Their other hand slid around the hero’s back, sun-soaked palm smoothing down before their fingers squeezed the hero’s arse. Their bodies rocked together, pooling heat treacherous and molten in the pit of the hero’s stomach, making them gasp. The villain’s other hand stayed locked around the hero’s shirt, keeping them close.

“Babe,” the villain said again, all teeth and delighted, terribly delightful malice. “Do you really still think I had to? Do you actually think that’s a conversation I bothered to have?”

“…Ugh.”

The villain caught the hero’s chin, turning their head up again. They captured the hero’s mouth in another fierce kiss, and it did feel as inevitable as gravity, as inescapable as a riptide.

The hero was mortified to hear a small moan leave them.

“People are going to think I have terrible taste,” the hero said. “Oh my god.”

“You do have terrible taste,” the villain said. “We could have been doing this ages ago if you weren’t so stubborn.”

“I’m not yours.”

“Say that again when you manage to stop kissing me.”

The hero huffed. They forced themselves to stop, panting, and immediately missed the feel of the villain’s lips against them.

The villain laughed again, shaking their head. They slid their hand from the hero’s collar, up to their throat, fingers splaying over the hero’s racing pulse.

“I don’t mind you fighting it,” the villain said. They bit their lip, eyes dark. Their thumb caressed the hero’s jugular. “You know I like watching you fight. But you hate liars, babe, so at least do us both the courtesy of not being such an unconvincing hypocrite. You wouldn’t stand up anywhere near so well under my interrogation.”

The hero glared at them. They didn’t protest again, though. The villain wasn’t wrong after all. They tried not to think what that brand of interrogation might entail. They failed.

“I hate you,” the hero said, instead, and it didn’t feel like enough.

“Mm.” The villain was once more unperturbed by such a declaration. “You’re still blocking my sun. Your options are to either move, or I’m putting you beneath me. I need to get my back anyway.”

The obvious option was to move. To fly away the way they’d come and keep flying. The hero's heart pounded in their ears. Want drummed through their veins, like poison.

“Maybe I’m not yours,” the hero said. “Maybe you’re mine.”

"Oh, love.” In an instant, the villain had flipped them.

The hero’s breath hitched.

The villain, oh so leisurely, straddled the hero’s hips.

The hero imagined the villain’s hands on their wrists, pinning them down, taking what was wanted without the hero needing to ask or give up anything. Their mouth felt dry.

The villain looked at the hero like they knew, too well, all the ways in which defiance could be surrender. Mere bravado. A lie that the villain was only thinly indulging, and only because they were getting their way anyway.

The hero swallowed.

The villain smiled. They leaned down and pressed the gentlest of kisses to the hero’s lips – just enough to stoke the fire – and then settled. Cuddled. It would have been sweet on someone else, if it wasn’t so infuriating. If the hero didn’t feel like they were about to explode. Itching for a fight or – or –

“Of course I’m yours, babe,” the villain said, against their ear. “Do you really think that’s going to save you?”

No.

No, as the hero stared up at the gloriously clear blue skies, they really rather thought they were screwed.

[thewriteadviceforwriters]

Villains vs. Antagonists (Guide For Writers)

Hey there, fellow writers and wonderful members of the writeblr community! 📚✍️ It's Rin here and...

Today, we're diving into a topic that's close to many writers' hearts: villains and antagonists. These characters often steal the show, driving our plots forward and giving our heroes something to push against. But here's the thing – while these terms are often used interchangeably, they're not quite the same. So, let's unpack this, shall we?

First things first, let's break down the difference between a villain and an antagonist. It's a distinction that can really elevate your storytelling game!

An antagonist is simply a character (or force) that opposes your protagonist. They're the obstacle, the challenge, the thing standing in the way of your main character achieving their goal. Here's the kicker: an antagonist doesn't have to be evil. They could be a rival love interest, a stern parent, or even nature itself.

A villain, on the other hand, is a specific type of antagonist. They're the bad guy, the evildoer, the character with malicious intent. All villains are antagonists, but not all antagonists are villains. Mind-blowing, right?

Let's look at some examples to make this clearer:

In "Romeo and Juliet," the feuding families are antagonists, but they're not villains. They oppose the protagonists' desire to be together, but they're not evil.

In "Harry Potter," Voldemort is both an antagonist and a villain. He opposes Harry (making him an antagonist) and he's also evil (making him a villain).

In "Cast Away," the island and the challenges of survival are the antagonists. There's no villain in sight!

Now that we've got that sorted, let's dive deeper into how to create these characters and use them effectively in your writing.

Creating Antagonists:

Define their opposition: What specifically does your antagonist do to oppose your protagonist? This could be physical, emotional, or ideological opposition.

Give them a reason: Why are they standing in your protagonist's way? Even if it's not justified, there should be a reason that makes sense to the antagonist.

Make them strong: Your antagonist should be a worthy opponent. They need to pose a real challenge to your protagonist to keep things interesting.

Consider their perspective: Remember, your antagonist is the hero of their own story. Try writing a scene from their point of view to understand them better.

Create contrast: Your antagonist should in some way contrast with your protagonist. This could be in values, methods, or personality.

Creating Villains:

Establish their evil: What makes your villain "bad"? Is it their actions, their beliefs, or both?

Develop their backstory: How did they become evil? A compelling villain often has a tragic or twisted history.

Give them dimensions: Pure evil can be boring. Give your villain some complexity – maybe they love their cat or have a soft spot for classical music.

Create a strong motivation: What drives your villain? Greed? Revenge? A twisted sense of justice? The stronger and more relatable the motivation, the more compelling your villain will be.

Make them smart: Your villain should be clever enough to pose a real threat. They should be able to anticipate and counter your protagonist's moves.

Now, let's talk about how to use these characters in different genres. Because let's face it, a villain in a romance novel is going to look very different from one in a fantasy epic!

In Romance: Antagonists in romance are often rivals for the affection of the love interest, or perhaps societal norms or family expectations standing in the way of true love. Villains are less common, but when they appear, they might be abusive exes or manipulative friends trying to sabotage the relationship.

Tip: In romance, make sure your antagonist's motivations are clear and relatable. We should understand why they're opposing the main relationship, even if we don't agree with their methods.

In Fantasy: Fantasy is ripe for both antagonists and villains. You might have a Dark Lord seeking to conquer the world (classic villain) or a rival magic user competing for the same goal as your protagonist (antagonist).

Tip: In fantasy, world-building is key. Make sure your antagonist or villain fits logically into the world you've created. Their powers, motivations, and methods should all make sense within the rules of your fantasy realm.

In Mystery/Thriller: In these genres, your antagonist is often the perpetrator of the crime your protagonist is trying to solve. They might not be evil (maybe they committed a crime of passion), or they could be a full-fledged villain if their crimes are particularly heinous.

Tip: In mysteries, your antagonist needs to be clever enough to challenge your detective protagonist. Leave subtle clues about their identity or motives, but make sure they're smart enough to almost get away with it.

In Literary Fiction: Here, antagonists are often more abstract. They might be societal expectations, personal flaws, or even time itself. Villains in the traditional sense are less common, but morally grey characters who oppose the protagonist are frequent.

Tip: In literary fiction, focus on the nuances of your antagonist. They should be as complex and flawed as your protagonist, with their own rich inner life.

In Sci-Fi: Science fiction offers a wide range of possibilities for antagonists and villains. You might have alien invaders, oppressive governments, or even well-meaning scientists whose creations have gone awry.

Tip: In sci-fi, make sure your antagonist or villain is consistent with the technological and social aspects of your imagined world. Their methods and motivations should make sense within the context of your sci-fi setting.

Now, let's dive into some tips to make your antagonists and villains the best they can be in your novel:

Make them believable: Whether you're writing a mustache-twirling villain or a morally grey antagonist, their actions and motivations should make sense within the context of your story and their character.

Give them a personal connection to the protagonist: The conflict becomes much more engaging when it's personal. Maybe your antagonist and protagonist used to be friends, or they're fighting over the same goal.

Show their impact: Don't just tell us your antagonist is a threat – show us the consequences of their actions. Let us see how they affect your protagonist and the world of your story.

Give them wins: Your antagonist or villain should have some successes along the way. If they're always failing, they won't seem like a credible threat.

Humanize them: Even if you're writing a truly evil villain, give them some humanizing traits. Maybe they have a pet they dote on, or a tragic backstory that explains (but doesn't excuse) their actions.

Make them adaptable: A good antagonist doesn't stick to one plan. When the protagonist foils them, they should be able to come up with new strategies.

Give them their own character arc: Your antagonist or villain should grow and change throughout the story, just like your protagonist does.

Use them to highlight your protagonist's strengths and weaknesses: Your antagonist should challenge your protagonist in ways that force them to grow and change.

Consider their presentation: How do other characters react to your antagonist? How do they present themselves to the world versus who they really are?

Don't forget about henchmen: If you're writing a villain, consider giving them some underlings. This can add depth to their character and provide more challenges for your protagonist.

Remember, whether you're crafting a dastardly villain or a complex antagonist, these characters are crucial to your story. They're the ones who push your protagonist to grow, who raise the stakes, and who often drive the plot forward.

But here's a gentle reminder: while it's important to make your antagonists and villains compelling, be mindful of the impact your writing might have. If you're dealing with heavy themes or traumatic events, handle them with care and sensitivity.

Now, I know we've covered a lot of ground here, and you might be feeling a bit overwhelmed. That's okay! Writing complex characters is a skill that develops over time. Don't be afraid to experiment, to try different approaches, and to revise and refine your antagonists and villains as you go.

One exercise I find helpful is to write a short story from your antagonist's or villain's point of view. This can help you understand their motivations better and ensure they feel like real, three-dimensional characters.

Another tip: watch movies or read books in your genre and pay special attention to how they handle antagonists and villains. What works well? What doesn't? How can you apply these lessons to your own writing?

Remember, there's no one "right" way to create these characters. What matters is that they serve your story and engage your readers. Trust your instincts, and don't be afraid to push boundaries or subvert expectations.

As you work on your antagonists and villains, keep in mind that they're not just there to make life difficult for your protagonist. They're an integral part of your story's ecosystem. They shape the plot, influence character development, and often reflect themes or ideas you're exploring in your work.

And remember, writing is a journey. Your first draft of an antagonist or villain might not be perfect, and that's okay. The beauty of writing is in the revision, in the gradual sculpting of characters until they leap off the page.

Lastly, don't forget to have fun with it! Creating antagonists and villains can be some of the most enjoyable parts of writing. Let your imagination run wild, explore the darker sides of human nature, and see where your characters take you.

I hope this deep dive into antagonists and villains has been helpful and inspiring. Remember, you've got this! Your unique voice and perspective will bring these characters to life in ways no one else can.

Happy writing! 📝💖 - Rin. T

Before you go, why not join us at The Write Right Society? We're a supportive Tumblr community where writers lift each other up. Whether you're a newbie or a pro, we'd love to have you! Share your work, get feedback, and connect with fellow wordsmiths, writers and aspiring authors. 

[error-404-code9]

You know what I love…

When people’s superpowers get worse when they’re scared.

Like sympathetic nervous system is a-going, heart is racing, and your whole body thinks you’re in danger. So it tries to kick in your powers to protect itself. I’m taking:

People with electric powers shocking themselves when touching a door knob.

Water powers unconsciously forming a water bubble and spilling it on themselves.

Fire powers smelling smoke suddenly, only to look down at their hands and realize their hands are heating up and burning the sweat off their hands.

Super genius’ drawing a blank and stuttering when someone asks them a question.

People with super speed bouncing their leg up and down or fiddling with their fingers so fast, it looks like one massive blob

(And of course the famous example) Miles, and his spider powers, sticking to everything.

Superhumans and their powers need to be one. I think often we forget about the ‘human’ part. Superpowers being inconvenient is comedic, cool to see, and shows that their powers aren’t just a cool feature they can just turn on and off. It’s a part of them. Just… people’s powers messing up when they’re scared. Give it a thought

[thepenultimateword]

Prompt #269

Hero:

Your profile says you like stargazing. Would you wanna fly around some time? I can get us an extra good view 😉

Villain:

This is Villain.

Hero:

Dang it!! Stop being on every powered people dating app I use!

Villain:

I think the real question is how you keep matching with me on every dating app you use.

Hero:

I’m not doing it on purpose!!! I’m just not used to seeing you in civilian clothes and keep getting confused!!

And you have to match with me too you know! So I could say the same about you!! Why are you swiping up when you know it’s me?!

Villain:

Honestly? Because it’s hilarious 😆🫰

Hero:

I’m blocking you. AGAIN.

Villain:

Awww, but that stargazing date sounded fun.