CW: Implied Abuse, Wrongful Imprisonment

The blank page

There was something intimidating about the blank page. No words seemed good enough, she thought to herself. She looked at the blank page again, crisp and white, like a snowy field frozen in time. "You could be anything", she thought. A furrowed brow. An ink pen caught in between two fingers while scratching her scalp with the rest of them. The rain pladdering against the window 🪟🌧️☔

I desperately wish to see more of this non-religious guy and his mom's prayer circle making garlic casserole and fighting vampires.

"You have misunderstood the lore, hunter. It is neither crucifix, nor rosary, nor holy water, nor any other trapping of faith, but faith ITSELF that is anathema to my kind. And yours has proven to be. . . insufficient."

You see their name on caller ID. Tears form in your eyes. You collect yourself and pick up, only to hear the line disconnect.

Long ago, Pierre had been thought a sorcerer. His mastery of the automaton was second to none. He created little birds that twittered and sang, and ladies that danced and spun yarn.

Then the famine hit. He was accused of bargaining with the Devil. Mobs came and destroyed his beloved creations, and he was forced to flee for his life.

For years Pierre hid away in an abandoned castle on the western shore, isolated from all but his own creations. Year after year he sought to improve his craft. He never forgot nor forgave the people who both revered and reviled him.

When the armies finally came, he was old, weak, and tired of running. Though, to his credit, he hardly needed to. He had given the automatons life, or life as best he could. Now they loyally served him.

When armies crossed the drawbridge, mechanical archers shot spring-loaded arrows. When soldiers ascended the stairs, a dragon made of iron opened its maw and spewed fire ignited by sparks and oil reservoirs. Suits of armor would spring to life and heave their axes down. Even the castle itself would move, shifting passages and narrowing halls, shifting floors and collapsing staircases.

It was all cogs set off by pressure plates. All precisely measured engineering. Cold metal and sharp angles. Pierre looked over his creations with both pride and profound regret. He broke his back making the castle what it was, and no one dared to take it.

He had abandoned his joyful creations for the sake of peace from his enemies.

Pierre no longer had the advantages of youth, but he had the experience brought by years of craftsmanship. His hands were gnarled and his shaky. Even as the castle was under siege, he worked tirelessly to create a spark of joy.

The resulting automaton was his finest creation. He poured into it his heart and soul.

The automaton was small and frail, hardly the size of a child. In its hands was a small wooden harp, lovingly carved. Its eyes were made of pearls, and its hair, chords of dried seaweed. He pulled the counterweight that set the automaton in motion, and it played a soft, sweet melody.

Some days the harp would drown out the screams and cries of those outside who wished his destruction.

Kingdoms rose and fell. The armies that sought his blood deemed the castle a lost cause.

It took years for a single explorer to reach the center of the castle. By then the old tinkerer was long gone. Only the child of metal and seaside treasures remained, still poised to give a moment of joy to the shunned.

“It is one man, by himself, in a castle on a hill. How does an ENTIRE ARMY fail to take it???”

"You fell right into my trap," the villain said. They didn't sound gloating, or even happy. In fact, they sounded worried.

"Y-you're going to lock me up, right?" the hero said hopefully.

The villain pinched the bridge of their nose. "Listen." They sighed heavily. "How do I put this. You're... More... Incompetent than usual."

The hero froze. "W-what do you mean?" They laughed nervously. "I-I trashed your lab. I got your henchmen to fight amongst each other. I even--"

"Yes, yes, you're still a thorn in my side, don't get me wrong." The villain frowned. "It's that you've fallen into this same exact trap three times in the last month. You know this wall shoots netting if you press a certain tile, and it's like... It's like you've intentionally been pressing it!"

"You expect me to memorize ALLLLL the little traps in your base?!" The hero scoffed. "Do you realize how WEIRD you sound?!"

The villain stared, deadpan, as they allowed a detailed map of their base to unfurl. Marked in red was every trap and trigger in the building. "Care to explain this?"

"That's not mine," the hero squeaked.

"Okay. That's it." The villain threw up their hands. "I'm letting you go. My henchmen will escort you out." They stalked over to an intercom on the wall.

"Wait, okay, fine!" The hero relented. They worried their lip. "I... The Agency... The Agency..." Their voice cracked a little. "F-fired... me..."

The villain stopped, hand hovering over the intercom button. "They what?!"

"They just..." Tears sprung in the hero's eyes. "Told all the other heroes I was compromised. They think I'm helping you."

"Why do they think that?" The villain snorted. "You're the bane of my existence. I can't have a moment's peace without you wrecking something."

"Yeah." The hero smiled, sadly. "Yeah, I am. But... They won't even talk to me."

The villain blinked. "Sooo... You're trying to... Prove yourself by being bad at your job?"

The hero flushed in utter shame. "Uh. No. I... " They laughed, high-pitched and strained. "It's warm in here. The cot in your cell is really comfortable. The food's not bad, either."

The villain's face pinched. "I give you stale bread and gruel."

"Yeah." The hero chuckled fondly. "It's filling, though." They curled into themselves. "They froze my bank account, evicted me, cut off my phone access. Can't even call my friends."

They shrugged. "Though, most of them work for the agency and have direct orders to not interact with me. So, there's that."

"You have nowhere else to go." The revelation was like a punch in the villain's gut. "You're homeless."

The hero bristled at that. "I'm just between homes," they stated defensively. "I'm working something out. It's temporary. I just need to get a new job--"

"You're hired." The villain set to work freeing them from the net. "Room and board in exchange for your work."

"...What?" The hero shrank back in disbelief. "No, I don't want your-- wait, really?"

The villain peered down at them. "This is not out of pity. You know better than anyone the weaknesses in my defenses, and you've seen my henchmen."

The hero cracked a genuine smile at that. "How do you know I won't betray you?"

The villain dabbed a tear from the hero's cheek. "... I have a hunch," they said fondly. "Besides, just having you out of my hair will save me so much on insurance."

What I've read before, I've loved. What I haven't read yet, I'd love to.

Love how tumblr has its own folk stories. Yeah the God of Arepo we’ve all heard the story and we all still cry about it. Yeah that one about the woman locked up for centuries finally getting free. That one about the witch who would marry anyone who could get her house key from her cat and it’s revealed she IS the cat after the narrator befriends the cat.

The villain emerging from their hiding spot. "Oh. This is sad."

The hero startled, dropping a pie. The pyrex glass shattered on the floor, and they screeched in dismay.

"VILLAIN! WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?!"

Before them was a sizable feast, lovingly and meticulously labeled and surrounded by holiday decorations. They must have been at this for hours, cutting and mixing and basting and roasting.

Villain crossed their arms. "Why aren't you at the party at Superhero's house?"

Hero stopped, hands hovering over broken glass. "There's... A..." The hero blinked. Stared. "But... Superhero said I was hosting this year."

"You're not picking up that glass with your hands," the villain said disappointingly.

"Did... Did they text me about this?" The hero pulled out their phone and scrolled with rising panic. "Look, see? See?! They ASKED me to host this year!!"

They sunk to the floor. "M-maybe I missed a follow-up text. Why would they do this? Why would they--"

They went silent, scrolling through post after post on social media. Heroes laughing, smiling, playing games. Their friends.

"They... N-no one told me the plans changed," the hero whispered.

The villain grabbed a plate.

"W-what are you doing." Hero glanced up with watery eyes.

"You're going to eat all this yourself?" The villain snorted.

That run cycle and spin kick!!! She is fast, but weighted!

Hey I'm back with another animation, that took forever 😅 accidentally deleted my progress from it last year around the same time as now. I worked on it on and off since then. I learned a lot again and now I can finally move on to other projects. This is the same character from my last one, Cassidy's the name, Kicks're her game! Terrible reference aside, I want this big lady of mine to kick ass and I believe I succeeded!

Oh goodness, I'm here for these vibes and would love a part 2.

Prompt #82

By @writingpromptsworld

The villain swore they could smell the hero's very prominent cologne in the dark office, and they had to resist the urge and not take every little thing away with them.

But no, they were on a mission. And they needed to focus, or else the supervillain would-

"You're the recruit, aren't you?" Someone spoke up, the voice was deep and smooth. They sounded amused.

The vilian froze, in the process of sniffing the hero's coat that hung on the chair behind their desk. They look up, alerted. And take out their gun. The person walked closer, and their face glowed under the moonlight. The village's eyes widened when they saw who it was.

The hero grinned. "Relax. I'm in no mood to fight."

The villain’s heart beat wildly in their chest. They didn't lower the gun, scared and in awe at the same time. The hero was even more good-looking in person as if that was possible. They gulped, and when the hero didn't come closer, they lowered the gun slowly.

The hero's grin only broadened. "Care to tell me why you were sniffing around my coat?" The villain's face immediately went scarlet, their heart dropping in their stomach. '

"Uhh…" They started. "I was searching…for potential information about your- next mission?" They really hadn't meant for it to come out as a question, but it did anyway and they cursed under their breath.

"And what is this crucial information you would find in there?" The hero played along, cocking their head to the side.

The villain opened their mouth and closed it, not sure how to tell the hero they were…curious. Well, curious is putting it lightly, they were obsessed, really. "Good question." They said, a second later.

The hero looked more entertained by the minute. They took a few more steps that brought them right in front of the villain, meeting their eyes. The hero's eyes were gray, like the moon, and glowing with mirth.

The villain checked out the hero before they could stop themself, their mouth drying at the sight.

The hero chuckled, "You're terrible at keeping a blank face. A really bad quality for a vilian if I say so myself."

Okay. That's it. Everything they had read about the hero was wrong. The hero wasn't stoic and ruthless as listed in their 'bio', they were something worse: flirty and dangerously good-looking.

"It looks like I win."

"It does look like that, doesn't it?"

"Admit you never stood a chance."

"You sound a bit insecure, demanding my validation."