The Villain Sprawled Languid, More Somber Than Usual, On The Rooftop Of A Towering Business Building.

how do requests work? what can we ask for?

You are my first ask, so you get a special prize! 🍀 It's a clover! Congratulations! You have +1 good luck now. I take requests for hero/villain content. I don't feel comfortable working with other people's characters. I generally stay SFW. If you want spicy I will try and will likely disappoint you. I also draw pictures sometimes, but I have burnout and very rarely want to.

I also work very slowly on average. If you want a mediocre five sentence Halloween themed story with no satisfying conclusion you should ask for it now.

I work for free though, so the return on your investment of time is decent, all things considered.

All in all... Try your luck, ask a question and see what happens?

Anyway, have a good day.

Villain could feel her mind go blank. God, she really said that out loud.

Hero was close, much too close, and her strong arms gripped her shoulders so, so tightly. She smelled a little like strawberries and musk, and her hair tickled her face a little. No one had ever gotten this close before. Villain twisted her wrists in the cuffs behind her back and tried to ignore the warm feeling in her gut.

"I… Um…" Villain tried, flustered. Her eyes flicked to Hero's lips. They looked soft.

Hero cleared her throat and put an arm's length between them. "Nice try, but you're still going to prison."

Villain's stomach did little somersaults. "You're, uh, going to take me there yourself?"

Hero blinked and seemed to avoid her eyes. "Well, um. Yes."

"And, um, keep a close eye on me?"

Hero flicked a glance at her and grabbed a walkie-talkie with one hand. "Hey, Superhero," Hero squeaked, voice cracking, "When's your ETA?"

Villain could see a little pink in her ears.

Static. Hero muttered a curse. Superhero always took his time answering.

Villain knew she should take the opportunity to try to run. Hero only had one hand on her shoulder. One warm, strong hand.

She pulled her shoulder back and barreled into the Hero. Hero, caught off guard, dropped the walkie-talkie and fell back. Villain made a run for it, jumping off the rooftop onto a fire escape.

"Hey! No, get back here!" Hero roared. She leapt onto the fire escape below Villain, cutting off where she was headed. Villain jumped off the fire escape to the ground, and Hero launched after her.

The full impact hit Villain square in the back, and the resulting fall knocked the wind out of her. Hero straddled her from the back and roughly grabbed her arms.

"Don't think I'll go easy on you just because you're cute," Hero grunted.

Villain's heart fluttered. She turned her head as much as she was able. "You think I'm cute?"

Hero reached for her walkie-talkie and came up empty.

"It's on the rooftop," Villain helpfully reminded her. "Does he normally take this long to respond?"

Hero seemed conflicted in whether to answer. "…Yeah," She conceded.

"With just you, or--"

"I really, really don't want to talk about it," Hero sighed tiredly. "Just… Please."

Villain hummed. "You deserve better," She said.

"So do your victims," Hero said, voice hard.

Villain opened her mouth. Shut it. "This seems personal," she said.

"It is," Hero said. "Superhero saved me from Villains like you. So now, I work for him and pay it forward."

"Funny," Villain said, voice lowering an octave. "Superhero is the reason I'm like this."

Hero was going to ask what she meant, but Superhero came flying from above. A short while later, a prisoner transfer vehicle arrived.

"Thanks for your help as always, Hero," Superhero said. He flashed a wide, toothy grin for the paparazzi as he secured Villain into the back of the vehicle.

"I have something important to take care of, so I'll see you back at the base, Sport," Superhero said, patting Hero's back. Hero slid into the passenger's seat quietly, knuckles white. She watched him laughing with the press as the car rolled away.

"Wow, he can't even help escort me back?" Villain said, smile sardonic. "Also, what was that just now? Is he stealing the credit from you?"

"I don't want the attention," Hero said. She looked down. "Justice is its own reward."

Villain snorted. "Oh, honey... You keep telling yourself that."

The driver flicked his eyes towards the backseat, and pushed a button to lock the car doors.

"Just ignore her," Hero said to the driver, flashing a smile. "Have we met? You don't look familiar."

"He didn't get in the car," The driver gruffed.

Villain sighed. "I know, I know, but proceed with the plan anyways."

"Yes, boss," said the driver.

Hero whirled around. "Hey, wait, what plan--"

There was a sudden sting in her arm as the driver injected her with an unknown substance.

"What th--" Hero ripped the tranquilizer from her arm and tried to grab the wheel.

The car veered and the driver wrenched her arm back. She elbowed him in the eye and grappled for the wheel. He pulled out a gun and aimed it at her.

"Hey, now," Villain said, reaching her arms through the bars. "I like her, so be gentle."

"Yes, boss," The driver said. He kept the gun ready, and glowered at Hero with his good eye. They were speeding down a gravel path. Hero tried the door but her hands felt weak.

"Child lock," Villain said.

Hero bit her tongue to stave off the unnatural woozy feeling in her head. "You'll... Be... S-sorry," she said.

"Don't worry, shh, I'll take care of you," Villain shushed, petting her hair gently. "I just can't let you interfere with my plans. Okay? Okay? Sleep."

Hero's eyes went heavy. She leaned into the soothing hand despite herself. Her vision went black.

Prompt (440)

The hero clicked the handcuffs over the villain’s wrists. “You’re done terrorizing the city. Any last words?”

“I think I’m in love with you,” the villain said.

The hero turned the villain around. “What?”

Prompt #82(pt. 2)

(Y'all begged for a part 2, so here it is! Enjoy ;)

Part 1

By @writingpromptsworld

The villain huffed, their cheeks tinting a shade of red. They hoped it wasn’t noticeable to the hero. They were already feeling so embarrassed. “What do you know about being a villain.” They tried to sound annoyed.

The hero didn’t stop, though. They snorted, taking another step forward. “I was one, a long time ago.” The villain looked into their eyes; all they could see was honesty. 

“Right, sure. I believe that.” They babbled. How could the number one hero ever have been a villain? From what they could recall, the hero had endangered their life more than multiple times to save the civilians. 

The hero’s lips widened again, their eyes crinkling at the corners. It was hard not to stare at the hero. The villain licked their lips nervously. 

“You’re rather cute, you know that?” The hero teased further. 

The villain swallowed. “You–...what?” Their eyes widened, caught off guard. They were about to lose their cool and fall to their knees. It wasn’t fair– what the hero was doing. Using the villain’s inexperience to their advantage. 

“What? You are. First of all, you come in here, again,  sniffing my coat rather confidently. And lying about it–you’re not hard to read even in the dark. Then you ogle me shamelessly. I mean, how cute can you get, you know?” 

The villain let out an involuntary whine. 

The hero brought up a hand to the villain’s cheek, and the villain immediately nuzzled into it. “You should leave.” 

The villain didn’t move. 

“So desperate, it’s almost pathetic.” The hero mused, their thumb gently caressing the villain’s cheekbone. The villain sighed in response. 

The villain opened their eyes; their faces were a breath away. They stared at the hero's lips. The hero smirked, before closing the gap and kissing them.

The villain, in fact, stayed there the whole night.

The Green Scarf

CW: blood, head wound, hospitalization

Gerard kept a brisque pace in the snow-covered sidewalk, the frigid air colder still as the sun sank into the horizon. It was hardly the time to dawdle, but something in the air seemed not quite right, almost sinister in its unnatural silence.

It was then his eye caught the little droplets of red scattered in the snow, leading up the steps to the main school building. Probably nothing, he told himself. Best keep moving.

He heard a soft whimper.

Reluctantly Gerard ascended the steps to a small bush, behind which lay a prone figure, face-down and much too motionless.

That scarf.

He'd know that obnoxious green scarf anywhere.

"Blair?"

His heart thrummed in his chest. He gently rolled the body over. Blair. The absolute thorn in his side since day one of university.

He shook him briskly.

"Blair!"

Scoff.

"I should leave you like this after the way you embarrassed me yesterday," Gerard said aloud, mostly to himself. "Serves you right."

No response. It settled like a lead weight in his stomach.

Blair's skin was much too gray, much too dull. His breathing, much too weak.

Red... Pooling from the back of his head. He wrapped Blair's stupid scarf around the wound.

He checked his radial pulse. Faint.

Gerard groaned and glanced around for anyone to shove this responsibility onto.

No one. Of course not.

"Blair. BLAIR." He patted his cheek insistently. "Wake up. I am NOT carrying you."

Why wasn't Blair wearing gloves? Or a coat? Where'd he get that head wound?

That wasn't his business, Gerard decided. Well beyond his business.

His rival getting hypothermia, on the other hand...

He called emergency services.

"High than normal call volume. Wait time is 2 hours--"

He screamed a curse.

Moving Blair proved tricky. Not just the dead weight, but he had no way to determine if there was a neck injury on top of the head injury. The stairs would also be tricky.

He needed something to drag him with, and there was really only one thing that would do.

"You'll owe me BIG for this," he grumbled, pulling off his overcoat. He rolled Blair onto the overcoat unceremoniously and began dragging him down the stairs. The snow kept bunching into piles, slowing the forward pull. The cold made Gerard's teeth chatter, and he kept muttering curses with each merciless gust of wind.

He reached his apartment and threw open the door, snowflakes scattering across the front entry. With one final pull Blair was in, and he kicked his legs out of the way to slam the door shut.

"God, even when you're unconscious, you're still trouble," Gerard grumbled, turning on a space heater with shaking hands.

He felt Blair's pulse. Weak, but still there. He assessed the head wound. The bleeding seemed to have slowed. His hands were cold. Gerard pulled him near the space heater and bundled him in a blanket.

With little other option, he gathered first aid supplies. Antiseptic on the head wound, proper dressing.

The warmth was bringing color back to Blair's cheeks. Gerard's eyes pricked with tears, and he picked up Blair's cold hand in his.

"You'll be okay," he muttered. "You'll be back to that obnoxiously chattery self in no time, right? I'd better enjoy the silence while I can."

He laughed at himself for that, and quickly wiped away a hot tear.

A voice in his pocket broke the silence, and he quickly dropped the hand.

"Emergency services. What is the nature and location of your emergency?"

Oh. Right. He'd been on hold. He picked up the phone and explained the situation to the best of his ability, a bit flustered.

Emergency services arrived. Gerard rode with him, because wasn't that the right thing to do?

Blair came to about an hour later.

"Blair!" Gerard started towards him.

A moment of relief cut short.

"Gerard?" Blair spat, a note of disgust.

"Oh, shut up," Gerard grumped. Sat back.

"What the hell are you doing here? And-- wait, is this the hospital?!"

"Well, it's not the morgue," Gerard snapped.

"Why the hell did you ATTACK ME?!"

"Me? ME?!" Gerard held back the urge to strangle Blair. "I just dragged your sorry ass across town, and you're blaming ME?!"

Blair felt the back of his head. "Well, SOMEONE hit my head!"

"It'll be me soon if you don't drop the attitude," Gerard growled. "I didn't do it. I hate your guts, but I would never stoop that low."

"You wouldn't?" Blair quirked his brow skeptically.

"You're so much cuter when you're concussed," Gerard grumbled.

Chattering down the hall.

"Your friends are here," Gerard said. "Maybe ask one of them who had enough of your bull."

He stood to leave, but Blair caught his wrist.

"No. Wait. You really didn't do it?" Blair searched his eyes. "What d'you mean, you dragged me across town?"

Gerard yanked at his wrist. "Let go," he said.

"You brought me here?"

He didn't want to meet Blair's eyes.

"You really brought me to the hospital?"

"You were in front of the school," Gerard didn't answer. Didn't meet his eyes. "Just... Did what anyone would do."

"Yeah. Okay." Blair let go. "...Okay."

"Get better soon, asshole," Gerard said. He stormed out just as the group of well-wishers rushed in.

Arrived home. Realized Blair's stupid green scarf was still on the floor of his apartment.

Blair would definitely come back for it.

He kicked it across the room in frustration. Then proceeded to wash it in cold water.

//AN Sorry for not posting much this last week! I've been struggling to write and not really happy with anything, but I felt I should try to post something. Anyway, I hope you're all doing all right in the New Year. Thank you so much for reading!!!

You're a murder victim haunting an old apartment building. The newest tenant's apartment is full of teenagers trying to perform a seance. You're doing your best to be as disruptive as possible because they keep almost summoning your murderer.

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???”

Gorgeous. I could stare at these all day.

This year has been quite trying, but I'm happy that I discovered a love of making these horse animations in 2023.

"You seem remarkably dispassionate these days," they said in a low voice.

The soft creak of the floorboards was the only sound. They seemed to shift towards you, and you recoiled from the brush of their fingers.

"We're strangers," you whisper, voice cracking. "We're practically strangers now."

"You're a bad influence," you said with a fond smile.

"I aim to be," they agreed, matching your smile.

They reached for your hand, but you pulled back.

"I have to go," you said.

"Afraid to stay?" they challenged with a knowing glint.

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.