What Would You Give, The Villain Drawled. To Save The World?

“What would you give,” the villain drawled. “To save the world?”

The hero swallowed. Their arms hurt in the binding, pressed too tight against their skin.

“Everything.”

The villain tipped their head.

“Mmm. Lovely. But I have everything. Try again.”

The hero did know, they didn’t know what the villain wanted and the world was going to burn and people were going to die and it hurt—

“Whatever you want,” the hero blurted. “Take it.”

The villain smiled.

“You panic so pretty, darling.” The villain crouched down in front of them. They tipped the hero’s chin up with one elegant finger. “What I want,” they said slowly, like a secret. “Is you.”

“I—“

“You think yourself worth the world, then? I release you, and the world burns so you can stay free and live the rest of your meaningless life. After all, what’s a hero without anyone to save?”

The blood drained from the hero’s face. Their powers lay aching, stolen in their chest.

“No,” they said, and they weren’t sure if it was a plea or a command.

The villain stood.

“You or the world, hero. I’d take either, given the chance,” their eyes burned into the hero’s. “Choose.”

A tear, one, traitorous tear, slid down the grime on the hero’s cheek.

“Me,” they whispered.

Something dark simmered in the villain’s gaze.

“Look at you. Such a good hero, saving the world,” they cooed. They motioned a guard to haul the hero to their feet. “I’m going to have so much fun watching you break.”

The hero never saw the outside world again.

They just hoped it was safe.

Last line game

Thank you @jay-avian for the tag!

“You always were such a clever girl. You held a knife so well when you were younger. We were all so proud of you,” her father’s smile dropped. “And then you got the silly notion of being a hero into your head, and you needed to so much correction after that.”

Melody let out a laugh that was closer to a death rattle. “Clearly I still do.”

Her father hummed, tilting his head. He watched her, and then, as if he had found something within her image that pleased him, smiled slowly.

“No,” he murmured. “You don’t, do you, little one.”

Her breath seized.

“Don’t call me that.”

His eyes darkened and that incredible violence—that wrath, surfaced. Melody looked away.

“Yes, you’d rather I call you Melody, wouldn’t you,” he spat her name like a curse. “No matter how much blood you spill, your blood is still mine. You are still mine.”

She was half her mother, too. But she was nothing more than an unmarked grave and a cut off scream.

“I was never yours.”

Her father grinned, and it was feral.

“You’ll be glorious when you’re older,” his eyes glinted. “So much bloodshed.”

“I have questions to ask you—“

“Do you still know how to hold a knife?”

She swallowed, and he watched her like he was waiting for a misstep.

“Yes.”

He leaned forward, handcuffs dragging on the table.

“You finally grew the spine to use it, didn’t you, daughter of mine.”

She stood, and her chair scraped. To hell with these questions. Her father was toying with her. He may have refused to speak to anyone other than her, but he wouldn’t ever tell her anything of use.

Just remarks, as sharp as his knives.

“I am not yours,” she said again, and then she slammed her hand into the table, dragging her father by the collar to whisper in his ear. “And I am already glorious.”

When she let go, she saw something close to bloodlust but even closer to pride in his eyes.

By the time she had exited the facility, her hands had almost stopped shaking.

Almost.

(I know it’s a bit long just roll with it lol)

Anndddd here are the people I’m tagging in!

@oh-no-another-idea @megreads22 @writeblrfantasy @writtentodeath @writingwithcolor @prettyquickpoetry

If one more person uses the phrase “you always get A’s, stop worrying” around me, I’m going to become an episode on forensic files

I hit a tumblr milestone today! And now I am officially being followed by almost double the amount I follow so...

I need more writeblrs to follow!!!!!!!!!! Obviously

Please reblog/like/talk to me somehow if you're a writeblr that is:

Original writing only (sorry I'm not a fanfic person don't hate me)

Fantasy / Sci-fi / Horror (bonus if no or side-plot only romance)

Any type of minority rep, especially ownvoices

Especially disabilities and religious minorities!! I need moreeee where are youuuuu

Any queer stories, especially aro/ace/queerplatonic and nonbinary

“ – and then, you see, they both hold the scale, and say – ”

“How’s it going, boss?” the henchman said, ambling into the interrogation room.

The hero sat tied to a chair, just as planned. The villain hunched across from them, head down, elbows on their knees.

“The truth potion works,” the villain said.

“That’s great, boss!”

“It would be. If ‘sharing all their secrets’ didn’t mean all.” The villain jerked their head up, glaring at the hero. “It’s been hours and we still haven’t gotten to the good stuff! [Hero]’s just been rambling about how Dragon Tales is a – what was that word you used again?”

“It’s an isekai!” the hero exclaimed.

The villain’s frown deepened. “And that’s a secret?”

“This info’s highly secret,” the hero said.  “In the wrong hands, it could destroy the light novel industry.”

The villain put their face in their hands. “What the fuck are you even talking about?”

“You can’t ask them anything more specific?” the henchman asked.

“I tried, but it never works,” the villain said. “Instead they just reveal some other secret that isn’t worth anything. Here, watch. [Hero], what are your agency’s security passcodes?”

“I have no spatial intelligence,” the hero said. “I’m banned from loading dishwashers in three states.”

The villain groaned.

“Hold on, I might have something for that,” the henchman said.

They went over to their worktable in the corner, and tinkered a bit with the potion, adjusting the ingredient levels. Then they returned, and stood in front of the hero.

“Will you drink this please?” they said softly.

The hero gulped. “Do I have to?”

“If you don’t, [Villain] will make you. And I don’t think I have to tell you that they’re in a pretty bad mood right now.”

Reluctantly, the hero drank.

The henchman returned to their boss’s side. “Okay. Try asking them something again.”

The villain returned their attention to the hero. “[Hero], what is your biggest secret?”

The hero bit their lip in an effort to keep their mouth shut.

“Oh?” The villain leaned forward with a renewed interest.

The hero shook their head rapidly, eyes afraid. The veins in their forehead stood out.

“You don’t need to hold it in, [Hero],” the villain said, smiling. “Whatever it is, you should just get it off your chest.”

The hero was changing colors from the strain. Eventually, their mouth flew open like a waterspout.

“I have a crush on [Henchman]!”

“What?” the villain and henchman cried in unison.

Once the floodgates were open, the hero couldn’t stop.

“They’re just so strong, and dependable. And they’re always so gentle. Have you noticed that? Sure, they’re rough sometimes, but only when they have to be. I have this recurring dream where [Henchman] and I are fighting, and then they pin me to the wall with their big, powerful arms, and then – ”

“Okay!” the villain yelled, bursting up. They began rushing towards the door with a beet-red henchman in tow. “We’re taking a break. We’re going to let that wear off, and then reconvene. Jesus.”

The hero had never been more grateful for a break in their life.  

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