OH HERE IT GOES AGAIN

OH HERE IT GOES AGAIN—

Good, Evil or Incapacitated

When Hero finally had the strength to wake up they groaned with the pain of bright lights overhead infiltrating their eyes. Softer than the LEDs from a medical room or hospital, but the burning was harsh nonetheless as it helped fuel their thumping headache.

Muted music played from a speaker nearby and the sound of someone singing off tune flowed choppily alongside. The smell of beef stew floated through the air as well as a constant clattering of spoon against bowl.

Everything around them felt so far away, like they were underwater and pain was the only receptor in their body that was working.

Shakily, Hero tried to pull themselves up off the couch they were laying on. Their brain cloudily registering that their mask was still on and their suit was in tatters from their chest down. Whatever else was touching their skin was put there by the stranger in the room.

They shivered at the thought of it being one of their enemies. A sadistic fuck that wanted to keep them here forever as their servant and plaything.

A villain that would go to the lengths of saving their life and healing their body, just to hurt them all over again.

Instead, as their body collapsed back against the squeaky sofa, they came face to face with the end of metal baseball bat and a very cautious looking civilian. They flinched and whimpered when it strained their wounds, closing their eyes and turning their head away.

“Don’t. Move.”

Hero didn’t need to be told twice, they were tired enough as it was. Even the slightest of movements were agonizing and exhausting.

They could hear the civilian taking careful steps forwards, the presence of the bat never leaving the hero’s senses. Unconciously their body braced for an attack, but it never came.

“You’re Hero, right?”

The question seemed so out of place in the moment, couldn’t they tell? Wasn’t it obvious with the emblem on their chest?

Hero peeled their eyes back open to a squint, taking a good look at their suit when they realized just how much blood the fabric had soaked up. Maybe the civilian had a point in asking…

“Y-yeah…” They coughed, unable to breathe through the shreds their throat was in from the dryness.

Tentatively, the other pushed a small side table closer. On which sat a glass of fresh water and a few pills that looked like ibuprofen. Hero reached for it with an uncoordinated hand and only spilt about half before it reached their chapped lips.

The civilian seemed unimpressed, lowering the bat slightly when they were sure the hero wasn’t going to be a hazard. Watching closely as the crime-stopper emptied the glass in a second, down their scratchy throat, before giving up and dropping it to the floor with a worn out huff.

“I-I’m on the g-good side, yknow? Y-you can put that thing d-down… I-I won’t hurt you.” Talking felt like a crime in itself, using their only strength to try and defend their innocence when they looked like something straight out of a horror film.

“I don’t care what you are.” The other shrugged, eyeing the hero defiantly. “Good, bad, sad, mad, happy, whatever. I couldn’t care less.”

Hero winced at how loud their voice was to their ears, even if they were sure the civilian was chatting casually it didn’t help their headache. “F-for someone so indifferent—” They grunted as they shifted their position. “Y-you seem awfully a-afraid.”

The civilian didn’t move, a puzzled look in their eyes before it seemed to dawn on them. “Oh, this thing?” They tossed the bat in the air with a spin, barely catching it as it came down. “This is merely to intimidate. At least, it’s harmless until you give me a reason to harm.”

“I c-come in peace…” Hero joked, holding their hands up peacefully but not with ease, they set them back down as the joke fell flat. “I-I’m guessing you d-don’t like supers?”

“Not since one of your little spats blew up my old house. No, never really been a fan.”

If the situation could’ve gotten anymore awkward, it did. Fights between heroes and villains could get bad and destruction was a given at this point, but having to actually encounter the affected was always the hardest part.

Now, they were at their mercy. Hero was beginning to think that a vengeful villain would’ve been a better kidnapper, rather than an angry civilian with a bat.

They couldn’t tell if it was the fever giving them the sweats or their own fear.

And now that they were really looking at it, the weapon was littered with dents and stains. Some brown and faded, others looked like they had been imprinted that same day. Bile rose up their throat when they could see blood that was still sticky coating the end.

“F-freshly used, huh?”

The civilian flipped the bat around effortlessly, one might’ve mistaken it for a dance. They raised their brows at the red before dropping it back to face the hero. “Had to use it this morning on your little friend. Tried to kill me the second they woke up.”

Hero must of visibly paled because the civilian’s lips curled into a self-satisfied smirk. Lazily, they walked over to a door across from where the hero laid, placing a hand on the door handle and turning it. Slowly revealing the room behind it.

“S-Sidekick?”

Through the darkness, Hero could barely make out the shape of an individual, hands tied to the headboard of a bed and white—almost florescent—bandages covering almost every tear in their uniform. At first the only imaginable person it could’ve been was Sidekick, but as their eyes adjusted…

“Say hello to your new roommate; Villain.”

Love your writing! An idea, if you like it: villain finds out that their lover is actually their hero nemesis. Villain leverages this in their confrontations by threatening the hero's lover--ie their own secret identity. Basically a villain using their intimate knowledge of their lover to gain an advantage.

Part of them knew it was wrong to enjoy their lover like this - jaw clenched in steely determination, eyes wide and bright with an intoxicating combination of terror and bravery.

That part was drowned out entirely by the bit of them that stepped giddying closer, smoothing their palms down the desperate thump of the hero's chest. The horror of it.

"You think I didn't know?" the villain murmured. "About your little love affair?"

"If you lay so much as a hand on them-"

"-You'll what?"

The hero looked so protective, so willing to do absolutely anything for them. The hero's jaw clenched further; an animal baring of teeth. They took the villain's hands off them and squeezed, hard enough to hurt.

"Perhaps I'll reconsider my policy on murder."

The villain laughed, at that. It wasn't really funny so much as, yet again, giddying. When it was just the two of them alone, their lover was the gentlest person alive. Good and kind and oh so sweet. Seeing the person in front of them...

"Sexy," the villain purred.

The hero shoved them back.

The villain bit on their lip, unable to help it as they considered the hero. "What do you think your love would think of the blood on your hands?"

"If it keeps them safe, it's worth it."

"Oh?"

The hero's gaze raked over them, searching for an open. Futile, really. Their love was not a killer. The villain would never push them to that. Still.

"Alright, alright," the villain pretended at grace, stepping forward again. They scooped the hero's fists in their hands and pressed a half-mocking kiss to their knuckles. "Easy, tiger. We both know I'm more interested in you."

The hero's hands twitched, but they didn't pull away.

"Just stand down and get out of my way and I'll have no reason to hunt them down."

They imagined detailed ransom videos. They wanted to see what the hero looked like when they heard them screaming, praying, begging for mercy. Patience. They could see the hero's fury and their despair and their love most of all.

All the love they struggled to express when it was just the two of them, as if fighting villains was more important.

"I tell you this," the hero said, "and next time you threaten them again, ask for something else."

"Before you think about killing me, please bear in minds that I've put in fail safes should I die. Ruining your love being one of them."

The hero swallowed. They seemed to be trying to decide if that was true or not.

"I know so many of their secrets," the villain confessed, "everything that would ruin their comfortable life with you, every dark and dirty thing that they would hate the world to see. I don't have to hurt them to hurt them, my dearest hero."

"Don't call me that," the hero snapped.

But the villain knew they'd won.

The hero hadn't pulled back and they hadn't lashed out, not physically. They were always fine with a threat to themselves, but this?

The villain almost hadn't thought they could have so much power.

They never wanted to let it go.

But, they never wanted to let the hero go either. They never wanted to wake up one day to a world where someone else had hurt them, when they were already gone.

"Stand down," the villain whispered. "And you can be so very happy."

And, at least for a little while, the hero did.

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

“ – 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.  

Did I daydream this, or was there a website for writers with like. A ridiculous quantity of descriptive aid. Like I remember clicking on " inside a cinema " or something like that. Then, BAM. Here's a list of smell and sounds. I can't remember it for the life of me, but if someone else can, help a bitch out <3