Redemption by amnesia - the villain forgetting their crimes. They begin living a normal life, or possibly even forge a new path of virtue. They don’t even understand why the heroes keep so close to them, why everyone gives them dirty looks. Or maybe they were told their past and have to live with a guilt they can’t quite fully feel.
Redemption by empathetic experience - maybe the villain was young when they started down the wrong path. They learned the worst from evil mentors/parents, and it isn’t until they have an experience that shatters their paradigm that they realize they can/should be different. Usually these experiences humanize the people around the villain, and villain, feeling empathy, decides to change.
Redemption by de-aging - the villain reverting back to a younger age. Even if they remember what they’ve done, the heroes would likely refuse to kill them. And the younger they are, the less likely they’d face any punishment.
Redemption by whump - the villain facing unbalanced retribution. Their torture is too much for the heroes to bear. “They don’t deserve this.” The villain being taken care of in a way that changes their whole relationship with the heroes. They can’t go back to living the way they did before.
Redemption by “death” - the villain being sentenced to death and actually dying. By some means, magical or scientific, they come back to life. They technically satisfied the sentence and can carry on living, however that may go. Or it was done in secret, and they get a second chance living in anonymity.
Redemption by common enemy - “The enemy of my enemy is my friend.” The villain and hero team up to stop a bigger, worse threat. Even though villain has done terrible things in the past, the hero can’t kill or hurt them now, not right after they helped.
Redemption by family - nothing is more humanizing than a villain that cares about their family (and vice versa), and the hero can’t let villain die while their child is watching. Also looks like a brother, a mother stepping in when villain needs them most. Advocating for them, believing in them when no one else would.
Accidental trauma reveal my love. When friends or enemies unintentionally discover Whumpee’s tragic background. For instance
The classic nightmare scene. Whumpee has never slept with people close by for this very reason. Unfortunately, they don’t have a choice this time, and they do, in fact, scream (or cry) in their sleep, in front of someone/everyone.
The person behind the trauma suddenly reappearing in Whumpee’s life. Whumpee losing it—running away, hiding, refusing to engage with anyone. Or even better, trying so hard to pretend they’re okay until they just. Shatter.
Truth serums, spells, and items. Flippantly asking Villain, “Why do you keep doing this?” only to get a gut-wrenching answer in return.
The mind probe. Whumpee is sick/unconscious, and someone does the magical mind probe (I swear this comes up so much in media) to figure out what’s wrong and stumbles on Whumpee’s tragic past.
Teammates unknowingly triggering Whumpee for a while until Whumpee finally just screams it out. The looks of horror.
Also shout out to intentional trauma reveals. For trusting the found family enough to tell them the things that hurt the most.
Any other tropey goodness that results in Whumpee finally getting the comfort they deserve.
oh don't mind me, i'm just thinking about a stoic whumpee getting drunk one night and completely breaking down in a way they never would while sober, clinging to Caretaker and choking out, "Th-they....they hurt me...." while Caretaker patiently pats their shoulder and says, "I know, bud. I know."
My liege im sorry to break it to you but your advisor that's actually evil and wants you dead turned out to be straight. I know you really wanted to have an enemies to lovers situation with him. Yeah I'm afraid the poisoning didn't hold any romantic intent behind it. The king of the enemy kingdom is bisexual though, I could send him a letter? Yes, I'll make sure to include multiple threats of homoerotic nature. You will have your toxic yaoi, my liege
Villain Whumpee + Reluctant Whumper? What do you think?
Started writing a list and then couldn’t be normal about it so I whipped this up! It’s just all my favorite things, you know. A traitor villain, his conflicted mentor. The good stuff.
TW: Blood, Violence (moderate), Intentionally aggravating a spinal injury (probable medical inaccuracies). Child abandonment. Former Mentor Whumper, Villain Whumper turned Whumpee. Hurt/Comfort.
From the top of the temple steps, Mentor watched as Villain cut down every hero in his path. Crimson flowed down stone carved straight from the mountain side, the moans of his felled pupils burning in his ears. Their incapacitated bodies lay across the steps, strewn about like sickled wheat and gathered up in the arms of grim-eyed healers.
“You never should have kept him.” A snide, unwarranted comment from the high priest at his side. Mentor gritted his teeth, battling against his own sorrow at the sight below. When his own storm of feelings settled enough, he responded.
“I don’t regret it. It was never right to let a prophecy keep us from doing good.”
“Good? Good? Mentor, tell me what good has come of this?! Our young heroes are falling like flies to him, and soon he will destroy us and steal the sacred scroll! We should have just left Villain where we’d found him!”
A baby, tangled up in a blanket, red-faced and wailing at the base of a tree. His soft head crying, crying, crying until he brought him close, started walking back to the temple. Tear-streaked eyes rolling closed, chest smoothing. A warm, innocent bundle against his heart.
Mentor’s breath shuddered. “No. Many things went wrong after that, but bringing him back was right.”
High Priest clicked his tongue. “Say what you will, Mentor, but you can’t deny your part in this mess. You should’ve paid heed to the prophecy.”
Yes, the prophecy of one who would betray them all. A babe left against the root of an aspen tree would become the axe to hew them down.
A boy, four years of age, swinging a wooden sword at him with voracious intent. “Surrender, Shadow Lord!” Mentor’s laughter pealing out, struggling to raise his own wooden staff in defense.
Mentor’s heart pounded, consumed, as Villain’s curved blade cut across a hero’s shoulder, and a kick sent the young one tumbling down the steps. His eyes closed as sorrow’s mouth opened to swallow him whole.
I’m sorry. I thought I could change your fate.
“He’s almost here,” High Priest murmured. “Are you ready to fight him?”
Mentor’s hand stiffened around his staff. “I will fight him.”
“You will kill him,” the High Priest hissed.
“I will stop him, Mentor growled back. As much as Villain had been sweeping through them like dust, he yet to aim for anyone’s vitals. His dark eyes glowed with anger, with vengeance. But not with murder. Those eyes finally turned on him. Villain ascended the last steps, crouching, head low, blade glimmering with the last rays of sunset.
“Why didn’t you tell me?!” Shrieked a boy who’d shot up faster than a stalk of bean, who looked at him with betrayal swimming in his brown eyes. “No wonder everyone hates me! They all saw me as the ravenous wolf hiding amongst sheep!”
“Villain,” Mentor began, holding his staff to the side. “Please, let’s stop this here.”
Villain’s gaze darkened further. He started rounding on him, steps crossing lightly, and Mentor reluctantly followed suit. “I have a mission to complete. And I won’t stop until it’s complete.”
“A mission from Sarkuth? You know he doesn’t care about you,” Mentor leveled. “Once you retrieve the scroll and fulfill your usefulness, he’ll toss you aside and leave you to waste.”
Villain lunged, his sword cracking against the thick-wooded staff Mentor had thrown up. “You’re one to talk about caring about me!”
“I’ve always cared!” Mentor shouted back, countering another swing. “I still do!”
He saw an opening and arced his staff at Villain’s knees. The boy dodged nimbly, spinning and driving for Mentor’s chest. His staff moved to block, but Villain changed course last second and swiped his calf instead.
Mentor stumbled back, pain searing up his leg.
Villain didn’t smile, nor did he advance on him like he’d been taught. Once an advantage is earned, press forward until the battle is won. He only bit his lip and approached again, sword lifted. Mentor swung first this time, desperate to gain some ground back. As much as this fight pained him, he couldn’t let Villain win. The scroll would be lost if he couldn’t defeat him.
Villain parried, drove again, and was sent reeling from the tip of his staff crashing into his stomach. The boy sneered, recovering with a wind-screaming flurry of blows of his own. Mentor felt his hands throb with every ring against the staff. The tear in his calf made it hard to balance his weight. And Villain, all youth and hardly scathed, probably enhanced with Sarkuth’s dark power, started to gain on him again. A tricky feign ended with a slash opening Mentor’s bicep.
“Give up,” Villain hissed, eyes on the blood trickling down Mentor’s arm. “You can’t win against me.”
The fight left him in a precarious position. Without a doubt, both had been holding back, neither hurting more than necessary. But he couldn’t count on Villain maintaining that, and he could hardly get in an offensive attack anyway, not with how much his skills had improved since leaving them. Mentor had to win, but how?
A gasp, a sickening thud. He scrambled down the rock-slick slope, heart in his throat. Nonono. He found the boy, face-up, limbs spasming over the sharp rocks, mouth spewing harsh groans. He turned the small figure over, fear seizing him at the pool of blood growing on his spine.
A breeze of metal, and he managed to knock away the sword just in time. His breaths came tight, the memory wounding him now just as it had then. Of course, of course he knew exactly how to win. Mentor knew Villain better than anyone else in the world, knew the lines of his frown as well as the slant of a smile, knew how whistling too loud made him cringe, and how he took tea with ludicrous amounts of honey. Knew the laceration on his spine, how one jab would, effectively, stop him.
Just the thought of it spurned a sting in his eyes. A mistake, because he got caught off guard and earned another slash in his side. His hand fell to the wound, coating red.
“This is your last warning,” growled Villain. “Back off!”
“No.” Mentor dried his hand on his robe and returned it to his staff. “Stand down now, and I won’t hurt you. It’s not too late for you to stop.”
Villain’s sword twirled once. His smile was sad. “It was too late for me the moment that prophecy was given.”
He swung. Again and again, fury crackling in his eyes as Mentor refused to give another opening. Clack! Clack! Clack! Mentor’s arms began to tremble, his thoughts dragging. Blood. I’m losing too much blood. He had to act soon, or else Villain would win.
Honing his years of experience, Mentor scored a blow against Villain’s head. The boy nearly crumpled, and in a desperate bid to keep himself in the fight, made a low swoop for the legs. Mentor saw his win.
A boy of seven, lying on a recovery bed. The agony of learning to sit, then walk again. Weeks. Months.
He slammed his staff down on pointed vertebrae.
A jagged scream. Villain collapsing at his feet, shaking, no writhing in jerky spams. Bleating groans muffled by darkening stone. Mentor’s heart withered.
He crumpled down and met Villain on the stone, turning him over with excessive gentleness, the sword clattering away from weak fingers. “Oh, Villain, Villain! I’m so sorry, I-I…try to stay still, okay?”
“Well done, Mentor.” High Priest had appeared behind him. A chill crawled up his neck. “Now finish this.”
Villain whimpered, his pain-flooded gaze only on Mentor. Back twisting off the ground, legs kicking out.
“I’ve got you,” he managed to say. Managed to force down the horror and scoop the broken child in his arms, listening to every ravaged scream as they walked all the way back to the temple.
Mentor laid his hand on Villain’s head, stroking his hair softly. A tear rolled from his cheek. “I’ve got you,” he choked out. Started shifting his arms around him. Lifting him.
“Mentor!” High Priest snapped, moving in front of him.
A fierce, protective anger surged over him, and he whipped his head up, the heat in his voice searing. “He’s my boy!” High Priest stepped back. “He’s my boy!”
“B-but he—”
“He’s hurt! He’s not going to attack anyone anymore.” No, he’d be lucky just to walk this year. Villain’s head drove into the crook of his neck, where he smothered a scream. Mentor’s arms strained to keep him still. Softly, he whispered, “Shhhh, I know it hurts. Try not to move.”
High Priest looked stricken. “But the prophe—”
“The prophecy, Mentor spat venomously. “Is over.”
His own body swayed under the weight of Villain’s, and he clutched the spasming boy closer. Entered the temple. Brought him home.
Typically, Hero could trounce Villain in a matter of minutes. One time—and he did time it—he’d won in fifteen seconds. But this fight, for whatever reason, had already been going for over 15 minutes. And it made him feel uneasy.
Villain rose from the smoking wreckage of the what had been the warehouse, shoving aside a wooden beam like a twig. He stumbled out, blood caked on one side of his face, left leg reduced to a limp. A half-crazed gaze fixed on Hero.
Are you kidding me? Hero sighed, running a hand through his hair.
“Look, Villain. I think you’re done for the day. Just surrender, alright?”
The stubborn bastard tripped over some particle board and still had the audacity to spit at him and say, “Never!”
Which he promptly followed up with another fireball intended for Hero’s face. Hero stepped aside, watching the roaring flame pass by, the heat slightly warming his face. What was that, like thirty fireballs? At his best, Villain had juice for maybe five good ones. What was up with him today?
“How about you surrender!” Villain screamed, crossing the rest of the distance between them in a staggering jog. More flames jettisoned from his fists, and Hero dodged them lazily. This, of course, drew Villain in even closer—always a mistake—and Hero kicked him straight back into the rubble.
A second later, the rubble exploded outward, orange fire propelling it a hundred feet outward. A piece of flying, smoking wood slammed into Hero’s arm, the pain taking him by surprise. His eyes narrowed at the soot-blackened, panting figure heaving himself upright. Villain caught the blood trailing off his arm, met his gaze. Smirked.
“Haha!” His foe laughed, then coughed a little. “Oh, it works! I’ve been trying so long just to dent you Hero, and I’ve finally done it! This is amazing!” More fire poured out from his hands, one step forward.
Hero frowned, heart picking up speed. “It works? Villain, what did you do?”
Another step. Villain’s smile widened, the colors of his fire shifting from molten gold to blue. “Other Villain offered me a trade.”
Other Villain? The name rung a bell, but unfortunately he couldn’t summon up anything useful. The frenzied man stepped again, the now- violet glow of fire casting an absurdly hellish halo around him. Hero fought against the urge to step back, instead scanning the ground for something he could shield himself with.
“Whatever this is, it can’t be good, Villain. Extinguish your fire.”
Beads of sweat dripped down Villain’s face, every step forward becoming more crooked than the last. At ten feet away, he stopped, the purple heat radiated off in pulsating, shimmering waves. Hero could resist some heat, but that—that wouldn’t end well. He kicked aside some useless pieces of wood, desperate for something substantial. Come on come on come on.
“No, Hero. It’s finally my time to win.”
Villain held up his arms, bright violet flames swirling larger and larger around them like the tip of a cyclone. Faster. Larger. The air warping in volcanic heat. Hero still hadn’t found anything—should he run? Heat seared his eyes, and he instinctively stepped back. Run! But even as adrenaline shrieked through his blood, he noted the sudden drop in temperature. The flames waning, then dying. Leaving behind a Villain who wobbled more than stood.
Hero wasn’t taking any more chances. He sprang forward, yanking Villain’s arms up by the wrists—he’d once made the mistake of trying behind the back—and kicking his legs out from under him. Villain groaned, shaking in his grip.
Don’t be petty don’t be petty don’t be petty—“Lost again, Villain.” No wonder Villain kept coming after him. “Whatever little trick you did still wasn’t enough.”
“Nnnng…don’t…feel good.”
Hero noted belatedly that Villain’s trembling had increased, and when he lifted him to look closer, his sweat-clad, face had gone ashen. Eyes glassy, breaths thin. Concern flagged Hero’s mind. Everything about this fight had been odd, from Villain’s powers being stronger to the sudden drop off—what had Villain said? He’d traded with Other Villain?
“What did Other Villain give you?” He demanded.
Villain only moaned, attempting and failing to hunch in on his stomach. Hero wracked his brain, certain that he knew—he knew.
“Power amplifier,” Hero hissed, the revelation equal parts maddening and terrifying. The man nodded jerkily, and Hero felt his stomach drop. Oh no, nonono.
The moment Hero released his wrists, Villain simply collapsed in his arms.
Sneak peak for a sneak peak?
With 17 on the go, pick your current favourite! All your stuff is banger so I know it'll be good
Hmmmm I think you’d like Statue! The final version will likely change (hence it’s a WIP), but here’s a snippet of it:
TW: stab injury
“Shoo!” Hero pushed his way through the crowd of spectators, nearly toppling over a newspaper photographer leaning in eagerly for a shot. “Get out of here. Scram.”
Maybe the view was already getting old, or Hero’s brusque arrival provided enough motivation, because a significant number of the onlookers dispersed, mumbling excuses about getting to work or needing a coffee.
To the rest of the stragglers, mainly brown-nosing reporters, he stood in front of them, hands on his hips.
“Leave. Before I make you.”
The roaches scurried away, leaving just one more group between him and his destination.
“Now you guys,” he marched up to them, the ten or so heroes glancing nervously at his approach, “should be ashamed of yourselves.”
“What are we supposed to do?” One of them asked.
“Get him down, stupid!” Hero bellowed, and they flinched back.
“B-but Hero,” a different hero said. “Look.”
Hero followed their gesture, squinting at the metal sign inscribed at the base of the platform.
‘Property of Superhero. Do not touch.’
Hero took a deep breath in. Out.
“Okay, where’s a ladder.”
One of the heroes eventually crumpled under his stare, sprinting away momentarily before reappearing with a solid 10-ft, A-frame ladder on their shoulder.
Hero grabbed it from them, stalking up the wide stone stairs leading up to the statue. He slammed the ladder down, spread the bottom wide, and clomped up the metal steps.
Villain, dangling in their precarious position, saw him coming, and let out a panicked yell.
“No! Please no!”
He even started trying to squirm away, as if he hadn’t already been stuck there for hours,
the metal hand of Superhero’s statue holding him up by his hair. The statue’s iconic metal sword pierced up through Villain’s hands.
“Stop your squirming, I’m here to help,” Hero grunted.
Sorry I got distracted, but you know I want a sneak peek of Shattering the Glass Cannon pt. 3 👀
Ooooooooh~ A sneak peak you say? For you, absolutely!
Sneak Peak for Shattering the Glass Cannon pt. 3
-----
Villain could have done this the easy way, but no.
Why co-operate? Why make anyone elses life even marginally easier when you could be a shit smear in the fabric of life for everyone who meets you?
Theres consequesces for that.
The world keeps an equilibrium, and Hero happily volunteers to be that balance.
He slips a finger into the torn fabric by the injury and rips the punctured skin-tight fabric away for a better view of the damage.
“Idiot, stop!” Villain cries out. Sounding dangerously like a plea instead of the intended demand. His pearly whites gnashing together in futile attempt to keep in the whimper that slips out. He feels the viscious burn of the fabric pulling at the raw edged of his weeping flesh and whines. Arms pulling uselessly in Hero's stone grip.
Goosebumps roll in a wave over Hero's skin as Villain's sad little noises continue.
He's being rough. He knows that. It was the point.
RULES: make a new post with the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous, and tag as many people as you have WIPs. People send an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and you post a snippet or tell them something about it!
Ahhhhh *covers hands over eyes*
The Magician’s Trap
Ice
Ideas
Invisible
Invisible 2
Royal Ideas
Royal
Royal 2
Statue
EC part 8
Idea
Protect
Wish Epilogue
Cursed Part 15
Cursed Part 16
Guardian Girl
Things that help me write
This list is brutal to see. Tags so you can suffer too (no, 17 is too many and yes, I do really want to see your work!): @jumpywhumpywriter @how-the-powerful-fall @f1shs-b0nes @bookshelf-for-stuff-i-wanna-read @bloodthirsty-squirrel @whumpninja @a-little-bit-of-whump-123 @surplus-of-sarcasm @kiichu @sacredwrath @piddlepog64 @enemieswbenefits
ty ty for the tag! @yougivemewhumperflies
Oh no... my horde.
Lacewing (The Lost Hound) Chapter 3
Hare and Hawk
Villain home base
Shattering the Glass Cannon ch3
Cosmo Seigfried first meeting
Occupational Hazard
Pick your Poison
The first slap
1week in
Cosmo snow bound rescue
Cosmo can't cope (shocker)
Osial and Iouri
prompt1
poshinsp V joining Team
promptsMISC
Dream 5.03
I found the reason I'm so slow at posting. That and tossing up between writing suffering and drawing suffering
