Requests are open for HxV and Fantasy prompts and snippets. (Please keep in mind that romance is not my cup of tea. Sorry!)
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Hi and welcome, thank you for visiting !
The general tag for my snippets is my writing.
I do fantasy and whump sometimes, but this is mostly a heroes and villains blog now. I take requests for fantasy and hero/villain.
Congrats, you've found out one of the very rare gen hero/villain blogs. I like platonic relationships better and everything is sfw. However, I do a little bit of everything, from fluff to whump, hurt/comfort, angst, etc.
If you find something you like, please reblog! People who binge and tag and comment: you keep me going. Thank you.
There’s no schedule, only chaos. Sometimes I'm off for A While, but I always come back. That said, I've piled up 100+ snippets here while you wait for the new one.
Currently I'm writing a novel about this guy, so things are pretty slow here but I'm still alive and stuff and I will finish it.
I'm taking too long? Lucky you, people have made some excellent blog recs here and here.
This blog is queer-friendly (duh) and anti-AI (double duh). This is MY bazillion typos, thank you very much.
Villain has a crush on Hero and invites them to dinner. Unfortunately, not only is Hero aro/ace and every flirty comment passes over their head/annoys them, but they’re also a foodie. Endless critics ensue.
“I knew it! You two are lovers!” “No, we’re more than that. We’re friends.”
Hero discovers that the cute twink he has a crush on at this “normal” work is actually a huge bear as a Villain (serums were involved). It’s confusing.
Hero has the weird power of transforming the bodies of everyone else but them. They wished they had something cooler, but soon after a lot of people come asking for their help.
Villains/Hero recruits people who are thrown on the streets because of their queerphobic landlords/family. It actually works out quite well.
This Villainness’s power is a mesmerizing voice, but it only works on women. Heroine wonders why.
Supervillain is definitively a man, but he’s a man of fashion. Only dramatic dresses can properly fit his peacock’s brand of style.
To protect their identity, Hero presents as a man under their civilian identity and as a woman as a Hero. That makes them realize something about themself.
NB Thief has all the genders and is a master of disguise. The only way to recognize them is how stunning they are, but then again, maybe Detective has a crush.
An intersex hero is a lady with a beard and no one, actually, gives a damn – are you insane, that’s what you focus on? She can shoot fucking lasers with her eyes !
Villain specializes in smuggled goods, including banned books. Soon they notice that a lot of teens/young adults flood to them for reading references.
“Be gay do crimes” stickers on Villain’s evil lair everywhere on the walls.
“Be gay stop crimes” magnet on Hero’s fridge.
Hero, Villain, Supervillain, Superhero, Henchmen and Sidekicks try to kill each other all year, but they agree on one point: protect the Pride cortege. They all have their own reasons (queer themselves, they have a close one in the cortege, they like the outfits, they like the challenge to authority/norms, etc)
I'm seizing the opportunity to apologize to y'all! I know it's been a while. Just letting you know I'm not dead or gone and I'm still very much on the Vampire Hero novel and I'm doing everything I can to make it worth the wait! The thing is, I don't have a lot of energy left for this blog, because as you sure have noticed, it's 2026 and everything is *waves*.
Sorry. And thank you. And sorry. I promise I'll be back.
A totally random sleeping beauty origin story in which the king and queen go to outside help to conceive. the gorgons, the creatures that lay in the belly of the swamps, slithering in the boiling pools, grant the couple’s request. they are loyal subjects, after all.
they promise that the child will live a long life. they promise that she will have great strength, will speak many tongues, and that she will strike awe into the hearts of men.
the queen thanks them, but before she can go they stop her with one last promise: if the child is not loved, then they must give her back.
I will love my child, say the two, and race off atop a shimmering steed.
9 months pass and the queen gives birth to a child, a healthy baby girl. but as time goes on, things start going wrong. servants start burning from the inside out, objects begin to vibrate from the toddler’s cries. the princess howls like a never-ending night, and nursemaids leave blind.
this cannot go on, the people hiss. this cannot go on.
and so the king and queen place her away from the castle’s inhabitants, far up in a tower. there she may scream and the world may tremble. there she may cry and no one’s ears will bleed. there she may live her life, among four stone walls. alone.
they send instructors up to the tower, one by one. a professor. a sorcerer. a hunter. a tamer. each attempt more desperate.
until there is nothing left to do. and so the princess is left in her tower, viewed as more monster than girl, fed by scraps through the door.
the parents do not fulfill their promise.
they do not give her back.
the princess, in filthy tatters and between clawed walls, pleads to be let out. i will be good, she promises tearfully. i will be good, just let me see them. I want to see them.
but she cannot control her nature, these sick powers she has been given. so she is left, often starved.
over time her pleas become bargains. i will not scream, if you let me see them once. i will not look upon you, if you let me touch them. i will not kill you, if you only let me be with them one last time.
none of these are accepted.
the princess turns fourteen. she grows strong. she speaks many tongues. and she strikes awe into the hearts of whoever she meets.
and why not? her eyes are yellow, like a deathly hawk. her hair hangs low, like the night. her teeth shine brightly, like the fang of a beast. her skin, though. oh, her skin. it glistens and glimmers and it is cold, like a reptile.
and her heart grows stunted. small. shattered.
they did not love her. no one did. they did not give her back, either.
months pass and crowds gather, swooping into the castle in courtly procession. the princess stares down in curiousity, but also longing. why are they here? what has happened below?
for the first time in her life, she escapes. i will not tell you how. perhaps because it is terrible and wicked. perhaps because it is clever. and perhaps because it is boring.
only you really know.
“the baby princess,” the people whisper to each other, while she clings to the shadows. “the baby princess.”
she is not a baby though, is she.
is. she.
and so the christening begins, golden plates and golden goblets set down. each numbered correctly, one for each guest.
the fairies of the glen. oh, how beautiful they are. their wings gleam like dewdrops in the morning, and their hair slips over their shoulders like the sun peeking through trees. they have made this possible, everyone murmurs. we must be thankful to the fairies, for they have given the rulers their daughter.
they all sit down to dine, and the princess–the eldest, the first born, the forgotten–stumbles in. her hair is lank. her eyes bleed tears. and her skin is cracking, old and scaly. oh, she is gruesome. the courtiers gag at the sight of her.
“leave, witch!” they order, but she pays them no heed. she walks up to the throne, and smiles at the king and queen.
“remember me?” she murmurs, teeth sharp but smile pleasant. she looks around. “every plate and every goblet. every person has a setting. except for me. now, why wasn’t I invited?”
“we don’t know who you are,” they reply fearfully.
“oh?”
the ground begins to shake. the guests scream. people howl, ears bleeding.
“you should not have struck another bargain so soon, you know,” she says, glancing at the fairies’ iridescent wings. “for everyone knows that gifts from the forest folk are not gifts. song, beauty, grace, wealth. are these all not useful to the fairies? and they will get their gifts back.” she stares at her parents. “they always get their children back.”
“please,” beg the king and queen, kneeling before their daughter. “please.”
the girl steps aside and walks to the cradle.
the guards surge forward.
“I WANT TO SEE HER!” screams the princess. the guards collapse in a shot of ash. “I want to see her,” she whispers brokenly.
the girl inside is like the dawn, blonde and gold and rosy. noisy, too.
“come now,” she soothes the child, smoothing back a curl. “do not cry. out of the two of us, i am the more ugly one,” she teases. “you are my family, you know. my own little sister, wound by the spring petals as i was forged by the burning pools. we are together, in that. they will not understand half-beings such as us. in fact,” she looks up at the court, cracked lips winding into a smile. “i, too, would like to give a gift to the child.”
her parents recoil, but it is too late.
far, far too late now.
“she will be yours until she finds my tower. on that day, she will learn what has been done, all your great sins against me. i will take her with me, show her the chaos you wrought into our veins by asking the forest for what was not theirs to give. thus, i give you this last promise: if she does not love me, i will give her back.”
and the princess strode from the castle, ripping the stone walls down. only the tower remained.
what happened next was simple, really. it was just the middle and the ending. every story has to have it, as you well know. but the middle and the ending are vague things. you will have to decide what happens.
Buildings were exploding under the melting sun. The sky was red and pink and the shade of magenta of a bleeding heart. It was quite beautiful, actually. From down there, people looked like ants, moving in silence.
Villain was contemplating the scene from above, feeling strangely peaceful, when something poked his arm:
“Wake up. Night shift.”
He mumbled before reluctantly opening an eye. In front of him, there was a TV’s black screen, and behind that one of these white walls landowners were so crazy about, as impersonal as marketable. Himself was on an old couch that had seen better days, probably when dinosaurs learned to fly. There was a crack on the floor, and...stuff...more or less describable...everywhere else on the floor. Some were his, some belonged to Hero. His host was walking around, now fumbling in the kitchen. Villain groaned and scratched his neck and complained:
“Did we really pass the last night binging soap operas?”
“Yep.”
“Can two grown men get lower?”
Hero appeared in his sight, yawning behind a large cup of coffee:
“Every day. Check the news.”
Villain stared at the TV’s screen in answer. It’d been switched off since long ago. Hero paced the room, picking up plates and newspapers while somehow pocketing his keys and finishing his cup. He wasn’t making a very good job at cleaning the mess. Then again, even spotless, it’d be a depressing place, though much better that Villain’s. Their employers had found that a cave suited his character better than a home. It was beautiful and dark and wet, the ground was so uneven no furniture could stand for long, and it was best not to mention the bathroom at all.
Maybe he should have accepted the evil lair inside the volcano.
“Come on! We have a fight in two hours. Hat shop. You want a run-on?”
“I cause trouble, and you save the day.”
“Of course, but there’s some one-liners-”
He crossed Villain’s eyes and decided not to end his sentence.
It was Hat Shop Time. Villain went first, barging in his cape and black tight suit, threatening all the smiling employees with his stun gun while collecting beanies and caps and fedoras. Then, when he was ready to make his escape, Hero came and shrieked to “unhand these beautiful, wonderful accessories, you’re not worthy of them”. They fought, gave each other some carefully planned scratches, letting Villain pulling off a miraculous escape without his loot. Then it was the CD store’s turn, followed by the bakery and one or two bookshops.
It was a busy day. They only had five minutes for lunch. Villain bit once into his bagel and stopped there. Hero, who had inexplicably found the time to gobble two wraps and was on his third, sent him an interrogating glance.
“Do you sometimes wonder about what we’re doing?” he asked.
“We do a lot,” protested Hero. “We help the local economy. Sales boom every time each time you steal from a shop. We have a steady income and fame. It could be worse.”
“We’ll never be able to have a house.”
“No one does now.”
“Do you have friends? Do you have the time to party? To have hobbies?
Hero devoured the last bites and wiped his fingers:
“Well, we already meet lots of interesting people in our work, don’t we? I give autographs to children, people give you their fanfictions-”
“It’s all a lie.”
“No, it’s pretend. Would you rather real people getting hurt?”
Villain dragged his hand over his face:
“That’s not what bothers me. A villain should question the status quo. All I do is reinforcing it.”
“Is that so bad?”
“It’s not what I’m supposed to do.”
Hero shrugged, putting back his gloves as well as he could. During their break, they were sitting in the back of their corporation’s truck so people couldn’t risk seeing them off the clock. It was hard to see anything in the flickering light. Hero’s expression was hard to decipher.
“There’s the only thing I’m able to do,” he whispered gently. “I gotta put food on the table. Let’s go.”
Villain watched him as he went out of the car. Hero’s shoulders weren’t hunched; he wouldn’t let it happen.
The next mission of the day was meeting Mrs. Cream. Her necklaces clanked when she greeted them. Everything glittered on her from her dress to her shoe buckles, and she had the happy smile of people who never needed to worry about their next meal. Her jewels aren’t selling like they should, so she settled them behind her tiny desk and explained:
“I thought a little kidnapping wouldn't hurt anyone; I don't want to put any employer at risk, so what about me? Try to be gentle, of course, haha.”
“Haha,” they answered automatically.
“I am known in town, so it should give all of us a little visibility boost.”
She winked at them and kept talking, but none of her words reached Villain. His sight blurred. A nondescript person was on front of him, talking about visibility and stats, a smirk on its lips, unreachable, all-powerful, and he could do nothing but lowering his head and thanking it for the great favor of being used-
It held out its hand smiling, knowing it won, and Villain punched its face.
It screamed. In a flash, she went back to be Mrs. Cream, who'd always been sweet and kind and patient and thanked them for the help. He watched her stumble and fall on her chair. Hero appeared between them, horrified, and rushed over her while she began to cry. Villain just stood there, unable to move.
Adrenaline was still pumping in his blood, and he felt good. He didn’t remember the last time it has happened. His blood sang so loud it was almost obscene.
It was bad and inexcusable and for once he'd acted just because he felt like it.
He left and no one stopped him. Maybe Hero yelled at him, but if he did, Villain had no memory of it.
A couple of hours later, Hero slammed his apartment’s door, cheeks red and bags under his eyes, and he screamed:
“You!”
“Me,” said Villain.
He had answered without thinking, then realized what he’s whispered, pinched his mouth as if he’s just tasted a rare wine, and repeated once more with satisfaction:
“Me.”
“What you did- you are- you’ve done a horrible thing!”
“I know.”
“Mrs. Cream is a lovely lady!”
“I know.”
“You don’t look like it- you should feel bad!”
“I know.”
“The boss is furious and he wants to see you as soon as possible.”
There was no answer to that, so Hero was forced to use his eyes and watch what is happening. The room was much cleaner. For a minute, the thought that his colleague had done a little spring-cleaning as a way to say how sorry he is crossed his mind, but he shook that off. It wasn’t cleaner, it was emptier. Villain was filling suitcases.
“What are you doing?”
Villain raised his head and gave him a peaceful, if a little vacant stare.
“It’s rotting,” he said.
“What are you talking about?”
“My soul. It’s molding. It’s gonna go worse if I keep on like this. I’m going.”
Hero said nothing. He didn’t help, he didn’t try to stop him. He sat on the couch with an ashen face. The door closed on him as gently as possible.
On top of a hill, Villain turned back. Down there, the town was glittering uselessly, unchanged by his departure. Buildings were not exploding, and the sun was not melting, but he was away.
Good enough.
He sat and waited. After a while, something moved to his right, huffing under the weight of too many bags.
“Took you long enough,” whispered Villain.
Hero shrugged, his gaze also wandering on the setting sun gliding over the rooftops.
“I’m scared. I’m scared stiff. But it’d be even scarier to face another day without you.”
He sat down, pulling off one of his bags from his shoulders:
“Besides, if you go on a rampage, who’s gonna stop you?”
Villain nodded without a smile. Hero’s hand was in reach and he took it.
The Hero Agency prided itself on having the most comfortable prisons of the country. Some of them had TV, video games, and working out equipment. No more of these wet, dark cells. These miserable little holes without light were a thing of a past.
Unless, of course, all the other cells were taken.
As a result, Villain was curled up against the stone wall, staring between the bars. As they could see through any kind of darkness, they saw that the 6-foot square space had a wonderful minimalist style in its total absence or furniture.
They missed a little more the colored cushions Hero put everywhere in an attempt to make people believe that yes, they could decorate a place with no trouble, haha. They missed the comfy chair in the living room. They missed the smell of something sweet and spicy in the pot, a sign that Hero had enough time to cook that day. After all, colors and sweets were the burden of Villain's existence, and without burden, life is not that fun.
However, despite how bare the room was, there was too much of something. Or, to be precise, someone.
Superhero stared blankly at their shadow from a corner. He was gripping his phone and answered it sometimes, but the red pupils never left the cell. Villain swore he never blinked once.
They prided themself on their monologue knowledge and knew one was going to happen, so they waited, fixing the dust patterns on the bar. Hero would have thrown such a tantrum if they’d seen that.
“You haunt my nightmares,” said Superhero.
He stood up slowly, and his hands were shaking just a little bit as he stepped forward.
“You always did. Every time I let my mind wander, I see this little girl killed. I forgot her name. I didn’t forget her face.”
He looked straight at them:
“I hope you’re happy about that.”
“I am a creature of darkness. I am to haunt nightmares.”
“Well I am not- I am not...”
Superhero clenched his fists. His mouth moved silently in an effort to say the last word before giving up.
“I am scared,” he admitted, his jaw clenched. “I am weak that way. But I’m working on it.”
“You seem under the illusion I have a modicum of care about you. Rest assured, I do not.”
“You've changed your target. What do you plan to do with Hero?”
“They’re my nemesis. I didn’t need help from you to destroy them.”
“I am making them stronger,” grunted Superhero. “If they can’t lead in battle, they don’t have the strength to stand up to you.”
Villain didn’t answer. Superhero's phone rang first. He listened to the call without paying much attention first, but his eyes focused. His fist clenched.
“They are what? They cannot be-all...They can't be all-”
The man stared in horror, then rushed out of the room without a second look.
“Peon's tool,” whispered Villain, getting out the Amazing Listening and Answering Device (of Doom) of their cape. (Though Hero had qualified it of beetle, and they had to acknowledge they quite liked it.)
“May your voice arise, predestined foe,” they mumbled.
The wonderful machine (of amazement and terror) buzzed in return. They counted the minutes. After four thousands eighty-one seconds, a whisper answered:
“How are you?”
Villain looked around.
“I am in a dark, quiet place, forgotten by the rest of the world.”
“Oh, good,” sighed Hero with relief. “I guess. Coming from you. That’s your kind of place.”
Villain pursed their lips, but there was nothing they could say against that.
“I’m- I’m so very glad you’re okay. I want to tell you- err- you might stay with Superhero for a while.”
Villain blinked, then scoffed.
“That will never do. My soul shivers at the mere idea of an extended proximity with such an abjection of nature.”
“You said that about my CDs collection, and it went fine. Look, I’m sure it can be sorted between you two. After all, it’s just a misunderstanding. He’s not that bad, and you’re- you’re-”
There was a funny noise, quickly interrupted:
“Look, I wanted to say that -um- being roommates with you was- it was good. Yeah. It was nice. I hope you don’t hate me too much because- I-I don’t.”
“Hero.”
“Yeah?”
“Where are you?”
No answer came out. In fact, that was the last time Hero answered at all.
Several miles away, in a cell that was coincidentally very similar to Villain’s, Hero sniffed as the beetle was snatched back by a grinning Henchman.
“Isn’t that interesting.”
The guard stepped forwards as Hero clenched their fists. The door opened wide, but instead of going in, the henchmen grabbed them.
“Get out, small fry. The boss wants to see you.”
*
Check the These Two Dorks Masterlist or Tag for more snippets with this Hero and Villain. This is how they met and now they’re roommates.
Sidekick could hear Henchman’s voice loud and clear. It left a faint echo around, somehow bouncing over the rocks that made the walls. He forbid himself to think how still beautiful that place was, just behind the waterfall. The eerie light came from the sunlight filtered by the water. Sure, that gave out a beautiful glow, but it made also very hard to see where his prey was.
“I’m not the one who’s hiding inside his own cavern,” he noticed.
“That’s right! Because you got fired.”
Sidekick stopped dead in his tracks. Took one long deep breath.
“Turned out I was made for better things.”
A laugh tenfold enhanced by the walls answered him.
“Sure, you’ve glued yourself to the next powerful people in town and voilà! Job changed...congratulations.”
“I switched sides for the good of-”
“Oh, please, not to me. You don’t care about good or evil. You’re a little sycophant that only wants power and revenge. Hero still hadn’t figured you out, uh?”
Every step from Sidekick sounded like a beating drum, not that it mattered much. Villain was away, and Henchman was no match for him. If there hadn’t any changes since his departure, the tunnel would lead to Henchman’s quarters. Really, there wouldn’t be any changes; it wasn’t like his stay here had mattered at all. It was the only exit, and he was blocking it. The rest was a matter of patience.
“The important thing is that I’m here, Hero has cornered Villain, and there’s no one to come to your rescue.”
“You have to take my confession, then. Here it is! I’ve done everything you couldn’t. Become the right-hand man? Check. Be at their table? Check. Win their trust? Check. Oh, the tales I’ve heard about you trying to earn all these things – and failed miserably.”
“Too bad for them if they couldn’t see my worth.”
“Yes, I’m sure there’s something very subtle about you and your super strength we just didn’t understand.”
Sidekick raised his head. A strange phenomenon was taking place on the lair. Silver water ran from the floor, making a puddle near him. He leaned over. The substance looks thick and slimy, and he groaned. Henchman’s power was... unconventional. Some heroes could bend the earth, minions like Henchman has to contend himself with making mercury. Metallic liquid formed from the tip of his fingers, slimy and gray, waddling like little tentacles. Points for originality, zero for efficiency.
Still, it was annoying. If Henchman kept this out, Sidekick would soon be surrounded with poison.
“What’s wrong?” taunted the infuriating voice. “Can’t bear your reflection? Understandable.”
Sure enough, a distorted image of Sidekick could be seen in the mercury puddle. Distorted glint in the eye, distorted grin. It wasn’t his twisted face that interested him, however - the silver surface reflected light, dimming shadows. In a few strides, he dashed towards a round rock and towered over a crouched Henchman. His prey gave out a faint smirk.
“My turn to laugh, now,” said Sidekick.
“You sure you want to do that to a better version of yourself?”
The second after, Henchman was flying over, landing roughly in the mercury. Sidekick watched him, his face stained by the thick liquid.
Yet, yet, the other was still smirking.
“Careful. You know what they say about breaking mirrors.”
*
I’ve already written about mirrors, but this one is fluff.
No one needs to look after Hero when he’s injured. His survival is guaranteed, but he sometimes envies the care and concern given to others.
Due to his regenerative powers, Hero has been raised as a human shield. He spends most of every battle flinging himself in front of his teammates and taking blows. Bonus: Villain is horrified seeing this take place. Or Villain refuses to have Hero do the same thing for him.
No one else would survive the injuries that Hero does. No else has to see videos or pictures of the multiple ways they’ve been gruesomely injured throughout their career (because anyone else would be dead). Furthermore, it’s hard to connect with a public who has seen you in such horrific states. Hero is viewed as more of a boogeyman than a savior.
Hero is instructed to go into battle or through possible traps first, even if whatever lies on the other side is incredibly painful, because he can take it. He’ll always survive.
Hero loses his healing power. His tolerance for long term pain is low, but he’s ashamed to speak up about it because his teammates have dealt with so much worse. *
Hero is sick of being the only survivor.
Organ/Blood Reservoir
Hero’s blood has regenerative properties. The Organization takes his blood daily. They never tell him where it goes.
Hero would be a good organ reservoir, but they quickly discover that his organs are toxic when transplanted.
Hero donates his organs regularly. He has a small connection to each organ he gives away. Supervillain disappears for a while and when he returns, Hero can feel one of his hearts thumping in the man’s chest. *
Hero’s blood is constantly replenished. Vampire Villain takes advantage of this.
Healing Wrong
Hero’s healing factor doesn’t prioritize injuries correctly. It’s entirely focused on mending superficial wounds. He grabs his open stomach with a perfectly healed hand and waits and waits for the healing to reach somewhere vital.
Hero is pinned down. His arms and legs keep regenerating into the rubble, even though the weight holding him is preventing his flesh from regrowing in the correct places. He will have to correct the growth later.
Hero’s healing goes into overdrive. He starts creating too much skin, too much bone. His body creates extra, unnecessary organs.
Or Hero’s immune system becomes overreactive. The initial response obliterates most fatal diseases and toxins but the strength of it wipes him out. His body may develop an autoimmune response (attacking itself). He could also develop allergies to harmless substances.
Biological/Behavioral
Note: I am applying the common understanding that healing factor requires a lot of energy, so Hero deals with higher metabolism.
Increased metabolism makes it easier for the Hero to develop vitamin deficiencies.
Hero struggles with the guilt of needing to eat more than his teammates. Food stores are running low.
Higher metabolism means higher body heat. Hero has to keep his body cool enough so that his body can continue to function normally.
Hero struggles to eat enough to meet his body’s metabolic demands. He often relies on intravenous nutrition and other technologies to ensure his body doesn’t cannibalize itself in its attempts to constantly regrow. This makes him entirely dependent on the Organization’s care.
Hero needs a scaffold to heal. For example: nutrient matrix, a special healing water, plants/mushrooms.
Regenerative Coma
Hero goes catatonic when they have to heal/conserve energy, but healing won’t start until the body recognizes it’s safe.
Safety is associated with more animalistic behaviors, such as burrowing, cramming themselves into tight spaces.
Some animals also isolate when ill or stressed so Hero has to deal with being irritated by the presence of other people when injured.
When they are extremely injured, they instinctually run off to recuperate alone. Their teammates find them passed out in dangerous places. Bonus: Villain finds them either passed out somewhere unsafe or passed out in their lair (where Hero instinctively deems it safe).
Hero needs someone else to wake themselves up from a regenerative state. Bonus: they entrust Villain with this task.
Other
Hero has a scheduled regeneration period. Maybe it’s every month, so when he gets critically injured, his teammates just have to keep him alive long enough to make it to the next cycle.
Phoenix Hero that turns to ash when critically injured.
Hero has a debilitating chronic condition. The Organization has given him healing powers to manage his condition in exchange of a lifetime of servitude.
Hero will heal as long as he’s in a certain area. For example, this range may be restricted to the city he protects, so that he is forced to remain in the city and protect it.
Hero’s self-healing has slight regenerative effects for the people and environment around him. People use this to their advantage. He’s stowed away in hospital wings, constantly injured so that he heals the people around him. Or he’s made to bleed over barren fields so that they will become lush once more. *
Hero can control whether he heals or not. Sometimes he wants to bleed. For example, he’s caught while in his civilian identity, so he has to fight back his urge to heal so he can keep suspicions at bay.
Hero has a new power. It doesn’t seem like much. His wounds heal a little faster. His colds never take him down for more than a day. In the end, his little healing quirk does nothing to save him. He dies. Months later, he awakes six feet under ground.
Hero has tried to get tattoos. He regenerates so quickly that they never last for more than a week. However, when Villain marks something upon his skin, months pass, and the mark is still dark and defined, fresh as the day it was made. *
“Oh for fuck’s sake, I know this is my [Placeholder Name ™] ! What?”
“Um...there might have been...kind of a robbery down there…”
Detective stared at Citizen, who was shuffling their feet. He put his drink back to the table.
“No,” he said.
“Well, there…”
Detective had a nervous laugh and stood up:
“No, no, no. Let’s sum this up. Last year I was on a holiday, there was a murder on my hotel. The last time before that, it was a kidnapping, and also, later, a murder. Even before, there were mysterious disappearances, sabotage, stolen artifacts, yada yada. So yeah, I don’t doubt there was "some kind of a robbery". My point is: it always happens when I try to rest. Always. Every time I get involved, it ends with a murder. So no, this time, I’m not raising a finger.”
“But you always find who did it.”
“At what price?”
“You speak as if you were responsible.”
“I don’t know. Sometimes I wonder. Every holiday...it can’t be just a coincidence.”
“Perhaps it’s the other way around,” suggested Citizen. “Perhaps the thing had to happen, and the universe calls you to get justice done or something.”
“Well, in that case it could fix the problem itself.”
Detective gave a steely glare.
“I’m not moving.”
*
It's been for ages in my drafts, and I can't continue...but maybe you can. Tag/reblog if you do, I wanna see!
I've written some grumpy detectives here, here and here.
Masterlist perfect size for reblogs! Inside much stories no insanely detailed recaps put Masterlist on your blog. Put Masterlist in your reblogs, no problems ever because good shape small discreet matches the vibe of your tumblr so well. Masterlist yes a writing blog for your tumblr put Masterlist in your tumblr can trust Masterlist to get good love from mutuals. Friend Masterlist
Reverse chronological order. (prompt) indicates when the original idea is from someone else.
Weeping Trees (prompt): When new heroes decide to kill most everyone for a better world because that always works, Hero has no choice but to ask help to his old foe - they're not going to play nice anymore.
Surprise guests: It’s Hero’s off day – and of course, henchmen pay them a surprise visit.
The Fourth Player: Sidekick and Hero prepare to spend a nice evening with the old and beloved Superhero. However, others have more sinister plans.
Pillows, plushies, piles of blankets: for flufftober. Superhero might be a little young, but she is a very good girl who brushes her teeth and learns her lessons and politely invites anyone to play with her! Meanwhile, Villain has the scariest day of his life.
Late Night Talks: for flufftober. Hero meets Thief. Thief has jewels. Thief gets arrested, right? Unless...
Sidekick in distress (Part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5 Last): A Detective with zero power accepts to help Sidekick running away from a very powerful hero, with only his friend Healer in his corner. This can only turn well.
Accidental Summoning: Villain decides to summon the dead for a tip.
Catch and release: Let's be honest, Villain is a failure. So how could they catch Hero this easily?
Echoes from the past: Superhero has just been redeemed! Yay! However they have...complex feelings about it.
Feveruary 2025: Four short H&V prompts. Villains getting sick, Reporters getting poisoned, Heroes getting out of their depth, no one is spared.
Oh no they're kidnapped: Hero and Sidekick finally catch a kidnapper in action. Hero is surprisingly chill about it.
Uncanny Rescue: Henchman is valiantly saving Villain, but Villain has their eye on another prisoner.
Bad fashion: Designer decides to side with Villain: their side wears better clothes.
Augusnippets 2024: Want something short to read? Check this collection of lil’ snippets. Reporters having complicated relationships with Heroes, Supervillain giving great advice and heroes offering presents to foes, friends and families, it’s all in there.
Poll Prompt 1: Civilian is trapped in a strangely nice room. Meanwhile, Supervillain has a bit of a crisis.
The Fakers: Three heroes in a small town despair: there's no villain around. What can they do?
A taste of revenge: Supervillain doesn’t really mind the three young heroes who keep coming after him, until the fateful day everyone goes for ice cream. (ask)
Through the mirror : What’s the thing to do after having an epic fight with the local Villainess ? Drinking a couple of beers with her, of course. It’s only polite.
Crash Meeting (prompt): Detective tries to bring down Villain. They don’t succeed, but what they’ve just discovered might be even more important.
Jack-in-a-box Surprise: A bunch of civilians are stuck in the room with a villain taking the form of their worst fears. Good luck with that.
Pounding Headache (sicktember): Thief has a bad day. The burglary didn’t turn well, Villain turned on them, what better moment for a migraine to begin?
Gilded Cage (prompt): Villain has Hero trapped in a ghastly – wait actually, it’s a pretty cool apartment. That’s a trick, right?
Who dies, who lives (prompt): You’ve always been a fan of Superhero, and you don’t take too well that they’ve just been killed. Where’s your partner anyway?
To make a right (prompt): A gritty detective informs his unlikely friend and unanimously beloved superhero Sunblade that distasteful things were made in his name.
Mind-Melting (prompt) part 1 and 2: Hero has a lot to do between an amnesic Supervillain, an emo teen Sidekick, and a cat. One of them is much more powerful than the others. One of my first posts here so the style is, ah, certainly made of words.
Detective x Thief
Cold Case (for sicktember): A detective gets hired to find a stolen painting. Unfortunately, he catches a cold before catching the culprits.
Cold Meeting (prompt): This detective really wishes this client would leave him in peace. He might have secrets of his own.
Recurring concepts/characters
These Two Dorks Masterlist (mostly fluff but angst looms on the horizon, hurt/comfort)
Vampire Hero Masterlist (black comedy, affectionate whump parody, lots of torture attempts/mentions even if that rarely turns out the way the torturer planned)
1-Word Prompt Masterlist: Marvel as I turn one random word into a bunch of H/V prompts. Plus, it's short for once.
A powerful superhero agency has hired this little vampire guy up there. Unfortunately, he is best described as “annoying as hell” and “sadistic asshole”.
Trouble ensues.
It’s comedy, it's horror, it’s about power and helplessness, it’s about people doing their best in a weird world, and most important of all, it’s mindbogglingly silly.
You can read the snippets that inspired the novel here.
Magical bind, Pinned down, "And what do we have here?"
"Wow, take your damn time."
"Hey, which one of us is a master thief?"
"...no one. Thief is a master thief."
Villain sighed. "Picking locks takes time. And relax, would you? You're the one that said Superhero was asleep around this time."
"I did..." Sidekick nervously glanced around. It was dark in their mentor's boss' house. On hindsight, maybe breaking in one of the best heroes' mansion based on a conspiracy theory wasn't the best idea. "Hey, uh, Villain?" Especially with their mentor's nemesis.
The villain grunted in response.
"Maybe Superhero had nothing to do with Hero's dissapearance."
Villain stopped their lock-picking and gave them a look. "It's a bit late to turn back now, isn't it?"
"It's never too late." Sidekick instinctively recited back. It was one of Hero's first teachings. Villain's eye twitched.
They turned their head toward the big box they were trying to open. "Look, we've been through this before. All leads lead to Superhero and their weird obsession with perfection." They rolled their eyes. "And, since nobody's perfect, one needs somewhere to keep their dark secrets hidden. A place, such as... a basement, a small apartment, a safe..." As if on cue, the safe door clicked opened slightly. The villain smiled. "So, if you're not willing to do everything in your power to save your precious mentor, the window's right there. Be my guest." Villain opened the door fully. "Then at least one of us would get out of here alive."
"Superhero wouldn't kill us." Sidekick's hands balled to a fist.
Villain scoffed. "Sure kid. Wow, look at this load of cash in here." The criminal's eyes twinkled. Sidekick risked a glance inside the small safe. They'd gotten this far...
Woah, Villain was right. That was a load of cash... and a bunch of papers?
"What're these?"
"Don't know. Take a look." The villain was too busy stuffing their pockets. "This has to be blood money."
Sidekick gave Villain a judgemental look and reached their hand towards those papers when something caught their eye. Something that looked round and sharp at the same time. Sidekick gasped.
"Hero's mask!"
"Hm?"
Sidekick forgot about the papers and grabbed their mentor's mask, bringing it to the moonlight. "This is Hero's mask. But why was it..." they thought their heart stopped beating. The mask was covered with dry blood.
"Now you see what I mean?" They heard the villain say behind them. Their hands trembled.
"I don't understand..."
"It's always the perfect ones you gotta watch out for..." Villain took the mask in their hands and stared at it grimly. "I wouldn't be surprised if they'd got Hero locked up in their basement or something."
"You don't think they're-"
"Dead? No, of course not." Villain shoved the mask back on the strucken sidekick's hands. "They're Superhero's prized possession."
Sidekick was too shocked to let out another word, horrible scenarios running all over their head.
The villain also didn't know what to say. "...Look, kid. Let's put that back and get out of here."
"..huh?"
"We're too unprepared for this. Let's just go back and maybe we can come up with some concrete plan, yeah? I can even round up my guys to-"
"And what do we have here?" Sidekick squeezed their eyes shut at the strong blinding light that was suddenly on their eyes. They heard Villain curse.
They risked their eyes open. Shining a flashlight at them, was Superhero themselves.
"Well, you two are an unexpected pair." Before the villain could grab their weapon, they were hoisted up in the air by Superhero's telekinetic powers. "And here I thought it was just a couple of rats..." The criminal struggled as Superhero squeezed their arms against their waist. The hero's eyes landed on Sidekick and the mask they had on their gripping hands. Their lips quirked to a horrible smile. "Ah... about that. Hero's a bit busy this month."
"Kid, run!" Villain screamed before choking on air. "Gkh-! Seriously?" They wheezed.
At Villain's wheeze Sidekick was snapped out of their trance. "Villain! Superhero, let them go!"
"Hm... no."
"Oh, fuck..." The villain moaned as they tried and failed to escape Superhero's magical grip.
"You two've seen too much."
"Kid, get out of here! G-Get...!" Villain's breath hitched and Sidekick put their hand on their mouth in horror when they realized they could see directly where Superhero was squeezing. The villain's voice got smaller. "...help."
Get help? And leave them there? No. No no no, Sidekick couldn't do that... Sidekick wouldn't do that! They were trained the opposite of doing that and Villain knew.
"Hey." Superhero's cold voice got their attention. "How about we make a small deal?"
Sidekick blinked. "What?" They croaked.
The super smiled, ignoring the villain's struggles and thrashing, which were getting weaker. "I don't want the committee to lose another worker. Lord knows we're short-staffed as it is. And you look young. Are you new?" They lowered their arms. The villain was suddenly slammed on the ground. Sidekick nearly choked on their gasp. "It would be a shame to get rid of a young hero full of potental. How about this?" The superhero continued, wiggling their fingers. Using their telekinesis, they urged the villain's unconsious body to them. They held the criminal by the hair as they focused their faze on Sidekick, who wanted to throw up. "They stay. You leave, and forget about all of this."
It took a moment for the young hero to find their voice. "You... you're letting me go?" Sidekick was eager to leave. And forgeting about all of this was tempting. So tempting.
But they couldn't. Not with the injured villain still in their line of sight. Not with the dried blood on their mentor's mask still on their hands.
"Just like that?"
"Juat like that. And don't you worry," Superhero grinned their usual charming grin, the one that made you feel special. Sidekick was ashamed to say that it still worked, even now. "Since you're new, I'll explain everything for you."
They eyed the villain, who blinked dazely. Oh god, they were still conscious. They couldn't tell if this was good or bad. "What about Hero?"
"Like I said, they're not available."
"What about Villain?"
"Oh, don't you worry about them." Superhero jerked their hand and an invisible force punched the Villain in the gut. Well, it sure looked that way. Sidekick was too focused on the vomit and blood the criminal was currently throwing up to give it much thought. "I'll take them to their rightful place in prison. And you," Sidekick flinched, "will be back at work tomorrow morning, none the wiser."
"T-Tgh...ack.." Villain croaked something, but Superhero shushed them by giving them a kick on the stomach. Something cracked.
Superhero gave them a look and smiled, not unkindly. "You really shouldn't care about scum like them. It's bad for our image."
The small hero didn't say anything.
"So, about that deal..." Superhero walked up to them and it took everything in Sidekick to stay still.
"..ake it." Both heroes glanced at Villain's trembling form. "T-Take the damn d-deal..."
Oh. So that's what they were trying to say before.
"I'm with the scum on this one." The superhero smiled brightly. They reached out their hand. "So? What do you say, little one?"
Yes, taking Superhero's deal seemed like the smart thing to do. Sidekick could easily lie and say they would forget about all this. Then they could track down a few of their friends and villain's henchmen to do the job. It's not like they were experienced in all this, not yet. Sidekick raised their hand slowly.
Time seemed to stop. But what was going to happen to Villain if they just left? What about Hero? Even if they did form a team, by the time they would confront Superhero, who knows what the super might've done to the two. Sidekick bit their lip.
And retracted their hand the moment it brushed Superhero's fingertip, leaving the hero's hand reaching out pathetically in the air. "No."
You are a retired supervillain. Your old nemesis approaches you looking worn and haggard. He begs you to come out of retirement saying that the new generation of heroes is beyond cruel and out of control. "You realize what you are asking for, what my power can do?" You say. He only nods.
You cross your arms. Though you’re actually wearing an apron because those pies won’t bake themselves, for a moment it’s like you both hear your former cape floating in the wind.
It’s been a while. Yet the legends are true: it’s nice to see your rival squirming at your threshold. His crumpled face and battered clothes offer a stark contrast to the surroundings, with the breeze carrying some lonely bird singing and the scent of your carefully-trimmed roses. There never was a battle here, mostly because they ended before they started. You’d be almost tempted to thank him; he’s the one pushing you out of your former life, after all.
For once, though, your curiosity takes over your pettiness.
“I want the whole story”, you say.
“Don’t you read the news?”
“I don’t need to anymore.”
He scratches his head, and for a moment you’re twenty years younger and you see a man with false confidence but real skills to back it up, him who can make you bleed – the only one who ever accomplished such a feat. It annoys you to no end. You must repress your younger self’s voice, telling you to kill him now.
“Do you remember when we were young?”
“When you were young, old man. I am myself quite in my prime.”
“Keep telling yourself that”, he snaps without thinking. “Get moving, I’ll explain on the way.”
“If not?”
“Then the town will die, both of us included.”
“I’m wearing an apron.”
“Fine. Good. You look harmless. Clever disguise.”
Without saying another world, he turns his back, and you feel forced to follow him. Like always, he’s making steps too big for his body, making him look like a cartoon character, and certainly much too big for you. You don’t like the idea of rushing around and even less the idea of trailing behind your nemesis without knowing why, like a tamed dog. As always, your curiosity is the death of you, or at least your self-respect. Maybe there’s a hint of nostalgia too. Looking after your garden is fine, but epic fights and merciless slaughter of innocents induce that kind of adrenaline you can’t quite find back into baking your own bread; barely a twist of excitement runs along your back when you see nothing had exploded in the oven.
The town is not far. You’re only separated from it by a small forest. Since your retirement, you never bothered going that far. You’re coming here for the first time since decades. Though you are what you are, once the most powerful supervillain the country ever knew, for a moment you’re like a small child going into the cursed woods.
A shiver runs along your back. There’s no witch nor monster. The monsters have already passed. They have left behind them a trail of corpses. Some look like citizens, powerless people of all ages laying on the ground, and you pass among them with indifference; but you stop when you notice other figures, more familiar ones.
You see Villain, who was your unlucky rival once and might have had a change to shine after your departure. You see Villain, who was a kid when you’ve departed but had a promising future. And you see Villain, who worked with you one and saw you leaving with puppy-dog eyes.
“Do you see now?” dryly asks Hero. “Do you understand?”
You nod.
“Revenge. Reckoning. I thought these were things for my side.”
Hero lets out a bitter laugh:
“It’s much worse than that. It’s cleansing. It’s killing the impure to build a better world.”
“And everyone is impure but them, I suppose.”
“Go tell them.”
Hero stops abruptly, without a warning. You have reached the limits of the woods. The streets of the once busy town are eerily empty, and yet you hear screams all around.
“I can’t deal with them”, he says. “No one but you can deal with them. I’m sorry.”
You grin. Slowly, you’re stepping forwards. It feels good. The usual emotions are finding their ways back to you, as if they’d never really left. The burning anger, the cold contempt, and covering it all, the certainty of your superiority. You’re marching into the streets like an ancient monarch in exile deciding they wanted that crown after all.
It’s like slipping into old shoes. It might be nothing to brag about, but it feels very comfortable.
They’re not slow finding you. Two silhouettes flying in the sky are diving towards you. It only takes a wave of your hand. They stop midair. Warned somehow, others arrive.
They have the cape and the suit and wear silver and white, but there’s a look in their eyes – they’re not heroes. They’re not villains either, not quite. Villains are at least honest about their intents. Whatever it is, you’re glad you’re stopping it.
Your laugh build in your chest and is rushing out of your throat without needing to think about it. Your hands move like a conductor’s. And they all freeze at your command. They’re a dozen. You feel the ripples of their combined power struggle against yours. That only makes you roar louder. They blush and shiver and shake and can’t do one thing about it.
You’re not going to stop there. You’re the villain, after all.
You clap your hands once. Twice.
“My thanks for what you did to the forest,” you say. “How about I do something for the town in exchange?”
Mouth that can’t scream open in vain and become knots. Limbs twist and jerk before turning into roots. Hair is flowing around, transforming into a lovely foliage. In front of you, there’s now a dozen of chestnuts and yews and oaks that can’t do anything but shiver in the cold evening wind.
Hero move behind your back, but you turn around. Fun’s over. Pies to bake.
“Do call me if you need anything, partner. It’s been…most interesting.”
*
You can read about another supervillain who just happens to stop bad heroes here. It's sweeter.
Yep. I wanted a prompt, I picked a random word and it was soap. Now, I could easily make something cute and fun with it – the question is, can I make it creepy as hell instead?
Let’s see.
(cw: captivity, cuts, mind control, hero whumpee/villain whumper, lady whumpee/whumper, nothing graphic but serious contender for the most disturbing thing I've written here)
*
Seer combed her hair with her fingers as best as she could.
She succeeded to make a braid. Moving slowly – oh so slowly – she laid down her hands, anticipating the moment they’d touch the floor.
It hurt. It hurt all over. Every move costed her. Every day Villainess came to her cell with a knife and cut her. Scratches. None of them was deep or serious, just enough to make her bleed. One of them wouldn’t have been a problem, but there were now dozens, possibly hundreds. Her arms and legs and face and back and torso were marked all over. Not a place on her skin that wasn’t invaded – and she really felt it as an invasion, someone claiming her body as property, inch by inch.
Every position was intolerable, so sleeping was more and more challenging. It wasn’t only because of the pain. What kept her awake was the fear of some possible infection. It was cold behind the bars, and colder were the stone floor and walls. The sleeveless tunic they made her wear did nothing to protect her from it. The humidity didn’t help either. She raised her eyes towards the drops forming above the bar, the water shivering and finally falling. Ploc. Ploc. Ploc.
Yet she combed and braided her hair, like she always did. She was still here, and her brain was safe behind her scorched skin, full of memories and feelings. She only needed to close her eyes to become herself.
Before she had been kidnapped, she had bought a muffin at her favorite bakery and she still saw the smile of the lady who had sold it to her and felt how good that first firm bite had been. She had just got a little place on the last floor of a building, with large windows offering her a good view on the town and wonderful sunsets. When the heroes didn’t need her, she had a little shop online where she sold crochet plushies and objects. Her last project was a blanket covered with suns because she liked yellow. It was probably still waiting for her in her living room, taking dust on her sofa. She had a sister who lived in another town. Last year they had celebrated the birth of her first nephew.
She remembered all of this, and did not break.
Villainess knew it. Villainess lost her cool bit by bit. She thought the prisoner would collapse in a few days. Seer wasn’t a fighter in any way, had already a skinny figure before this. Nevertheless, she welcomed her captor quietly, meeting her eyes without anger or fear.
Of course Seer sobbed during the night. Of course she screamed. But she always wiped out her tears before anyone could see it, and that was the most important.
One day, Villainess had spat on her:
“It won’t buy you anything. None of the heroes are going to save you.”
“I know. I asked them not to.”
“You shouldn’t have bothered. Do you think you matter? They’ve already forgotten you.”
This time, Seer had smiled at her deliberately. She hadn’t said “and yet I’m still alive”, but Villainess knew what she was thinking.
“For one little seer, you are one pain in the ass,” she had hissed, grinding her teeth.
“Thank you.”
Seer had sent her back a serious gaze. Behind her lids, she had always seen wars, slaughters, storms drowning adults and children, volcanoes burning towns away. She could stand a little taunting.
“I’ve never seen your power either,” she’d noticed.
Villainess had paused and smiled:
“Oh, haven’t you?” she’d said slowly, leaving the place without another word.
Now Seer waited for her captor to come back. Her head leaned against the wall, her eyes squinted shut, she was watching some pleasant memories from some friends. She couldn’t peek in her own timeline. Even if she looked at someone else’s future or past, she couldn't see her presence. She had no idea if she had dared anyway.
The main door creaked. Villainness appeared, waving behind her.
“A little gift.”
Huffing and puffing like some fairy tale wolves, two henchmen arrived, carrying a huge white thing. Seer shook her head to make sure she wasn’t dreaming, but it was indeed an old bath tub. The clapping of the water confirmed that it was full. The word “waterboarding” came to her head without warning, and she recoiled, but she was wrong. The two men left without a word. She pushed a button that lifted the bars over her head. Seer blinked and stared at Villainess, completely lost.
“All yours,” said her captor. “Get clean, or I’ll take care of it myself.”
She also left, slamming the door, leaving Seer frozen by surprise.
She didn’t like it. She didn’t like it at all. It was a trap. It had to be one. She considered staying where she was, but then a mental picture of her been forcibly dragged into the tub changed her mind. Biting her lip, she scuttled to the bath, walking on her toes not to apply pressure on her scratched soles.
She looked around. No one. Nobody could gawk at her or try to drown her. The tub was indeed old, but it seemed harmless. There wasn’t any place to hide a death machine – she scolded herself for such a ridiculous thought. She dipped the tip of her fingers. The water was a bit too hot, but not scalding either. Soon enough it would be the perfect temperature. Maybe they want me nice and clean for a special occasion or visitor, she supposed. Maybe what I have to fear comes after the bath.
She went in, rags and all. The tunic needed a good cleaning too.
It was both wonderful and awful. First it felt like she was set on fire. All the cuts were burning at the same time, and the water seemed much too warm. Then the first sting had faded, and her skin could register the soft warmth and gentle touch of water. If she wasn’t so tired, she would have burst in tears with relief. It felt like an embrace, and everything was well in the world. The water turned brown, greasy, then red, and she blushed in shame. Much more would be needed to feel clean.
A huge soap bar, bigger than both her fists clenched, was waiting for her at the edge of the tub. It was plain white and glistened under the pale light of the bare bulb. Its fragrance was strange, not exactly flowery, but it smelled wonderful nevertheless. It reminded her of the Sundays of her childhood, when she was doing the laundry with her baby sister. She squinted at it, but didn’t take it, half because of spite, half because of fear. It was all too strange. Leaning back, she enjoyed the warmth. It was already fading in the cold room.
She thought about the possibility of infection again, and a shiver ran through her skin. Water was fine and good, but she needed something else to wash her cuts. A soap wasn’t the best option, but it was much better than nothing.
She trailed her fingers on the slimy, slippery thing, toying with the idea, not yet committed to it. Could a soap be poisoned? She didn’t think so. Besides, she didn’t see the point. She was already at the villains’ mercy. They could kill her whenever they wanted.
She pulled away her hand, rubbing the fingers that had been in contact with the soap. Though there was no way that someone could sneak in the small room, she looked around furtively before joining her thumb and index in a circle, blowing on it. A bubble formed and flied through her hand to the warm water, popping on the edge of the tub. Seer smiled. Traces of soap floated at the surface before mixing up with the water that surrounded her.
Cringing with anticipation, she grabbed the bar and rubbed it against the cut that worried her the most – it was long and near her armpit and didn’t heal at all. Mollified by the water, the soap left a trace against her elbow like a slug and began to foam. A white, thick array of bubbles appeared, like saliva from an enraged beast. She raised her eyebrow, surprised, and rubbed a little more.
It didn’t hurt. It didn’t hurt at all. She stopped and saw the scratch had paled.
She glanced at the soap, and used it again on her knee. It melted, letting its substance into her raw flesh, mixing with dry blood. She stared at the cut until it healed. The soap was literally magical.
Relief overwhelmed her, leaving her numb. She had forgotten how comfort felt, what it meant to move without suffering. How much her despair and anger had weighted on her. She collected the foam from her hands and washed her face absentmindedly.
What was the last thing she remembered before? A muffin? A muffin, really. Well, that was kind of worthless, and certainly a silly thing to cling to. She didn’t even like them very much and had only bought it by spite. They were mundane and bad for your health. Why keep this in mind? Memories were pain and thinking was pain and she was sick of being hurt. It didn’t help. It would never help. Only actions mattered. She rubbed the soap against her body avidly, at every place she could find, until she covered every pore with it.
The water was now white, thick with soap. It clapped around her, soaking her hair to the forehead, entering and going out of her ears. She felt as if she was floating away, far from any problem. A protective white layer around her prevented her to think bad thoughts.
She let it go. She let it all go. It was such a wonderful feeling. She was as light as a feather.
Yet something far under her conscious thoughts was shivering inside her, screaming at her to pay attention, like it happened sometimes when she forgot her tickets or keys. She frowned, trying reluctantly to decipher that alarming sign. By force of habit, she closed her eyes and saw a young woman that looked familiar...yes, now that she concentrated, it was her sister. She was with some random toddler Seer might have seen before.
She tried to sit up to focus, but the slippery water dragged her down instead. Her head went under the water, and she couldn’t repress a scream of surprise. Liquid poured inside her mouth and nostrils, and she emerged again to the surface, spitting and coughing, a thick taste of soap in her throat.
Oh well. Why did it matter anyway? Her sister was away and happy in her house while forgetting about her. Her sister didn’t have to worry about her execution or worse. Probably they would never see each other again – not that either would care. The past was in the past. The conclusion brought her tremendous relief. Only the present mattered, and it was a good present. She was full of gratitude and joy. Finally, something had taken her burden away.
She closed her eyes in delight. Pretty pictures flashed behind her lids. They had no meaning to her. Funny men were sleeping on the ground, covered with red paint. She giggled. Her brain was a lovely white. Her skin was smooth and so were her thoughts.
She was clean.
When Villainess entered, she found her in the cold water with empty eyes.
“Are you going to be nice, now?” she asked.
Seer raised her head, a smile plastered on her face.
A powerful superhero agency has hired this little vampire guy up there. Unfortunately, he is best described as “annoying as hell” and “sadistic asshole”.
Trouble ensues.
It’s comedy, it's horror, it’s about power and helplessness, it’s about people doing their best in a weird world, and most important of all, it’s mindbogglingly silly.
You can read the snippets that inspired the novel here.
