HI ARCH! prompt idea: sleepy, chatty hero and wide awake, chatty villain in a scenario of your choice!
“I am filled with evil, insipid thoughts,” the hero murmured, head half shoved into the cushion of the couch. The villain watched them, unimpressed, as they attempted to kick their dangling foot under the blanket, and failed.
“Right,” the villain agreed. “How evil are we talking, here?”
The hero paused, and for a moment, the villain thought they might have fallen asleep.
“Like, very evil.”
“That’s specific.”
“I totally could take over the world or something. Turn to a life of crime. Probably.”
“Probably?”
“I mean, it's not like it's hard. You do it.”
The villain had to stop themself from booting the hero off the couch onto the cold, unforgiving hardwood floor.
“You are just so supportive and inspiring of my work.”
“Can we talk about how nobody actually puts in any effort to their crimes anymore,” the hero said, ignoring the villain. “It’s upsetting.”
“What does that mean?”
The hero groaned, turning their face to the side, and then promptly gasping a breath of fresh air they had clearly been smothering out of themself. Their face, half smushed still into the cushion, was scrunched with exhaustion.
“I just never have to stop like, complicated crimes anymore. Oh no, you’re robbing the museum that has a one of a kind exhibit here right now and it’s because they have the weakest security of every location the…thing is ever held at…ever. Congrats. You’re like. Soooo good at villainy. Oh, you’re stealing the super secret serum that they just started talking about on the news from Science McScience Co.? Wild…no one has ever done anything like this.”
The villain snorted. The hero glanced at them, scowled, then put their head back down.
“I want a heist,” the hero whined.
“Are you…encouraging crime, right now?”
“No,” the hero countered, “I’m just tired of criminals being boring about it.”
“It kind of sounds like you want to commit a heist yourself.”
“I do not,” the hero said. They pushed themself to a sitting position, hands buried in the cushion. The blanket slipped off of them onto the floor with a soft spat. “That would be bad of me. I am not a villain.”
“And I’m saying, it kinda sounds like you’re yearning for villainy,” the villain said, cajolingly.
The hero squinted at them.
“Stop corrupting me.”
The villain raised their hands up, as if backing away. “Hey, I’m not doing anything. You said you wanted a heist. I’m pretty sure you’re supposed to want less crime, not more of it.”
The hero stared, blankly for a moment, eyes half-glossy with sleep.
“I am not…debating the constituencies of my job both being based on a want to get rid of crime as well as a need for crime in order to keep my job.”
The villain raised a brow.
“Is this something you think about, regularly?”
The hero scoffed, like the villain was an idiot. “Obviously. It’s called job security, idiot.”
Ah. The villain was glad to know that even with the hero half-asleep, they were still capable of reading them just fine.
“Right,” the villain said, dryly. “My bad. Job security.”
“You wouldn’t get it,” the hero said, petulant. “You create your own job security. By creating crime. By the way–stop doing that.”
“But then I’m out of a job.”
“Do I look like I give a singular flying shit,” the hero said, as blunt as they were capable.
“No, actually, you don’t–”
“Go work at a Dairy Queen, or something.” The hero waved a dismissive hand at them, while the other reached down to scrounge for the edge of the blanket. Their attempt to pull it back onto the couch failed.
“I’m really glad that you think so highly of me. That my abilities could be used well, in a Dairy Queen corporate ladder.”
“You do not have the guts to climb a Dairy Queen corporate ladder,” the hero corrected. “Unlike me, who excels in food service.”
“You’ve worked in food service and you’re not a villain?”
The hero shot them a derisive look. “Oh, shove it. Karen from the good side of town yelling at me about the rotating Blizzard flavors is not enough to turn me to a life of mischief, tomfoolery, and crime.”
The hero slumped back down onto the couch, as if they were deflating, before murmuring into the cushion, almost quiet enough for the villain to miss it, “almost.”
“What was that?”
The hero glanced at them out of the corner of their eye, guilty, like a dog with something they weren’t supposed to say.
“Hmm?”
“Did you consider a life of crime because of a Karen?”
The hero made a concomital noise that roughly translated to, fuck off.
“Hero,” the villain said, then poked them in the side with one socked foot. The hero lashed out, a ball of sleepy fury, and the villain had to catch them, heaving them back onto the couch.
“I obviously don’t work at Dairy Queen anymore, genius, figure it out,” they grumbled, then kicked the villain again for good measure.
“Ow, you little shit, you’re bitchy when you’re tired,” the villain hissed. The hero made no attempt to hide their pleased smirk.
“And you’re bitchy always.”
The villain almost snapped something back, before pausing, considering. “Wait. Holy shit, did you get fired from Dairy Queen.”
“...no…”
“Oh my god you totally did.”
“This is entrapment,” the hero murmured, and the villain laughed.
“You told me to figure it out.”
“Yeah, but in general your investigative skills are like…pretty bad, so…”
“You’re so sweet to me,” the villain said. The hero tried to kick them again, and the villain just grabbed their foot, holding their ankle hostage with one hand. The hero made another displeased noise. Then, after a moment–
“I threw a Blizzard at someone.”
The villain barked out a laugh. “You did what?!”
The hero sighed.
“He kept arguing that I hadn’t held it upside down for long enough so he got it for free when I had held it upside down for long enough, and I had fought Tempest like, four hours before and I was still cold as fuck and I just. I chucked it at his head and then asked him if he needed anything else.”
“Dude,” the villain gaped at them. “That’s hilarious.”
“I fear corporate did not agree.”
The villain considered them, half burritoed in their blanket once more, draped over the couch.
“You would make an excellent villain,” they decided finally. The hero laughed into the couch.
“I would not. I have morals. And…empathy…things you are unburdened by.”
“C’mon, you can’t tell me you haven’t ever planned yourself a fun little heist, hero.”
The hero shrugged into the couch.
“Morals–”
“Shush, you, I have morals. Which is why you’re falling asleep on my couch and not dying in my murder basement.”
The hero cracked an eye open, squinting at them. “You don’t have a murder basement.”
The villain made a, see? gesture. “If I had no morals, I would have a murder basement.”
“You live in an apartment.”
“Exactly. I could have a house with a murder basement if I wanted. Yet I choose to live in this shitty apartment instead. Morals,” they said again, grinning. The hero frowned at them.
“Who’s to say you don’t have a murder basement at a second location?”
“Why would I have a murder basement at a second location?”
“Because you live in an apartment,” the hero said, like it was obvious. “I mean I guess you could like rent out the floor below this one and put it there. But then you’d have to rent out the floor below that one, so no one would hear the screaming, and even then…” the hero trailed off, thinking. “Just buy the whole building I think. If you’re dedicated to the apartment.”
The villain gave them a wry look. “Exactly how rich do you think I am?”
The hero waved one hand at them, as if shooing them away. “You have plenty of money. Like, lots of it. Don’t pretend to be poor. My culture is not your costume.”
The hero was now doing their very best impression of a slug on the villain’s couch. Their legs draped themselves over the villain’s lap. They weren’t quite mean enough to shove them off.
“And how do you know that?”
The hero stiffened, just slightly. “Uh…villainy pays?”
“Why did that sound like a question.”
The villain could just barely see the hero’s eyes, now peeking over the top of the blanket, like some sort of burrowing animal. They looked, again, like a dog that had eaten something it shouldn’t have.
“Hero,” the villain began, and the hero dropped the blanket, groaning as they dropped their head backwards.
They did not, however, offer any explanation. The villain narrowed their eyes at them.
“Hang on. Where is your income coming from? I know heroism doesn’t pay for shit, and I know you don’t have a second job.”
The hero picked absently at the edge of the blanket. “So like. Funny story. You’re really easy to hack…”
“Are you embezzling money from me?”
“Ok, that’s kind of a harsh term for it. I’m not employed by you so really–”
“Oh my god I was telling you to turn to a life of villainy and you already had–”
“Maybe like stealing, as a term, works, but I prefer to say you were just unknowingly donating to charity–”
“How long have you been doing this? Why me–”
“And by charity, I mean, obviously, me–”
“Hero,” the villain said, and they finally fell quiet.
“If it helps, it shows up as a charitable donation on your taxes.”
“Have you been editing my taxes?”
“If I’m going to commit a crime I’m not going to be stupid about it. The IRS thinks you have a large fondness for endangered woodpeckers. In case you were wondering.”
The villain just looked at them, incredulous. “You’re stealing money from woodpeckers.”
“Oh my god, no. I’m stealing from you, and giving it to woodpeckers. And also myself.”
“Right,” the villain said, slowly. They dragged a hand over their face, and caught the briefest flash of a smirk as it crossed the hero’s face. “You are such a pain in the ass.”
The hero rolled their eyes again. “Calm down, Lex Luthor, you’re still richer than god. You didn’t even notice.”
“I am not Lex Luthor, I’m not even balding.”
The hero ran an eye over them, lingering on their hairline. “Right,” they said, but there was no sincerity behind it.
“Take it back,” the villain hissed, and the hero laughed at them. “Also, how are you stealing money from me and also living in a shitbox of an apartment?”
“Why are you richer than god and living in this shitbox of an apartment,” the hero countered, and the villain grimaced.
“Being a sort of morally grey villain is fine. Being a very, very rich villain, and being ostentatious about it is an excellent way to get into far more fights.”
“Oh, poor rich little you,” the hero said, and the villain smacked them.
“Shush. You’re living on my dime, you know.”
“Yes,” the hero agreed, unashamed. “Thanks for having a very hackable bank account. It’s much appreciated.”
“You’re welcome,” the villain sighed. “I do it just for you.”
The hero beamed at them. “You’re going to be donating a lot more to woodpeckers, by the way. Tuition is due and I am not trying to have med school debt.”
“You’re a med student and doing hero work? When the fuck are you sleeping?”
The hero paused, thinking, “Tuesdays.”
The villain gave them a look, brow furrowed, and covered them with more of the blanket. “I think it’s naptime for idiot med students.”
“I’m actually a very good med student,” the hero confided, already half under the blanket once more. The day the villain understood what went on in that too fast and complicated brain would probably be the day they died.
“Who runs around in spandex,” the villain added.
The hero scoffed. “Who runs around in spandex very goodly…”
The villain blinked. “It’s…very well–you know. I think maybe we just have bed time now.”
“Wake me up if you’re trying to murder me,” the hero mumbled, and miraculously, they were out like a light.
The villain sighed, tugged more of the blanket over them, and brushed the hero’s hair off of their face.
They had a feeling they were going to need to set up some sort of direct fund. And also maybe an extra bedroom.
They didn’t mind.
