Okay But Hear Me Out, This Could Make A Fun Prompt:

Part 1

The Beast (Part 2)

The hero awoke. Still disoriented, they stared at their hands.

Claws.

Last they knew... They had transformed into some kind of beast and taken refuge in the villain's warehouse. The villain then tranquilized them.

The room appeared to be some kind of kennel. Concrete floor and walls, and sturdy iron bars with a locked door. Something soft beneath them-- a bed and blanket. They rolled to stand. Something clinked, and they felt a pull on their neck. A collar chained to the concrete wall.

A beast chained to a wall.

Ironically, they were in the one place where being a beast was safer than their real form. If they managed to escape, they weren't safe outside--

Deep breaths.

They just needed to call--... Well, text someone the situation. Surely someone would come save them.

They reached down and felt only fur.

Only fur.

They couldn't focus. They couldn't breathe.

Even their breathing sounded monstrous--

Their thoughts were interrupted by the creak and scrape of the kennel door opening and closing. They scurried under a blanket.

Villain.

"Good morning, darling," the villain cooed. They were dressed head to toe in protective clothing. "How did you sleep?"

The hero grit their teeth. They wanted to demand to be let out, to scream for help. They wanted to proclaim they were a human, not some beast--

All that came out was a horrible yowl.

"Shh sh-shhh... Don't worry, I'm here now." They brushed the hero's face with their fingertips. "Are you hungry?"

The beast snapped.

"I'll take that as a yes," the villain chuckled. They pulled out a walkie-talkie. "Bring him in."

A horrible scream echoed through the corridor.

"What's going on? Where are you taking me? I'll make you regret this!!"

Two henchmen stopped at the door holding a writhing prisoner. They wrenched a bag off his head. His indignant cries became a small whimper.

"Meet my beloved new pet." The villain threw a hand around the prisoner's shoulder. "They haven't been fed recently. Do you know how hard it is to find good, fresh meat? Do you have any pets?"

"W-what is that thing," the man stammered.

I'm human, the hero wanted to scream. I'm human, and I can help you. They pulled hard against their chains, even as the man trembled in fright.

"Gorgeous," the villain said proudly. "And very hungry."

"Fine! I'll give you the codes! Anything! J-just get me away from that thing!"

That thing.

The hero shrank back.

That thing.

They retreated to the back of the cage.

That thing.

Tears sprang from their eyes. They tried to wipe them away with furry hands.

The villain seemed to notice their struggle, and that made it all the worse.

"Take the prisoner to the drawing room," the villain said. "I'll follow in a moment."

Both the prisoner and henchmen, eager to leave, clamored out of the room.

The villain turned to the beast before them.

The hero curled into a ball, hiding their tear-streaked face.

"What's wrong, darling?"

A small, plaintive whine. The hero shook in a futile effort to contain their sorrow. They hated themselves for crying in front of the villain.

The villain laid a gentle hand on their back.

"Look at me," the villain said.

The hero turned to them with haunted eyes.

"I'm sorry, darling. I can tell that upset you deeply." The villain softly stroked their fur. "The way he yelled at you. I'll make him regret those words. I promise."

The hero shook their head vigorously.

"No?"

The villain pet them absentmindedly, deep in thought.

"Wait... You can understand me, can't you?"

The beast hesitated. Nodded.

The villain looked a bit taken aback. "Oh. I see. Oh my. I thought-- well, can you speak?"

A yowl. The hero shook their head. They pulled at the fur on their arm.

"This form is... New?"

Nod.

"You're trapped in this form." The villain gave them a look of intrigue. "Oh. Oh my. What caused this? Do you know?"

The hero shook their head.

The villain clapped their hands. "Oh, oh, very exciting, very exciting." They patted the hero's back, who snarled indignantly. "We'll get to the bottom of this, you and I. This is fascinating."

The hero had a very, very bad feeling about this.

Part 3

"Of course," you say, as if it is the most natural thing in the world. Her demeanor shifts-- she could tell something is on your mind.

She tips your chin, and you return her gaze with a heavy heart.

"What's wrong, darling?"

"I..." Tears prick your eyes at the idea of anything happening to your beloved. Instead, you draw her close, and kiss her passionately.

A moment of protest, but she melts, her arms wrapped around you languidly.

"If only the rest of the world could disappear," she whispers.

"I want to destroy them," you hiss back. "I want to destroy them all."

She recoils at your ferocity. You try for another kiss, but she holds up her hand.

"Tell me what happened," she says.

You struggle to meet her gaze.

"I was stopped on the way here," you explain. "Do you... Do you know what they call you out there?"

The queen laughs mirthlessly. "They've been saying that since I was born," she says. "Because of my lineage, because of who I love. It is what it is."

"You don't understand." You grab her hand and draw it to your chest. You try to gather the courage to tell her.

She's patient. So patient.

"They called me the chosen one. They said I... I will bring about your end."

She stares.

Laughs. Delighted.

"Oh, you bring about my end every day," she says fondly. "Every time you leave."

She nuzzles your chin. "Don't make me share attentions with the hateful and small-minded. They are hardly worth our time."

You kiss her head and breath in her scent.

You try to forget the words they spoke to you.

Three days.

In three days, you will bring about her undoing. You are the Chosen One.

You could hardly imagine a world without her. Much less, you couldn't imagine a world you wouldn't tear apart for her.

Especially a world that calls her the "Evil Queen".

Your hands meet and intertwine.

"I love you," she whispers.

You vow to crush her enemies.

Even if it kills you.

You, the chosen one, walk into the evil queen's throne room. The queen was sitting gloomily on her throne. She sees you and lightens up. She rises from her throne and kisses you. "Sweetheart, I am so glad you are back."

Villain: I'm a villain, darling. My motives hardly matter. Hero: They matter to me.

Beads of sweat rolled off Hero's brow. She was struggling to restrain Villain, and a crowd was actively trying to pull her off.

"I stole this weapon so I can destroy the comet!" Villain said. "It's heading towards Earth!"

"He's lying! Let go of me!" Hero growled, but the crowd wouldn't budge.

"He's protecting us from a comet!" One shouted. "Put your pride aside and give him the weapon!"

"Yeah, he's actually protecting us!" another screeched. "Unlike you!"

"In this shocking turn of events, it seems Hero is actively blocking Villain from saving the planet," a news anchor said. "Those of you watching may wonder-- who is the Hero and who is the Villain? Hero can't seem to stop stealing the spotlight, even at the cost of her own planet."

Hero let go, at that. Villain glanced up. "You... You're showing me mercy?" He said. Mawkishly.

Everything inside of Hero cringed. He was playing up the pathetic anti-hero routine again, and everyone was buying it.

"Sure," Hero said. "Fine. Take it. Have at. I'm going on vacation."

Villain stared at her in surprise. He covered his mouth to hide a devious grin. The crowd gathered around him, fawning all over him, treating his little scrapes and scratches.

Hero set her jaw. She walked away. She went home, she packed her things, grabbed her cat, and booked the first flight out of the city.

Not even hours after her plane landed was her phone ringing off the hook.

"You've got to stop him!" Her supervisor shrieked.

"He's destroyed half the city! Do something!"

"He lied! There's no comet!"

Hero took a slow sip of her caramel latte, put her phone on "ignore", and went back to reading her book.

The hero is fed up with being painted as in the wrong for fighting against the villain just because the villain is more sympathatic, so they decide to take a day off. This leads to disaster as people realize just how horrible the villain really is

#136

Not many villains are brave enough—or stupid enough—to come straight through the front doors of the agency, so the agency never thought to put up anything more secure than a barrier for heroes to scan through on their way in.

The villain saunters in, hops straight over the barrier, and loudly demands, “Which of you assholes is meant to be [Hero]’s boss?”

The heroes leap on them, of course, and twenty against one is barely a fight. The hero’s boss, it turns out, is just the guy they wanted to see anyway.

“Why are you just strolling through my agency?” the superhero asks incredulously.

“Someone's clearly dramatised my entrance. I didn’t get past reception,” the villain corrects with a scowl. “And it’s not my fault you lot have the same amount of security as a train station. Anyway, that’s not why I’m here. I’m here to tear you a new one.”

The hero standing behind them makes a noise dangerously resembling laugh. Even the superhero quirks an eyebrow disbelievingly. The villain is sitting in his office in cuffs, sure, but this is only the beginning of what will be an ass kicking.

“You villains are so violent.” The superhero tuts, opening a tin box next to him with a shake of his head. “Has anything happened to warrant this so-called new one tearing, or is this just routine?”

“I’m glad you asked. Did you not notice [Hero] was missing?”

“Oh, yeah I did.” A biscuit comes out of the tin and promptly disappears into the superhero’s mouth. “Are they with you then?”

The disgusted silence the villain leaves is a second too long. “… Yes.”

The superhero nods mindlessly. “Cool.”

This silence is even longer. The villain can hear the hero behind them shuffle awkwardly. “You don’t care,” they say flatly.

“[Hero]’s a rookie,” the superhero offers with a shrug. “Catch one of my best, and I’ll consider coming to visit sometime. I don’t send rescue parties for just anyone.”

The villain can only stare at him in disbelief as he nonchalantly fishes about for another biscuit. Villains would never do that. Villains leave no man behind. The idea that they could be trapped somewhere, in enemy territory, with no promise of at least someone coming for them, is a horror enough to haunt their nightmares.

The villain really thought they’d done something when they’d managed to catch the hero. The hero was scared, of course, but the villain had put that down to the usual. A hero in a villain’s grasp won’t be without injury for long. But the hero had had a certain defeated look in their eye as well, and it’s only now that the villain is realising that that was probably because someone like them disappearing into a villain’s lair means they aren’t getting out.

The cuffs rattle slightly, and the villain heaves a deep breath to stop their hands from shaking. “I've heard them crying every night, knowing you’re not coming for them,” they snap coldly. “You’re heartless.”

The superhero can just about be bothered to meet their eye for a second before his interest diverts back to the food in his hand. “You don’t become a superhero by loving everyone, [Villain]. Do we have a cell set up?”

The hero behind the villain clears their throat. “We do.”

The superhero waves them off, and that’s the end of the conversation. The hero shoves the villain into a cell, and several hours later finds the back of that cell blown clean out with the villain’s friends at the detonator.

The villain never had a doubt they would be set free—they always are. Villains may not be looked upon favourably, but having a posse of like-minded outcasts can make some real ride-or-dies.

-

The hero wipes their eyes when they hear the door at the end of the corridor opening, rubbing their sleeve against their nose in an attempt to look a little less pathetic. They glance up to realise it’s not just the villain, but several of their friends too, all watching them with curiosity. Their stomach drops.

“You got it bad, huh?” the villain says lightly.

The hero doesn’t know what to say to that. They turn their gaze down at their hands to avoid everyone’s burning stares.

There’s a heavy clunk, and out the corner of their eye they can see the cell door swinging open. The villain shoots them a smile as they look up confusedly.

“We were wondering if you’d like to come with us,” the villain continues. “I mean, you’re welcome to stay in here, in the cold and the damp, like a hero. But, y’know…”

The villain shrugs. “We don’t leave people behind, I’ll say that much.”

A hero should never consider an offer from a villain. It’s a trap, the superhero always said. It’s common sense, it’s the right thing to do, it’s what a hero would do.

They didn’t think heroes were left at the mercy of their enemies by their own either, but here they are.

The hero wipes at their face again and clears their throat, painfully aware of how much they’ve been crying. “Um,” they say, their voice a horrible rasp. “O-Okay.”

They all cheer as the villain reaches in to pull them out. Someone hands them a thick jacket. “Put it on,” someone else says. “You’re in the gang now!”

It almost feels like they’re happy to see the hero as one of them. It’s a new feeling, and one the hero finds they like.

Hi, welcome. I'm chaotic-scraps and I post scraps on here. Pronouns are dealer's choice.

If I complete a story on here, you have witnessed a miracle. I occasionally reblog other stories and/or art/comics/animation.

Feel free to leave asks/requests.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

The Beast (Part 4)

The soft hum of cooling fans and the clacking of keys were the only sound in the small and dimly lit room. A CCTV feed trained on a small kennel displayed on a screen in the far corner. The villain glanced over at the first sign of movement.

Their patient was waking up, but they would have to wait. The villain was on the verge of a discovery.

Their patient's blood had been genetically modified. Expertly, gorgeously. Though the effects seemed to be leveling out over time, their muscular growth was abnormally rapid. Any small injuries showed accelerated healing.

The growth affected their larynx, unfortunately. Given the patient was able to preserve a certain level of cognition, other organs adjusted appropriately...

Loss of speech was a... Strange side effect.

The bones and muscles were proportionately mutated, practically symmetrical. Organs matched the rapid growth of the body. Their patient grew into a theoretically sustainable form. The fact that they survived at all was a miracle.

Their patient might not be so lucky if they attempt to revert back.

Whoever was responsible did not stop at one. The mutation was much too precise and refined. This was a team and decades of research. Money.

So, who had the resources for this kind of human experimentation?

The MRI offered something of a clue. A small device, implanted at the base of the patient's skull. Whoever set this transformation into motion expected the patient to roam free. The villain extracted the device too late, well over 24 hours. It was active.

Someone would come to collect their experiment soon.

The villain best prepare for their guest.

-

The hero paced the kennel with growing panic. They had misjudged the villain's capacity for harm, clearly. They kept running their hands along the stitches on the back of their head.

Breath in. Breath out.

They needed a plan of escape.

The floor and walls were solid concrete. Thick iron bars reenforced the door. There was a small gap between the door and floor. A much larger gap between the iron bars and the ceiling. Not large enough to squeeze through.

The first rule of imprisonment, find your captor's motive. Their eyes flicked to the CCTV trained on their kennel. There wasn't enough room to escape, but their inhumanly long claws could reach the camera.

They smiled devilishly. If their captor wanted to spy, they'd have to work for it. They climbed up the iron bars and reached for the small camera. Their claws clamped around the device, and they yanked.

Wiring crackled as the connections snapped.

They threw the camera on the concrete as hard as they could. Surprisingly sturdy.

Good.

They grabbed the camera and beat it against the ground, over and over, until it cracked into was a mess of circuitry and plastic. They imagined the villain's skull.

Shouting down the hall, followed by a loud THUD.

Silence.

The hero readied themselves to lunge, but they stopped short.

Their breath caught at the unexpected figure before them.

"Hero, it's me. I've come to save you."

The hero sobbed in relief.

Superhero.

AN// Thank you so much for reading and asking to be tagged @sausages-things @whump-till-ya-jump @jumpywhumpywriter @galaxysmask !!!

Look, writer’s block is not some giant, mysterious monster. It’s you, in your head, holding yourself back because you’re afraid what you’re writing sucks. And here’s the truth, yeah, maybe it does suck. But you know what? That’s okay. Writing something bad is still better than writing nothing at all. You don’t wait for inspiration to strike, you show up, write the garbage draft, and then fix it later. Writing isn’t about perfection, it’s about getting it done. Even if it’s one crappy page at a time.

Now that his attacker was incompacitated, Alan set about making coffee. The aftermath of the fight left the kitchen a mess, so he opted to drink straight from the pot.

"I guess I should've taken you for a pessimist," the Shapeshifter huffed.

"That really is on you," Alan agreed. "You've been around what, 5 weeks at this point? You really should've known better."

"You knew for 5 weeks I was impersonating your partner?"

"Well, Bart never signed my birthday card. He also never washed the dishes."

"You made it seem like he washed them all the time! You made such a big deal about it!"

"Well, yeah. I hate washing dishes, and you were gullible."

The Shapeshifter shifted his weight to lean against the wall, positioning his bound arms and legs as comfortably as possible. "You really knew this whole time? And you didn't do anything?"

"He's dead, right? You killed him and took over his life?"

"Well... Yes. Shouldn't you be more bothered he's dead?"

Alan nodded. "Ah, well, yeah. These things happen." He poured a little something in with the coffee, swirled it, and took a swig.

The Shapeshifter grimaced at his apathy. "But, wait. You were lying about the drop point long before the birthday card."

"You think I trusted Bart? No one should be asking that many questions."

The Shapeshifter groaned. "No wonder none of the drop points had the Energy Forms. You were giving me the runaround this entire time."

Alan nodded. "Granted, you never had clearance to know they were Energy Forms. That is to say, Bart shouldn't have known to ask about them. Though, well, I only know because I don't trust my superiors."

"Oh, so you really have trust issues," the Shapeshifter snorted.

"Hey, I don't want to hear it from the guy who went buck wild and destroyed my kitchen because, what, I tipped you off that I knew you weren't my partner?"

More silence. "You're not even going to ask why I want them?"

Alan took a deep breath. "Maybe in the morning. It's 3am and I don't have it in me to listen to your monologue right now."

The Shapeshifter huffed. A wall clock ticked audibly. Who kept a wall clock anymore?!

"So, you going to turn me in?" The Shapeshifter asked.

Alan blinked slowly at him. "Well, yeah, I guess I have to now. You had to go and attack me, so yeah."

"You don't want revenge for your partner?" The Shapeshifter asked uncomfortably.

Alan groaned. "What, you want me to kill you too or something? I'm already facing enough paperwork as it is."

"Did you even like your partner?" The Shapeshifter pressed.

"Not as much as you, apparently," Alan griped. He stared down at the empty pot of coffee sadly, and set it down on the table. The table slowly tipped, the legs loose and uneven, and the glass slid off to the floor and shattered. Alan nudged at the broken shards of glass with his toe absently, and then sighed resolutely. "He was always snooping around in my desk and ratting me out for things that weren't anyone's business. Guess I kept to myself too much for his liking. Or maybe he just didn't like what he found."

"Now I have to listen to your monologue?" The Shapeshifter snarked.

"You can't ask a bunch of questions and complain about answers," Alan chided. "Anyways, I guess what I'm saying is I'll miss you as a partner. Besides the whole killing and betrayal thing, you weren't half bad."

The Shapeshifter really didn't know what to say to that. Frankly, what was there to say? "I hope you work on your trust issues, buddy," the Shapeshifter tried.

Alan nodded. "Yeah. No one's allowed at my house anymore."

"That's not what I meant, and you know it."

"You better hope my insurance covers these damages."

The Shapeshifter pinched the bridge of his nose. "Seek therapy."

"You… Expected me to betray you from the start?" "Look. At this point I just asume that everyone is going to betray us and I am just pleasently surprised when I am wrong."