Angst Prompts - Blog Posts

Prompt #77

The hero was currently wrestling the villain’s too tight grip around their neck, not quite comfortable, but something that they indulged themself in once in a while anyway. For the villain’s sake, and perhaps because they found it a bit of a turn on.

But then they find something unexpected from the corner of their eye. A picture of villain, with their leg planted right on the hero’s chest, grinning, while the hero scowled up at them. Ah. The time they had won. For once.

They break out into a breathless chuckle. “So…what? Y-you still have that?” They said, struggling to speak. The villain followed their gaze to the picture and immediately their grip on the hero loosened, and then tightened once again.

The villain sneered at them, getting annoyed. “It was one time I won! And today I’m going to take a picture of my second victory!” They snarled.

The hero stood amused, and then without hesitation, kicked the villain’s guts, throwing them on to the floor. The villain glared up at them, clutching their stomach.

“You know I was letting you enjoy your little choking game that you like to do every time, but I think it’s time I show you who’s in charge, sweetheart.” The hero smiled, squatting down and lifting the villain’s chin up with the tip of their finger.

And the villain, despite themself, found it incredibly hot. They would be lying if they said they wouldn’t lose every time just to hear the hero say those same words.

Prompt #73

By @writingpromptsworld

Somehow the villain had found their location, and now they were here.

“You look pretty.” The villain smirked, their hands tied behind their back, as they take a couple steps forward, the sound echoing in the expensive hotel room.

The hero stopped their fisted hand in air, their eyes widening slightly. They blinked a few times, it was dark, the room barely illuminated by the city lights outside.

“What?” They ask, freezing. The villain chuckled, and the sound wasn’t from the front anymore. It was oddly close, and right in their ears. The hero stiffened. A trick.

The villain put their hand around their waist, brining them in close. “You always forget the fact that I can see in the dark.” They grinned, whispering.

The hero’s breath hitched, but before they could speak up, the villain had already injected something in their neck that made them dizzy, and they fainted.

The villain sighed, gently carrying the body in a bridal style and fleeing to their house.

The hero was theirs, and they should know they can’t escape forever.

Prompt #67

By @writingpromptsworld

When the villain woke up, they did not expect to find themselves tied to a bed, their hands and legs binded. Their eyes shot out of their sockets, eyebrows frowning, as their hands twitched by their side to be let free. Panic. They could make out a patient gown that they were wearing for reasons unknown.

They struggled against the heavy metal chain that somehow seemed to wait more by the passing second. However, it wasn’t long before footsteps could be faintly heard coming towards them. Realization.

They held their breath, frozen, and their head throbbed in response. The hero. It was the hero, with a grin well too ingrained in the villain’s head, it was impossible to erase it.

They clenched their jaw at the sight of smiling teeth, and snatched at the chains again which in response tightened, and they let out a scream.

The hero shook their head with a sigh. “Don’t. Don’t try to be free of them, they’ll only strengthen in result.” They said.

The villain stayed silent for a moment, after stopping the fumbling around. They breathed heavily, looking at the hero. “Let me go.” They said, weakly, however the hero could detect the underline of threat they were trying to seep into their words. It didn’t work.

“No. I’m having way too much fun seeing you like this. Finally under my control.” The hero mused, smirking slightly.

“Let. Me. Go.” The villain repeated themself, clenching their jaw which increased the hammering of the headache.

The hero simply sighed again, as if in disappointment. They lightly treaded the ground until they were in front of the villain. “How about you stay still and wait until the scientists come, mhmm? They should be here any moment.”

The villain’s heart raced further, fear and confusion and anger filled their eyes, and they couldn’t help but grab at the chains again in order to espace. “What do you mean?” They asked, voice high but at the same time so afraid. And if it were anyone other than the hero, they wouldn’t have detected it. The hero did, however. And they took great pleasure in it.

“They’re going to experiment on you a little. See what goes in that little head of yours.” The hero smiled, delighted.

The villain’s anger only grew, and they tried to wrestle the chains again. It didn’t help, only made them cry out in sheer pain. They threw curses at the hero. Threats, promises to destroy the hero and the city, but it wasn’t enough. The hero had left by the time the villain was too tired to fight. And they had drifted off to sleep, more like fainted of dizziness.

The drugs did work, the hero pondered, walking out of the room.

Prompt #64

“You know you really shouldn’t have fallen in love, especially with a hero.” The hero said, pressing the dagger deeper into the villain’s stomach, attaching their foreheads, with a sad smile and tears running down their face.

The villain let out a shaky breath. “Forgive me for loving you, then.” They said, before collapsing on the ground as the hero let go of them. They gave the hero a trembling smile as their eyes closed. Forever.

Imagine an older child—not even a child, someone in their 20s—and they have a younger sibling that they resent for committing no sin but one: being born.

That's their sin, their younger sibling's sin. It isn't a sin, to be born, but it is a sin for the older sibling. Because that child has the love of a mother—a different mother from the older sibling's mom.

Because the older sibling's mom was a tyrant, a monster under the guise of a beautiful woman. Her shadow had horns and a tail, a flame to burn the soul of the older sibling. They did everything for their mother: took care of her as a child as if they were the adult, they killed themselves trying to be the best of the best, straight A's and top marks. But it wasn't enough. They did everything, they even sold their body (in every what way you like) just to get to a point that they think their mother would finally acknowledge and be proud of.

It never came.

And years later, the older sibling meets a child with their mother's eye shape and nose and lips and cheeks and hair (maybe not in the way it was biologically structured, but in the way that was taken care of by their mother, the same techniques and mannerism). But in their eyes were kindness and love and care and perhaps every positive thing to exist. The eyes of the older sibling wasn't like that. It was tired, forlorn, miserable, empty.

This was a child from a different mother. A different mother who had the same face as their mother did, but with every positive thing poured on her. Their mother was abusive and neglectful, in all the ways one could be. The younger sibling's mother was a radiant 36 year old. That wasn't their mother. Even if she had her face.

Dialogue prompts:

"I want to hold on to the resentment. To resent her 'til my last dying breath."

"I guess she still has me wrapped around her finger."

"It's not fair, no. That I have to suffer the crossfire between the mom in your past and my mom now. But the world isn't fair, isn't it? I want my older sibling just as much as you wanted your mother."

"I have the mother you wished for, but I still long for the love of my older sibling like they wanted the love of my mother."

"I think it was brave of her; it was brave of her to let my younger sibling meet me, knowing that I was the sin of her past, the reminder of her mistakes, and the proof of her monstrosity. She let her youngest child see that, because they wanted to meet their older sibling, and she loved her youngest. She bore herself, risked losing what she loved, because she loved them."

"I wish you were never born. I wish you would kill yourself. But that wouldn't do anything. That'll just make me regret my words and make your mother grieve. So there's nothing we can do, but live and move forward, even if we can never cross paths again."

"Maybe, in the future, we can meet again and we'll be happy. But maybe, it's better if the two of you don't exist for me, and I don't exist for you."

"I hate you as much as an older sibling should love their younger one. I don't know how to stop hating you. I don't think I ever will."

"No, we don't. We don't have the same mom. Mine was a nightmare, yours was a dream."

"Even now, I don't think I could imagine a version wherein the circumstances were the same...and I'd have loved you as a mother should have."

"She's a great mother. Just not to me."

"Some people start dying before they learn to start living."

@dilemmaontwolegs you know I love you but if you do that I might just die of sadness

Hi! Uh, could i request some grief prompts? Like uh, A just lost B? If thats too dark you could just do villain x hero prompts instead fkksjs

It’s not too dark at all! I might do villain x hero prompts further down the line.

Grief Prompts

Prompts

A and B were very close but B was never open or affectionate to A. After they died, A goes through B’s stuff and finds a box of trinkets. The box is full of pictures of A and B, momentoes that A gave B, and other things from their relationship.

After B’s death, everyone is gathered together, shocked with grief. A joins the room, chattering happily about something B did earlier, unsure why everyone else looks so upset.

When B was alive, A and B had casual rituals that they would follow without a fault; A would bring B coffee in the morning and leave it on their bedside table, B would make A a sandwich at lunchtime, A would drop a towel into B’s room at 6 because they know that B always showers at 6:30, and so on. After B dies, A can’t help but unconsciously keep doing the rituals.

After B dies, A has to tell B’s much younger sibling. Unsure how to gently break the news to a kid who doesn’t know much about death, A paints a fanciful image of the afterlife.

Everyone knows that B was writing a novel before they passed. A finds the unfinished story, in the process discovering hundreds of ideas and short stories by B (some of them not-so-subtly about A).

(Building off of 5) A takes it upons themselves to finish B’s story. They pour over their notes, go to B’s favourite brainstorming places, and try to figure out how B would end their novel.

Oneliners

“If I knew that those would be my last words to you, I would’ve said something sweeter”

“You son of a bitch, you promised me we’d grow old together. You promised me!”

“I don’t know for sure if angels exist, but if they do, B is one of them”

“Aren’t you supposed to pour out some drink when someone dies, as a sign of respect?” “At this point, I’ll take any excuse to get hammered”

“If you’re still somehow here . . . can you send a sign? Anything?”