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takethebodymarc · 6 months

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i love when you can't hear them but can still read the bubbles😭

#qsmp #im dyinggg

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epiclamer · 1 year

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Whumpees taking care of each other anyone?

Spiteful

Justice. Something Hero fought to bring to their city streets every day, but couldn’t care to fight to earn it for themselves.

They had been used and abused and worked until their legs gave out. They fought tooth and nail for their pay check twice a month just to receive the measliest dollars the agency had to give. They sat in the shower until the water ran cold, trying to wash the blood from their uniform, unsure of whom it belonged to.

Always giving; people drained them dry. Left for dead in abandoned alleyways or stripped of everything they had for performance reasons. It didn’t matter. They were reduced to a shell of a human being after it all. A shell that worked all day and sat empty all night. Every time they closed their eyes they saw flashes of everything again and again and again.

Reliving everything at night was worse than mulling it over every morning. At least they could tear themselves from the flashbacks if they were awake, nightmares weren’t kind enough to allow one that option.

A knock on the door sounded to their left, it barely registered through the fog that clouded the hero’s mind. They couldn’t bother to get up. It was probably a solicitor. Odd at this hour, but not impossible.

When it sounded again, slightly more urgent, Hero’s numbness was overcome by pure rage. They were angry. They were furious. They couldn’t explain why. But they were.

They shot up from their seat on the couch, storming over to their front door and ripping it open, sending the figure on the other side tumbling back. One millisecond away from shouting in their face when they recognized the terrified face at their feet.

Villain.

Hero didn’t have to think twice before they put their full force into aiming to slam the door on the other. Villains foot catching it with just a sliver of room left as they winced, feeling the wood bash into their ankle. For a moment they looked hopeful, like they had caught the break of a century, but the hero was not so easily deterred, and in their fit they slammed the door over and over and over again until the villain retreated their foot in pain.

Finally, the door clicked into its frame with a bang and Hero slipped the lock shut. Turning their back to their enemy and heading back to their seat on the couch.

Yet their rest didn’t last much longer than a minute. Their dissociative state interrupted by the villain crashing in through the window.

Their first instinct was to kill the villain. However, the moment the thought reached their rational brain they almost threw up.

It was only a confirmation that they were falling apart. That sooner than later they’d lose everything to a plea of insanity and they’d die. The agency couldn’t keep someone as valuable as a hero out on the streets with precious information, they were a loose end.

Heroes weren’t allowed to retire. They bowed their head to a bullet before they ever got the chance to be free.

Maybe that’s what was wrong with them. Maybe Hero was too aware of the agency watching their every move. Keeping track of their vitals, forcing them to take lie detector tests, controlling their income, monitoring their diet. Maybe the stress was killing them from the inside out.

“I didn’t… didn’t know where-else to go—” Villain cutoff with a pained breath. Clutching their stomach with a vice-like grip in one hand and their ankle in the other.

The hero’s demeanour stayed numb, not angry any longer just a husk of their former self once more. Standing to their full height, Hero approached the villain on the floor. Taking note of the blood on their costume and coating their hands, they watched a glimpse of their past cloud their vision and suddenly felt sick.

They didn’t kneel down, they didn’t inspect or rush to care for the villain, they didn’t and they wouldn’t. “The day you betrayed me you gave up all rights to ever being allowed near me again. Let alone in a friendly manner like whatever the fuck you think this is.”

Villain gasped, their pain seeming less and less manageable by the minute. Hero stayed unbothered, not even the tone in their voice strayed an octave. “Y-You shut me out…”

“I shut you out because you broke my trust. Tell me, Villain, why would I ever let you in?”

“I-I don’t need a fucking l-lecture.” The criminal hissed, clenching their jaw to bite their tongue. “I’m a villain, i-it’s what I do.”

Hero’s attention strayed from the conversation, head filing through first-aid reciprocals as they walked casually towards their kitchen. Opening the top right cupboard and pulling out the medical kit before turning back—almost robotically—and dropping it by the villain’s side.

They snatched it up faster than the speed of light, taking their advantage while the hero was friendly enough to offer it. They weren’t going to test their luck at seeing how long until the other would pry it back from their hands, dangling it above their head while they struggled to stay alive. Villain shivered, they wouldn’t push it, they needed the help.

Swallowing the lump in their throat as their shaky hands peeled back the layers of their suit to reach the wound, Villains eyes watched their enemy intently. The way their eyes were blank, their movements heavy and accounted for, head lulled slightly forwards as well as a hunch in their spine as they sat back down on the couch.

“You look l-like shit.”

The crime-stopper didn’t react. Villain wasn’t even sure if they had been heard.

Speeding through the rest of their stitches and patchwork, once Villain was semi-sure they wouldn’t rip and their bandages would hold, they stood up. Making sure to avoid any pressure on their bad ankle as they hobbled to the hero’s kitchen with the open first-aid kit.

They zipped the bag closed after they had shoved everything inside and dumped it under the sink. Hero would find it if they needed it, just might take them a second or two.

It only took a brief once over of the hero’s food supply for the villain to pull out their phone, dialling the nearest take-out place they could find. “I’m ordering pizza.”

“That’s not agency approved for my diet—” Villain was practically relieved at the provoked reaction from their nemesis.

Still alive. Barely.

“I don’t give a fuck. I’m buying pizza and you’re going to eat it.” Stepping over to the couch they placed their phone on the back of it, balancing the screen on the plush pillows. Their—now free—hands made their way to the Hero’s shoulders, gently and carefully kneading at the muscles. “And you’re going to be grateful and pretend to like it no matter what, understood?”

Hero couldn’t repress the way their mouth watered or their stomach grumbled at the thought. “I hate you.”

And the line finally picked up.