Six Months Ago, When The Protagonist Had First Appeared In The Middle Of The Villains Compound, Scrawny

Six months ago, when the protagonist had first appeared in the middle of the villain’s compound, scrawny and half feral, the villain hadn’t thought much of it.

And then it happened again.

And again.

The villain thought something of it.

“Let me work with you,” they had begged. The villain was almost certain the protagonist was homeless. “Please, I have powers, I can—”

The villain said yes.

Maybe it had been whatever remnants were left of the villain’s stupid heart. Maybe it was the chocolate donut they had that morning. Maybe it was the desperation coming off the protagonist in waves.

Maybe they were just bored.

They paid it no mind.

The protagonist did have powers, but they were minor. The kind you see in small children, the first in a bloodline to mutate powers. Their great grand children would wield enough power to level buildings, be heroes and villains and everything in between. But for now, they sat in preschool classrooms and summoned the tiniest spark of flame.

The protagonist, trembling like a fawn, sweat slicking their brow, seemed to be one of those children. Albeit an older version.

Not useless, exactly. They had a startling affinity for picking locks—which explained the ability to get into the villain’s compound—a willingness to fight anyone, and a lack of fear. But they weren’t exactly the most useful sidekick the villain could have picked.

The villain wouldn’t trade them for anyone else, though.

Their stupid, half dead heart, it seemed, cared for the protagonist.

So, when the hero set out to kill the protagonist, the villain knew they would do anything to keep them safe.

They caught the hero’s hand, twisting to shove them backwards a step, and they felt rather than saw the protagonist wince.

“Violent today, aren’t we?”

The hero was seething, and it unsettled something in the villain. The hero was unstable, yes. But the villain had never seen them try to kill someone before; they hadn’t even considered the hero might try.

They dodged another blow, the hero’s power blasting apart a building behind them. Their spine prickled, and they dropped to avoid the next hit.

“Just itching to go to prison for homicide, hm?”

When the hero didn’t even attempt to respond to their half-assed banter, the villain’s gut roiled.

“Protagonist,” they said between breaths. “Leave. Now.”

“No.”

They managed to throw the hero to the ground, risking a glance at the protagonist. They were covered in dust, supersuit dirty and torn across one calf, but their feet remained planted, shoulders set. “You heard me. Go back to the compound—“

The protagonist’s eyes widened, and the villain knew they had turned away for too long.

The villain went down hard, ears ringing, as the hero shook out their fist.

“Stop it,” the protagonist’s voice cracked. They took a step forward, wavering like they weren’t sure if they should run or fight.

“Go,” the villain coughed, and the protagonist flinched. They rolled onto their back, struggling to stand as the hero’s power flickered dangerously.

The villain knew, innately, that the next hit would kill them.

The villain sucked in a painful breath.

The hero lunged.

And the protagonist, voice wrecked with fear, screamed, “Dad.”

The villain’s heart stuttered.

There was a flash of light.

In front of them, panting for air like they would never get enough, was the protagonist. The hero’s fist was planted against their chest still, and the villain could tell it had been a death blow. Anyone, even the villain, wouldn’t have survived.

And yet—

The protagonist stood, unharmed.

“Dad,” they said again, and the hero didn’t quite flinch, but it was close. “Stop.”

The silence was deafening.

Something in the hero’s jaw tightened.

“Move,” the hero said lowly. The protagonist didn’t falter.

“No.”

“Don’t make me say it again.”

“What exactly will you do to me if I don’t listen,” the protagonist gave a sharp laugh. “Hit me? You tried that already.”

The hero sucked in a breath.

“I am your—“

“You are my nothing,” the protagonist corrected. “Certainly not my father. You lost that right when I was eight.”

The villain managed to push themselves to their feet.

“That was stupid,” the villain murmured, but it didn’t have any heat to it. “You couldn’t have known that would work. You had no idea if you could survive a hit like that.”

The protagonist very pointedly did not turn around, shoulders tense.

“I did,” their voice was strained. “He lost the right to fatherhood when I was eight, remember?”

The hero didn’t say anything, but the villain thought that might have been shame creeping its way across their face.

Oh.

Oh.

The hero—

The villain had been harboring the child of the most powerful being on the planet for six months. A child the hero had tried to kill, or at the very least, hurt.

Their heart stuttered.

They had been harboring the most powerful being on the planet, their mind corrected. A drop of blood slid its way down their spine. Power grew with every generation, and with the hero already so powerful, any child they had would be something close to a god.

“You said you had mild telekinesis,” the villain said numbly. The protagonist half turned to look over their shoulder, eyes shiny.

“My mom,” the protagonist. “I got it from her. The rest…”

From the hero.

The protagonist scanned the villain’s face.

They were searching for signs of violence, the villain realized. The protagonist wasn’t afraid of the hero anymore; no, the protagonist had seen the worst they could do. But somehow, the protagonist had begun to care for the villain. And they were terrified the villain—the person they trusted the most—was going to hurt them over a secret. The villain could see it all, scrawled across the protagonist’s face clear as day.

The villain was going to kill the hero. Painfully.

“Protagonist,” the villain kept their voice even. Gentle. Slow. “I’m not mad. And I’m not going to hurt you.” Their eyes slipped past to the protagonist to the hero.

“Him, however, I will be.”

The protagonist worried their lip between their teeth, and the villain watched as their power—their true power—sparked along their shoulder blades.

The villain stepped forwards—

“Don’t,” it was little more than a whisper.

The villain stopped.

The protagonist slid in front of the villain once more. “Just,” they raised a hand, as if taking a moment to choose their next words. “Stay.”

The villain stayed.

When the protagonist’s attention turned back to the hero, it was bloodthirsty. It spoke of war, and hatred, and revenge.

“You’re going to leave,” the protagonist’s voice was sharp enough to cut skin. “And you aren’t going to come back. I don’t care if it’s because you don’t want to, or because you know that if you do, I will kill you and I’ll like it—you won’t come back.”

The hero swallowed.

“The city needs me.”

“You are a plague to this city, and I am ridding it of you. Get. Out.”

The hero stumbled a step backwards, as if they had been hit. Their expression twisted.

“You wouldn’t.”

“I would,” the protagonist seethed.

They all knew the protagonist meant it.

The hero was halfway down the block, news vans and reporters scrambling their way onto the scene with cameras raised, when the protagonist called after them.

“Oh, and Dad?” The cameras snapped to them, and the protagonist grinned. It was vicious—it looked like the villain’s. “Parents who abuse their children don’t get to be heroes. Especially not you.”

They waited a beat, two, three.

The press exploded.

Above the din, power crackling around them, the protagonist mouthed two words.

“I win.”

I really adored your take on the villain ark, especially the ask about the lines like Tom riddle and all. I do have a question. I have a character who is very much like Tom riddle, she’s very charming and clever. That’s how she gets what she wants. Can you do a situation, or dialogue that conveys that?? (Keep in mind this is sort of the first step that leads her to becoming a evil person.) ❤️

Thank you so much for the ask!

However, I’m truly sorry, but I don’t think I can complete this scene for you. I don’t know much about this character, the surrounding story, or the intention of the scene within the plot, and me writing this when I don’t know the full circumstances would be a disservice.

Again, I truly do appreciate the ask, and I’m sorry I can’t be of help.

Plot bunny/free to good home/I'll get to it later idea:

An Incredible Hulk "I can't let my heart rate get up or the Hulk gets out" but instead of the Hulk they're bonded to a minor reality warping entity.

When the character gets frightened/pissed/excited the entity reacts and whatever the problem is isn't a problem anymore.

They had a dog that chased a squirrel, once. They think. Maybe an ex. Probably. Were they always an only child, or was someone (maybe) fond of jumpscaring them?

First of I absolutely adore your writing prompts, you have really helped me with my writing projects. I do have some questions for you. I have a character in my book, she’s the main villain in the story. The story takes place in there Era’s, medieval, seventh century America (Salem Witch trials) and present time. My main villain was born in Salem Town, her father was a judge. She discovers she has powers and has to end up leaving her family and her town for fear of her being a witch. Her family is part of a ancient prophecy, and she believes that she is the girl it speaks of. Her powers have the ability to influence her choices and thoughts. I often think of it as Mr jeckle and the Hyde. The good vs evil. She ends up giving in to her selfish desires and becomes evil. The hero in my story is her ancestor; and she’s the girl in the prophecy. But I wanted to sort of use her as a sort of “cautionary tale” if that makes sense. My often think of my Villain, Alice her name is as very much like Lord Voldemort. She’s very clever and cunning. Manipulative. I’m on the part where my hero is learning about her, I want to make her infamous (sort of like when Harry asks dumbledore if he knew he had met the most evil wizard when he was just a child. And he replies with, no. If the monster was there it was buried deep within) do you have any dialogue that can help set the tone of how evil she is? ❤️❤️ ❤️

Anon, my love, I truly appreciate you, and you have no idea how much joy it brings that you both like my writing and it’s helped you. Absolutely wild.

Your story sounds absolutely delightful, and I adore the idea of a split timeline world building concept. I’m absolutely intrigued by it. Wether or not it’s simply flashbacks or short scenes that look back on the villain, or dual POV, I think it will be wonderful.

Now to actually answer your question:

I have a few suggestions, and you can shape them to what you want—I don’t know underlying motivations between the characters or actually events/scenes, so I’m going vague here.

“It was like walking into the ocean, surface calm and smooth, sun on your back. Until you step too far, too fast, and the current rips you under. There’s no escaping from that kind of hold—and eventually, you don’t want to, either, surrounded by such power. That was her. She was the sun and the riptide and the victim; and she was willing to drag us all down with her when she went.”

“People didn’t live through her—they survived in the aftermath.”

“It was never about forgiveness, or righteousness. At some point, she was a girl, scared and alone. All she had was herself, and her power, and at some point, one of those things won. And it wasn’t her.”

“Power is a thing you can love. It curls up in your heart, your mind, your soul, and it’s a beautiful thing. It’s easy. It gnaws at your bones until you forget the absence of it. She loved her power to absolution, and at that point, right or wrong didn’t matter to her. It just mattered if she was capable of whatever she wanted to do.”

“She didn’t hurt people because she craved their pain—she hurt people because they were in her way. They were casualties to her. A person who sees human beings as obstacles is no longer a person with humanity. And she saw people as obstacles.”

I hope that helps!

This next stuff is just general advice about dialogue, because I went off on a mini tangent while stuck on an airplane. I want to preface that my advice is based solely on how I write and other advice I’ve received—anything I do may not work for you, or go against something you prefer in your writing style. I’m not a professional, simply an individual who likes typing things.

When I’m writing dialogue, my main goal is to get it to flow well, which is my favorite part. Half the time when I start a scene, I have one very specific line fragment that I want to use, and I’m figuring out how the characters would naturally get there. For example, the lines “I need you to hang up,” “No, love, I’m going to turn you into another me,” and “Your brother isn’t alive, but he is living,” were big drivers for me within those scenes, but I have to get to them for them to make sense.

That being said, to write a good “evil” sounding dialogue/villain, don’t make it too outright, unless you’re going for, on some level, unhinged. Your villain lost the internal battle between good and evil, and is driven by her powers. So essentially, an outside force is pushing her to do these things, think these things, say these things. And since she’s manipulative, when she talks, you’re almost going to agree with her, and that’s what will make it more convincing. For example:

“I finally stood up and did something for myself for once—is that such a horrible thing?”

Which, depending on the situation, can be a gross oversimplification—but that’s what your villain would see it as. She did something she wanted, for herself, after leaving her town in fear. And anyone who has been pushed down by other people will relate to that, and the fact that they relate to it will make them uneasy.

Along with that, power dynamics. Not magic, but the way the characters interact. In improv, you need to have two characters on different levels. You can have a boss and an employee, a king and a joker, a mom and her child. There’s engrained power dynamics between those groups, and they make it interesting. If your main character isn’t at least a little bit afraid of the villain, it won’t be believable. Our main character isn’t afraid, why should we be? If Hagrid/Dumbledore/other adults weren’t at least slightly shaken by Voldemort, it wouldn’t matter. He’d just be a bad wizard—not someone who strikes such fear that people cannot say his name.

However, you can have people on the same level within writing, but it can sometimes make a scene lag. It all depends on the situation. But someone, somehow, will always have an upper hand. More resources, more power, less morality, ancestral sway, etc.

Woah, that got long. Anyways, I hope that helps, and if you need any more ideas, feel free to send me another ask, especially if it’s for a specific scene.

“I’ve never used a gun before,” the hero swallowed, mouth dry. They had never needed to, but now—

The villain’s head lolled over to look at them. A lazy grin spread across their face.

“Don’t worry,” they held the hero’s gaze, unflinching. “I have.”

The gun went off. Across the room, one of their enemies dropped, blood splattering against the wall.

Still, the villain didn’t break eye contact, content to shoot without looking. They hit their target every time, but still—

“Can you please look where you’re pointing that thing?”

“Why,” the villain tipped their head, and that shit eating grin was back, “Am I making you nervous, hero?”

The hero grimaced as the villain sent another target sprawling onto the floor. Surely they had to run out of ammo eventually?

When the hero didn’t respond, the villain laughed.

“Oh, I am. Well, that’s adorable, frankly.”

The hero flinched at the next gunshot, and the villain nodded their head towards the hero’s gun. “If you were to—and bear with me this is a crazy idea—help me, this would be over with way faster.”

The hero looked down to their gun, shifting it side to side in their hands. It didn’t look all that hard. Point, aim, shoot. They could do that, right?

They lifted their gun, aiming at the nearest combatant—

The villain slid to a stop next to them, tsking, and their hand settled onto the hero’s gun too quickly for them to see. “Not-no not quite like that,” they hummed in the hero’s ear, and though they couldn’t see their face, the hero knew they were amused. 

The hero’s jaw clenched with irritation.

“First,” the villain murmured, far too close, “Safety needs to be off.” They clicked something on the hero’s gun, repositioning the hero’s hands as they did. “Second,” they continued, and the hero shivered. “Don’t aim at me, love. You like me too much to kill me.”

“You’re awfully sure about that.”

The villain half rested their chin on the hero’s shoulder, batting their eyes. Their free arm jerked up, firing a shot behind them at someone who had evidently gotten too close to the two of them.

“I am,” they grinned. Their hand rested over the hero’s once more. “Now, aim,” they guided the hero’s hand towards the nearest enemy. Their finger slipped over the hero’s on the trigger. “And shoot.” They pulled down on the trigger, trapping the hero’s finger underneath theirs, so when the gun fired, they fired it together. The hero winced.

It was louder than the hero had thought it would be.

Across the room, the body dropped.

“Good,” the villain praised, voice low, and something stirred in the hero’s chest. “Again, love.”

They guided the hero through the motions once more.

By the time there was no one left to fight, the villain was staring at them with a look they couldn’t decipher. It was all encompassing. Hungry. Wild.

The hero cleared their throat, and the villain smirked like they knew what the hero was doing.

They eyed the hero, still with that look on their face.

“God, you’re pretty with a gun in your hand,” the villain cursed. They stepped closer. The hero didn’t move, holding their breath as the villain wiped a splattering of blood off their face. “Pretty covered in blood, too, but that might be a bit too insane for you, hm?”

The hero’s face went hot. It wasn’t, they thought. They wanted to kiss the villain so badly they worried it might be a sickness, twisting their mind, something terminal. But still, that smile—

The villain stepped away. They scanned the hero’s blushing face, and grinned harder at whatever they saw.

Gently, they took the gun from the hero’s hands, vanishing it behind their back.

“The next time you need someone to show you how to shoot, give me a call,” they nodded towards the hero’s hands. “I wouldn’t want someone else touching my hero, now would I?”

The hero couldn’t stop the smile that spread across their face.

The villain winked, stepped back, and was gone.

My hero.

Oh, the hero was well and truly fucked.

Would you be willing to do some sapphic dialogue between hero and Villain? ❤️

“I understand now,” the villain murmured, chin resting in her hand. The hero turned, swiping a bit of blood out of her eyes.

“Understand what?”

She was golden, her villain, standing there like that. Amongst rubble and ash as it drifted from the sky, light illuminating her like a halo. Like she was some sort of god.

“Why they all went mad. Why they started wars and spilt blood.”

The hero’s brow wrinkled as the villain stepped closer, but she held still as the villain tucked a bloodied piece of hair behind her ear. 

“Have you gone mad, then?” It was half teasing.

The villain laughed, smoothing the hero’s brow with her thumb. “I think loving you has always been a sort of madness.”

The hero shoved at the villain’s shoulder playfully, ducking her head to hide her blush. “Are you calling me an illness, then?”

“One I never hope to cure.”

“That seems a little self sabotaging if you ask me,” the hero remarked. She shifted a piece of rubble with her foot, dust pluming out around it. “But, if we’re in the vein of self sabotage, maybe no more mass apocalypse attempts?”

“I’ll consider it.”

“No, you won’t.”

The villain tipped her head. “Would you truly want me to?”

“No,” the hero said after a moment, voice hesitant. “I cannot imagine you any other way.”

The hero froze, blushing, ducking her head to hide the red on her cheeks. The villain took it as an opportunity to grab her chin, guiding the hero’s eyes to meet hers. Her fingers were the kind of soft that made violence seem a myth.

The villain hummed. “I’d burn the world for you, if you asked.” She raised a playful eyebrow at the hero. “Is that how you imagine me?”

Being this close to the villain was doing something funny to the hero’s heart. She felt like she needed to sit down. Or possibly find out what the villain’s lips felt like on hers–

“Yes,” she whispered. Something flickered in the villain’s eyes.

“What a hero,” the villain’s mouth twitched in amusement, that damn mouth.

“You’re pronouncing ‘hopeless romantic’ wrong.”

A slow grin crept across the villain’s face.

“Oh, am I now?”

There were words to respond to that, but the hero had forgotten them. This close, the villain smelled like blood and dust and something uniquely her, something the hero had been missing all of her life and couldn’t get enough of now.

“Mmmmhm.”

The villain’s grin widened.

“Have I driven you to madness?”

The hero couldn’t look away from her eyes. “The kind that makes people start wars.”

The villain pulled her close, tucking the hero into her neck.

“That’s called love.”

The hero sucked in a breath, heart pounding in her ribs, but didn’t pull away.

“I know,” she breathed in the scent of the villain, “I was destined for failure.”

The villain rested her head against the hero’s. Her arms slid neatly around her waist.

“I don’t think you could fail at anything.”

“I failed at not loving you,” the hero pulled back. “Though really, how could they put heaven in front of me and expect me not to love her–”

The villain was kissing her.

The villain, her villain, was kissing her.

The hero melted.

The villain smiled against her mouth.

“They’ll tell stories about us, you know.”

“They always do, when people go mad with love.”

“The Story of When Heaven and Hell Fell In Love,” the villain murmured fondly.

“Mmm. Which one are you?”

“Hell.”

“That’s the most untrue thing you’ve ever said.”

The villain laughed. 

“Only you would think so.”

“Well,” the hero tipped her head. “I am in love.” She wrapped her arms around the back of the villain's neck. “Now, if we’re going to tell a story,” she leaned in to whisper against the villain’s lips. “Let’s make it a good one.”

The villain smiled.

And kissed her again.