Retired Hero - Tumblr Posts
How about a hero who accidentally kills a cat and feels bad about it so they bury it but villain finds them? Love your writing!
The hero was thoroughly, miserably, soaked and shivering on the ground. Dirt coated their palms, under their fingernails and on their knees.
They dragged a hand down their face. Fought off a wretched sob.
Their fingers shook as they set the flower down on the tiny mound.
Behind them, the sirens on an ambulance cut off, plunging them into silence. If they thought about it, they could feel the blood seeping from their side. They could hear the sound of rubble shattering to the ground echo in their ears.
And the screaming.
They could hear that, too.
They didn’t think about it.
A sob worked it’s way out of their chest, painful in their throat as they tried to swallow it.
“I’m sorry,” they choked. Their voice cracked. “It was—an accident, and I know that doesn’t…”
They had to bite their lip to stop another sob.
“Praying?” the villain questioned from behind, voice gentle.
The hero shrugged one bruised shoulder.
“No.”
The villain stepped around, facing them. Their eyes dropped to the flower, the fresh dug dirt on the hero’s hands. The grave.
Their expression softened.
“Ah.”
“You can leave now.”
“Praying for forgiveness, or praying for salvation.”
“I said you can leave now,” the hero snapped. They swiped away an angry tear, dirt smearing on their cheek.
The villain didn’t move.
“Why are you still here?” They bared their teeth in something they hoped was enough of a message to get the villain to leave. They had a feeling it was something pathetic, instead.
“You were crying,” the villain said it like it was an answer.
If the hero thought about it too hard, it was.
They didn’t think about it.
“Burst water line,” they gestured haphazardly to the demolition behind them, the half-flooded street. “No tears, no praying, and certainly no need for you—”
The villain’s expression shifted. “I told you that you needed to microdose your power.”
The hero froze.
“Shut up,” they hissed. “Shut up—“
“You wanted to quit, and I respected that. You have enough scars for a lifetime, we both do. But I warned you. I told you that if you didn’t use your power, it would use you, and it would be an ugly, violent thing.”
The hero shook their head mutely, words stuck under their tongue.
“And you thought you knew better,” the villain continued like it wasn’t breaking the hero’s heart. “You thought you could go through life and keep it bottled inside you and ignore the pressure.”
Their gaze flicked to the wreckage the hero knew lay behind them.
“Did you know better, hero?” Their voice was soft and dangerous. “Did you?”
“I said I was sorry!” It clawed its way out of the hero, and it wasn’t a scream, but it was close. “Okay? I know I messed up. You don’t need to taunt me with it, I already—“
The hero’s gaze settled onto the grave once more.
“I already regret it,” they whispered. “You can’t make me any more sorry than I already am.”
“I’m not trying to make you feel bad.”
“Then you’re failing spectacularly,” the hero snorted derisively.
The villain’s jaw ground.
“I’m trying to make you understand that this would have happened regardless of what you did. And that it’s not your fault.”
The hero blinked.
“You just said that I—“
“I said you thought you could fight your power and win. And you were,” the villain conceded. “You might have made it another month. Maybe two.”
The hero had never seen the villain so angry. “But then someone shot you, off duty and in civilian clothes,” they seethed. “The fallout is on them, not you.”
“I killed a cat,” the hero managed roughly. They blinked back tears.
The villain shook their head.
“You were off-duty. A civilian.”
“I could never be just a civilian, you know that.”
“Just because you were the bullet does not mean you were the one who pulled the trigger.”
“You aren’t making any sense.”
“I am,” the villain corrected. “But you’re grieving, and bleeding, and suffering from a massive energy drop, so you can’t see it yet.”
The hero let the villain pull them to their feet, dirt smearing between their two hands.
“You want forgiveness?” The villain ducked their head to meet the hero’s eyes. “I forgive you.”
The hero forgot how to breathe.
“You can’t just do that.”
“I can do whatever I want. And what I want is for you to stop crying.”
The hero snorted again, but it was lighter this time.
“You’re an ass.”
“And you’re a civilian.”
The hero shook their legs out. When they went to turn back to the grave, the villain caught their chin, turning them away with soft fingers.
“I forgive you,” they said solemnly, as if they had never said anything so important. “They do, too.” They inclined their head just slightly towards the grave.
For once, as their chest collapsed in on itself, the hero believed them
Prompt 5
“If I had known you would have been this difficult to work with I wouldn’t have chosen to tutor you.” The retired Hero groaned staring down at the 15 year old standing before the.
“Sorry Boomer.” Said the sidekick. “Blame my parents, their the ones making me go through with this shit.” They were flicking their phone so fast that the hero doubted they were taking in any of the information that was being shown in front of them.
“What the fuck in a Boomer?” The Hero asked.
The young Super looked up from their phone since the first time they had entered the house.
“Oh I have so much to teach you.” They smirked shaking their head.
Wasn’t the Hero suppose to teach them.
Prompt 8
A sad song was playing on the radio, a song you cried to not a song you danced to your lover with. But they didn’t care.
Years and years of fighting. Fighting for the world. Fighting for themselves. Fighting for each other.
So get fucked if you think you can tell them which songs they can and can’t dance to.