“It will be much worse if the heroes get hold of you”, the villain said softly. “You have to learn to use your healing powers on yourself. If you can’t block your pain signals, you won’t survive an interrogation.” Their gloved hand moved to their sidekick’s next unbroken finger and began to apply pressure. “So try again. Three, two, one-”
In truth, this had always been an inevitablility.
“You’re awake,” the hero said, with something of a soft tone, something of a pitying one. Sealseam looked up at them, feeling the ache underneath his eyes, the tired stress in both hollows of his jaw.
Heartstar was different, here, than they were in a fight. Their color palate stayed much the same, a dusty gold that didn’t shimmer unless it caught the sun, deep browns that matched their eyes and night-dark blues for accents. Their long, dirty-gold hair was down, free hanging, and with their cape exchanged for a floor-trailing shawl they looked like some mix between a Lord of the Rings character and some Catholic saint immortalized in stain glass. They lacked the stony pragmatism they showed on the street. The ice cold, statuesque tension in their jaw and eyes and mathematical deeds.
“I’m awake,” Sealseam agreed, keeping his tone dead, already trying to squirrel himself away in that distant place within his mind, the one where all sensations were muted and the pain didn’t beat as hard, the one his boss, Heartstar’s nemesis, had helped him build.
“How’s your head?” Heartstar asked, extending their hand—the very hand Sealseam had witnessed weilding a lance the last time he’d been conscious—to gently caress the side of his skull. Sealseam bore it. Didn’t flinch away. He knew there was worse to come.
He didn’t answer.
“We know your identity,” Heartstar stated, though it didn’t feel quite as much like a threat as it should have. “Mine has always been public, as I never bothered with masks,” they continued, with something of a self-depricating chuckle. “We haven’t made yours known, though. My team is the only group that knows you’re here, aside from Splitter.” Even just hearing his boss’s villain title was enough to make him flinch. Heartstar paused at that, then sat in the modest chair next to the bed Sealseam was strapped to. It seemed too small for them, like their aura took up more space than the chair could possibly hope to support.
“We need a little information from you, alright?” Sealseam braced. Here it comes. He’d prepared for it, at least. Splitter had trained him for this, broken his bones, he’d reset them and healed them over and over, he’d be able to take it, he could withstand it all. “I promise you won’t be hurt, and if you speak willing my team has the kind of sway necessary to grant you amnesty. Will you?”
Sealseam grit his teeth, worked his jaw, then forced himself to spit on Heartstar’s stupid, golden robes. They blinked, not seeming at all angered or put off, just a little surprised, then huffed out a sigh through their nose. Like they’d expected this, but were disappointed anyway.
“You know,” they said, taking a tissue from the side table and cleaning the spit, “my face has always been public, but my main power has never been disclosed. Can you guess as to what it is?”
Sealseam felt cold dread pooling in his gut, the momentary rush from spitting now chilled down to his bones. He knew Heartstar had super strength, a certain degree of invulnerability or at least toughness that let them withstand things that would break a normal human, and could fly for short distances. Common side-powers that many of the supernatural had. But Sealseam had not ever caught even a whiff of what Heartstar’s true power could be.
“Something so evil-sounding your reputation would never recover from it, if word got out?”
Heartstar laughed, though it was a pained sound. “You’re not far off, actually.”
Thoughts of electrocution, burning, suffocation, bleeding, all forms of torment ricocheted through Sealseam’s head. He could heal himself, he could withstand it, he’d practiced, Splitter had taught him.
“Meanwhile your powers are so naturally suited for healing, yet you’re a villain’s doctor.” They sounded… almost sad.
“Looks like we’ve both made our choices,” Sealseam grit, wishing he sounded more defiant than he felt.
“I suppose we have.” It was coming, it was coming, he could heal himself but in the meantime it was going to hurt. “Hey,” Heartstar said, tone so achingly gentle it made his breath catch, “look at me.”
Gentle fingers tilted his chin, and he found his eyes drawn to their face without really thinking. His eyes met their brown ones, and
The whole
World
Tilted.
Sealseam blinked, breath caught in his chest, and then he let out a deep sigh, smiling. Oh. Oh! Heartstar, they—! Oh, they were, well they were everything! Why had he ever opposed them? Now he could see, now he understood much better, Heartstar was the greatest person in all this universe. In all the multiverse! Heartstar was better than anyone, better than Sealseam’s own life, better than a god! They were the only thing that mattered, the only thing that had ever mattered, every single event in history had just been a cosmic foundation building up to the exact events it would take to create Heartstar.
They pressed their lips to Sealseam’s forehead, and even Atlas shuddered.
“Heartstar,” he breathed, the restraints on his wrists catching him, preventing him from reaching out and touching Heartstar, his everything, his compass’s point.
“There you go,” Heartstar said, and they were sad, intolerably sad, staring at him with such exquisite sadness Sealseam would kill himself if it meant ridding them of the thing that would bother them so. “Will you please answer my questions now?”
“Of course!” Sealseam said urgently. He’d been such a foolish waste of breath, before, to deny them anything. “Anything, anything you want, my very life, I’d give it, if it was for you.”
“Thank you, but not that, please,” they said, the skin around their eyes tightening even further. “Just the information; I want you alive and unharmed, okay? I don’t want bad things to happen to you.”
Sealseam nodded, agreeing practically before the words were out of their mouth. Anything they wanted, he would do. This was beyond love, this was beyond even devotion, Sealseam knew from now on every breath of the rest of his life would only be taken if it was in service to Heartstar.
“Aw, shit, you had to enthrall him?” Heartstar’s own sidekick, Greensilver, said as she entered the room, notebook in hand.
“Unfortunately,” Heartstar said, “Let’s just get the information and add him with the rest, alright?”
“You’re the boss,” she said casually, shrugging and adjusting her oval glasses.
“Yes,” Heartstar said heavily, “I know.”
@haro-whumps, i am already in love with heartstar (what a badass name!!) i really felt their struggle and anguish with their “villainous” power and their struggle to do the right thing here - obviously mind-control is more ethical than torture to get information but I still felt how much they struggled with this.
they just seem like a conflicted, gentle person and I feel for them honestly (cause I sense that they live in a world where people are separated into Good and Bad categories of powers and I am here for it)
I need to know everything about heartstar’s hopefully extremely angsty backstory immediately
and also!!! poor stoic sealseam…his bracing for torture, his own determination to do his mentor proud…and all to fail so immediately cause he could never win here. agh, thats incredible, we love a dutiful servant!
Okay! Okay. Now I’ve made sufficient high pitched noises of glee and can talk more about what I like, in detail!
The color scheme! Its got this very doubting, anxious, uncertain feel to it. It definitely captures them being a villain but WANTING to be something else.
The injuries and the pills! How everything they have and do and are is controlled by Supervillain, up to and including their health.
The puppet strings! The empty puppet strings, and the one being cut! AAAAAAHHHHH YES! PERFECT!
And the last image! The clean white, the gentle hands! The hope for the future!
thank you!
i so appreciate how you noticed all my little details, especially the mood of the color scheme (anxious and wary but with a buried brightness ). i was particularly proud of the cut strings cause i wanna represent how proud i am of them for breaking free and trying to do good
Trope: when A is taken in by B, after being found hurt and unconscious
I open my eyes to the feel of something cold pressed against my chest. All I see is a blur of color, and all I can feel is pain. Pain in my side, my legs, the muscles of my arms, the sharp throb in my head.
Consciousness, it seems, is cruel—and I want to go back to sleep. But I can’t. Something feels wrong.
Then slowly, as I blink a few times, I see the metallic object take form into the metal shape of a stethoscope. They don’t press too hard against my chest.
Confused, I watch as the hand moves from one side of my chest to the other. They try to go lower, and I move my hand to stop them.
“You’re awake.” The voice comes from somewhere above me. Faintly, I recognize it. My pulse picks up.
I try and roll off the surface underneath me when their hand catches my shoulder, firmly rolling me back. At the touch, a soft whimper slipped through my lips— I bite down hard to silence the sound, but I know it’s already too late.
“Don’t move,” they say. Their words sound clipped—almost irritated. But the tone is gentle.
How… how could they find me? I shouldn’t be here. I had no memory of how I arrived.
I am going to say this right now, most of these are +18 and can contain triggering themes of violence, whump dynamics, possessiveness and intimacy - read at your own risk.
Cw: possible death, murder, stabbing, angst, blood, crying, sad, feel like I’m missing something
A sob slipped from Hero’s lips as they clutched the limp form closer to their body, trembling fingers pressed tightly against their apprentice’s chest.
“Sidekick, st-stay with me-” Hero’s voice cracked, tears distorting their vision as warm, sticky blood soaked through the thick material of their gloves.
Below them, Sidekick let out a whimper, their clouded eyes unseeing as they gazed into the distance.
“Ple-please Sidekick, help- help is coming,” Hero promised, their other hand moving to clumsily push Sidekick’s bangs from their forehead. Stroking their hair, providing them with as much comfort as they could in these terrible moments.
Above them, thunder rolled across a dark sea of clouds as a bolt of lightning split the sky, for a moment illuminating the stain of scarlet that soaked the front of Sidekick’s uniform.
Somewhere in the far distance, a siren wailed.
“Come- cmon sidekick- please- please hold on,” Hero begged as tears streamed down their flushed cheeks, cutting pathways through the blood and grime. All of their own pain faded to the back of their mind, their bruised bones and tired muscles no longer meaning a thing.
Nothing meant a thing when their best friend was dying in their arms.
Sidekick’s breath hitched, the fog behind their eyes dissipating in a moment of clarity.
“He-hero-” They rasped, their pupils dilating as they focused on their mentor’s face.
“I- I’m here sidekick, I’m here,” Hero forced out, their voice cracking with emotion as they soothingly ran their fingers through Sidekick’s hair. They tried to stay strong. They had to stay strong. Sidekick needed them to be strong.
“Hh..h’ro…” Sidekick whimpered, squeezing their eyes shut as a tremor wracked their body. “t h’rts..”
“I know, sidekick, I- I know..”
Sidekick let out a shuddering breath, their eyes closing for a moment. When they reopened, they were noticing dimmer than before.
“H…ro..” Their voice was less than a whisper, so quiet Hero had to move their head closer to hear. “pl.. pl’se…. ss-sing t’ mm.. me?”
Hero’s eyes widened slightly, before they nodded, a terrible numbing ache spreading through their chest.
“Of- of course,” They cleared their throat, their hand leaving Sidekick’s hair for a moment to wipe the tears from their eyes. “Of course.”
Hero never was a big singer. The most they ever did was hum a tune in the shower, or tap their fingers along to a rhythm as they filled out paperwork. If sidekick had asked them at any other time, they would’ve given a hearty laugh and a shake of their head.
But now-
But now hero sang.
It wasn’t good, no, not at all. Their voice cracked and broke, the melody completely lost in their grating voice.
They didn’t stop singing as the ambulances finally arrived and Sidekick’s eyes drifted shut.
Villain’s face flushed bright red, their eyes blowing wide as their gaze flicked from Superhero’s face to the small dog crate by their feet, a terrible heat beginning to bubble in their chest.
They glanced over their shoulder, desperately looking to the faces of the other in the room, but no one met their eyes, expressions blank.
“Go on. Get in.” Superhero’s lips twitched back in a cruel smirk, bending down slightly to pull open the cage’s door.
Villain blanched, taking a step back as they quickly shook their head
“Come on now, get in.” They beckoned Villain forwards, eyes glinting with malice as they nodded to one of the heroes behind them. Villain let out a startled yelp as they were shoved forwards, the heavy manacles locked around their ankles tripping them.
They landed with a groan at Superhero’s feet, the chains around their wrists preventing them from breaking their fall in any way. An awful, hot pain exploding from their nose.
A harsh laugh cut through the air as Superhero crouched down, reaching forwards to grab Villain by the hair.
“My, wasn’t that just pathetic?” They chuckled, wrenching Villain’s head up so they could see the fine stream of crimson dribbling down Villain’s chin.
“Let this be a lesson to you, pet,” Superhero grinned, roughly manhandling Villain into the cage. “If you’re going to spit and act like an animal,”
Villain cringed as the cage’s door slammed shut, and Supervillain snapped a padlock closed around the wire bars.
