Recent comments in /f/WritingPrompts

MrScrib t1_j7psste wrote

Reply to [WP]The young teen hero has called you, one of the oldest villains crying, apparently from what you could hear, their parents killed their dog from not doing a chore and kicked them out since they are gay, and then they ask if they could live with you by zWol42

"Kid, I feel for your situation, but I'm called Grammar Nazi for a reason. Call Mama Pancake. She has a thing for stories like yours."

I passed along her public number and hung up, throwing up as the urge to correct The Illiterate Kid swelled up without an outlet.

It hurts...it hurts so much. He was my Nemesis, and his rambling always got the better of me. Using they, them when referring to everyone had started as a ploy, but I always figured there was more to it. Not that I could help him, given who and what I was. Did he really think after all that I was the one he should reach out to?

Probably, but then he was a tool. Also, pretty sure his dog was a robot built by his dad's company. Bit of a drama queen, getting upset by a tomagachi with extra steps.

No matter as Pancake would sort him out. She was far more than just bulging muscle.

Once everything was out, I cleaned up and drank some water before sitting down in a meditative pose. It was important to review any poor grammar during stressful conversations and forgive myself. Mental health is important. Besides, my doctor said she was proud of my progress, and that gave me joy.

For a moment I considered a foreign idea...and why not? Kid was under stress as well and shooting him with deadly invective didn't seem called for.

I sighed for myself only a few times before starting the breathing exercises...

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ChloeWrites t1_j7pr1vb wrote

Reply to [WP]The young teen hero has called you, one of the oldest villains crying, apparently from what you could hear, their parents killed their dog from not doing a chore and kicked them out since they are gay, and then they ask if they could live with you by zWol42

Part 1 - A Cold Night

By day I'm a therapist, Dr. Melancholy. I work with powered and non-powered people to help them cope with their life struggles and have a strong focus on LGBT+ matters. I live with my wife Alexandria and our trans girlfriend Phoebe. But right now, I am on an important phone call with a young girl.

"Whoa, whoa. Slow down, Kelly. Take a few deep breaths. Draw in for four seconds, hold for six seconds, and release for four seconds. Do that a few times first so we can try to calm you down." I'd already thrown my hoodie on as the cold is blistering in the dead of night. Especially in upper Vermont.

I heard the girl do as instructed. My wife was the tech head of the family and she was following beside me as we got in the car and drove off. We were tracking Kelly's location by IP.

From what I understood, her parents killed her dog and kicked her out of the house. I don't have the why for either, but soon will.

"Kelly, how're you feeling, sweetie?" I heard her breathing start to even out. "We are on the way. Another five minutes and we will be at the bus stop. You can tell us the rest when we get there."

"Please... Stay on the phone with me..." I could hear her sniffling over the phone. "I don't want to be alone right now... I-it's s-s-s-o c-c-c-cold..." I grew concerned as I heard her teeth chattering as she spoke.

"It's alright, we're about to round the corner." While I was calm on the outside, inside me was a bubbling rage, hotter than any inferno. I may be a supervillain, a monster to some. But I'm not heartless.

My wife and I rounded the corner and both gasped in shock. Kelly was in nothing more than a tank top and shorts.

We lept out of the car and rushed over to her and tossed a couple of blankets over her. My rage was near the tipping point, but we needed to get her to a hospital first. We ushered her into the car as quickly as we could.

"Kelly..." I looked back at the girl. Her skin was changing colors as hypothermia began to set in. She didn't appear to be awake either. "Alexandria, hospital, quickly."

It only took us five minutes at the speed we went. We rushed her into the ER and filled out the basics based on her driver's license. We were told to wait in the lobby as we were not her parents, foster parents, or legal guardians.

End part 1

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Aljhaqu t1_j7pkw9g wrote

Reply to [WP]The young teen hero has called you, one of the oldest villains crying, apparently from what you could hear, their parents killed their dog from not doing a chore and kicked them out since they are gay, and then they ask if they could live with you by zWol42

Life is ironic.

Look, I get it. The universe is big one ironic punishments, and so on, but this is ridiculous. The Hero living with the villain as his ward? This is an absolute disaster waiting to happen... But this is what I am living...

Worst part, is that I did it under my own will...

He came one night. Dry tears in his face, bruised and dirty... He was beaten by something or someone.

A loud knock in the door of my citadel, the guard lets him in... I must fire that guard for that security breach...

And so I have in front of me the soiled and crying hero, the destined one that will put an end to my “villainy”.

Between sobs he explains me everything. He, as the hero, ends tired from fighting my armies and independent creatures that roam the surroundings of his village; and so ends tired. But some people do not understand that...

He mentions his parents. And my stomach drops... I wish to believe that they aren’t related to this situation...

But again, the universe loves to defy our hopes and expectations.

They wanted him to harvest the wheat fields, at those hours in the night.

What?

Who in their right mind do that?

And he continues saying that he would do that first hour in the morning. And it is a sensible idea, I admit.

Seems that being sensible is now reserved to the villains.

Those oafs kill the poor partner of the young man in front of me. A dog...

I feel one nerve about to snap, and then the young man serves me another horrid truth bomb.

He breaks in tears in front of them, because of the love he felt for that canine. He adopted it when it was a pup. And the parents take it as weakness.

After doing, morosely, the chore; he comes back... to find his father with a belt.

I can hear the confusion in the poor man’s voice... He didn’t do anything wrong to deserve punishment. But again, the universe loves defying our expectations.

The young man kept one little secret. He was in love... But there was no fair maiden that had smitten him. No, it was another boy. I believe that he gave the name of his right hand.

Personally, I couldn’t care any less... I want to put order, not install the most ridiculous restrictions in the lives of every person in the world. But this?

To beat you progeny, only because you don’t understand who they love? Or why they love?

... I will have to pencil a public torture of those dimwits...

But on pressing matters, what should I do with the young man?

Kill him? Imprison him?

I choose none... And for one, I feel like an absolute idiot. But again, this is ironic...

I am the one protecting the hero from their moronic parents...

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TiredSoul97 t1_j7ovpxj wrote

Reply to comment by Malorean_Teacosy in [WP]The young teen hero has called you, one of the oldest villains crying, apparently from what you could hear, their parents killed their dog from not doing a chore and kicked them out since they are gay, and then they ask if they could live with you by zWol42

When I made the mention of Jackson, my thought on his story was that Elsie had saved him from an abusive situation when he was fairly young. He's late teens now, and I like to imagine he has powers of persuasion, which could make him a good villain if he wanted to be, or a good hero.

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RedChessQueen t1_j7ottn1 wrote

Reply to [WP]The young teen hero has called you, one of the oldest villains crying, apparently from what you could hear, their parents killed their dog from not doing a chore and kicked them out since they are gay, and then they ask if they could live with you by zWol42

I didn't recognize him over the phone, not until I ran a scan of his number, finding it connected a an online account that had a profile attached. 14 years old.

Lionhart, boy wonder, popping out a year ago and taking the city by storm with a carefree, fun little attitude. I swear my boys were going easy on him, always reporting back how goddamn small he was, and that what ever veteran hero popped him out hadnt trained him well, his fighting style was inconsistent. Some days, he seemed to be a master at hand to hand, then the next encounter it was like he had never thrown a punch before.

The Brat just gave me his entire identity up on a silver platter. So I thought I could entertain him while I sent my boys his coordinates. I haven't interacted much with him, not had any reason to. I was "retired."

"How long have you had my personal number?" I said, putting my champagne glass on it's coaster, or I would have my entire ass handed to me for staining the mahogany table.

"Pulled it from one of your friends burner phones from a month back."

Christ, he sounded younger then 14, that made sense, his birthday was only a week prior. Huh.

"I didn't have anyone else to call." His voice cracked, not in the way a teenagers did. There was a heavy, wet sigh.

He was crying.

I felt a pinprick in my heart, and maybe it would bleed a speck of black blood. It was pathetic, like a kitten mewling.

"Take a moment." There was heavy breathing on the end, what sounded like he was wiping his nose. I had his account IP pinged for an address. Somewhere in the west suburbs. Not the best place to live. Drug dens, school districts with a classroom to prisoners pipeline the highest in the country.

"My mum killed Sammy." He said, and I frowned. I had a profile for the kid, trying to figure out his parents. Some heroes quietly retire. Some died. If any of them had kids that grew up and found their parents spandex pajamas in the attic no one would be aware of them.

My working theory was dead hero parent, but making a name for himself- but that was called into question.

"And who is Sammy." I asked, not sounding curious, but to keep the conversation going. He could realize at any moment he had made a massive mistake and hang up and run.

It was already too late, but it made it easier for me.

"My- she was my dog." He said. "I had her since I was 7. She was my best friend."

My questions on his legacy could go unanswered for now. I had been careful not to wake my old boy up, a bulldog, dense as a brick in body and brain, snoring next to me on the couch. A soft spot had been poked.

"I- I forgot to put the trash out- I was tired, I was just tired, and it was garbage day and it wasn't picked up, and mum said "You're not going to forget again." And while I was at school she took Sammy to the vet and had her put down."

And the tears started up again, I had to turn him down as Sonya entered the living room. One "this is not a good time" look from me had her cringe and turn back around.

It gave me time to look through my intel, and found that his phone was pinging from a bus station.

"Is that why you're at a busstop with a backpack that looks like it's got your clothes in it?" I asked.

He didn't say anything, as if figuring out that yes, with my vast array of connections, I could hack a nearby security camera to see him sitting on a curb.

Bus stations in the west suburbs had a tendency to have homeless people break in and sleep in the buses at night, something that the council had tried to crack down on.

"No." He said, bitterly. "It's cause they found out I liked a guy."

I felt like I had been slapped.

It was like I was 14 again. The entire class finding out I was gay, the pain bombs in my locket, my parents becoming stricter and the only reason I wasn't sent to a conversion camp was my grandma would have disowned them entirely.

"I mean, I don't even know if I like him, I just- I was tagged in a photo with him and my parents saw it and thought that just cause he was gay, mean that I was Iean I am but- when I didn't deny it, Bill started to throw my shit around the house, and they threw me out. He broke my school laptop, and there's a break fee, and the schools not going to let me borrow books unless I pay it back-"

He was worrying about all the wrong things. And looking through the kids instagram- that doing photo of him just side hugging this other kid with dyed hair, "future roommates" as a caption- had been a week ago on his birthday.

I sighed. The needle he hand managed to stab into my chest caused a tear. "In about five minutes, a black car with tinted windows is going to turn up to your location."

"Wait-"

"They're not gonna hurt you, Jack might hold a grudge but theyre not going to hurt you." I said. "Just get in and they're bring you to my penthouse, clear your head, get you off the streets."

"I didn't call you ask to stay with you."

"Too bad, don't hit Jack again he's sensitive." "I mean, you can be gone by the time he gets there, or you can get out of the cold. I have a fireplace, and a few spare rooms. It won't be forever. Just until you figure out what you're doing."

Sonya didn't pretend she wasn't listening in when she heard me hang up. "Are we expecting a guest?" She sat next to me- technically next to Bingo snorted at being disturbed, but didn't move.

"Yeah." I said. " Better under watch."

"Oh shut up "Miss Terry"." She smiled. "You're going soft."

40 years, retired. None of those vetren heroes could ever pin me down, but Sonya did. I enjoyed calling heroes out for homophobia and making them jump in thr media circus and they fumbled their words.

I couldn't pretend this was pure kindness. Lionhart was an in. He could be an asset if played my cards right.

But first, a 14 year old gay kid needed to get out of the late autumn night, get a meal inside him and have a good sleep.

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