Anonymous said: So i love your “protag breaking down in front of the antag” prompts, do you think you could maybe do some of the reverse? The antagonist breaking down in front of the protagonist?
dentist-why said:Could you do the villain breaking down in front of the hero because they don’t want to be a villain. (P.S. your blog is so good you are such a great writer.)
Anonymous said:Your protagonist breaking down in front of the antagonist prompts are fantastic! But, maybe to mix it up, could we get some antagonist breaking down in front of the protagonist prompts? (Unless they’ve been done before, I mean)
1) It wasn’t an obvious or sudden shattering. There were no tears, no screams, no heaving breaths. But something in them seemed to have just crumpled. And people could make a lot of jokes about the antagonist being heartless but they weren’t hollow like that. The hero watched it happen, barely aware of it at first - the way a person didn’t notice a cliff being eroded or the colour leeching from an old painting when they saw it so slowly.
2) “Go on then,” the villain said. They wet their lips, eyes aglow with an almost mania, a fever. “Kill me.”
It was a horrible moment to realize that they weren’t being taunted or mocked or dared - they were being begged.
3) “Tell me what happened, please.”
“What does it matter?”
“Of course, it matters. I’ll-”
“You’ll what?” the villain tried for a smirk, but it was all wobbly and then pressed thin as if desperate to hold back a sob. They swallowed hard. “It’s not crime when it happens to bad people, it’s justice. Karma. Just the way the story goes.”
“You don’t actually believe that.”
The villain glanced up, the look on their expression heartbreaking. Because oh, they actually did. And oh, they looked terrified.
The hero’s teeth gritted, and they crowded a little closer, lowered their voice. “Look. If someone’s hurt you - told you that - if someone’s got something on you-”
“Oh, don’t you know, hero?” this time, their voice really did crack. “No one’s ever got anything on me.”
It was enough, they’d seize hold of the antagonist in a moment. “Let me help you.” An order, not a plea this time.
4) Being them, they weren’t allowed to splinter. They didn’t have friends to fall back on, they didn’t have a safety net, the people of their court had no mercy towards the weak or the stumbling. To slip, to mistep, even an inch was to beg the wolves to fall on his throat. In a room of predators there always had to be prey and they’d vowed never to be prey again. They would never be seen as weak again.
“I’m sorry,” they said, as the protagonist’s door opened. “I know I shouldn’t be here. This was a terrible idea-” they took a step back, regretting coming already. It was foolish.
The protagonist caught their arm and reeled them inside. Gently. So gently.
It was the gentleness that did it and the next second the antagonist was in tears. Hideous, world bent out of shape, tears.
5) “I’m fine,” the antagonist said.
“I’m fine.” They’d just said that, and the protagonist was starting to look concerned. “Just fine. Everything’s going to be fine.” Oh god, they couldn’t stop saying it, couldn’t stop gabbling it, couldn’t breathe over it choking on that word. Fine, fine, fine, always perfectly fine.
6) The villain’s lungs strained for air as the hero slammed them up against the wall, face inches away. Fear licked up their spine.
“You’re sorry?” the hero spat. “Sorry doesn’t even begin to cover what you’re going to be for what you’ve done. You don’t get to cry over your guilt - you’re not one who got hurt.”
7) They knew it was wrong, they knew they shouldn’t like seeing the antagonist like this. A shell of themselves, fragile, held together by stitches. But oh they were so pliant like this. So scared of doing wrong and so desperately needing reassurance.
“I forgive you.”
“It’s going to be okay.”
“You’re not a monster.”
The hero had never felt so addictively needed in their life, so redemptive, so powerful to have the villain breathless and overwhelmed with the smallest of kindnesses. They felt like god.