Snippet 1.4
Previous
The next morning, Henchman sat in the infirmary of Villain's Headquarters, the atmosphere as thick as smoke. Henchman figured Villain let slip to someone what they were planning to do the Henchman as a punishment for what they'd done, or maybe even details of how they'd be tortured or killed, or maybe even thrown out for the heroes to round up like a stray dog, most likely with their tongue cut out and hands broken so they didn't stand a chance at revealing anything they'd learned about Villain
They didn't really know anything useful for the heroes anyway. They knew Villain's favorite color (dark blue), favorite foods (anything with chocolate), allergies (blueberries), their least favorite movie genre (horror) and a couple other things they picked up from being around Villain so much.
They learned why Villain didn't get on well with their parents (they very much had a favorite child and it wasn't Villain) and what'd brought on their anger towards the Hero Agency once Villain brought them into their confidence, sure, but they didn't know much more about plans then the average civilian--that would be Right Hand. Their actual duties consisted of watching over supplies, managing other henchmen and keeping an eye on the overall workings of Headquarters.
Henchman hoped that taking down Hero would make Villain proud of them. Would make them allow Henchman into their inner circle and bring them into their confidence. They'd hoped to get as close to Villain as Right Hand--closer, after bringing down Hero. And instead, they'd suffered two humiliating defeats (and several broken ribs).
It all came to a head when Medic came in to check on Henchman's stitches. in addition to the blunt force trauma of being thrown through a window and into a wall, glass shards stuck into their back and left jagged, stinging wounds that oozed blood well into the night. Henchman sat on their cot, facing away from Medic as their wounds were inspected and re-dressed, and even then they could feel the hesitation Medic's hands, which were usually sure and quick.
Silence hung in the room like a dead man.
"What are they gonna do?" Henchman asked in a croaky voice, just barely above a whisper.
Medic paused. Considered. "What?"
"Villain. What are they gonna do to me?"
Again, they were met with silence. Henchman was sure the stress was worse than any answer Medic could've given until... Medic laughed. They laughed. It wasn't a snort or a scoff, or even a giggle--and they didn't even try to hide it! Medic stepped back for a moment, cackling as Henchman's stomach dropped. Of all the answers they were expecting, that was one they hadn't prepared for in the slightest.
"Oh, God, I needed that. You're hysterical."
"I'm being serious!" Henchman whirled around half way before the agony from the mess that somehow made up their abdomen sent lightning-hot reminders of why that was a horrible idea.
"Stop it, you're gonna hurt yourself," Medic scolded lightly, laughter still dancing in their eyes. "Have you really been stressed about that the whole time?"
"YES!" Henchman was near screaming now, though they weren't sure if it was ager or confusion that raised their voice. "Why wouldn't I be? Did you see how furious Villain was before they left? And I haven't seen them since. I left without permission and acted without orders; they have every reason to be upset. And everyone and everything's been so quiet today, it's like I've been handed down a death sentence."
Medic cleared their throat and the last embers of amusement flickered out. "Yeah, well, you're right about that, but you're not the one in danger. Or at least, you weren't when it mattered."
The tone of Medic's voice was dead serious--terrifying--and didn't help the growing pit of anxiety that had hunkered down in Henchman's stomach. They felt like they were going to pass out, woozy and dizzy and like the world was tipping out from under them.
A sharp snap under their nose anchored them a little more steadily to the bed they were sitting on, Medic having circled around the cot to look Henchman in the eyes. "You're fine, relax. The rest of us weren't supposed to tell you because it was bad, even for Villain, but I don't think you're in for anything more than a slap on the wrist, and neither does anyone else."
And they wouldn't understand that even if Henchman wasn't going to be killed, as thankful for that as they were, even a slap on the wrist as Medic said would destroy everything Henchman had been working towards. Everything they'd been hoping for. They should've known going into the fight that they were putting Villain's trust in them on the line, and they had--to a point.
They never expected they would fail as horribly as they did, nor that Villain would react with the kind of quiet fury usually reserved for their rare interactions with heroes or other members of the Agency itself. They hadn't expected to be sent to the infirmary the way that they were, or to be teleported directly to it from an alley just off the main scene of the fight after barely getting away.
And what they really weren't expecting was what hurt most: The fact that Villain had put them here and walked off without another word. They'd spoken in their office, but beyond that, there wasn't even a threatening note, or a warning given through Medic. They'd been effectively put in time out, knowing what might be coming but not having enough confidence to really prepare themselves one way or another.
“Hey, what did I just say?” Medic says, this time with annoyance in their tone. “Even if I don’t know the details, I know you’re gonna be fine, okay? You’re gonna be fine, and I don’t think you’re clocking Villain’s feelings towards what you did to Hero as correctly as you think you are, yeah?”
Their assessment was fair, if not a little stinging. They’d never been good at reading people, but they’d hoped Villain was the exception. Even with their monotone voice and often stony demeanor, Henchman knew how tired they were in a glance after a fight; knew when to call for Medic or coffee or let them get straight to their personal rooms and block everyone else from entering–something Right Hand was usually supposed to do.
The entire night, they’d tried not to deliberate too much on Right Hand. They’d tried to ignore the stinging jealousy of the fact that there was already someone that was so close to Villain they could almost read their thoughts. They knew Villain kept a certian amount of professionalism and distance between themselves and Right Hand that didn’t seem to be present between Villain and Henchman, but most liekly because it wasn’t seen as necessary. They weren’t close enough for it to matter in the first place.
“Okay,” Henchman murmured, and one look at Meidc’s face made it clear to even them that they didn’t beleive them for a second. Nevertheless, Medic stepped away.
“Okay,” they echoed, with much more confidence. “You seem to be healing well, all things considered, and I have other patients I need to take care of, so I’m going to leave you here, okay? Try not to freak out too much on me, yeah?”
Henchman gave a weak nod, and an even weaker smile. They were sure that Medic could see them spiraling form the outside, but if they did, they didn’t say anything about it. “Yeah.”
Next
Tagging: @nameless-beanie @crow-with-a-typewriter @mylovelyme (If you wanted to be tagged and weren't please just poke me with a stick)
55 notes
·
View notes
Share your lastest WIP! If you want 👀
which one 🥲😂😭💀 i have a few - will this do?
~
“They’re quite odd, aren’t they?”
Abraxas is snickering when he says it. He’s just loud enough to grate - nothing new - but in what should be the quiet sanctity of the library, his tone sufficiently pulls Tom from his reading.
His eyes lock on Abraxas across from him and flick to the ‘they’ in question.
And, of course, it’s the Grangers.
Since entering the magical community, Tom has learned a thing or two about their societal norms. An interesting component being that it is surprisingly challenging to be seen as ‘odd’ here. A wixen can be any number of things: lazy, stupid, poor, muggle - the list goes on, but ‘odd’ is a category used sparingly when directed towards each other. Much unlike the muggles Tom has known and grown his whole life around.
He was always seen as odd by them - freakish - and continues to be whenever he returns to the orphanage for summer. So he doesn’t much care for the word.
Besides, if anything, the Grangers aren't even worth gawking over and snickering about. Their worst can be summed up to anti-socialistic, codependent, and exclusionary behaviours - probably a trauma response from the war. They clearly have no interest in playing house with their dormmates or the rest of the school, so why bother?
They are sitting beneath the second-story stair landing where the elves have managed to shove one last table. It’s one of the more tucked away and private places on this level — a place Tom would not consider and will not consider; he needs to be visible, available — and they’ve claimed it like it’s never belonged to anyone else. Like it was placed there just for them. Their ease of acclimation to Hogwarts as a whole has certainly raised some eyebrows, yet still, he isn’t concerned.
He had also known Hogwarts was his home the moment he had stepped foot in it, after all. He is not so foolish as to believe himself an outlier.
Hermione Granger’s hands are waving wildly, turning in circles and gesturing in a vague sphere-like shape. She’s talking aloud - not that Tom, or anyone else, can hear it - and doesn’t seem to like what she’s saying, given the harsh line between her brows. Ronald Granger is sitting in front of her and starts shaking his head. He says something and reaches across the table to take her wrists — expands them — the sphere becomes an oval.
Harry Granger sits beside them pensive, with his head down and reading carefully from a book in his hands. He starts to turn the page but pauses; he frowns and looks up.
He looks right at Tom.
Granger blinks once, slowly. He mouths something, but it’s not directed towards Tom because his siblings turn to look at him. It only lasts a moment before they suddenly turn around to stare at Tom as well, their eyes wide and alarmed.
Tom watches on as Harry Granger slouches - maybe sighs? He shakes his head and palms his face in something like dismay. It doesn't take a legilimens to read his lips now—
“You are both such idiots.” He says.
The corner of Tom’s lips curl. It’s possibly a smile. He’ll never call it that out loud.
“Very,” he finally replies to Abraxas.
97 notes
·
View notes
As this year is coming to a close, let's take a step back to reflect on what we've experienced💙
This year for me has been eventful, to say the least; it has been full of drama, misfortune and joy. Although I did obviously enjoy the more significant things, I want to take a moment to appreciate the smaller things that keep me grounded and that I usually take for granted.
First of all, here are my favourite photographs of Ludwig I've taken this year:
Ludwig has been my travel buddy for a good year and a half now. I'm a very anxious person, so having him in my pocket to keep me company and distract me from any negative thoughts is very soothing. I'd like to thank him for always being there for me and for being such a good model when I'm taking pictures💖
Secondly, my favourite pictures of my cats:
My cats Bonkers, Meowza and Link are some of the most special people in my entire life. They're a great comfort to me as I'm not the best at socializing. I'd like to thank them for watching films with me, eating my dinner when I'm not looking, and snuggling with me in bed during the cold nights💝
Thirdly, I want to thank my family and friends for being there for me despite my flaws. I adore them all very much and cannot express my gratitude for your unconditional love. I'm aware that I'm not the easiest to be around and can be quite callous at times, but you just being there means the world to me💙💙
Finally, I want to thank the people on this platform. I get very nervous about asks and such, so I'll take the opportunity to thank my favourite people in particular (not in any sort of order):
@thekoopalingsandstuffs (and all of your other blogs)
@thedeitywhoplayedwithbricks
@sabbracadabras
@maggie4thewin
@aron-q
@crossycrosserog
@askthekoopsandjr
@koopaling-au
@mookmayor
@thecrypticshyguy
@fridaverse
@spritesitrus
@hopusthebrainlessfloof
@skratchytheclown
It may not mean much, but your artwork is truly amazing and always brightens my day. I find it hard not to go on a giant ramble about all the things I love about your art. You're all so inspiring and some of the kindest people I've ever met. I genuinely hope the next year brings nothing but good fortune, happiness and ease becasue you truly deserve the best.
I'd also like to mention how grateful I am for all the people who enjoy my art. I honestly thought I would just make an account and post a single photo (due to being peer pressured by my sibling and friend) but to my suprise, I found myself continuing on Tumblr for a while now. I thought that if I made even one person happy from my art, I would be content. Seeing people like what I do after being alone for so many years is genuinely overwhelming (in a good way), so I truly appreciate each and every one of you.
Have a wonderful new year, hopefully I will work on my confidence so I can post more stuff about the stories I have🌙⭐
48 notes
·
View notes