Stoicism and Self Servitude
@massiveheroherringfan Whumpee Hi, if you are feeling like it can you pls write a snippet about a hero whumpee and a villain whumper? Like, a hero that got captured and now villain is taunting and torturing them or whatever you like.
Tw: discussion of contemplated suicide
“Not so stoic anymore, are you?” Villain grabbed a fold-out chair before plopping it down and sitting. “I wonder if it’s because you’ve realised your defeat,” he ventured, “or if it’s because you feel you’re not defeated yet. Your voice might betray you if it’s the latter, am I right?”
The hero chose not to speak, giving Villain all the answer he needed.
“So”- he smiled- “it is the former. You feel shaky, Hero? Like you might crumble apart if I just barely brush your shoulder?”
It was obvious Hero wanted to return with a quip- call the villain a coward, or some other useless insult.
What was equally as obvious was Hero’s true weakness. If he were to speak, his voice would crack, or his shoulders would randomly tweak in fear, or he’d do anything that might be embarrassing to someone who was, in the public’s eyes, supposed to be so strong.
Villain stood from his seat, so quickly after just being seated. “I saw you jolt,” he said in the next moment, and I’ll see you do it again. “Speak. Don’t bore me with your stubborn silence.”
Or what? You won’t spare me regardless of what I do. He was finally captured, a mouse whose leg was snapped in half by a trap. Hero couldn’t move, only squeak, and that would satisfy Villain too much.
“You won’t talk. Fine, then.” His voice was cold, venomous. He was less taunting now, more angry. No, wrathful. No, spiteful.
“You think you want death because you’re overwhelmed”- Hero’s head ducked at ‘death’- “but I’ll tell you the real reason you do. You want to be honoured, remembered.” Villain began pacing in circles around the seated hero. “You want to watch your funeral with a bird’s eye just to see that people really, really cared. Though, you wouldn’t be missed at all. Rather, I think you would find it in your best interest to kill yourself a second time.” Blunt. Harsh. Truthful.
Part of Hero already understood what Villain had to say, and that part of him appreciated that Villain saved his life, even if it were by threatening it.
It was the other part of Hero which was less grateful, more pained and confused by the fact that no one cared just as he suspected.
Because yes. He did want to watch his funeral. He wanted to see a beautiful marble statue of himself with the words ‘OUR SAVIOUR’ beneath it. Hero would hope for tears- tears, which would mean he’d be missed, but more importantly mean he was appreciated and seen for all his efforts, despite his occasional failures. Nobody is perfect, least of all a hero.
“We understand each other, don’t we?”
No, they didn’t. Villain understood Hero perfectly well, it seemed. But Hero? He couldn’t understand the villain’s motive, why he was so keen on torturing him about that which he already knew; Hero’s suicide would mean nothing to the public, and they would only replace him with another figure to blame for mishaps.
“What is your goal here?” Hero finally choked out. They hadn’t spoken in so long; their throat was dry.
“For once, I am above you, Hero. And I’ll relish in that until you and I are so far into our graves that we cannot see or hear one another.” Revenge, he could have said. Because Hero was greater, Hero was kinder, sought after, appreciated, missed.
Yes, the city did miss Hero, and they searched for him mercilessly. It was quite annoying on Villain’s behalf, who only wanted the Hero to suffer silently behind these closed doors. “They made you up to feel so…so holy and grand, didn’t they, Hero? Did you feel loved? Hm?”
“For some time,” Hero admitted. But Villain already knew this. He knew of the glory phase, such as when people would write songs for Hero- perform them on live stages, bake cookies for council meetings with a picture of Hero’s face on each and every one of them, make mosaics of him in the chapels as if he were a living saint and his story demanded telling- worshipping.
“And you started to doubt it, rightfully.”
Because it all stopped. The acts of appreciation, they were gone, replaced with stories of shelter puppies on the news. Hero was chopped liver, he thought, and so it was only right that he leave this Earth, discover a place that might continuously appreciate him.
Selfish? I don’t think so. Desperate- mayhap lonely? Certainly. Hero wasn’t accustomed to such positive attention before becoming a hero. Now…now that he had a taste, the thought of losing it was heart wrenching. Perhaps he still had the attention, but it was lesser and he wanted to rid himself before the attention was rid of him.
“Live or die, Hero. You won’t be remembered either way.”
