Hi I Don't Know If You Take Writing Requests But If You Do Could You Write A Villain With Mind Reading
Hi i don't know if you take writing requests but if you do could you write a villain with mind reading powers?
I most definitely will take writing requests! Though, I won't write anything that makes me uncomfortable. Villains, though, I can do.
I will warn that this is gonna have some heavy topics, so here's your Content Warning: Affair outside wedlock, intense invasions of privacy, briefly implied transphobia, threats/execution of threats against a school/students
You wanted a villain, so here's a tragic villain with a backstory. Lemme know what you think🖤
(Like all my stories, this is not beta read/peer reviewed)
The Outlier
Max had known since he was a kid that he was special; stranger than other kids. For as long as he could remember, he was different; the outlier.
The first give away was the way his parents looked at him. Side eyes when they thought he wasn't looking. Whispers when they thought he couldn't hear. Smiles that didn't seem genuine, and only got faker as he got older.
The second tell was the looks he got from other kids. Girls weren't supposed to like the colour blue. Girls weren't supposed to like action figures and bugs. Good thing he's not a girl, then.
The third, and biggest thing, was that he could hear voices. They didn't usually talk to him directly, and were mostly whispers in the wind. When he told his parents, they told him it was cute to have imaginary friends. His parents were his parents, so they must've been right when they said he'd grown out of them.
But the voices didn't go away. They only got louder.
By the time he was ten years old, he could match the voices in his head to those of his classmates. The one always thinking about how cute Joshua is was Cindy's voice. The one constantly thinking about lunch and recess was Ethan.
All of the voices were so mundane and never really strayed from their normal thoughts. The bigger voices, though, the voices of adults, were interesting to listen to.
His teacher, Mrs. Kingston, only ever had three topics on her mind: Anticipation to get away from her students, her next lesson, or how cute Mr. Spring - who is not her husband - was.
Shame. Max liked this teacher. Oh, well.
As Max got older, the voices got louder, but he could still ignore them as though they were white noise. He'd even managed to figure out how to focus on one voice, making it louder while the rest faded out.
That's how he found out, in middle school, that the eighth grade chemistry teacher, Ms. Adam, was planning to blow the joint. Literally.
Her class had been working with some chemicals that, while mixed in small, were harmless, but were deadly in large amounts.
She, apparently, was on a downward spiral and no one knew anything. Well, almost no one. Max had known Ms. Adam was going through some stuff, but he'd always filtered her out. Not his circus, not his monkey.
Regardless, he needed to tell someone. If he didn't, then the whole school would be blown up by the end of tomorrow! As much as he hated school, he had grown attached to some of the people here. Besides, he quite liked living in spite of everyone he didn't think he deserved to. It was funny to watch them turn red.
Maybe that should've been the first red flag.
The second the bell rang, he was in the halls and quickly moving to the principal's office. He'd know what to do! He's an adult! He's the adult in charge of the rest of the adults, so they had to listen to him!
But adults don't believe children. Children don't know any better. Children don't know anything.
But Max did. Max knee everyone. Max knew people and their thoughts better than anyone else. And Max knew, for a fact, that the adults had failed him.
He managed to get thirty-two students out and to the far side of the field before the building went up in flames.
It was that event that ultimately brought him to where he now was.
He'd always been a smart kid, using other people's inner dialogues on top of his own knowledge to get things done. In a year, he amassed a following of other kids. Kids that had been failed by adults. Kids that shouldn't have had to grow up before their time. Kids who had only ever wanted to be kids.
Together, they grew. Together, they quietly took over the crime ring in the city. Together, the planned for expansion into the world. Now, together, they would take over the city. Then, together, they would work to take over the country.
If the adults were going to fail the children, then there was no need for them. The system was broken by adults who intended for their children to fix it, so the children were going to fix it. Adults had no place in the new system.
Max became The Outlier. The children he'd taken on as his own, despite being younger than a lot of them, became The Mavericks. Adults all over had become The Unwanted.
The Outlier would not allow The Mavericks to kill. He would rather have the blood haunting his nightmares for all eternity than to let even a drop stain the hands of a child. A group of older kids, however, disagreed. They named themselves Bohemians and they became his generals. They became the kill order. And The Mavericks never knew execution.
There were some who opposed the ordered death of The Unwanted, but they were few and far between. If they spoke too loudly, they became a part of the Court. They spoke in favor of adults, acting as their jury when brought before The Outlier and Bohemians. They never won a case.
Max had made it known, when he had taken over the city, that it was adults that had failed him - them - so it was adults that would pay.
Children were innocent, unable to do any wrong. They were to be protected from the people that would only continue to fail them.
But, quietly, in the privacy and secrecy of his room, Max dreaded the day he'd grow up. It's inevitable, he know, but he still fears that he'd become like them. He didn't want to be an adult because he didn't want to fail anyone.
Storyboard
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More Posts from Thevoidstaredback
I have an ongoing....."argument" with a coworker of mine. She refuses to believe that I hate people (my own words)
I'm an ambivert. I have both introvert and extrovert social batteries that need to be charged. Usually, I'm more introverted, though.
I work as Event Staff, which is just a fancy way of saying unarmed security that won't attack unless you hit first. Also, the cops will side with us. It's happened before.
Anyway, I find some interactions with other humans amusing and tolerable. Mostly, though, I try to avoid human interaction as much as I can. The way the human mind works both fascinates and scares me. Why are people the way they are? Why do they act the way they do? At the end of the day, we all start the womb and we all end in the tomb.
To put it short, I like watching/studying people from afar, but I hate people. What's so hard to understand about that?
Anyway, Cowork J keeps trying to convince me, every time that this topic is brought up, that people aren't that bad and that I do actually like them, seeing as I've only ever worked customer service.
Yes. I'm good with people. 8/10 times I can de-escalate a situation before I need to call someone over. I have yet to have anyone actually square up on me (though I anxiously (in every sense of the word) await the day it happens).
Just because I'm good with people doesn't mean I like them.
If I could, I would switch out my charisma enhancer for a stealth enhancer. Unfortunately, when my character was created, I was given what I was given and I cannot change my enhancements and base stats. (No matter how hard I've tried.) If anything, my chosen hobbies and future (hopeful) profession only enhance the stats given to me.
The point is!
There is no point. I came here to complain, so that's all this is.
Thank you for coming to my Ted Talk
Happy ace day! Reminder that allosexuals are always welcome (and even encouraged!) to venmo $20 to the incredible aces in their life!
My customer service voice is about an octave higher than my normal voice and you can hear the smile.
My normal voice sits at a resting bitch fac
It's always graveyards. Why is it always graveyards? They're creepy as hell and, well... that's it. On the bright side, the Protection Spirits watching the gates recognize him and realize the danger he's in. Well, maybe he wasn't in real danger because the Bats and Birds don't really do the whole purposefully harming civilians things, but they are scary as hell! Chasing him down like a bat straight outta hell- obviously he was gonna run! They cornered him! Maybe he'll invest in getting them lessons in how to interact with people in and out of costume?
Honestly, Nightwing, Danny expected better of you. At least Red Hood and Signal know how to treat innocents.
Here's the thing about Protection and Guardian Spirits, though. They don't like intruders. If you're running from something and you don't have time to ask permission to enter, you best say "thank you" and bring them shiny things on your next visit. If you do have time to ask permission, you ask permission. If they think you're a threat or rude, they won't let you enter whatever they're guarding.
"Thank you," Danny said as he slowed to a walk further into the graveyard, the sound of the gates slamming closed behind him confirmation that the Bat and his gaggle wouldn't be following him in.
Wasting no time, Danny pulled a piece of chalk from his pocket. It was a handy little thing he'd picked up during his stay in the House of Mysteries. Draw and door, tell it where you wanna go, open it, and go through! Beetlejuice style. Though, unlike what the Handbook for the Recently Deceased says, these doors won't actually open a door to the afterlife. He fixed that tiny glitch a while ago.
Anyway, a quick few chalk lines on the side of a mausoleum later, and Danny was opening a door to Fawcett, Philadelphia. Probably not the best choice, considering that he was trying to stay away from the Justice League, but it's better than Metropolis.
"Whoa." Damn it! He should've stayed home. "What was that, mister?"
Danny made sure the door closed behind him, praying for strength. Why did he feel like several deities were laughing at him? "Hey, kid. Can you, um, maybe not say anything about that?"
The kid, short brown hair and a red jacket stood out the most to Danny for some reason, seemed very amused. "You're gonna have to buy my silence."
Again, Danny let out a quiet, long suffering sigh. "Coffee is so not worth it." Looking at the kid, he said, "Alright, fine. I was getting coffee anyway, I'll buy ya lunch. Know any good places?"
Grinning, the kid cheered, "Hell yeah! Follow me!"
Resigned, Danny followed after the kid, easily keeping pace. About a block later, he figured he should probably get the kid's name. "I'm Danny."
"Billy."
"No last name?"
"Fae rules, dude. What's your excuse?"
He had to give it to him. "Touché."
Another three blocks of walking, Billy finally stopped at a cafe. It was a quaint place with stained white brick and a dark grey roof. There were metal chairs and tables outside the building surrounded by a wrought iron fence. The table umbrellas and the awning over the black door were light blue, matching the curtains in the inside.
The inside walls were painted baby blue with a white ceiling and a pinewood floor. The tables and chairs were all stained black with light pink cushions and table cloths. The curtains, as observed before, were all baby blue, tied back with baby pink ribbons. The lights were barely yellow, giving the room a warm feel. The counters were white with black paneling on the outside and white granite as the tops.
"Welcome in," the young man at the register greeted with a smile, "What can I get you two started with today?"
Danny envied the man. He'd obviously not been doing this long enough to gain the veteran's shine to his eye. He turned to look at the menu after telling Billy to get whatever he wanted. A mistake he'll probably pay for. "I'd like a large Red Eye, equal parts coffee and espresso, with cinnamon, honey, chocolate syrup, mint, and vodka, please."
The 'newbie' light in the man's eyes dimmed a little bit. "Um, we don't carry vodka." Glad that's the only thing he's worried about. Priorities.
Danny clicked his tongue. "Oh, well, it was worth a shot. I'd like everything else, though, please. Mix it at your own discretion."
"Alright," he was very valiant to go back to grinning, "Anything else?"
Danny motioned for Billy and the kid stepped up. "Can I get a large mocha, three chocolate chip cookies, and two sandwiches?"
The blond entered the order. "Of course! That'll be $25.37." A quick card swipe from Danny. "Thank you very much, we'll have your order out to you soon!"
The two didn't say a word as they chose a table in the corner. Danny let Billy take the seat that was open to the rest of the cafe so he wouldn't feel cornered. He had a good view of the door, though, so he wasn't complaining.
"So, how'd you do that?" Billy asked after they'd gotten their orders.
"How'd I do what?" Danny sipped his drink.
"How'd you walk outta that wall? It's solid!"
"Magic."
"I guessed that much."
"Then why'd you ask?"
"Will you teach me?"
"No."
"You didn't even think about it!"
"Okay," He paused. "No."
"Not fair." he pouted.
Putting his drink on the table, Danny summed as much fake-it-till-you-make-it energy as he could. "Magic isn't a toy and takes years of practice to get a handle on, not to mention you have to actually have an aptitude for it before you can even try. Besides, I don't know you nearly well enough to trust you with anything else."
Billy finished the cookie he was eating. "I can do it! You just gotta teach me!"
Another sigh that Danny had stopped counting. "Look, you seem like a good kid, but I'm not gonna teach you magic."
"Why not!"
"However," he continued, ignoring the demand, "I'm not gonna leave ya fully defenselessness."
"What do you mean?" Billy backed away slightly, his eyes narrowing as he moved to be able to run quickly.
Another sip. "Based off of the dirt you're covered in, the grease in your hair, and the overall poor condition of your clothes, I'm gonna bet that you're a street kid. So," he pulled a small card from his pocket, very aware that Billy was watching his hand aptly, "I'm going to leave you with this."
Slowly, the brunet took it and turned it over. "What it is?"
The white card had the initials DP in the middle, circled by an Ouroboros. The initials were completely solid, but the snake of the Ouroboros was made up of tiny runes of protection and health and healing and good fortune.
"My calling card. If you're ever in danger, hold that to your chest and ask for help. I'll be there."
Still obviously suspicious, Billy took a moment to scrutinize the card. It was cute to watch the kid act like he knew what he was looking at or for. When he seemed satisfied, he shoved the card into the inner pocket sewn into his jacket. "Thanks."
"No problem, kid," Pulling out his phone, Danny saw the time and stood, "I've gotta go now. I assume I've sufficiently bought your silence on the whole magic thing?"
Billy grinned, "I guess, but you gotta come visit me, okay?"
He chuckled, "Sure thing. See ya."
Part 2 Part 4
(I don't drink coffee, so Idk how that shit works)
Tag list: @zaiothe4th
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