#whumpy

Scrambled

Lethargic

Sluggish

Disjointed

Shakily

Quiver

Flushed

Shiver

Blanched

Discolored

Desatured

Emaciated

Meager

Pale

Malnourished

Scrawny

Teeter

Wobble

Fading

Stutter

Shush

Manhandle

Grapple

Frantic

Clawed

Reeling

Scald

Twist

Restrain

Sporadic

Falter

Crawl

Prone

Battered

Brutal

Blunt

Seethe

Tighten

Soothe

Clutch

Wheeze

Command

Threaten

Slice

Shatter

Sob

Wail

Growl

Whimper

Screech

Whine

Interrogate

Investigate

Scream

Holler

Pity

Chomp

Pathetic

Yank

Throttle

Strike

Clamber

Drenched

Demean

Condenscend

Feeble

Weak

Hoarse

Stagger

Stumble

Mumble

Murmur

Hollow

Empty

Fawn

Muddled

Foggy

Throb

Plead

Groggy

Thump

Limp

Lifeless

Swollen

Mismatched

Tattered

Longing

Hyperventilate

Jab

Smear

Clench

Resuscitate

Puncture

Antagonize

Swelter

Burn

Impassionate

Smudge

Deadweight

Breathlessly

Tear

Crack

Lament

Shear

Melancholic

Glum

Tearfully

Babble

Incoherent

Nonsensical

Hysterical

Solemn

Blabber

Blubbering

Passive

Paralyze

Nauseated

Sniffle

Ache

Snag

Snatch

Pry

Fracture

Hammer

Prick

Pinch

Vertigo

Dizzying

Dazed

Hazy

Dissociate

Gurgle

Demand

Writhe

Agony

Wallow

Grit

Mull

Frighten

Startle

Thwack

Thud

Gnarled

Impale

Thrash

Gnash

Maul

Scrape

Huddle

Apathetic

Dreary

Wary

Lull

Lure

Nightmarish

Garish

Frigid

Tender

Wounded

Pitiable

Overpower

Infect

Deplorable

Heart-rending

Insist

Distress

Mournful

Scavenge

Disturbed

Miserable

Incapacitate

Inebriated

Maim

Mutilate

It was a good feeling.

Absolutely no one in this rotten city was able to challenge them. Physically, they were stronger. Mentally, they were quicker. And their dedication, their devotion was like a holy prayer that guided them through their nights.

The hero knew it wasn't a good thing - the longing for a challenge, the desire for an opponent that could actually make them a better fighter. It was a dangerous wish and they had to remind themselves regularly why they were doing this job in the first place.

To do good. To be good. Not to find someone who was their very own nemesis.

However, with the villain's boot on their ribs and that brutal nature of theirs, the hero was struggling not to find this utterly satisactory.

"Yeah, right there," the hero wheezed. "Make me scream."

The villain tilted their head and tutted, nearly bored of the hero's games. They let out a sigh and grabbed the hero's hair, yanking them up.

Another wheeze.

And the villain crouched, holding the hero by their hair. Very close. Very intimate.

"Do you think I am stupid?" the villain asked. Their lips brushed the hero's ear and despite the pain, or maybe because of it, the hero could only concentrate on the adrenaline rushing through their body.

"No," the hero said. They had to grin. Sometimes, they wished they could devour the villain, that they could change them and ultimately, that they could control them.

The hero knew it wasn't right. They knew it wasn't good. But they had never felt this kind of obsession towards anyone. In previous relationships, they hadn't gotten jealous, they hadn't gotten angry. They had never struggled like this. They had never doubted themselves like this.

"I know your dirty little secret," the villain said. "I know you like me. You like this."

"I didn't try to hide it," the hero said.

"Not from me. But the public."

"What are you trying to...?"

"Oh, poor hero," the villain murmed. "See, the difference between you and me is, that I do not care about you. If this gets to one, just one flimsy reporter, the people will turn against you. I can ruin your entire career. Your entire life."

The hero had miscalculated. Obviously, they hadn't expected their nemesis to feel the same. But they also hadn't expected them to tell the public. To use the public against the hero. It was a little shameless. But the hero was even more disgusted by their admiration for it.

"So?" the hero asked. Losing the public was a detrimental loss, that much was clear. But was it even measurable next to the fights with the villain? Did it even matter? When the hero could feel this euphoric? This alive? When had the public ever made them feel that way? "I would still have you."

"I do not love you," the villain argued. "You're not as important to me as you think."

"Give it some time," the hero said. "You will love me, don't worry. Everyone does."

The villain simply laughed at that. It was nearly soft. Or maybe the hero wanted it to be. It didn't matter.

"I have to admit, I am quite interested in what you have in store for me. How will you act once the public calls you a traitor? What will you do when I refuse to fight you? You are-" with their index finger, the villain traced the hero's thoat "-so very unique."

"Is that attraction?"

"Obligatory interest."

"And you say you're not in love."

They stared at each other until, finally, the villain dropped them. They cleared their throat and tilted their head. But the hero swallowed blood when their head nearly smashed against the concrete floor.

"I like toying with you, that is all."

"Sure," the hero said. They clutched their heart, tried to breathe. Being close to the villain was a gift, no matter how much it hurt. The hero loved it, loved their words, loved their personality, loved the challenge. It was insane, the hero felt completely deranged. "Whatever helps you sleep at night."

The prompt is: My AU. And of course I couldn’t miss this opportunity to advertise my soon to come fanfiction project where ferb, Buford, baljeet and Isabella have superpowers and are kinda like the avengers for Danville. But wait, who is this mysterious vigilante trying to kidnap their director? Why is he so familiar to Ferb and what is the dark past hiding behind his cyberkinetic eye?

Well you guys know me. No phineas and ferb fanfiction without some good phineas whump and some wholesome brother bonding moments.

Here is a mini peak of phineas powers (please watch it with the music otherwise it’s kinda boring):