#“Villain vs Supervillain”

[spacefaxy]

"I'm sorry, he should've been here by now." Dr. Lain said, tapping their foot and checking their watch. "He's NEVER this late..."

Lain pulled up a chair to the monitor and started flipping through news channels while I watched, only lightly gagged with a clean, breathable cloth. News about my absence was sparse. Dr. Lain's shoulders eventually slumped, and they sighed.

"Are you hungry, thirsty? Or would you rather just go home?" They asked as they untied my gag and other restraints.

"Yeah, dinner sounds nice actually," I reply, stretching out my arms and legs before standing up.

"Come then," they gesture, and we walked through their lair.

After stepping into the elevator, I turned to the Dr. and asked them, "Where do you think he's at?"

Dr. Lain's composure broke slightly for a moment before returning with a slight scowl. "I don't know. I have drones out looking for him. He should've been here, on time, as he usually is, it's how this whole thing is supposed to work. I kidnap you, he comes over, we fight, he wins, and you go home. It's like my one social interaction for the week."

Lain rubbed their temples as the elevator door opened, revealing a decently comfortable looking, though small, apartment. "Make yourself at home, I suppose," they said quietly, taking off their coat, revealing a surprisingly feminine form I hadn't noticed before, and hanging it up by the door before proceeding toward the kitchen. At the threshold, they stopped suddenly, and turned back to me. "Why?"

"Huh?"

"Why stay here instead of going home? Even if just for a meal?"

"I don't know. I should hate you for the frequent kidnappings, and the havoc that's been wreaked over my life as a result, but despite that you're the only one who's ever been nice to me."

Dr. Lain tilted their head, puzzled.

"Like. Okay. Kidnapping someone is super bad, right? But you've always made sure my home is either undamaged, or fixed by the time I get there. You've always used really comfortable restraints, when you could've used cheaper, less comfortable stuff. You've never actually hurt me."

"I try not to, it's not you I'm after," they spoke quietly, leaning against the wall.

"I know."

"But you don't hate me?"

"No, it's usually fun actually. My friends don't believe me, keep telling me I need therapy and such. Stockholm Syndrome or something. Maybe I should, but not for this."

Dr. Lain had folded their arms by now, listening patiently.

"I actually don't like it when the hero 'rescues' me. He's rough about it. He drops me off wherever, and I have to make it back home from wherever I am in the city."

"He doesn't even make sure you get home safe?" Dr. Lain stood straight again.

"Nope! And that's not even talking about his presentation when he gets here. You've got this elaborate smoke and laser show, a music playlist, your drones do background choreographed dancing during the fight, it's a fucking spectacle every time. But this hero can't even be bothered to try to match that? It's kinda disrespectful if you ask me."

"I know right?" Dr. Lain perks up suddenly, and returns to the kitchen. They pull some plastic containers from the fridge and toss them into the microwave for a couple minutes. "I put so much work into making it a grand show for anyone watching, and to hype him up for the fight, but it's like he's just going through the motions."

I ponder that last sentence for a minute.

"Dr., do you think he's okay..?" I ask quietly.

There was silence, save for the hum of the microwave. A few moments later, it beeped, and Dr. Lain grabbed some silverware, bringing the food out to a dining table. They grabbed an extra chair for me from the closet. Not the most comfortable thing.

"No. Let's have some food first, and then we can go to his hideout and check on him."

The food was pretty basic. Veggies and rice with a light sauce, and grilled chicken.

"You know where it is?"

"Yeah. He doesn't know that though."

After food, we took a ride back down the elevator, down further than the normal lair. The garage it seems. There were a few different cars in there. Some damaged from battles with the hero, some new and waiting for their turn to shine. And one in the corner that appears to be a normal car. It's a decades old Japanese sedan - the paint is worn, one of the wheel covers has fallen off a long time ago, leaving a black steel wheel exposed to the elements. There's spots of rust here and there, along with a few dents and scrapes.

"We're trying not to grab the attention of the police," they winked. "Get in!"

I was surprised by how smooth the door operated. No rattles or squeaks. Dr. Lain turned the ignition key, and the car started right up. I leaned over and peaked at the odometer - 595,678 miles. Woah.

"My grandpa bought this car as a gift for my mom, who then passed it on to me when I was old enough. I've been driving this every day for 19 years."

"You must take really good care of it."

"I do! I'm saving up to fix the cosmetic defects, and totally restore the car in the next year or two. It's the most reliable thing I've ever owned."

The drive was peaceful and quiet. The rain was clearing up, and the setting sun peered beneath the clouds, lighting everything up in brilliant shades of red, orange, and violet. It felt like driving through a real synthwave music video.

It was well into twilight when we arrived at the hero's hideout. Lain looked concerned as we approached, slowing down and dropping into 2nd gear. They leaned forward in their seat, scanning the place as we came to a stop at the gate. Even though it was open, Lain stopped the car before the threshold and got out. Hurriedly, they got back in and without putting their seatbelt back on floored it and drove up the way, tires screeching a bit. "That gate should never be open, why the FUCK is it open?!"

I started getting nervous. How long had they known each other anyway?

We finally arrived at the hideout. It's a simple farmhouse on the outside, light blue paint, green shutters, and a tile roof. Lain slams the brakes and we stop just beyond the stairs. The shut off the engine and pull the trunk release latch. "Come on, we have to figure this out."

I follow them to the back of the car and they remove a false floor. Inside was a shotgun and a handgun. They hand me the pistol and a spare magazine, and grab the shotgun for themself and a bandolier with shells. "Is this necessary?"

"It might be," Lain said, marching up the stairs to the door. It was left cracked open.

We go in, and Lain pulls a small light from their pocket, supporting the shotgun on their forearm as they sweep the room. It's dark inside, but Lain spots something in the dining room.

"Cover me," they say, and proceed into the house. I follow them, and keep my gun pointed into the dark.

There's a note on the table, folded into a tent shape so it can be spotted more easily. It's addressed to Dr. Lain specifically, and they read it. I've never seen them go so pale before.

"I'm gonna need your help," they say.

"What happened? What's going on?"

"We've got a rescue to pull off. Let's get back to the lair and prepare. It's not every day you're challenged by the nation's biggest supervillain."

You are kidnapped by the villain regularly, but you’re starting to look forward to it. You know they won’t hurt you, and are simply being dramatic. It also doesn’t help that you are the only person they ever kidnap. This time, the hero doesn’t bother trying to save you.

[spacefaxy]

oh man this doin numbers fr fr

[locusfandomtime]

i'm OBSESSED with minister of ministers ren... he is someone who wants SO BADLY to be the manipulative leader in control of everything, never lifting a finger and making others work for him, but it doesn't work because nobody takes him seriously. except, at the same time, it kinda does work because people do what he says, but because they're his friends and find it funnier to do what he wants and be annoying about it, than not do it at all. I like to think he doesn't realise this, thinking his manipulation tactics have worked, not realising that people are mining resources and improving infrastructure for him out of Friendship and Pity. he'd be annoyed they don't take him seriously, but internally think "hm! these PLEBEIANS don't realise they are falling right into my trap!" completely unaware of the trap he's about to fall into due to his own mistakes (exploded by creeper whilst sorting chests + cleo's prank). he never learns though, he just keeps going, the lesson never sinks in for him.

it's an interesting comparison to ren the king - someone who was originally (somewhat) respected but his ego got the best of him and the more he tried to gain power back, the deeper the hole he dug himself into. they both want power but lack it, but in such different ways. king in a country tired of monarchy vs project manager as an anime villain (and both of them are pathetic)

[izunias-meme-hole]

Gideon Graves Appreciation Post

3 Separate characterizations, and all of them are 3 different tiers of bastard that's fitting for each adaptation.

[jumpywhumpywriter]

Villain's Coffee Shop part 46

Warnings: near-drowning, hypothermia

And with that, Villain stepped off the bridge --- and let himself fall.

-------------------------------------------------------

The air whistled past Villain's ears as he dropped, sucking in a gulping breath and holding it in anticipation. He was able to slow time down at the last second to keep from hitting the water too hard as he landed in it with a splash. He had to rescue Hero. Fortunately he was a good swimmer.

The current was swift and strong, and Villain swam with it, desperately searching for any trace of Hero's familiar bright suit.

It took mere seconds to spot it in the water, and he power-stroked over to her.

Hero was limp and facedown, probably knocked out on impact with the water from hitting it too hard, and Villain quickly flipped her onto her back, holding her head up to the air.

"Come on, Hero, wake up," he barked, checking her pulse.

To his relief, he found it. He'd reached her in time before she could drown.

Acting fast, Villain wrapped his arms around her from behind and squeezed hard to get the water out of her lungs. It worked, and Hero instantly started sputtering and coughing violently, retching river water. She panicked and started flailing as she came back to consciousness, but Villain held on tight.

"Relax, Hero! You're okay. Just breathe,"

"I can't swim!" Hero wailed, panicking even more.

"You don't need to," Villain said quickly, trying to reassure her. "Let me do the work of keeping you afloat, all right? You won't drown on my watch, but you might if you keep thrashing around! You need to calm down!"

That seemed to work, and Hero's struggles eventually stopped, though she was breathing hard with adrenaline.

Once she calmed down a bit Villain finally started swimming toward shore, taking her with him.

It was difficult to make progress, especially since Villain had to keep one arm around Hero who was all but dead weight and was no help at all. He worried about hypothermia as the vicious cold seeped into his muscles and bones, ravaged his energy, but he focused on taking it one stroke at a time, making his way toward the shore.

They must have floated downstream for at least half a mile before finally reaching the shore, but Mocha was still there waiting for them at the edge, having followed them all the way to meet them when they made it back.

There was a short concrete wall at the edge, and Mocha leaned his head down to be able to reach Hero as Villain offered one of her arms to the big cat, who gently took it between his teeth and dragged Hero up and over the wall to safety and solid ground.

Then Mocha reappeared to help Villain out next, and Villain wrapped his arms around his giant furred neck, hanging on tight as Mocha effortlessly lifted him out of the frigid waters and to solid ground, where Villain let go and flopped onto his back like a dead fish next to Hero, utterly exhausted and spent and trying to catch his breath.

⏪️ Back Next ⏩️

Masterlist

@scoundrelwithboba @lumpofsand @isikedmyself878 @iamheretohurt @fleur-a-whump

@ay5ksal @otterfrost @sausages-things @togzy

@whump-till-ya-jump @cravesunconditionallove @whumpwritinglover222

@f1sh-bone @everynameistakencarrots @snaillamp

[belethlegwen]

The Scars We Leave Behind

Written by: @adjacentperception and @belethlegwen

What's left of a hero when everything is taken from him? What's left of a villain with no identity?

What's left of a man who has no choice but to save the symbol of a system he's fighting against?

Within a city constantly besieged by a super-power fueled war between Good vs Evil, a hero is captured by powerful villain and their secret organization and forced to play part in a twisting and enigmatic plan; to tear down the systems in place that keep the League of Heroes in an ultimate seat of power to rival the government itself. But… is the system as good as it projects itself to be? Are the villains and their henchmen really as evil as the media says? Is it truly as simple as tearing it down, or does that simply open up space for a new, worse system to enter?

Is the harm we do when we believe we're helping mitigated merely by our wishes to be better? To create something more? To fix what we believe is broken?

Do we hold blame for creating the evil we think we're fighting against, regardless of our intentions?

This work features descriptions of violence, abuse, neglect, and uses adult language, as well as mentions of nudity and sexual topics.

[chaotic-orphan]

Vendetta (IX)

Read part one here // Continued from this part here

*~*~*~*~*

Hero ducked under outstretched arms. Feigned left, lunged right. A flash of colour to their left, then heat. Hero sidestepped the tendrils of fire that shot out from the villain’s hands. They weren’t quick enough. The flames caught Hero’s shoulder and they faltered with a cry, their hand going to the burns, but they grit their teeth and kept moving forward, charging Fire Villain.

Hero grabbed Fire Villain’s wrist in a death grip, nullifying their ability. Their hand chopped through the air going for the throat. Fire villain gasped, doubled over, struggling back a step, clicking their fingers for flames that wouldn’t ignite. Hero yanked them closer by the wrist and crunched their elbow into Fire villain’s nose, eliciting a shriek of pain. Hero finally let go, sweeping fire villain’s legs from under them. Stomping on their ankle as they fell, then their face and bolted again.

Ahead of them shouts of encouragement only harshened the headache pounding in Hero’s ears, pushing themselves faster. Their shoulder burned as the wind caught it, but Hero kept pushing forward, gritting their teeth against the pain. They had to get to Superhero. They had to stop Supervillain.

They had to stop the war right here, right now.

Hero barrelled through the crowd of villains, undetected by the group whose attention was fixed on Superhero and Supervillain in the centre.

Superhero’s eyes widened when they met Hero’s. Supervillain took the opportunity to dash forward, swinging Hero’s sword down in an arc. Superhero barely had enough time to cross his arms in an X shape over their head, catching the blade on their vambrace. Supervillain tossed his lazy gaze over his shoulder, keeping the pressure on Superhero’s arms with ease, icy eyes landing on Hero.

A horrible grin stretched across his face as Hero pushed into the circle with the pair. “Ah, Hero. Come to enjoy the show? Out of your cuffs and everything. Naughty, naughty. Superhero… you should’ve raised them with better manners.”

Superhero threw their arms up while Supervillain was distracted, pushing the sword away and sidestepping the edge. He lunged on the inside of the blade, batting it away with his forearm and kicking Supervillain back to the edge of the tight circle of villains. Hands reached out to keep Supervillain up, ensuring he didn’t fall.

“Hero,” Superhero said, a muscle in his jaw tightening as Hero stepped towards Supervillain. Supervillain backed up to keep both Hero and Superhero in his vision, swinging the sword in his hand.

Hero narrowed their eyes into a burning glare, catching their breath from running through the battlefield that stank of blood and shit. The group somehow smelled worse, pungent heat mixing with sweat.

Hero’s mouth was dry from running, but they pushed through everything in their body that was telling them to stop. To lie down and go home. That told them this was too hard, they should give up now. You’ve done enough now, Vigilante is gone. Give up fighting, nobody will think less of you.

“That’s my sword,” Hero told Supervillain, ignoring the intrusive thoughts screaming in their head. They put their hand out, palm up. “I’d like it back now.”

Supervillain tsked. “Hero… it’s kind of concerning that you want my attention so badly. Clearly Superhero’s opinion of you has gone to your head. You’re not everyone’s sweetheart.”

A pop behind Hero and something was shoved into their hands. Another pop and Hero glanced down to see their sheath with their secondary sword. Hero wanted to close their eyes and pray, thank the Gods for Teleport, but instead they drew their sword, dropping their scabbard to the ground. Wiping their sweaty palms on their trousers, Hero tightened their fingers around the hilt to get a better grip.

Supervillain smirked at the pair of heroes ahead of him.

“Two on one is a little unfair, wouldn’t you say, lads?” A cheer around them. Hero and Superhero retreated, back to back on instinct, looking warily around them.

Hero saw a flash of Supervillain’s toothy grin as he stabbed Hero’s sword into the dirt, leaning his weight on top of it like it was a cane and crossing his legs. Entirely too casual, his voice dipped, darkening as he said: “How about we even the odds?”

Another cry and the swarm of Villains descended like a plague of locusts upon them. Hero kicked out at the first Villain that ran at them, leaning on Superhero’s back to get more force behind it. The next one lunged while someone pulled at Hero’s shirt, trying to yank them to the right and away from Superhero.

Hero jutted their arm up sharply, deflecting a blow with the flat of their blade, but they were too slow. A fist crunched into Hero’s face from the left and they stumbled and then there were hands on them. Hero kicked out, thrashing and raging against the hands holding them. They were sharply pulled to the left, the hands on them unrelenting, but Hero kicked out at the Villain trying to body check them on the right.

A villain sprung up in front of them and Hero barely dodged the knife going for their eye. Hero punched them in the solar plexus and the Villain folded, but they didn’t get to fall.

Blood splattered across Hero’s face, and they flinched and froze for a split second, stumbling back into the hands of villains. The taste of iron infested their mouth, heightening the stench of blood and metal that surrounded them. The villain that they just punched— their head was ripped open and their deadweight fell on top of Hero. Hero fought back a retch, struggling to push the body off them.

Two bright yellow eyes the colour of pus gleamed down at Hero, a wicked grin on a pretty face and they were speaking but Hero couldn’t hear them over the cacophony of sound that assaulted their senses. Her face was covered in blood too, blood that she licked from her fingers, as if it was sauce leftover from chicken wings.

Hero threw their arms up in defence, not hearing anything over the pounding of their thundering heart.

The girl stumbled forward, her mouth falling open, frozen in shock. Hero only distantly realised the hand that was through her chest, roughly pulling out after the girl fell like a rag-doll to the ground, motionless. The look of surprise etched into her face forever.

Superhero was in front of them then, grabbing Hero and yanking them up, their hand like a vice around Hero’s arm. Hero flinched when their eyes met Superhero’s. There was a horrible sense of urgency in them that Hero couldn’t feel, their body felt numb. Did they have pieces of that Villain’s face on their—

“Hero! Hero! Snap out of it!” Superhero cried, but Hero’s eyes drifted down to Superhero’s hand, slick with blood. Superhero moved like a blur around them. One Villain stepped towards the pair and Superhero whirled, both hands finding the villain’s head. A swift movement and the villain’s neck snapped and they fell.

“Hero!” Superhero screamed, glancing behind him at the still comatose Hero who was just standing there. Another Villain went to attack Hero, but Superhero got there first, breaking the Villain’s arm, then ripping it from the socket. The Villain screamed as Superhero smashed their foot against the Villain’s knee, crippling them and shoving them away.

Hero blinked at Superhero, recognition flashing in their eyes. “Hero- we have to—”

A crackle of electricity behind Superhero and Hero’s body moved before their mind realised it. They shoved Superhero out of the way and lunged forward, grabbing the electric villain’s arm, and nullifying their ability before they surged their sword arm forward and up, under the Villain’s armour. Their sword poked out of the villain’s mouth, who stared at Hero with a horrible knowing they were about to die on their face. Don’t think about it, Hero told themselves. Keep moving. Don’t think. Keep moving. Blood splattered across their face as Hero pulled their sword out, kicking the corpse back into another group of villains.

And more were coming.

It seemed like every Villain they cut down, four more took their place, and the circle was getting smaller and smaller and Hero could barely catch their breath between the bodies.

Don’t think. Keep moving.

Slice. Block. Superhero’s fist cracked and crunched into Villains behind Hero, but they kept fighting.

Kick. Punch. Another haunted expression. Don’t think. Don’t think. Don’t think.

They had to win.

Another death at Hero’s hands. Keep moving.

They had to stop Supervillain here.

Another body fell and three more Villains surged forward with cries of bloodlust. Hero cut them down like weeds. Don’t think.

They had to end the war. End all the fighting, all the dying.

Just stop, Hero. Give up, nobody would think less of you. The thought made Hero pause in their movements. A mistake, they realised too late.

A hand clamped down on Hero’s hair and they were dragged back. Hero let out a startled cry, losing their footing as they were yanked back. Hero swung their sword at the Villains coming towards them.

“Hero!” Superhero cried from somewhere in the masses. Hero adjusted their grip on the sword until the blade was aimed behind them, grabbing the hilt with both hands they drove it backwards and up. A sudden, piercing scream and Hero jerked forwards, their hair still heavy.

Hero whirled. A villain was standing clutching a bleeding stump and screaming. Hero shook, their entire body trembling as they reached for their hair and found the hand still bunched in their hair. Hero ripped it off, the smell of piss and sweat overwhelming them as fell back, the ground growing slippy. Tears sprung to their eyes, but Hero had to get up. They had to get up or they’d die.

Hero dug their sword into the ground and pulled themself up with an effort. It felt as if all of Hero’s energy was zapped from them as they got to shaking feet.

They barely had the chance to catch their breath before a villain was rushing them. Hero didn’t think, they lifted their sword and let the Villain impale themselves. The Villain didn’t die immediately, and horrifically Hero’s sword got caught between the Villain’s ribs when Hero tried to yank it out. Hero planted a foot on the Villain’s pelvis, yanking on the sword but it didn’t budge an inch. Instead, Hero kicked them back into the masses of bodies, unarmed.

Shit they should really find—

“HERO!”

Superhero… Hero turned to Superhero’s voice. Their mind a fog. It felt as if their eyes were too slow to catch up with their surroundings that seemed to zoom past them. A sudden pit opened up in their stomach, their mind screaming DANGER! But Hero was turning towards Superhero, exhaustion pulling at their muscles. Tiredness pulling at their eyes.

Chocolate brown curls fell over a pair of cool, cold eyes that flashed with malice. Hero barely had time to process before something hard slammed against their jaw. Hero’s head whipped to the side and was righted by a cold hand, before it hit them again in the same place.

The world spun around them as Hero spluttered out a gasp, raising their knee to try and dislodge Villain from them. Villain smiled a cold smile. A flash of metal and the breath was taken from Hero who folded around the object, their legs giving up on them.

“Shh, Hero,” Villain cooed, running their hand through Hero’s matted hair. “It’s okay. You fought well, Vigilante would be proud.”

“HERO!”

Hero let out a loud cry, spitting blood, thrusting their elbow up towards Villain. Their strike went wide, Villain parrying with his gun and hit Hero over the head again. Hero would have fallen if Villain wasn’t holding them up, they realised, with how heavy they were leaning on Villain’s arm. They wanted to throw up, they wanted to sleep.

They needed to end this war.

A cold mocking voice piped up from the back of their head: you’re going to end this war? With what?! With who! The war won’t be finished by some half-conscious, possibly concussed, disarmed mess that needs someone else to hold them up!

Hero winced. The voice was so loud, their shouts echoing around Hero’s dumb head like a cavern.

A thick, cold shadow crawled from Villain’s fingertips around Hero’s neck like a collar and leash, choking them. Hero gasped, hands flying to their throat to try and dispel the shadow but nothing. Villain yanked their hands down, tying them in front of Hero with his whip and yanked Hero forward again.

Hero followed because they couldn’t not, they didn’t have the energy to pull against Villain, their legs shaking as Villain paraded them through the crowd of villains. The heat from the bodies squeezing Hero on all sides threatened to knock them out from pure exhaustion and lack of air. Everything was too much, it was all too much.

The air smelled of smoke and vomit, and iron. Hero gasped on no air, struggling to breathe with the little leeway that Villain granted on Hero’s neck pulling tighter the more Hero resisted. They weren’t trying to resist they just couldn’t… their body didn’t want to move anymore, they could barely fucking see straight. Everything was reduced to whirling colours, a deafening ringing sounded between Hero’s ears, blocking out all other sounds. Or could everyone hear that?

When they finally emerged into the middle of the significantly thinned circle of villains, Hero’s eyes went to Superhero who was fighting Crow. Hero yanked against the whip in Villain’s hands. They had to get free. They had to help Superhero…

Villain only pulled the whip sharp in reply and Hero was yanked forwards. Their feet couldn’t gain purchase fast enough on the wet ground and they slipped, hands out to catch themselves. Villain yanked on the whip at the last second and Hero’s plunged face-first into the blood-stained mud. They shot up immediately, spewing and sputtering out the taste in their mouth.

Hero’s eyes shot to Superhero who was covered in blood, his hands stained to his shoulders with the dried, flaked crimson and fresh blood dripped from his fingertips. Someone kicked Superhero in the back of the knee and Superhero fell to his knees.

“No…” Hero mumbled, their tongue fat in their mouth. They army crawled forward. “Superhero… no… get up.”

Villain grabbed Hero by the hair and yanked their head up so they could get a better view of their fallen leader. Supervillain stepped in front of Superhero, Hero’s sword coated in blood already. For a single, heart breaking moment, Superhero’s kind eyes met Hero’s. Something sad pulled at the edges of his smile.

Hero mirrored the frown, needing their brain to process what it meant. What was happening? What were they looking at?!

Hero struggled against Villain’s hold, more out of instinct than anything else, but they didn’t get anywhere. They stiffened when the gun pressed against their temple.

“Here is the great Superhero,” Supervillain yelled. “A symbol of the old world order. A symbol of powered individuals forced to live in hiding. Told that we’re freaks, and dangers to society!”

Supervillain turned in a circle, looking every member of his captive audience in the eye. “Well I say no more.”

There was a chorus of cheers.

“I say NO MORE!” He screamed, and the cheer turned to screams and riotous applause. It exasperated the thundering headache that threatened to burst Hero’s skull. They slumped against the gun at their temple, but quickly perked up with a hiss when Villain yanked on their hair again.

Supervillain smirked at Hero, on their knees, shaking their head. “Supervillain… please… don’t… don’t do this.”

“I’m so glad you’re here to witness this, Hero,” Supervillain told them. Hero felt bile rise in their throat at the elation in his voice. “Let it serve as a reminder of what happens to those that oppose me.”

The ringing got louder as Hero’s desperate eyes went to Superhero’s. Superhero still smiling sadly at them. Hero lurched forward with a cry of protest as Supervillain turned.

“It’s okay, Hero,” Superhero said. “Everything will be—”

The sword plunged under Superhero’s armour. Hero watched as blood gurgled up and over his lips, a small trickle at first. Then, a waterfall. Supervillain twisted the sword before yanking it out, scraping against bone and wet flesh. In the distance someone was screaming.

Hero blinked at the scene, flinching when some of the blood from Supervillain’s blade flicked back onto them. Superhero… that was… that was Superhero’s blood. Hero didn’t lower their gaze from Superhero’s face. At one point Superhero fell forward. One of the Villains behind Superhero grabbed him and pulled him up so Supervillain could plunge the sword in again.

This time it ripped. Villains still cheered, someone was still screaming. Hero couldn’t take their eyes off Superhero’s face, the same sad smile echoing back at Hero.

Frozen. This was how Superhero’s face would remain forever. Like all the Villains that Hero killed today. This was how his face would stay. A sad, knowing smile on his face. Nothing shocked or terrified, Superhero greeted death with a smile on his face. A smile that was to reassure Hero, to make Hero feel better.

A smile that said: it’s okay. I know. We tried our best and we failed, and it’s okay.

That wasn’t how Superhero was supposed to greet death.

Not… not making an expression to comfort Hero.

That can’t be how Superhero dies.

It seemed as if the entire world rushed by Hero’s ears, bringing them back to the present with a renewed laser focus.

That can’t be how Superhero dies!

Hero sucked in a breath as the sword squelched out of Superhero. Someone said something, Supervillain gestured. He pulled out a dagger and sliced an arc down Superhero’s face. Hero struggled in Villain’s hold, roaring:

“GET OFF HIM!” Hero screamed, surging forwards but they were wrenched back, their voice going hoarse as they struggled in vain against Villain’s hold. “DON’T TOUCH HIM! STOP! STOP!”

Something hard hit the back of Hero’s head and they jolted forwards, collapsing onto their elbows, crying into the dirt. Twin streams of spit, snot and tears fell onto the ground under Hero’s head and they squeezed their eyes shut, not wanting to see it anymore. See Supervillain cutting Superhero’s body because… because Superhero… Superhero didn’t lose.

Superhero didn’t die with a smile.

Superhero never lost. Superhero may have cut it close every once in a while but he always walked away from a fight. Superhero wasn’t—

A sharp tug in their hair and Hero was yanked to their knees again, then to their feet. Hero threw their elbow back, catching something but what they didn’t care as they bolted towards Superhero.

They fell to their knees beside his body, their hands reaching to Superhero’s pulse. It was faint, but it was there.

Hero turned wet eyes to Supervillain, pleading. A black figure from the corner of their eye advanced on them, but Supervillain held a hand up, stopping them.

“Plea— p-p-please,” Hero whispered, sniffing, their voice hoarse and quiet, but Supervillain heard. He tilted his head, eyes drinking in Hero’s broken state. “Please… don’t kill him, please… please. I’m— i’m begging you, Supervillain. I’ll do ah-anything.”

Superhero can’t die with a comforting smile on his face. That wasn’t his death, that can’t be his death. Always looking out for someone other than his stupid fucking self! Superhero deserved to be selfish in death! At least in death!

Supervillain leaned back, pursing his lips as if he was chewing Hero’s words, tasting them, trying to find some flavour within them to his liking. He leaned forward, cupping Hero’s cheek in his hand and thumbing away the trails of tears and dirt and blood.

Hero shook in his hold but didn’t dare pull away. “Would you show me the same consideration?”

Hero blinked, sniffing. “What?”

Supervillain’s expression wasn’t mocking or cruel, he looked genuine. Patient, even. “If the roles were reversed, Hero. If Superhero had won and I was on the ground, dying, would you let Superhero kill me here? In the dirt?”

Hero’s breath hitched, their eyes drifting to Superhero’s face, his lips stained bright red with blood. Unnatural. Superhero’s lips were never bright red. Supervillain gently tilted Hero’s head back to him.

“Would you?” He asked, voice soft.

Hero’s bottom lip quivered. “I- I don’t think an-anyone should d-die like this.”

Supervillain smiled. It was kind, without malice. Hero swallowed the lump in their throat. Not daring to let themself hope but- but what if?

“So what would you do, Hero? Take me prisoner? Have a trial for my crimes?”

Hero shivered. “Yes.”

Supervillain paused. Hero held their breath as Supervillain pulled away and got to his feet with a grunt. He surprised Hero by walking over to them and helping Hero to their feet too, gentle movements all the while. Not too fast, trying not to spook the trembling Hero. Hero protested leaving Superhero’s side by Supervillain shushed them.

“It’s okay, Hero,” Supervillain coaxed, whispering sweet nothings into Hero’s matted hair. “There we go. Villain?”

Two more hands grabbed Hero’s shoulders. “Be gentle with them,” Supervillain told Villain as he pulled away.

Hero grabbed Supervillain’s arm before he could. Burning eyes met ice cold glaciers that smiled warmly at Hero. “You’re- you’re not going to k-kill him?”

“No, Hero. I won’t kill him.” Supervillain said softly and Hero’s legs went from under them in relief. Villain held them up while Hero cried, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you.

Supervillain spread his arms out, bending down to scoop Hero’s sword from the dirt. Villain held Hero loosely to the side, their eyes never leaving Superhero’s body.

“My friends!” Supervillain boomed, his voice carrying over the battleground. “We’ve won!”

The field erupted into applause and cheers, villains roaring their triumph and chanting Supervillain’s name.

“Hero has begged me to spare Superhero’s life,” Supervillain bellowed with a grin, turning to face Hero again and winking. Hero flinched at the chorus of boo’s and mocking aww’s, jarring and vicious. “So I will not kill Superhero.”

Hero risked a baffled smile, though it probably looked pathetic. Maybe Supervillain was telling the truth. Maybe he did want to stop this endless violence between heroes and villains. Hero’s eyes got their determination back and they nodded at Supervillain, who returned the gesture with a smile of his own.

His arms still spread to his rowdy crowd, Supervillain’s icy eyes turned sharp, cunning twisting the side of his lips up and when he looked at Hero again there was something off about the picture. Something that told Hero there was something wrong. What were they missing?

What were they missing?

Grieves walked from the crowd that parted for him, walking up behind Supervillain. He plucked the sword from Supervillain’s hands who never took his eyes off of Hero. Grieves didn’t break his stride as he turned Hero’s sword upside down, walking towards Superhero on the ground.

Hero’s eyes widened too late, their face pulled from peace to horror in the space of a second. They lunged forward while Grieves slammed the blade of Hero’s sword through Superhero’s armour and into his heart.

Arms locked around Hero as they sprung for Supervillain, an animalistic shriek pulled from deep within their bones. “YOU FUCKING MONSTER! YOU BASTARD! YOU SAID YOU WOULDN’T—” Hero screamed over the cries of victory and celebration.

Supervillain walked around Grieves to Hero who was practically foaming at the mouth, blood-stained-spittle flying as they screamed. “YOU’RE A LIAR! YOU’RE A LIAR!”

Supervillain pinched Hero’s chin jutting Hero’s attention towards him. His arctic gaze freezing Hero solid. “I didn’t lie, Hero. I held up my end of our bargain. I said I wouldn’t kill him. And I didn’t,” Supervillain said very matter-of-factly, as if he were speaking to a child throwing a tantrum. Though his wide smile betrayed his joy and malicious intentions. “Grieves killed him.”

“You fucking MONSTER! I’ll kill you!” Hero vowed, their promise coming out guttural, voice hoarse with grief and despair; broken. “I’ll—”

“Promises, promises,” Supervillain said, dropping Hero’s chin. “Superhero had to die, but that was only half of the main event, dear Hero. Now to the good part.”

~*~*~*~*~*~

Continued here

Orphanage roll-call: @micechomper @aarika-merrill @silentpotat0 @dutifullykrispyland @gloriousqueen101

[suff0cationpit]

HOT STEAMY BATH (THE PENGUIN)

I COOKED WITH THIS ONE BOYS,,, EAT UP PENGUIN FANS (if this gets to your fyp) TODAY YOUR GETTING THE PENGUIN IN A HOT STEAMY BATH CUZ HES A LIL STINKER /POS I MAY BE THE PENGUIN ARTIST EVER

[savage-kult-of-gorthaur]

RE-CREATED TO BE THE DARKER SIDE OF WOLVERINE -- THE RIPPER FROM HIS DEEPEST NIGHTMARES.

PIC INFO: Mega Spotlight on Victor Creed, a.k.a., "Sabretooth" character art by Naoto "Bengus" Kuroshima, from "Marvel vs. Capcom 2: New Age of Heroes" (2000) crossover fighting game, developed & published by Capcom.

"I am an animal who dreamed he was a man. But the dream is over and the beast is awake. And I will come for you, because it's my nature."

-- SABRETOOTH to Wolverine (Earth-616)

Sources: https://x.com/nbajambook/status/1320897278878621696, Pinterest, Fighters Generation, various, etc...

[neonbuck]

i thought i didnt like super hero media very much but lately ive been watching invincible and the boys. and well i still dont think super heroes are very cool unless they are evil (not to be That Guy but well. im that guy some times sorry) but ohhh i want to be a super villain now

[marioluigimarioluigi]

Toei Reveals New Info On No.1 Sentai Gozyuger TV Series

Toei Reveals New Info On No.1 Sentai Gozyuger TV Series, It is set to premiere on February 16, 2025!

Four days ago, Toei released new information on the upcoming Super Sentai Series, No.1 Sentai Gozyuger, which celebrates the 50th Anniversary of the Super Sentai Franchise! It has also been confirmed that it will premiere in February 2025. Image Credit: Toei Co. Ltd These new villain and dark hero will be facing off against the Gozyugers, an army of creatures called The Number One Monsters, creatures that…

Tom Fujita will plays the Villain, Dark Hero and Arch-Rival against Gozyugers

Caused by:

Lupinranger and Patranger against Goche Ru Medou (VA by Ayana Taketatsu)

Kyoto Animation arson attack

[macknus]

Heroic Betrayal (III)

Enmity veiled civility

Read part one // Master-post // Continued from here

They walked in a tense silence that made Morgan squirm. The only sound between them was their footsteps on the concrete of the cell block. There was more than Morgan’s cell, but she was the only prisoner in here at the moment. God, she didn’t even consider that Supervillain had cells like this, a place to keep heroes he captured. Far from prying eyes, and because she was the lead detective on the case that meant nobody else knew about these cells either. A shiver raced down her spine.

Not only that, but the silence ate at her mind like a moth eats through clothes, leaving vacuums of space and holes in her mind; a wide, yawning mouth of distance between her and Flynn that she had never experienced before. That she didn’t understand. Why weren’t they talking? Why was Flynn marching her around like they were strangers? Why was he doing this? Why wasn’t he cracking jokes? The two of them always laughed or bantered back and forth. When they fell into a silence it was an easy one that never felt awkward or uncomfortable. But now, with this new Flynn who marched Morgan up a set of stairs, it felt as if they were two strangers. As if Flynn was actually a Villain.

He is, a voice sniped in the back of her mind. Flynn is a villain. The lie was his hero façade.

Morgan kept her guard up as they stepped through the door at the top of the stairs. She expected to be greeted with the view of a warehouse, or some top-secret villain base. Maybe something from the movies, or an equal to the Hero tower HQ at the very least.

Instead, her fearful gaze found a house. Morgan frowned. She wanted to turn her head and comment on how strange this was to Flynn before she realised that he already knew where they were. He wasn’t experiencing all this for the first time like she was. He was the one who brought her here after all. An ache split her chest, and she wanted nothing more than to cry and rage at Flynn, but she refused. Pride washed over her vocal chords like a sealant at the thought of talking to him. Flynn didn’t deserve their comments or thoughts on anything anymore.

“Through here,” said Flynn as he pulled Morgan to the right. She caught a glance of the framed pictures hanging on the wall, of Flynn and Villain as children and a man and woman smiling in the picture above them. Morgan swallowed.

Were they in Flynn’s childhood home this entire time?

It’s not what Morgan expected at all. It was clean, almost pristinely so with wooden oak floors and a warm, homely feel to it. Clean and yet lived in.

Morgan closed her lips, and let Flynn guide her through another door into a dining room. Morgan’s brows raised to the ceiling. She looked at Flynn in question before she could help it and wanted to kick herself for it.

Flynn curled his top lip inward, his tell for when he was embarrassed. “Supervillain insisted,” he said by way of explanation and brought Morgan to the end of the table. It sat six people, two chairs on each end and two on both sides.

Flynn pulled out Morgan’s chair and quirked his lips at her. “Can I trust you not to do something stupid?”

“You can always stop me if I do,” Morgan replied sweetly, sugared smile not quite meeting her eyes.

Flynn’s smile was cold in return. “I can. Or Villain, whoever’s quicker.”

Morgan felt that cruel pang of betrayal bloom in her chest like a string of rose’s thorns wrapped thick around her heart. She didn’t deign to reply to that. She didn’t trust her voice not to betray her. Instead, she sat down on the chair and lifted her handcuffed hands onto the wooden table and let Flynn push her chair in.

Flynn sat beside her, on her right. Morgan could have laughed at the horribleness of it all. Flynn sat on Morgan’s right because after endless sparring they both realised it was Morgan’s weaker hand. If Morgan was going to do something stupid, going for her right-hand side would be easier to subdue than her left.

How had she not seen the warning signs? How had she not realised that Flynn was working against her this entire time? She was such an idiot, oh god. And Sidekick… they would have no idea about Flynn either and…

Morgan bit the inside of her cheek to stop her from releasing a pathetic noise, somewhere between a whimper and a cry. God, she felt sick to sit this close to him, to the wolf in sheep’s clothing who played his part so well. She was a fool.

Morgan trusted him. God, she thought if the world ever went to shit, or turned against her, she could turn to Flynn and still find a home in him.

Now all her trust twisted against her mercilessly, and Flynn was a stranger who could smile at her with a bloodied face — and possibly broken nose — and threaten to have the person who broke it hurt her more. She stared at him openly, her eyes narrowed, squinting, trying to see past the man she loved and see the stranger first because that’s the real Flynn. This vicious monster that would use her, get close to her, become her partner in work and outside of it.

Fuck Flynn had met her parents…

The heartache was sliced through with a knife of fear as Morgan heard movement and voices behind the two doors in front of them; different than the door that Flynn and Morgan entered the room t. There was a lively bustling of movement and then a man in his late thirties, early forties walked through the doors with a wide friendly smile holding two plates of something steamy.

He had wavy brown hair, slightly overgrown around the edges, some strands tucked behind his ears Morgan noticed. His eyes were sea-coloured, somewhere between green and blue, but shined with a happiness that Morgan didn’t expect of Supervillain.

Oh… oh… this was… this was Supervillain. She was staring, looking, seeing Supervillain. The Supervillain! Morgan’s nemesis, her foe— the man who seemed to be one step ahead of her at all times. Morgan glanced at Flynn mutinously before Supervillain drew Morgan’s attention back to them.

He set a plate of food in front of Morgan with a big smile, then walked around the back of Morgan’s chair and placed one in front of Flynn. The plate was filled with what looked like roast chicken, green beans and roast potatoes. Morgan stared down at it, her mouth watering slightly and a gnawed yearning awoke in her gut as she caught the delicious whiff of roast chicken and spuds.

She was starving, she realised. How long had she been here? Overnight at least because it was daytime at the moment. Morgan looked at Flynn. Flynn glanced at Morgan then to Morgan’s plate and dragged it over to him.

“Hey—”

“Relax, I’m just cutting up your chicken. You’re not getting a knife.”

Morgan waited, watching Flynn cut up the food. She sat back against her chair, eyes going to the doors to see Supervillain was gone. Flynn pushed Morgan’s plate back in front of her as Supervillain came through again followed closely by Villain, a shadow like fist holding something that was dropped in front of Morgan. It smacked against the table lightly with a bounce and Morgan realised it was a plastic fork.

Everyone else had proper utensils.

Morgan scowled. She waited until Supervillain and Villain sat down before she spoke. “If you think I’m eating this, you’re dumber than I thought.”

Supervillain’s smile didn’t dim. “As you like it, Morgan. Though, if I drugged you with the chicken or the vegetables, I would have drugged us all.”

She didn’t move to grab the fork, no matter how much her stomach wanted her to. How much it ached for her to cast aside her fear and damn it all while she filled her stomach with the delicious morsels of… Flynn grabbed Morgan’s plate, “we can swap if you like.”

Morgan’s head snapped to him. “And how do I know this wasn’t all some planned ploy?”

“You don’t,” said Flynn honestly, meeting Morgan’s gaze earnestly. Morgan had to look away before she cried. Stupid fucking Flynn.

“If I may,” said Supervillain, his voice smooth and steady, drawing Morgan’s gaze. “If I wanted to starve you, I wouldn’t have plated you up a meal. I would have handcuffed you to the chair and let you smell the food and watch us eat.”

Morgan swallowed, gaze hardening into a glare as Supervillain tilted his head and shrugged lightly. “However, if you don’t want to eat, I won’t force you.”

Morgan sat back stubbornly, eyes not leaving Supervillain as he tucked into his divine smelling meal.

“Flynn said you wanted to talk to me.”

“I do,” Supervillain replied. “As soon as we have eaten. It’s bad for the stomach to mix work and pleasure.”

Morgan blinked at him and scoffed; her eyes drifted back to the plate in front of her. The steam was rose so temptingly from it, dancing in the air with joy and swirls of mirthful mischief, practically begging Morgan to eat it. Morgan swallowed again; her resolve shattered as she reached for the fork.

Nobody at the table made remarks as Morgan took her first bite of chicken. She didn’t feel eyes on her as she ate, and with every bite the possibility of the food being drugged became less and less important as she filled the hole in her stomach. The chicken was so moist in her mouth, lightly salted that danced deliciously across her tastebuds and the green beans were roasted to perfection instead of boiled. God, she didn’t know green beans could taste so good, and don’t get her started on the potatoes. All too soon her plate was empty and Morgan set her fork back on the plate, and sat back in her chair, satisfied. Supervillain smiled at her from across the table.

“Well?”

Morgan swallowed. “Really good.”

Supervillain beamed a smile at the praise. “Good. Flynn, would you and Villain mind cleaning up?”

Flynn’s eyes went between Morgan and Supervillain. He opened his mouth to protest but closed it again when Supervillain shot him a look. It stifled the words in his throat, and he nodded and gathered his and Morgan’s plate. “Sure.”

Villain did the same with his and Supervillain’s plate. “Thank you. We shouldn’t be long.”

Flynn cast one last look over his shoulder at Morgan, eyebrows drawing together in a frown. The two disappeared behind the double doors, which left Morgan and Supervillain alone.

Morgan’s chest tightened at the realisation. How many times had she longed to get to sit down with Supervillain and pick his brain on his strategies and plans? How long had she wanted to know his motivations behind it all? What the bigger picture was…

Now, Morgan wanted to be anywhere but here.

Supervillain leaned forward. He rested his elbows on the table, his hands clasped in front of him as he stared down Morgan with his sea-coloured eyes. They would have been beautiful if they weren’t on the face of the city’s most dangerous villain. “Flynn tells me you’re a fan of mine.”

Morgan scoffed and looked away. “I’d hardly call myself a fan.”

“Of course,” he replied pleasantly. “A hero would never admire a villain after all.”

“That’s in the job description.”

“Tell me, did you ever admire Flynn?”

Morgan’s eyes snapped back to Supervillain. His smile less pleasant now, shrewder. Intelligent, inquisitive, intimidating— his eyes narrowed in curiosity, the corners of his lips quirked into a smile.

“I guess it doesn’t matter anymore, does it? He was always a Villain.”

“Yes. However, that is not what I asked you.” Morgan swallowed in reply. “Did you ever admire Flynn?”

“Yes,” said Morgan patiently. She couldn’t lose her cool now, she had to match Supervillain’s relaxed demeanour. At least he couldn’t hear how loud her heart panged against her ribs, trying to crack her chest wide open as she spoke face to face with her kidnapper. “He was my partner. Obviously, I admired him.”

Supervillain let out a breath. “Tut, tut, Morgan. He’s a villain. How can a hero ever admire a Villain?”

“If you want to get into some philosophical debate, I’d rather Villain bash my nose against the bars of my cell again.”

Supervillain’s lips pursed. “If you like.”

The words ran like cold water down Morgan’s spine. She hated how easily violent they were towards her, Flynn, Villain, Supervillain – an unsettling pattern she had noticed in her short amount of time here was how willingly they would hurt her for their amusement.

Dicks.

“However,” he continued, “I’d much rather pick your brain before Villain rips it from your skull.”

Morgan swallowed the lump that was rising in her throat. How can he be so nonchalant about telling Morgan that he had no reservations about Villain killing her? He isn’t anything like Morgan thought he would be. He wasn’t as debonair or as cautious as she pictured him, he spoke quite plainly, not indirect or with some evasive innuendos to pain. She couldn’t help but feel a tinge of… disappointment, along with the overwhelming amounts of fear that flooded her veins and screamed at her to run.

“You wouldn’t let him,” said Morgan licking her dry lips. She made an effort to hide her expression as the vile taste of salt and iron of dried blood danced along her tastebuds.

Supervillain’s smile was pleasant. “No?”

“No,” Morgan echoed, swallowed. “Even if you did let Villain hurt me or torture me, or whatever, you wouldn’t let him kill me. You’d rather draw it out slowly.”

Supervillain raised his hands and intertwined his fingers, resting his chin on them as he stared at Morgan. His sea green eyes looked stormy now, the twisting murky colour piercing through Morgan’s soul. His smile anything but friendly.

Now, he looked like Supervillain, like Morgan expected him to be. Confident, perspicacious, formidable. This was the opponent Morgan had been playing alongside across the city for months now. Morgan noticed her heart beat faster in her chest.

“And you say you’re not a fan,” Supervillain said, a perceptible knowing coating every smooth syllable.

“I’m not a fan of you hurting people. Killing people.”

“And yet it’s all you heroes ever seem to respond to.” Morgan’s retort died in her throat. “If it takes violence to goad you out of your precious hero tower, then I will resort to violence.”

Goading? What goading? Morgan’s brows furrowed down over her eyes, shadowing them slightly as her mind ran over Supervillain’s words.

“Hmm,” Supervillain hummed fondly. “Flynn said you have a look when you’re trying to solve a riddle, this must be it.”

“I don’t have a look,” Morgan spat, ignoring the blush that climbed warm up her cheeks.

“Of course you do, dear Morgan. We all do. That’s why in poker you have to learn to mask your tells.”

“Are we playing poker, Supervillain?”

“No, hardly. Though I’d wager I could win your money as easy as it took me to tank that developmental property on seventh.”

Morgan hoped her glare burned a hole through Supervillain’s skull until she realised, she was playing right into his hands and dissolving. Morgan licked her lips and leaned forward in her chair too, hands clasped on the table in front of her.

“This wasn’t a spur of the moment thing, was it? You wanted me to follow Villain. You wanted them to catch me,” Morgan said. Them was much easier than saying Flynn out loud.

Supervillain smiled appraisingly. “Yes.”

“And bring me here to meet you.”

“Yes.”

She tilted her head. “Why?”

Supervillain’s eyes flashed, glinting. “Because Morgan, I’ve wanted to meet you as much as you’ve wanted to meet me.”

Morgan held up her cuffed hands. “Couldn’t have done it more civilly?”

“Oh please,” Supervillain scoffed. He lay his palms flat on the table and pushed his chair back. Morgan’s heartbeat quickened as Supervillain stood up and made his way slowly, predatorily slowly, towards Morgan like a cat playing with a mouse. Morgan wanted to stay still, stay strong, to not show him the effect he had on her, but her body didn’t get the message. The closer Supervillain came to Morgan the more she shrunk back into the chair, hands braced on the table ready to spring to her feet and — and then what?

Supervillain stopped beside Morgan’s, one hand on the back of her chair, the other hooking a finger around the small length of chain that kept Morgan’s wrists locked together. He pulled it up, Morgan’s arms going with it involuntarily until Supervillain held Morgan’s arms up high over her head.

Morgan clenched her teeth as her shoulders strained from her sitting position.

“We both knew one of us would have to be in chains for us to be able to chat,” said Supervillain. He tilted his head, regarding her micro expressions as she glared up at him. All friendliness had melted from his face leaving a cold grin and hungry eyes feasting off the sight of Morgan at his table. “I just decided it wasn’t going to be me.”

Morgan tugged her arms down suddenly, but she may as well not have for the lot of good it did her. Supervillain leaned down; his face close to Morgan’s as he grinned.

“You should have struck first, little hero. Then maybe the roles would be reversed, but as of right now—” Supervillain’s eyes darkened as he yanked Morgan's hands up higher and half lifted her off the chair bringing her face close to his so he could smirk at her; drinking in how small flashes of discomfort punctuated her unending glare. “I control the board.”

[bronzemettle]

Are the events of "Doctor Horrible's Sing-Along Blog" canon in the Bronze Realms?

At the very least not as-presented. I won't say that Doctor Horrible definitely exists in the BronzeRealms by default, but, I will say that, if he does, if that's a DLC module you decide to slot into the mainstream continuity, I know exactly where and how he fits into it. And it's not in 2008. Despite breaking the title and the framing device, it's in 1983. "Doctor Horrible's Sing-Along Home Videos", if you will.

The reason for this change is a little idea I'm shamelessly stealing from my headmate Alex called "Megamind Vs Doctor Horrible". Megamind is mainstream BronzeRealms, and if Doctor Horrible exists, it's as his foil.

The rest of this post will contain full spoilers for both Doctor Horrible's Sing Along Blog, and more importantly, Megamind. For real, person who I know is still reading this post and hasn't watched Megamind yet, yes you, DO NOT click further into this post, or read the comments, tags, or reblogs. I know it's an old movie, but if you can, Megamind is worth watching fresh.

...Are they gone? We've all seen the movie now, right? Right?

Okay. Let's start by saying that anything written in orange is optional to the Doctor Horrible Expansion Content. Make sense? (Might need a better rule if this kind of distinction comes up more often in future posts...)

The Evil League of Evil doesn't exist, but the Injustice Society does. Bad Horse, even from the young adulthood (for a horse) of 6 years, quickly becomes a powerful and leading figure in the Injustice Society alongside Icicle Senior in the 1950s. Bad Horse takes the reigns on their recruitment outreach programs, researching and evaluating lesser supervillains to see who has the potential to step up with a little boost of resources.

In 1983, Doctor Horrible earns his place in the Injustice Society when he murders a local environmental protester, depowers the beloved hero Captain Hammer, and conquers about one fifth of LA to rule according to his bidding.

Now, over in Metro City, "superhero" and "supervillain" don't mean the same thing that they do in any other city. Local culture dictates that a "supervillain" (as opposed to just a villain) is a registered member of the Doom Syndicate. This isn't a team, at least not usually. It's a loose coalition of "supervillains" who have agreed to a series of restrictions and terms regarding what kinds of crimes they can commit, what collateral damage is acceptable, standards of behavior, family-friendly language, what kinds of insults are off the table, what ideologies or political stances they can't express openly... They've agreed to keep their own schemes eminently low-stakes, no matter how spectacular they might become to witness. Even if a Doom Syndicate member conquers the city, they've agreed to a certain standard of fair treatment for their subjects and a charter for how they are and aren't allowed to respond or interfere when the citizens rise up against them. And once their schemes are foiled, they have to help clean up the mess and repair the city too.

In exchange, Doom Syndicate supervillains get reduced sentencing, nicer prison cells while they're in them (The "special containment unit" serves waffles on Wednesday), won't get shot at by the police when they're not in obviously bulletproof armor or vehicles, and Metro City will not contact outside authorities or accept help from outside superheroes in stopping them.

In essence, superhero fights in Metro City are for show. It's less scripted than Pro Wrestling, but otherwise very similar. Everyone is playing to the audience and tv cameras. Everyone wants to win, sure, but they're also willing to take a dive if it'll be cool or narratively dramatic. Sure, your school or workplace might get smashed to dust sometimes, but it'll be back up in a few days, thanks to Doom Syndicate. Maybe you'll even get to throw a dislodged pipe at someone's helmet to distract them while the hero sneaks up. That sounds fun. It's all in good faith. Long story short, no-one has ever died, not even once, during an official Doom Syndicate-sanctioned supervillain scheme or the superhero fights that result from them.

That is, before 1985, when Doom Syndicate co-founder Megamind was seen apparently having murdered the superhero Metro Man.

Besides taking place in the 80s the rest of the movie plays out basically the same, with an added sprinkle of... well... Tighten isn't playing by the rules, and Megamind isn't used to real lives being on the line. But despite seeing himself primarily as a performer, Megamind steps up and saves his city, for real. So despite going back to the performance fights after that, for the first time Metro City also knows that they have a true hero who will protect them when it's seriously needed.

In 1990, the genetic Augment tyrant Anton York is elected President of the United States in a Leap Term election (a concept I know I will have to actually define eventually but not right now). The Eugenics War comes to America, and superheroes and supervillains alike, everywhere, are disappearing or being forced to retire under suspicious circumstances.

Doctor Horrible passes himself off as an Augment and betrays the Injustice Society for a position in the new rising power structure of the world, sending the other villains scattering. He catches and executes the aging Bad Horse himself to secure the trust of the Augments. He is given a regional oversight position over all of Southern California, including Metro City.

When new legislation passes that forces the Mayor's office to officially disband the Doom Syndicate, nothing really changes. People just keep playing by the rules, same as they always have, and the local authorities who are used to it just play along too and take it easy. Metro City has its own thing going on and they like it. Then Doctor Horrible comes to enforce the new order of things.

With a need for the city to perform for outsider eyes, Megamind pretends to flip again and cave to the Augment regime, and volunteers to rule the city on Doctor Horrible's behalf. This buys them time, just a year or two until Doctor Horrible notices something's wrong (or right) and comes back. But it's long enough to start preparations for Megamind's greatest scheme yet.

Megamind's plan is to surround Metro City in a giant force field, and launch it into space. Metro City will be safe from the Eugenics War. While he and Minion are keeping up appearances as the city dictators and getting the force field all set up and triple-tested to make sure it won't fail and suffocate everyone, Roxanne Ritchi is hush-hush organizing an underground to make sure that everyone is on the right side of that barrier when it goes up, giving anyone who doesn't want to be stuck in the city a chance to get out, and helping people smuggle their loved ones from different parts of the country in to be safe with them.

But both Megamind and Roxanne have a secondary scheme. Both of them are secretly planning to be on the outside of the force field when it goes up, so that they can move on to other cities and keep fighting the good fight.

They both tell Minion to stay behind and protect the other, and the city. Instead of telling the two of them that they're both planning the same protection-doublecross, Minion just does the same thing. He goes to find Music Man, and tells him that all three of them are going to be gone while the city is in space, and if anything threatens the city, it will be up to Music Man to step up and stop it, even if he only sees himself as a performer, just like Megamind once had.

So when Doctor Horrible does return and force their hand, and the force field goes up, trapping Doctor Horrible and the regime he works for out, and the city goes up, free and secure, Minion finds Megamind and Roxanne and reveals that none of them went up with it, because the three of them are a team.

Thankfully for Music Man being able to avoid a massive nervous breakdown for actually having life-and-death stakes on his shoulders for the first time, the one time someone tries to sabotage the force field, Megamind's fellow Doom Syndicate supervillains come together with some of the other lesser-known local performer-superheroes to stop it.

Meanwhile, on the outside, Megamind, Roxanne, and Minion are taking the fight elsewhere. To Doctor Horrible, to LA.

When they sneak into his lab, they're horrified to discover the corpse of a woman being preserved in a glass case hooked up to some contraption. Someone named Penny. Megamind figures out the machine is meant to resurrect her, reversing the specific radiological effects of Doctor Horrible's Death Ray (the physical injuries having been surgically repaired by LA's best doctors years ago)... but it won't work.

Megamind is hella autistic and ditzy, and fixes an equation on the whiteboard before they leave without thinking about it. So when Doctor Horrible returns to his lab, he's able to activate the machine. He resurrects Penny. At first she's thankful, and when Roxanne approaches her and offers to sneak her out, she turns it down.

But this time he has the confidence to actually talk to her. She sees his LA. She hears about what he did to Captain Hammer, to the Injustice Society, to Bad Horse, what he's done for Anton York, and what he plans to do once he can get the upper hand on these superiors too.

She murders him. Stabs him, with a fork, and doesn't stop.

Megamind, Roxanne, Minion, and Penny, who they help to escape and take on a new identity, all survive the Eugenics War, to the end. There's another whole story about how after the war ended in 1998 they got Metro City back down to earth, but for now I'll leave it said that they did, all safe and sound, and Megamind happily returned to his performances, his city, his people. And most villains, the ones who don't play by the rules, still know better now than to come to Metro City. It might be all fun and games when you leave them alone, but that doesn't make it easy pickings. After all, no-one ever figured out what happened to Doctor Horrible...

[cowboysuperhero]

threw together a banner for my profile on artfight! my username over there is stanley!

[enchantingepics]

Story Prompt 103

There stood a figure shrouded in darkness. Their desire for power and domination eclipsed any semblance of virtue or morality. They had watched as the so-called heroes paraded through, their lust for glory blinding them to the consequences of their actions.

"You!" the figure's voice echoed through the desolate landscape, cutting through the silence like a knife. "You heroes, with your hollow promises of justice and righteousness. You label anyone who dares to oppose you as villains, but I am more than just an obstacle in your path. I am your ultimate challenge, your final test."

The heroes, caught off guard by the figure's bold proclamation, exchanged wary glances amongst themselves. One of them stepped forward, their voice filled with defiance. "You think you can defeat us? You're nothing but a twisted version of what a hero should be."

The figure chuckled darkly, the sound sending shivers down the spines of those gathered. "Oh, but I am so much more than that. I am the embodiment of your darkest fears, the culmination of your own hubris. And unlike your childish games, in this battle, I will emerge victorious."

With a menacing grin, the figure extended a hand, summoning forth shadows that twisted and writhed at their command. The heroes braced themselves, knowing that this confrontation would be unlike any they had faced before.

As the battle ensued, each clash of steel and surge of power only served to fuel the figure's determination. They fought with a ferocity born from years of resentment and bitterness, their every move calculated to outwit and overpower their adversaries.

"You may have bested others before me," the figure taunted, their voice dripping with contempt, "but you will find that I am not so easily defeated."

[jumpywhumpywriter]

Villain's Coffee Shop part 40

Warnings: rough recovery, intense nightmare

Mistake. Big mistake. She barely had time to blink, jerking back with a startled yelp as Villain came lunging off the couch at her -- a blur of movement and suddenly she was slammed and pinned against the wall next to the couch.

-------------------------------------------------------

Villain was trapped in darkness -- angry, hurting, no escape, destined to burn in the fiery inferno of pain eating away at him. Superhero was right in front of him again, terribly familiar and terrifyingly unknown all at once. A cruel smile twisting his lips as he twirled a blade already dripping with Villain's own blood in one hand.

No, he'd already survived this, he couldn’t be back here... not again... please not again...

"...Villain... are you... okay...?" Somewhere a voice called out his name, broken and distorted, somewhere too far away, a thread of hope snuffed out like a tiny flame, replaced by a more familiar voice permanently engraved in his memory.

"Don't try anything, Villain, you'll only make it worse for yourself. I'll make it quick if you cooperate."

He fought against the constricting darkness pressing in from all sides, threatening to swallow him whole. He wouldn't die here... he wouldn't die... wouldn't die...

Villain cowered away from Superhero as he advanced, cornering him. This wasn't real, he desperately tried to convince himself. Just a nightmare. But then something warm and alive touched him, touched his shoulder, and it was the realest thing he'd ever felt.

He roughly jolted to consciousness with a gasp when the hand touched his shoulder. A flicker of movement flashed next to him, a body recoiling, triggering his instincts to defend, to fight off the lingering threat. Superhero wouldn't get close enough to harm him again. He'd die before letting herself be caught.

Before he even registered it he was up on her feet, firmly pinning the stranger to the wall with a hand on their neck and a blade made of darkness to their throat, eyes wild and chest heaving, his shadow powers flaring and crackling around him like a storm.

"Whoa! Villain... it's me." A soft, shaky voice filled the air, laced with uncertainty.

It took several ragged, heaving breaths for Villain to reign in his senses and fully wake up, piece together his surroundings. He was drenched in cold sweat, in fear... such a strange emotion for the typically fearless warrior. His whole body trembled violently with it, ice-cold adrenaline pounding through his veins with each skittering heartbeat.

"Hey... relax, it's over, all right? It was a bad dream, nothing more. Do you mind... not killing me?"

Villain blinked, staring blankly at the person pinned to the wall before him. It took a second to remind himself where she was, what had happened, that he was safe. And then...

"Hero," Villain gasped, and dropped the blade in an instant, letting it clatter carelessly to the floor where it disappeared, reverting back to the normal shadows it had been made from. "I didn't mean--I'm sorry--"

"I know, I know. It's going to be alright." Hero's eyes were wide with fear and worry.

And whatever shred of strength the burst of panicked adrenaline had given Villain fizzed out like a flame under water, and his legs buckled, the pain returning with vigor, reminding him of his weakness.

Hero was the only thing that stopped him from joining the dissolved blade on the floor as she held him up and helped him to lay on the couch again.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have spooked you like that," she apologized sheepishly, looking rattled. "I didn't realize the nightmare was so intense."

Villain cringed, forcing that particular thought out of his head. He really didn't want to relive it again. "It's... not your fault," he croaked. "I'm... still a bit skittish.”

Hero chewed her lip anxiously. "What was it about?”

"Don't ask," he wheezed hoarsely. "Please."

Hero was taken aback by the pleading desperation in his voice, so unlike him. But she reluctantly dropped the topic, sensing she was edging on a raw nerve.

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