#Flynn the Villain

[chaotic-orphan]

Hi, hope you’re having a nice day!! Love your writing :) Could you please continue heroic betrayal if you’re planning to?? Not to rush you or anything, it’s just got me slightly hooked oops! Thank you!! :)

HEROIC BETRAYAL (6)

Part one here

Continued from here

This part has had so many drafts, so so many, because I couldn’t get Supervillain right at all, and today? For some reason! It all just flowed! So you are in luck! It’s the paddy’s day weekend, struck gold! Enjoy!

*~*~*~*~*

They walked in a tense silence that made Hero squirm. The two of them were always chatting, or having banter back and forth. When they fell into a silence it was an easy one that never felt awkward or uncomfortable. Now, with Flynn marching Hero 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 Hero’s mind. Flynn is a villain. The lie was his Hero façade.

Hero kept their guard up as they stepped through the door at the top of the stairs. Hero 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.

Instead, their gaze found a house. Hero frowned, wanting to turn their head and comment on it to Flynn but they didn’t. They refused. Flynn didn’t deserve their comments or thoughts on anything anymore.

“Through here,” said Flynn, pulling Hero to the right. Hero caught only 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. Hero swallowed.

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

It’s not what Hero 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.

Hero closed their lips, and just let Flynn guide them through another door into a dining room. Hero’s brows raised to the ceiling, looking at Flynn in question before they could help it.

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

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

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

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

Hero felt that cruel pang of betrayal bloom in their heart like a rose’s thorns wrapped thick around it. Hero didn’t reply to that, they just sat down on the chair lifting their handcuffed hands onto the wooden table and let Flynn push in their chair.

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

How had they not seen the warning signs? How had they not realised that Flynn was working against them this entire time?

Hero trusted them. They thought if the world ever went to shit, or turned against them, Hero could turn to Flynn and still find a home in him.

Now all their trust was twisted against them mercilessly, and Flynn was a stranger who could smile at them with a bloodied face — and possibly broken nose — and threaten to have the person who broke it hurt them more.

Hero heard movement and voices behind the two doors in front of them, different than the door that Flynn and Hero entered the room through. 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.

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

Then it hit Hero that they were staring at Supervillain. The Supervillain! Hero’s nemesis, their foe— the man who was always one step ahead of Hero. Hero glanced at Flynn, almost mutinously before Supervillain drew Hero’s attention back to them.

Supervillain set a plate of food in front of Hero with a big smile, then walked around Hero and placed one in front of Flynn. It was what looked like roast chicken and green beans and roast potatoes. Hero stared down at it, their mouth watering slightly and a gnawing yearning in their gut for food.

How long had they been here? Overnight at least because it was day time at the moment. Hero looked at Flynn. Flynn glanced at Hero then to Hero’s plate and dragged it over to him.

“Hey—”

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

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

Everyone else had proper utensils.

Hero waited until Supervillain and Villain sat down before speaking. “If you think I’m eating this, you’re dumber than I thought.”

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

Hero didn’t move to grab the fork, no matter how much their stomach wanted them to. Flynn grabbed Hero’s plate, “we can swap if you like.”

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

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

“If I may,” said Supervillain, his voice smooth and steady, drawing Hero’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.”

Hero 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.”

Hero 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.”

Hero blinked at him, then stared back at their plate. The steam was still rising from it, begging for Hero to eat it. Hero swallowed again, finally reaching for the fork that was discarded in front of their plate.

Nobody at the table made any remarks as Hero took their first bite of chicken. They didn’t even feel eyes on them as they ate, and with every bite the possibility of the food being drugged became less and less important as they filled the hole in their stomach.

All too soon their plate was empty and Hero set their fork back on the plate, sitting back in their seat, satisfied. Supervillain smiled at them from across the table.

“Well?”

Hero swallowed. “Really good.”

Supervillain’s smile beamed at them. “Good. Flynn, would you and Villain mind cleaning up?”

Flynn’s eyes went between Hero and Supervillain, and he opened his mouth to protest, but Supervillain looked at him. It stifled the words in his throat and he nodded and gathered his and Hero’s plate. “Sure.”

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

Flynn cast one last look over his shoulder at Hero, eyebrows drawing together in a frown. Then the double doors shut on both of them and it was just Hero and Supervillain alone.

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

Now, Hero wanted to be anywhere but here.

Supervillain leaned forward, elbows resting on the table hands folded in front of him. “Flynn tells me you’re a fan of mine.”

Hero 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?”

Hero’s eyes snapped back to Supervillain. His smile was less pleasant now, more shrewd. Intelligent, inquisitive, intimidating— his eyes narrowed in curiosity, the corners of his lips still 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.” Supervillain said lightly, not letting Hero off the hook. Hero swallowed in reply. “Did you ever admire Flynn?”

“Yes,” said Hero patiently. They couldn’t lose their cool now, they had to match Supervillain’s relaxed demeanour. “He was my partner. Obviously I admired him.”

Supervillain let out a breath. “Tut, tut, Hero. 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 Hero’s spine. “However,” he continued, “I’d rather pick your brain before Villain rips it from your skull.”

Hero swallowed the lump that was rising in their throat. How can he be so nonchalant about telling Hero that he had no reservations about Villain killing them? It isn’t anything like Hero thought he would be.

“You wouldn’t let them,” said Hero licking their lips, making an effort not to make a face at the taste of salt and iron of dried blood dancing along their tastebuds.

Supervillain’s smile was pleasant. “No?”

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

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

Now, he looked like Supervillain, like Hero expected him to be. Confident, perspicacious, formidable. This was the opponent Hero had been playing alongside across the city for months now. Hero noticed their heart beating faster in their 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.” Hero’s retort died in their throat. “If it takes violence to goad you out of your precious hero tower, then I will resort to violence.”

Goading? What goading? Hero’s brows furrowed down over their eyes, shadowing them slightly as their 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,” Hero spat, ignoring the blush that coloured their cheeks.

“Of course you do, dear Hero. 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.”

Hero hope their glare was burning a hole through Supervillain’s skull until they realised they were playing right into his hands and dissolving. Hero licked their lips and leaned forward in their chair too, hands clasped on the table in front of them.

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

Supervillain smiled appraisingly. “Yes.”

“And bring me here to meet you.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

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

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

“Oh please,” Supervillain scoffed, resting his palms flat on the table and pushing his chair back. Hero’s heartbeat quickened as Supervillain stood up and started making his way slowly, predatorily slowly, towards Hero like a cat playing with a mouse. Hero wanted to not move, to not show him the effect he had on Hero, but their body didn’t get the message. The closer Supervillain came to Hero the more they shrunk back into the chair, hands braced on the table ready to spring to their feet and — and then what?

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

Hero grit their teeth as their shoulders strained from their sitting position.

“We both knew one of us would have to be in chains for us to be able to chat,” said Supervillain tilting his head. All friendliness had melted from his face leaving a cold grin and hungry eyes feasting off the sight of Hero at his table. “I just decided it wasn’t going to be me.”

Hero tugged their arms down suddenly but they may as well not have for the lot of good it did them. Supervillain leaned down, his face close to Hero’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. “I control the board.”

*~*~*~*~*

Continued here

Orphanage roll-call (lmk if you wanna be added or removed): @xenlust @books-are-everything @micechomper @shywhumpauthor @aarika-merrill

[amiderpsva]

Oh boy, here comes my Surge doodles!

I used to feel conflicted about her character, back when Imposter Syndrome was the media of her...But after the wrapping up of Issue 50 and 56... Oh my lord....

I L O V E E E E E E SURGEEEEE ! ! !

[rotbtd-edits]

Tangled's early promotional art is hilarious, because they make Rapunzel look so evil as if she's plotting sadistic murder

Like Rapunzel are u ok???? I know he stole your princess crown but pls spare the man :'DD

[its-to-the-death]

Villain Song Showdown Bracket F Round 1

All the Convoluted Reasons We Pretend to Be Divorced (Phineas and Ferb) - Villains: Charlene and Doofenshmirtz (from the 2nd dimension)

We Both Reached For the Gun (Chicago) - Villain: Billy Flynn

[patchworkorphan]

Heroic Betrayal: part three

Read part one

Continued from this part here

*~*~*~*~*

They stopped at a car parked right on the edge of the park, pulled in on the other side of the road. Secluded, and remote. Villain was already on the other side of the road, and when they saw Hero and Flynn they walked around the car and opened the boot, then turned to smile at Hero.

Hero stepped back unconsciously, shaking their head. “No. No. No.”

Flynn grabbed the crook of Hero’s elbow and pulled them forward but Hero made themselves grow heavy, dead weight. Flynn’s hand slipped off Hero when they landed on their arse on the frozen muck. They pushed themselves back on their feet, trying to escape.

“No! No! Flynn don’t, please! Please don’t do this!” Hero cried. They kicked out a leg at Flynn when they came closer. “Please, please don’t put me in the trunk please.”

Flynn put a placating hand out to Villain as they crouched down in front of Hero. “I’ll make you forget,” Flynn said softly. Hero’s heart slammed against their chest as tears pooled in their water line.

“No, Flynn. You can’t. I’ll know! You can’t please, please—”

“Hero,” Flynn said, tone a little more firm. “If you drive with us in the car, I can’t trust you not to crash the car or do something stupid.”

“I—” Hero said but the words were whisked away with the hitch in their breath. They couldn’t go into the trunk. Hero reached pathetically for their power as Flynn advanced but it was silenced by the power dampeners and Hero cursed.

They didn’t notice Flynn getting closer until it was too late. Flynn wrapped a hand around Hero’s ankle and yanked them forward. Hero yelped, then screamed for “someone! Someone help! So—”

“Flynn shut them up!” Villain yelled, as Flynn grabbed each side of Hero’s head and locked their gaze on Hero’s panicked ones. Hero felt their body go numb with Flynn’s gaze alone.

“Ssh, there we go. Hero you’re going to forget the journey to Supervillain’s house. You won’t remember you were trapped in the boot the whole ride there. Tell me.”

“I won’t remember the journey to Supervillain’s house. I won’t remember being trapped in the boot.”

“Good,” Flynn said with a smile. Then he took the opportunity to get the dazed Hero to their feet and walk them over to Villain.

“It’s so creepy when you do that,” said Villain. Flynn flashed a grin in reply. Villain grabbed Hero's arm and said, “start the car. I’ll put them in the boot. Knowing you, you’d let them ride in the passenger seat in a heartbeat.”

“You’re not wrong,” Flynn laughed. He left the pair of them and walked around the car to the driver’s seat before sliding in and shutting the door. He let out a sigh as he turned the key in the ignition. He forgot Hero was claustrophobic. How could he forget that? He remembered Hero telling them that fact in confidence, during one of their late night stake outs. How scared they sounded.

He should have made them forget before they saw the car, but it was too late now anyhow. Villain climbed into the backseat where the windows were blacked out, and closed the door. Flynn put the car into drive and pulled out onto the road, as nonchalant as ever.

*~*~*~*~*

Continued here

[eruanna1875]

Please tell me somebody has written a crossover between Psych and Tangled, because like. The movie alone has like half the main cast of Psych down pat.

[toaarcan]

Anyone noticed that Surge is like... aesthetically derived from Scourge, but her damage and reasons for hating Sonic are way more similar to Fiona?

Kidnapped by a mad scientist (Starline/Robotnik), experimented on in a traumatic fashion (turned into a lightning-powered anti-Sonic/used for the Auto-Automaton prototype), blames Sonic for her situation happening at all (because he didn't kill the villains before they could hurt her/because he didn't come back to save her), and is angry at Sonic for not taking a stronger position against the villains (explicitly/implicitly).

And given how well-received Surge has been, there's a level of "Wow they could've done something like this a while ago if anyone at Archie had seen Fiona as a character rather than a love interest" but honestly I'm mostly just glad they finally did something with the concept of "Person who feels that Sonic is to blame for everything that went wrong in her life and wants to kick his teeth in about it."

[gravitycosplays-solarflareart]

Leave room for Mother~

Rapunzel: @duodawn_cosplay

Flynn/Eugene: @fireflyxvcos

Mother Gothel: Me

Mother Gothel design by @_sunsetdragon_

Gothel costume made by Jennifer Glinzak

📷: @asteroid.abi

[macknus]

Heroic Betrayal (V)

Splinters of treachery cut deeper

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

This part is dedicated to @jeremy-no, I hope you enjoy!

Morgan lingered by the stairs, not quite meeting Flynn’s eyes as he approached her. Instead, she stared at the hall Supervillain disappeared down, her heart building itself up and breaking again with every breath she took.

“Morgan,” Flynn said, voice soft. Morgan swallowed the lump in her throat and tried to compose herself, but she was rattled… she couldn’t help it. Supervillain terrified her. “Hey, Morgan.”

Morgan suddenly stumbled back a step. Her eyes flashed to Flynn’s outstretched hand, his palm facing her, frozen in the air by her gaze, as if he was about to touch her cheek. Her eyes hardened into stone as she sharpened her gaze into a chilling glare.

“Don’t fucking touch me,” she whispered, deathly quiet. Her voice trembled with a mix of fear and fury. Flynn had the gall to look hurt by her outburst, as if it was a shock that she would react like this after he left her alone, with Supervillain of all people. She searched his face for a sign of sympathy or vulnerability, any trace of the Flynn she knew. The hero who was always her shoulder to cry on when things got hard.

“Morgan,” Flynn said again, her name like a prayer from his lips. “I’m sorry. This is my family. They always have been.”

“And I’m just the job, right?”

Flynn didn’t reply and maybe that said everything. She half-turned her body to the staircase and nodded to him to go first. Mostly to try and hide her unshed tears from him.

Flynn sighed. He ran his hand through his hair before he started up the stairs. She followed him, dragging her lead-like feet. Morgan stopped at the top of the stairs and glanced to the left while Flynn went to the right. The stairs were in the centre of the landing, two doors to the left, three to the right, but Flynn didn’t go for one of the doors. Morgan followed him so he wouldn’t get suspicious of her scoping the layout of the house, but she almost rolled her eyes when she saw the second set of stairs.

As if sensing her disbelief, Flynn glanced at her over his shoulder and shrugged, a half-hearted smile on his face. “I told Supervillain how capable you were. He took it seriously.”

Morgan swallowed, the words like a knife in the chest… or more accurately the back. She blinked at him; it was all she could do when all she wanted to do was scream and charge and hurt him, but she just stared.

Flynn nodded and started up the stairs again. These stairs were cut in half in a double L shape adding more corners; slowing Morgan’s escape if she were to come barrelling down them in the middle of the night. She’d waste time having to turn three times, slowing her momentum, the only benefit was her pursuers would also have to make the turns.  

That little nugget of satisfaction crumbled when Flynn opened the door to her room, because that’s all that was on this floor: one single room. All for her.

Which means they’d hear her coming.

She bit her lip to keep in the helpless sob that wanted to escape her throat. She had to stay cool. Stay cool, stay cool, Morgan. It’s fine. It’s fine. It’s—

“So, this is your room,” Flynn said as she stepped in, and gestured to the big space that was all hers. He looked back at her to see her reaction, and suddenly he was beside her. “Morgan… you’re crying.”

Those two words broke her, and she didn’t hold her emotions back any longer. She stepped away from him, tried to put space between them when her knees buckled, going like jelly beneath her and she fell heavy. Flynn caught her before she hit the ground. She hated the way she leaned into him, clung to his shirt as shaky sobs wracked her body.

He held her tight, one hand on her hair, brushing it from her face so her tears wouldn’t wet it, lightly running his fingers through. “I know. It’s okay. I know, you’re okay. It’s okay, Morgan. Let it out. I’m here.”

There were no words that could fully encapsulate her distress, so she didn’t try and speak. She hated how comforting Flynn’s cologne was, how soft his words were in her ears. Everything was so familiar and—

Fake, a nasty voice supplied. All his kindness and love were just a way to get close to you, to keep you close to him so he could betray you and get you here. Keep you here.

The salt from her tears washed into the cut in her lip from Villain. She winced. Usually, she was more robust than tears making her flinch, but she was just… exhausted. It was a long night… or day. Or both? Whatever. It didn’t matter now.

She sat up in Flynn’s arms and let him wipe the tears from her cheeks. He offered her a small, encouraging smile and she forced one onto her face. If she was going to be here for an indefinite amount of time, then she needed at least one person on her side. Since Villain already hated her guts and Supervillain was happy to have her not causing any trouble, the only one who she could sway was Flynn.

It was Supervillain’s master plan after all… he made Flynn become her partner, her best friend… even, in fleeting moments, more than that. It was her greatest mistake, trusting him, leaving an acrid taste in her mouth, or maybe that was just the dried blood. He glanced at her lips, then back to her eyes, a sad look crossed his features that made her chest tighten and bloom with a wailing warmth, like a banshee screaming in her ribs.  

“Here,” Flynn said. He took her arm gently and pulled a magnetic key from his pocket. He pressed the magnet to the bar and the cuffs clicked open like a ring-binder, freeing her wrists. She retracted them to her chest slowly. Her gaze went passed Flynn, the banshee’s screams turned her body cold, a sudden sadness overwhelmed her as she slowly pushed him away. She turned her back to his chest and slowly pushed herself to her feet. She stood still, rubbing her wrists as she took in the room.

To be fair to Supervillain it wasn’t a cramped cell like the basement, it was spacious. There were two skylight windows high on the domed roof, high enough that she couldn’t climb out of them without a considerable effort on her part, or maybe she was just tired. A large, extremely comfortable-looking bed was directly in front of the door, pressed against the back wall with two cherry wood bedside dressers. One had a lamp on it, the other a handful of books.

“There’s clothes in the wardrobe, but if you need anything I can grab it from your apartment or bring some stuff from mine.”

“Okay,” Morgan replied. Flynn played with the cuffs in his hand like he so usually did, always fidgeting when there was something on his mind. She didn’t prompt him to speak like she normally would. She didn’t have it in her.

“Um, if you need anything, my bedroom is the first door on the right from the stairs.”

“Okay.”

“Okay, uh, I’ll leave you then. To get settled in and stuff.”

Morgan nodded, biting her lip to keep in her sob. Half of her wanted to turn around, run to him, wrap her arms around him and ask him not to leave her, but the other half – the stronger, prouder half – won over. She stayed still as he left and shut the door behind him.

Morgan tentatively approached the bed, taking small, easy steps until she reached it and sat down heavily. The sheets were nice, the duvet cover soft. The duvet itself was thick and heavy. Morgan could just imagine the warmth and comfort smothering her into unconsciousness.

There was a full-length mirror in the small alcove beside the door and Morgan almost cried at her appearance reflected back at her. Her hair was a mess. The usual white-blonde strands looked more golden with how much grime and dirt clung to it. It looked more like a bird’s nest made with mud, leaves and twigs, probably from the scuffle in the woods with Flynn. Tears-streaked clean trails down her cheeks, cutting through the layer of dirt and some of the blood that was caked under her nose, and down her chin.

Crimson drops of blood-stained Morgan’s grey tunic that was visible below her thick, leather armour. She wanted nothing more than to just take it all off and burn it. If Supervillain got his way, Morgan wouldn’t have a use for it ever again. She shivered at the thought and shoved it down deep inside her, locking it away until she was ready to deal with it.

Her eyes zeroed in on her shoulder harness and she shot to her feet, turning and reaching behind her. Her hands found the familiar grips of her blades and she could’ve screamed. She unsheathed them with a swift, sharp click and a shink. Morgan turned again to face the mirror, and she smiled when she saw the usual fire in her eyes.

It was as if the world attuned around her, and she was whole again. As if one of her senses were muted but now she can finally breathe, the edges of everything sharpened in her eyes and she could feel the familiar alignment of her skill, mind and body all working as one as her grip settled around her blades.

How stupid could Supervillain be that he—

The fire stumbled in her eyes to a stupor, a flicker of hesitation dimmed it to a sporadic smoulder, as the light dimmed and fizzled out. Her grip turned white knuckled on her blades; her certain, strong hands shook as the realisation dawned on her.

This was just another way to humiliate her. Supervillain knew she would never use them, because if she did… if she even thought about such a thing then Sidekick would die and he’d reduce her to nothing, lock her in the cellar and throw away the key. Leave her to Villain, or her own despair, whichever killed her first.

She sheathed her daggers and undid the strap of the belt that crisscrossed over her chest and back, deflating as she went through the familiar motions. She pressed a hand to the front and lifted her dual scabbard-pauldron-hybrid over her head, laying it out carefully on a cherry wood table against a wall. Ignoring the fact that the wood in the room was all cherry, and the pang in her chest at sharing that it was her favourite with Flynn. She slipped her armour off as well, though the belts and buckles took more time to unfasten, and she let her mind wander into nothingness at the repetitive rhythms.

The first thing she noticed when she was relieved of her armour was the stench of her; a mix of blood, sweat and fear clung to her skin. She didn’t want to have a shower, she didn’t want to interact with anyone in this godforsaken house ever again, but she didn’t really have a choice in the matter.

She walked to the wardrobe and ignored the usual style of clothes she wore as a civilian, grabbing a pair of grey tracksuit bottoms and a sweatshirt and fresh underwear. She released a long exhale, expelling all the air from her lungs before she walked to the door and opened it. Flynn’s back greeted her, and she paused, brain too slow to process that.

“Can I use the shower?” She asked, voice empty.

Flynn shot to his feet, startled. She blinked at him as he turned. He looked guilty, like a child being caught being somewhere he shouldn’t. “Uh, yeah. Yes, of course. This way.”

She didn’t talk the entire way down the stairs. Thankfully the bathroom was on the second floor, but it was on the other end of the second floor. Morgan’s heart leaped into her throat as hope — that wretched, black thing — bloomed once more. She had to cross the other set of stairs to get to the bathroom. Tantalising information that she locked away in the cunning corner of her mind and continued on as if she were still hopeless and heartbroken. It wasn’t hard to fake, a lie wrapped in truth, all numbed by exhaustion.

Flynn opened the door for her. “Do you need me to show—”

“No,” she replied. “I can figure it out. Thank you.”

She passed him, and when their chests touched a pained expression crossed Flynn’s face. Morgan ignored it and closed the door on him, her heart stuttering as she clicked the lock shut. She pressed her forehead against the door, and out a breath.

How the fuck was she going to survive this?

*~*~*~*~*

Morgan’s face was obscured in the condensation coated mirror, which was fine by her, she didn’t want to see her face, now washed clean of dirt and grime. It still felt like it was on her, a film of filth that coated her entire body. Maybe that was Flynn’s betrayal, she didn’t know, but she felt a little better after the shower.

Now she stared at the door with a mutinous gaze. The locked door was a false blessing of security, but one she clung to with all her heart. She knew she had to leave eventually but she didn’t want to. She didn’t want to do a lot of things, like swallow her pride and stay in this fucking house filled with enemies that wanted her out of the city’s bigger picture.

Sidekick’s battered body flashed across her eyes, and she swallowed the bile that threatened to rise and spew from her mouth. She got to her feet and stomped over to the door before she lost the nerve. She half expected to see Flynn waiting outside like before, instead she was met with two gleaming eyes.

Morgan’s nostrils flared. “Villain.”

“You clean up nicely,” Villain said stepping towards her. Morgan fought the urge to step back, narrowing her eyes into a glare. “Of course, your nose is all busted. Definitely broken, I think.”

“What do you want?”

“Me?” Villain asked with a smirk. “I want you dead. As a sign to the rest of your little heroes not to fuck with us.”

Morgan closed the distance between them with a step, putting her face in Villain’s, despite her thrumming heart. “Too bad your family wants me alive. I guess we’ll both have to endure this misery.”

“You more so than I. After all, I’m not on house arrest. I can always go and visit sick people in the hospital—”

Morgan lunged for Villain but was stopped by her name: “Morgan.”

Morgan’s head snapped to Supervillain, fear flashing across her features before she could school them properly. Supervillain smiled, his eyes drifting between the pair.

“I trust my child is not causing you any trouble.”

“Not at all,” Villain replied smoothly. “Just waiting for the loo.” Villain shoulder checked Morgan on his way into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him.

“I see you’ve settled in. I trust your room is to your liking.” Morgan swallowed, a pitiful attempt to clear the ashen dryness that came to her mouth when Supervillain spoke to her.

“Flynn made sure of that,” she said, turning and walking back towards her room. She had to pass Supervillain to do that. He caught her arm before she could.

“You must let me treat your nose.”

“I thought it was a warning to not act out.”

Supervillain chuckled lightly. “No, sweet hero. I don’t intend to treat you inhumanly. Besides, I think Sidekick’s life is enough of a threat to keep you in check.”

Morgan yanked her arm free. “I don’t want anything from you.”

“How adorable that you think this is an offer you can refuse.” Supervillain gestured for Morgan to walk in front of him. She hesitated, not wanting to spend another second with Supervillain but her heart betrayed her head, and she reluctantly turned on her heel, and started down the stairs.

Supervillain followed behind. “To the kitchen, Morgan,” he instructed. Morgan turned right at the hall, passing the dining room and walking straight into what she assumed was the kitchen.

Supervillain chuckled as he followed her in. “You’re already familiar with the layout, I see.”

Morgan didn’t reply. Even if she wanted to the words would’ve died on her throat seeing Flynn sat at the island in the middle of the giant kitchen. It looked like a kitchen from downtown abbey, or the crown or something, but modernised with all new furniture and appliances.

“Morgan,” Flynn said, his eyes flicked past her to Supervillain’s, and back again, harder this time. “How was your shower?”

Morgan lingered awkward by the door, grabbing her wrist and rubbing her thumb over her skin. “Yeah. It was fine, thanks.”

“Sit beside Flynn, Morgan.”

Morgan shot him a black look, but she walked towards Flynn, nonetheless. “Why?” Flynn asked, a question directed at Supervillain, locking his phone and putting it on the counter in front of him.

A phone. Morgan tucked that information away in the back of her mind, she hadn’t even thought about phones until now.

“I’m going to re-align her nose, so it heals properly.”

Flynn didn’t say anything to the explanation as Morgan climbed onto the highchair beside him. She stifled a gasp when she felt Flynn’s hand snake into hers, flooding her with warmth and comfort that she hated coming from him. She hated how her body reacted to him like he was still the one person in the world that could make her feel safe and secure.

That alone she could live with. The thing that turned her stomach, and planted a deep seed of resentment inside her, was the fact that she didn’t pull away from him. She kept her hand firmly in his, his fingers intertwining with hers; that’s what would keep her up at night.

Supervillain walked over to her with a first aid kit in hand. He placed the box on the island counter and stepped in front of Morgan, looking down at her with a small smile. Morgan didn’t want him to touch her, to be this close to her, but she also didn’t want her nose to fuck up her breathing while she was here.

“May I?” Supervillain asked as he lifted his hands to her face. Flynn squeezed her fingers reassuringly. Morgan swallowed her pride and nodded.

Supervillain cupped Morgan’s cheek gently, his other hand going under her chin to tilt her head up as he inspected the damage with intelligent eyes.

“This will not be pleasant,” Supervillain said after a minute of silence. “Though, Flynn can tell you the amount of times I had to reset his nose as a boy. I became a pro.”

“It’s true,” Flynn said with a laugh. “And you had to do Vil’s twice.”

“Okay, Morgan. I’m going to count down from three, and I’ll break it and get it over with, okay?”

“Okay.” Morgan braced herself, squeezing Flynn’s hand as hard as she could.

“Good. Three—” Morgan let out a sharp cry and a curse as Supervillain grabbed her nose in his hand and re-broke it with a crunch. It sent waves of pain rocketing through her skull as she groaned, black spots formed in her vision as she pulled back instinctively. Supervillain kept a firm hand behind her head so she couldn’t pull away as he re-aligned her nose so it would heal properly.

“There we go, I’m sorry. It’s done, that’s the hard part,” Supervillain said as shocked tears slid down Morgan’s cheeks. Supervillain tilted Morgan’s head up again, twisting her face left and right, eyes focused on her nose as he moved her head. “Mmm. Marvellous. It looks good to me, but I think just to be sure, we should re-align it properly with the rods.”

Morgan’s eyes hardened into a glare. “No,” she said. “It’s fine. It feels fine. It will heal itself.”

“Morgan, it probably is—”

She rounded on Flynn and yanked her hand from his. “Oh please! Whose side are you on?”

“I think you need to calm down, Morgan,” Supervillain told her. The condescension in his tone just rubbed her the wrong way and before Morgan had even realised it one of her blades whizzed through the room and to her awaiting palm, she locked her fingers tight around it and glared at Supervillain, her nose flaring as her power returns and makes her feel at ease. Better than Flynn’s lofty support ever could. She didn't need him. She saw red, and wanted to draw blood from someone and Supervillain was standing so close to her.

“Tell me to calm down again,” she spat, jumping to her feet. “See what happens.”

Flynn got to his feet the same time as Morgan, cautiously looking between the two, waiting for Supervillain to give him the word before he did anything. God, how could Morgan have been so stupid to trust him?!

Supervillain was the only one whose expression didn’t change from before Morgan summoned the knife. Actually, if anything, he looked more relaxed as he folded his arms across his chest.

“I don’t need to see what happens, Morgan,” he said, fishing something from his pocket. His phone. “I just make a call, and Sidekick will be smothered in their sleep.”

Morgan let the knife fly, the point drew a line on Supervillain’s throat before settling heavy against his carotid artery. “Hard to do that if you’re dead.”

Supervillain smiled and grabbed the handle of the knife. “That’s fine by me, Morgan. Give Villain the satisfaction of killing Sidekick.”

Morgan’s shaky resolve crumbled, and her shoulders sagged as she dropped the knife. Its weight settled firm into Supervillain’s hand. He smiled at her and said: “good. Now, sit up and tilt your head back.”

“Dad—”

Supervillain held a hand up. “No, no. She’ll do it. Watch.”

Morgan obeyed wordlessly, climbing the stool and tilting her head back. She squeezed her fingers into fists on her thighs. “Look at that, Flynn. A hero that can take instruction. You could learn a thing or two from her.”

Neither Flynn nor Morgan responded. Something uneasy shifted under Flynn’s skin as he watched the girl he loved, the usually passionate, fiery Morgan, silent and subdued, waiting to do something she didn’t want to do.

Supervillain took his time, leaving Morgan sitting on the chair with her head back. He first crossed the kitchen to put the knife into the dishwasher, then washed some extra dishes on the sink to add some more humiliation to Morgan’s obedience. Then, to add insult to injury he dried the couple washed dishes, Morgan’s eyes following him all the while. Her head grew heavy on her shoulders like she was trying to hold back a kettle bell. Her neck strained as she struggled to keep it steady, not to move a muscle because she didn’t want to give Supervillain the satisfaction of seeing her fail.

Supervillain smiled at Flynn as he approached them and took out two familiar metal rods that he used on Flynn to fix his broken nose last year. “Hold her head for me, Flynn. You know how uncomfortable this can be.”

Flynn hesitated. He didn’t want to touch Morgan without asking her after that scene, and it didn’t feel… right to just do it.

“It’s fine, Flynn,” Morgan said softly as if reading his mind. Flynn swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded, more for himself than anyone else and placed his hands gently under Morgan’s head while Supervillain sterilised the metal rods.

Morgan closed her eyes as Flynn took the leaden weight from her shoulders, happy that she could finally let go and relax. Flynn was there, right behind her (literally) as she went through this new change in her life that was entirely his fault. The mutinous part of herself, that she kept chained in the basement of her mind ever since his betrayal, was preening with the fact that Flynn was there, because he would always be there. The one thing he promised her when they first became partners in the Morgan academy.

He would always be there, and here he was supporting her head through this very hard time. Or maybe it was the sheer exhaustion that had turned her mind to mush, her logic left her, and she was left only with this infuriating light feeling of safety in his hands.

“Okay, Morgan. This will hurt.”

That was all the warning she got before Supervillain pressed the rods into her nose and she fought the instinct to jerk forward. “Fuck!”

“Try not to speak,” Flynn said softly, as he rubbed the coarse pads of his thumbs over her temples. Morgan whined in the back of her throat as she felt the rods move against the walls of her nose, fixing the cartilage. Even the vibrations from her pained hums seemed to hurt her head.

But Flynn was there, whispering to her.

“You’re doing great.”

“It’s almost done.”

“You’re okay, Morgan.”

“It’s okay.”

His encouragement mixed with his motions of his thumb on her temples brought her into a weird, fugue state where her body only recognised the sensations from Flynn’s hands and voice and numbed everything else. Later on, she would realise he was probably in her head, re-arranging some of the furniture, but in that moment, she just closed her eyes and sank into the feeling.

“There,” Supervillain said, pulling the rods free. Morgan’s eyes opened lazily, staring cloudy up at a grinning Supervillain. “All done. You’ll be perfect in three weeks. Just in time too.”

Morgan’s eyelids fluttered, the fuzzy feeling in her taking over now that the danger was passed. “Three weeks?” She heard Flynn say. “That’s too soon.”

“Not at all,” someone said, maybe Supervillain. Probably, who cares? “Three weeks and she’ll have come to see our side of things, Flynn. Just look at her in your hands, completely out of it. I could tell her my big dark secret and she wouldn’t remember, would you Morgan?”

“I did that so she wouldn’t freak out—”

Morgan didn’t hear the rest of the conversation. She allowed the fuzziness to consume her like a weighted blanket, and finally, mercifully, sleep took her away from the world of consciousness.

*~*~*~*~*

Continued here

[whenuwishuponastar]

I'm drawing a perryshmirtz Wonka!AU and I'm having so much fun omg (they're both humans)

(details of the AU on the tags)

[of-fear-and-love]

Brainscan (1994)

[chaotic-orphan]

Heroic Betrayal: part five

Read part one here

Continued from this point here

*~*~*~*~*

What kind of idiot were they to be stuck here? Hero should have told Sidekick when they got the tip about Villain… they should have told them that they were going to rough Villain up a bit, get the information they needed on Other Villain’s whereabouts and beat the shit out of them. Just a little revenge for touching a hair on Sidekick’s innocent head.

Even if they managed to catch Villain and mete out justice on Other Villain, they would have beaten the ever-living shit out of the wrong person, and that was something Hero didn’t want to think about in that moment.

That Flynn…

Their Flynn was the one who put Sidekick in the med bay.

Sidekick, who was still in the med bay, where Hero should be, but no. Instead, they were here, powerless and bleeding and it was all their fault.

Hero didn’t know how long they sat and stewed on that thought. Long enough that their nose stopped bleeding anyway. Hero tentatively reached up to their upper lip, their hand came away from it dry, the blood caked and flaked onto their face now.

“What happened to your face?” Hero angled their head down from where they stared at the ceiling to see Flynn standing on the other side of the cell bars.

“Fuck off, Red,” Hero grumbled, and fought the wince at their casual nickname for Flynn slipping out of their lips. “I’m not in the mood.”

A jangle of keys and the cell door was open, footsteps approaching Hero in their cot in the corner. Hero’s heart ached with every beat as Flynn came into their line of sight, concern drawing his features together.

How many times had they seen that same concern on his face? Told Hero it was going to be okay. Cleaned their wounds, laughed about the bruises the next day?

How much of it was a lie? — Hero wanted to ask. The question burned a hole on the tip of their tongue, but they didn’t dare speak it. They just stared up at the ceiling as best they could.

“What? You piss someone off already?”

Hero sighed. Flynn sat on the edge of the bed, moving closer to Hero, his hands going to inspect the damage like he so often did. It made something ache in Hero’s chest. Hero slapped their hands away, tears burning in the back of their eyes.

“Don’t fucking touch me, Flynn,” Hero bit out. “You don’t get to betray me and then pretend to be my friend and concerned about me.”

Flynn stared; eyes sad as he said: “okay. Guess I deserve that.”

“You deserve so much more,” Hero said, eyes burning with hatred, voice barely above a whisper. “How many of our friends died because of you? Hmm?”

“Hero, not all of it–” Flynn began then stopped, huffed out a breath of air through his nose, hand running through his hair. “Not all of it was a lie. I am your friend. I do care about you.”

“Oh really? Then you’d never use your power on me, right?” Hero demanded, echoing back Flynn’s words against him. Flynn had the audacity to even look guilty at that, and Hero leaned forwards, hands on Flynn’s as they said: “I forgive you, okay. I forgive you if you let me go. Flynn, please.”

Flynn’s eyebrows knit together, clearly conflicted but he said nothing. After a moment, Hero let out a breath of disbelief and sat back against the wall again.

“Yeah,” Hero scoffed, “we’re friends.”

“You have blood all over your face, Hero. You really want to just leave it?”

“Why the hell not?” Hero said, trying to force their tone into some form of neutrality.

Flynn sighed and stood up from the cot. “Supervillain wants an audience with you. I was sent to retrieve you.”

Hero rolled their eyes but got to their feet no less. “Of course,” they said, pushing past Flynn to the door. “God help you actually wanted to see how I was doing.”

“Hero—”

“I don’t want to talk to you anymore. Let’s just go.”

“Hero that’s not—”

Before they could get the fourth word out, Hero had whirled on them eyes blazing hotter than any hells furnace.

“Fair?!” They asked incredulously, their voice jumping two pitches at the sheer audacity of the word on their lips. “Is that what you were going to say?”

Flynn didn’t back down this time. Instead he stepped forward, looking down his nose at Hero.

“Yes. That is what I was going to say.”

“You are unbelievable!” Hero snapped matching Flynn with a step forward of their own. They held their cuffed hands up in Flynn’s face as if to remind him exactly why Hero was there in the first place. “If you’re my friend you’ll take these off.”

“Hero you know I can’t—”

Hero didn’t let him finish. Instead they placed their palms on Flynn’s chest and shoved them as hard as they could. Flynn looked about as bothered as if a fly had flown into the room.

“I can’t uncuff you Hero,” Hero said, lowering their voice to mimic Flynn’s and shoving him back again. “I can’t let you go Hero.” And again. “I can’t fucking think—” shove “for myself” shove “Hero.”

Hero glared up at Flynn trying to fight back the frustrated tears building behind her eyes. Anger was easier to focus on in the moment rather than that vast aching pit twisting uncomfortably in their gut.

“But I promise I’m your friend, Hero,” Hero mocked, shoving him back again until Flynn’s back hit off the wall. Flynn’s eyebrows curved down and it left a pang in Hero’s chest that they hated. “And then you have the gall to look hurt. As if I betrayed you.”

Hero ignored the tears that fell at the last sentence, or at least tried to. They tried to be firm and act tough, but saying the betrayal out loud, acknowledging it when it was just the two of them was too much.

“Would you trust me if the roles were reversed?” Hero asked, not even wanting to look at Flynn for the answer. The more they saw the conflict on his face the harder it was to hate him. Flynn however, didn’t take this into consideration when he put his hand on Hero’s face and tilted it back to face him.

Hero narrowed their eyes at him, pushing every ounce of anger into their gaze hoping they would turn into actual daggers and stab him.

“No,” Flynn breathed softly, thumb wiping away the tear streaks from Hero’s face. “I wouldn’t trust you if the roles were reversed, but I would hear you out of you tried to explain it to me.”

“And if I took you to Supervillain?!” Hero asked, their voice low and furious as they stepped out of Flynn’s touch. “The enemy we’ve been trying to stop for months?”

“You.”

“What?!” Hero demanded hotly.

Flynn’s gaze hardened, his face devoid of all emotion now except for his usual mask of easy confidence, smirk on his lips as if he didn’t just wipe Hero’s tears away.

“The enemy you’ve been trying to stop for months,” Flynn said again taking a step forward, a dangerous glint in his eyes. Hero matched his step with one back, cautious, hackles raised. “I mean the man you borderline obsessed over, Hero. Don’t you want to meet the genius who eluded you, the great detective, for all that time?”

“Not particularly,” Hero said through gritted teeth, with another step back that Flynn matched, getting closer and closer each time.

“That’s what you called him though, right? A genius,” Flynn teased, his grin showing his teeth. “I mean, fuck, Hero some of the moves he made you were damn right impressed with. You even said you’d have done exactly the same thing if—”

“I was in his position,” Hero cut Flynn off. Flynn’s smirk grew wider as he took another step closer, dipping his head conspiratorially.

“Now you can be,” said Flynn with a wide gesture of his hands. Hero followed his hand to the cell door that they happened to be right beside. Hero was keenly aware that Flynn was backing them towards the door the whole time. “Even just for the intellectual stimulation if nothing else.”

“Go fuck yourself, Flynn. I’m not willingly walking into the Lion’s den.”

Flynn’s eyelids fell half over his eyes. “It is less dignified to be dragged, Hero, but if you insist.”

Flynn made a grab for Hero’s arm but they dodged at the last minute, turning to shoulder Flynn out of the way. Flynn didn’t so much as budge from his spot. Instead he caught Hero by the strap of their scabbard and yanked them into Flynn’s chest.

“The hard way, wonderful. I wouldn’t expect any less of you Hero,” Flynn said, wrapping an arm over Hero's chest and keeping them close as they stepped out of the cell, pushing Hero forward with their own body weight. “Let's go introduce you to Supervillain.”

*~*~*~*~*

Continued here

The orphanage roll call (tag-list): @shywhumpauthor (lmk if you want to be added/removed)

[coupleofdays]

The way it works on most computers, when you "delete" a file or program (including emptying the "recycle bin" in Windows), it's not actually instantly erased from the memory on the hard drive. It just means that the part of the memory that's occupied by the file/program is marked as being available to be overwritten by new data if necessary. The deleted object becomes part of the "free memory" on the hard drive, in other words. This is why it's possible to perform "data recovery" of deleted files, if you can locate the part of the memory that they were stored in, and they haven't been overwritten with new data yet. It also means that if you really want something to be truly, irrevocably removed from your computer memory, you can use "file shredder" software to make sure that it's overwritten (but even then, there are apparently some advanced data recovery techniques that might be able to recover the erased stuff, completely or partially).

What would this mean in the Tron universe? If we assume that "derez" is just another word for "delete", it could be possible that the Programs we see getting "killed" might be "resurrected" through data recovery. When we see Programs fade away, maybe they've just been relocated to some kind of shadowy limbo in the system memory, awaiting their final overwriting by new data.

Take poor Ram, for example. When Flynn has returned to the Real World after his adventures, it might be possible for him to restore the friendly actuarial Program if he can locate the memory in which he was stored (which shouldn't be too hard for a genius programmer/hacker, right?). He would have to be quick about it, however, since I imagine that deleted files could be overwritten fairly soon in a big corporate network with multiple Users like the ENCOM system. Once he's gotten over the thrill of being back home and having defeated Dillinger, I'd like to think that he hurries over to a computer in the empty offices and does his best to restore his digital companion during the same night, since it might be too late once the building opens for business the next day. I'm sure Roy Kleinberg would appreciate it as well.

I also like to imagine what would happen if you're not quick enough to restore a derezzed program, if their data has already been partially overwritten. Would they show up missing an arm or a leg, or a chunk of their head? Would their mind have been altered in some way?

This could also mean that the digital world has their own versions of "ghosts", depending on what happens to derezzed-but-not-yet-overwritten Programs. Maybe there are stories going around about feeling the presence of dead Programs in places where they used to live, or seeing shadowy images of them in the corner of your eye, or hearing their voices whisper from far away.

Also, in this case a "file shredder" Program would probably be a pretty intimidating figure: A sinister "ghost hunter" who goes around the system, with the goal of making sure that the dead stay dead, their memories and secrets being buried with them.

[distraughtlesbian]

i (DESERVEDLY‼️) heckle pb for a lot of their narrative choices but even all these years later this plot twist………masters in cuntology double major in slaysian studies and slutistical analysis minor in motherlogical studies graduated with honours from the university of servington. sorry. they chewed. i love the way it feels to be a hater but they can have their flowers just this 1 time

[its-to-the-death]

Villain Song Showdown Bracket F Round 2

We Both Reached for the Gun (Chicago) - Villain: Billy Flynn

The Last Day of Summer (The Lightning Thief) - Villain: Luke Castellan

Mod comment: Since the new Percy Jackson series came out, I've been getting Luke Castellan fanfics on my dash

[patchworkorphan]

Heroic Betrayal: part two

Continued from this

Hero stared at them; mouth open in silent confusion. Which all ended when they felt cold metal press against the back of their skull. Other Hero beamed at someone behind Hero, then fixed their smug gaze on Hero’s eyes.

“You won’t because you’re coming with us.”

*~*~*~*~*

“Don’t move,” came Villain’s voice over Hero’s shoulder. Hero lifted their head slightly, only to have the barrel press into their head and push it down again to face Flynn. “I will shoot you. Give him your handcuffs.”

Hero glared down at Flynn who looked entirely too pleased with himself. The barrel pressed Hero’s head down further impatiently.

“Now.”

Still Hero didn’t move. They didn’t know what to do but they knew they couldn’t just stay frozen like this forever. It was so hard to think with their heart beating fast against their chest. They needed to do something.

Flynn was a villain…

Forget it. Focus.

Flynn moved below Hero drawing them out of their trance. Flynn removed his hands from behind his head, reaching up to Hero’s waist and slid his hands to Hero’s back, unclipping the power dampening cuffs from their belt. He opened them with an easy flourish of his wrist.

Hero dodged to the right, one foot on the ground while they rounded their other foot out to Villain’s hand kicking the gun out of it. They followed the movement through, their second foot landing on the ground behind them so they stood with their knees slightly bent. Hero pressed their heels down into the dirt and lunged for Villain, catching them around the waist and they went rolling. Hero threw a punch once they stopped, but Villain caught it and clamped their fingers down on Hero’s fist, not letting go.

The corner of Villain’s lips quipped into a smile before shadows engulfed Hero's fist like a glove, and Villain squeezed Hero’s fist crushing it with their shadows. Hero cried out, ripping themselves away and stomping a heavy boot down on Villain’s armpit. Villain let go with a grunt, and Hero fell backwards, catching themself before they hit the ground. Hero stepped back, their shoulder hitting a tree, as they cradled their fist against their chest.

From Hero’s position they could see Flynn who was now standing, smiling, holding Hero’s handcuffs in their hand like it was a sure thing, like they weren’t afraid of Hero getting away from them. It made Hero’s skin crawl and blood boil at the same time.

How could he just stand there and be so nonchalant about being a villain. How did hero never notice? Never see! They were such an idiot.

“Don’t make this harder than it needs to be,” Flynn said as Villain got to their feet. Hero had to fight. They had to.

Hero stood up straighter, shaking out their wrist before reaching one hand behind their back, the other over their shoulder and drew their long, curved daggers from their sheaths. The black blades glinted beautifully up at Hero, an extension of their arm and the world seemed to right itself once more. The familiar click of their power humming once their blades settled comfortably in their palm.

Hero set their jaw, glaring at Flynn, and said: “go fuck yourself.”

Villain rolled their eyes, reaching down to pick up their gun. “I told you they’re more trouble than they’re worth,” said Villain, tone bored.

Flynn’s head tilted to the side. “I know, but aren’t they just adorable?”

Hero lunged for Flynn, and Flynn ducked out of the way. Hero manoeuvred back easily, shooting their right up in a feint, Flynn dodged to the left and Hero grinned as they got the blade of their left under Flynn’s throat.

“Hero…” Flynn said with their beautiful voice and Hero could feel the edges of their vision blur. They shook their head quickly, shoving Flynn away. “Stop fighting us, Hero. Come willingly.”

Hero stopped, feeling weak, their guard lowering just a smidge. The compulsion moving through their mind like molasses, making them sluggish. Hero bit down hard on the inside of their cheek, drawing blood and the taste of iron sharpened them again.

They drew their daggers up.

Only one blade raised. Hero frowned, their head turning slowly down to their side to see a glove of shadows enshrouding their arm up to the middle of their forearm.

The shadows pulsed darkly and squeezed around Hero’s wrist until they let out a sudden painfilled cry. Hero reached over trying to claw the shadows away with their free hand, but their hand went straight through the shadows to their arm. The shadows intangible. To Hero’s horror when they pulled their hand away the shadows had wrapped around both.

Hero had barely a second to register it before the shadows pulsed again, a deep all-encompassing black and the pain intensified tenfold. The shadows were so cold, too cold and empty but they burned, as if Hero was submerged in the Arctic ocean. It felt like the shadows were burning cold under Hero's skin. Ice raced through their veins as white flashed behind Hero’s eyes, and they were screaming the only thing that seemed to bring any heat back into their body. Hero didn't even notice that they dropped their precious daggers beside them.

Every muscle in their body seized up with the blinding pain as Hero fell to their knees, gasping in shaky breaths as the excruciating pain ebbed into a sickening cold that left Hero shivering. Tears they didn't know had fallen turning cold on their cheeks. Hero was exhausted, even breathing was too much effort: their breath dredged up from their lungs, Hero heaving in heavy air. Even the darkness seemed too bright all of a sudden.

A pair of boots advanced before them, a hand went under their chin tilting their Head up to see Flynn standing above them, regarding them with a mimicry of pity. “I told you to come the easy way, Hero,” he said.

The cuffs of shadow raised Hero’s wrists to meet Flynn’s hands and he locked the cuffs down snug against Hero’s wrists. Hero felt the familiar sizzling of power beneath their veins fade and become nothing but a knowing ache, like there was something missing that is supposed to be there. Powerless. Hero barely had it in them to care, mind still hazy from the pain as the shadows dissipated under the cuffs.

Flynn reached down, scooping up Hero’s daggers and sheathed them behind Hero’s back. The action alone made Hero want to sob, the cruelty of having the opportunity to fight back so close and not being able to reach it.

“Let’s not dally any longer, Flynn. We don’t know if they called for reinforcements.”

“Don’t worry,” said Flynn, looking down at Hero with a fond smile. He tucked a stray piece of hair behind Hero’s ear as he said: “they didn’t.”

Hero shivered at their easy confidence. Hero knew Flynn and Flynn knew Hero, inside and out, they were partners... Flynn put their hands under Hero’s elbow and started guiding them up, but Hero pulled away. “Get away from me,” Hero spat, venom lilting every syllable.

The shadows reappeared at Hero’s arms, and they glared up at Villain, though they thought they were going to have a heart attack at the simple threat.

“He likes you. He wants you. He is the only thing keeping me from unleashing the shadows to wrangle some more of your pretty little tears, and cute little screams from your lips. So, if I were you, I’d listen to him and stand the fuck up, Hero.”

Hero glared at Villain, then looked down to the shadow still clinging threateningly to their arms and sucked in a sharp breath. When Flynn offered to help them up again, this time Hero let them. Hero felt bile rise in their throat when Flynn touched them, but they sucked it up for the moment. It was better than having Villain’s shadows torture them.

“There you go, Hero. See how nice it can be when we’re civil? Trust me, we’ll have fun together,” Flynn said, disgustingly chipper. “The three amigos!”

The cold air bit into Hero’s skin as they walked through the woods, Flynn walking beside them and Villain striding ahead, alert, and ready. Their muscles still shaking after the unnatural use of Villain's shadows on them.

“How long?” Hero croaked. They didn’t mean for it to come out as broken as it did; like they were a wounded dog, a stupid puppy who got kicked and kept coming back for more.

Flynn was gentle as they said: “as long as we’ve been friends, if that’s what you mean. Longer, before I even joined the academy. I guess I’ve always been a Villain, the rouse was the hero business.”

“We met at the academy. When you told me that you wanted to help people from the dregs—”

“I do,” said Flynn sincerely, and it sounded so convincing. “I just don’t think being a Hero will let me do it. Supervillain—”

“Terrorises the city!” Hero bit out. Flynn just sighed.

“Well, you’ll understand when you meet them.”

Hero’s blood ran cold, their feet slowing to a stop. Flynn glanced at Villain’s back, then stepped in front of Hero, their once kind eyes that were so reassuring now only served to terrify Hero, as if they looking into a stranger's. “You’re bringing me to Supervillain?”

“Of course. After I told Supervillain who was single handedly thwarting our every attack, seeing through every diversion…” Flynn said with a coy smile, eyes flashing with something Hero had never seen in them before. Flynn’s voice dipped as they said, “well let’s just say they were intrigued.”

Hero’s blood was pumping in their ears as they swallowed the lump in the throat, forcing themselves to speak, not to cry. Don’t cry.

“You… you were always with me… following my lead. I thought you trusted me. I thought— but after,” Hero’s eyes hardened as they shoved Flynn in the chest, pushing them back a step. “All this time you were just keeping an eye on me! You fucking— you knew Sidekick was—”

Hero’s eyes widened then, and they wanted to get sick. “You went with Sidekick… they didn’t meet Other Villain at all, did they?”

Flynn’s intelligent eyes turned cruel, drawing a sadistic smile onto his face. He reached up and grabbed Hero’s chin between his index finger and thumb, pinching it. He didn’t let Hero escape as they tried to move their head back, he just tightened his grip until it turned painful. Hero reached up again to shove Flynn back, but Flynn caught their arm and held them down, as if Hero's struggles were non-existent.

“See what I mean, Hero? So intelligent. So clever. Supervillain will love you.”

Flynn grabbed Hero’s elbow again. This time his grip was harsh and tight as he dragged Hero along with him to catch up with Villain, and Hero didn't bother to waste their energy struggling anymore. They had to relax and save their energy for the right moment.

*~*~*~*~*

Continued here