#hero versus villain

[bleue-flora]

There has been a lot of discussion regarding c!Quackity, c!Tommy and c!Dream recently, a good portion stemming from the recent video circling around, where it is depicted that c!Tommy not only knew of c!Quackity’s torture but approved.

But while I could write an essay about it (ok yea I did…but) instead I want to shift the focus a bit, away from the same debates we keep having year after year. Because I think we’ve become too focused on the characters themselves over the audience's perception of them and too focused on morality, justification, and right and wrong in a story where everyone is morally questionable. Because at the end of the day it isn’t whether c!Dream or c!Tommy were actually right or justified, it is about - Who you root for and why. It is about (you) the audience's perception of the characters, not the characters’ perceptions of each other. Sure, c!Tommy himself feels justified in hurting c!Dream but do you believe he was.

With that thought in mind I found myself reading a 24 page research paper last night on a psychological study that looked at: What an audience defines as the hero and villain, Why they are naturally pulled to like certain characters and hate others, and What is the audience’s classification of morality in regard to the characters of fiction, where the conditions of morality are often not defined. One of the things shown in the data and line up to real life is that at the end of the day, heroes and villains are not defined on true purity and morality itself. If they were, action heroes and anti-heroes wouldn’t be successful and enticing. And yet, anti-heroes are some of the most beloved characters. In fact, I for one am typically drawn to violent anti-heroes, some of which are the heroes despite being perhaps sadistic murderers and torturers. But if the audience doesn’t simply define hero and villain as ‘good’ and ‘evil’ then what is pulling us toward taking one side over the other?

The answer is actually more complex than you might think. According to this paper, the first thing taken into consideration in a viewer’s appeal or unappeal of a character has to do with what the viewer considers “appropriate behavior.” Simply put, “appropriateness” is basically a social judgment which serves to approve or disapprove of a character’s behavior. This can be based on many things, such as cultural norms, societal code of conduct, your personal morals or experiences. And I think this is key, because I for one see stealing and griefing when I play Minecraft as seriously hurtful things to do (even though you can always rebuild). To the point that if you blow up the house I spent hours building or take my items it can ruin the fun for me entirely. So my definition of the appropriateness of such behavior might differ from people who take those things much more light-heartedly, causing me to disapprove of c!Tommy more than they would for that behavior.

Even further, when it comes to determining their appropriateness of behavior as in whether we tend to approve or disapprove of them we can look at moral domains, which spark our moral intuition instead of simply categorizing everything into ‘good’ or ‘bad’ since not even our subconscious brain is always so black and white. In the research I read, they looked at two sets of domains (aka sets of relating attributes used to measure and compare): The person-perception domains of Warmth (tolerant, friendly, warm, polite, gentle, trustworthy), Competence (intelligence, cleverness, opposite of stupidity, efficiency) and Duplicity (mad, tormented, violent, and tragic), which help to measure our perception of morality in characters as well as the five moral domains of MFT - harm/care (concerned with the suffering of others and empathy), fairness/reciprocity (related to justice), authority/respect (related to hierarchy and dominance), ingroup/loyalty (common good and punitiveness toward outsiders), purity/sanctity (concerned with contamination). According to the research behind these domains, we, the viewer, evaluate characters immediately and without cognitive deliberation. In other words, when characters fulfill domains it sticks with us and when they violate domains it can send out major red flags to us as soon as it happens without us thinking about it, not later in more considerate retrospect. So then, it makes sense that now as we debate we struggle to find common ground because our judgment was made ages ago and it's hard to reason with our already defined moral intuition.

As such, since I started getting into the dsmp first by watching all of the recordings of previous streams in order in this one playlist then going onto watching all of the blueberrytv videos (at the time of course), which edit the streams to allow you to see things from multiple perspectives. Therefore, I watched things from the very beginning, back when it was just c!George and c!Dream goofing off and dying in the nether. So, my intuitive judgment of c!Dream involves him building the community house, always trying to keep the peace between his friends, exploring the world so he can bring back all the types of wood for people to build with, building the prime path to connect everyone's houses together to make for easier travel, rebuilding Tubbo’s house after c!Tommy burned it down, helping c!Ponk when people kept burning down his house. These are just some of the moments I suspect helped to form my evaluation of him. Showing him as being very empathetic and caring, being loyal to his friends and accepting of new people, being a mediator and trying to keep things fair between his friends, fulfilling at least 3 (since he kinda is the authority that is hard to classify) of the moral domains. The streams also depicted the characteristics with warmth as well as competence and intelligence. So immediately my perceptive moral intuition deemed him the hero. As he fulfilled the warmth and competence domains of the one method and most of the domains of the other method without violating them in an obvious enough manner for me to remember at this moment (These are by no means the only reasons why I’d be inclined to root for c!Dream but that's beside the point).

On the other hand, my introduction to c!Tommy was him immediately breaking the three rules, by going around taking down donator’s signs, griefing, stealing, claiming things and property as his, trying to kill people until he ends up being banned. So he hurt others and causes harm, he is invited to join and have fun but fails to reciprocate that by going about and messing things up, he immediately disrespects everyone and defies authority by breaking the rules, hard to say on loyalty though (as mentioned above) him burning down c!Tubbo’s, his best friend, house doesn’t give me the impression of loyalty, concerning purity he scams and lies, is obsessed (though hardly the only one) with male genitalia (which I personally find unsavory) and is disrespectful towards women so definitely failing in the purity and sanctity domain as well. In regards to warmth, I wouldn’t say so, nor particularly competent, though certainly meeting the more violent and aggressive elements of duplicity. So in other words, in just his first few streams he has violated every moral domain, while also not meeting the warmth or competence but meeting duplicity. So immediately my impression of him is to dislike and disprove as my moral intuition labels him as a villain.

In other words, perhaps our affinity for characters and perception of their morality has less to do with actual legal or other measurements of morality but more of what our initial impression was that formed our judgment from the very start. Because at the end of the day, I feel like the discussion needs to be less about whether this character or that character is ‘good’ or ‘bad’ because their motivation or trauma justifies their behavior and more about what qualities do you appreciate about the character. At the end of the day, it's fiction and you should be able to love or hate whatever character you want regardless of morality or right & wrong. It’s your opinion and I don’t see other fandoms shaming and bashing other people for liking a certain character that others dislike and/or the protagonist dislikes meaning therefore they are bad so how can you like them. But in the same way, I should also be able to hate a character without being bashed for not being empathetic to their trauma… Anyways I think the idea that we all see characters as justified and innocent in our own way is cool, especially in respect to the dsmp which is told from all angles, and that’s what I set out to learn more about and share with you. Hopefully, you have enjoyed my findings and I made sense (…..and if it didn’t, you are always welcome to ask or add on :D), sorry for the length I’m beginning to realize conciseness is not my strong suit…

I hope with this interesting angle, we can lean away from discussions on legal, moral, crime, trauma and more towards questions of preference and characteristics and personal perception - Why do you root for them? What was your introduction to the characters? How do you think that impacted your viewpoint on the story? Has your viewpoint ever changed? What do you think helped define your definition of ‘appropriateness’?… etc <3 <3

[treverscottcameron]

[onewomancitadel]

I think I actually figured out the source of my difference with many others in my previous post (the nature of good and evil, the deconstruction of narrative) so that was actually helpful to me in the end... because I disagree on both accounts with many people online lol

[acurtist]

It's a bird, 🦚

It's a plane, 🚁

Oh, nevermind. I have enough problems. 🥲

[profoundgladiatorbarbarian]

The moment you have all been waiting

The story of three cats, conquering one of the greatest villains, and defeating her with her own power

Or did they

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1eGj-QUwgr3HJPlu2qPYjH2utgRj2S_8vl_e3r7v3VFc/edit?usp=drivesdk

Disney's new greatest story quest for the kingdom

[jdthecomicotaku]

Kunai vs Striker, the rematch between the two sword wielding masters of action and mayhem.... One a Vigilante Ninja and the other an unkillable mercenary with no conscience...

Final colors:

Lineart:

Get some previous comic books of these two's greatest battles:

https://www.indyplanet.com/comic-otaku-press

[anatidaephobia7]

I finally finished Chapter 15! Phew! That took way too long! I was stuck on some parts and my brain convinced me I couldn’t write it 😭

[hollowsentinel]

Fuck it.

Hebert has a Handgun: everywhere Taylor looks, she sees guns and munitions. Sometimes they are in incredibly inconvenient places. At least one time she finds a gun, it is in her backpack. At school. Where Madison can see if her gaze falls just so.

But that's not important.

What's important is how unimportant Taylor is in spite of this. The guns are a side note in her life. She is so very small in the end. She is just a speck of dust is the great cosmos of the universe. The night sky is beautiful beyond the words she loves with her mother.

Brockton Bay is bright. Boston is brighter still even in the distance. The stars? The galaxy? The universe as seen from a rooftop? It shines clearly in spite of all the reasons that would obscure it.

Clearly, Taylor is parahuman. Or she is under the effect of a parahuman power. Her vision remains sharp with or without her glasses. (She can wear sunglasses at night with no issues at all.) But what sort of cape just sees clearly? Try as she might, sharp vision is nothing so special as to challenge any of the problems in Brockton Bay.

But that is no reason not to try.

A gun on school grounds cannot stop her. It is nothing a tattoo cannot fix. It may be a pain to explain the tramp stamp, but at least it is not grounds for immediate expulsion and criminal record. Or getting gunned down by cops.

[postersbykeith]

[tornrose24]

I'm loving the fact that in the background, Scratch still has some kind of weird friendship with the kid from Big City Greens that continues form those chibi shorts. (Also–Oh hey, the villain Alfred Molina voiced was included too LOL)

WE WIN!!!!!!!

[frank-o-meter]

IRON MAN VERSUS

Earlier I posted about the villains in Superhero movies, where I noticed that White Heroes nearly always fight against White Villains. And Heroes of Color and Women Heroes almost always fight against other Villains of Color or other Women.

I’ve been curious about this odd segregation in casting in Hollywood and I want to research it further.

In Iron Man’s various appearances in the MCU, he has fought against 9 opponents - all either played by White Actors or voiced by White Actors. Three of them were corporate executives like Tony Stark.

IRON MAN

Iron Man (2008) - Jeff Bridges

Iron Man 2 (2010) - Sam Rockwell, Mickey Roark

Avengers (2013) - Tom Hiddleston

Iron Man 3 (2014) - Guy Pearce

Avengers/Ultron - James Spader(CGI)

Cap Civil War (2016) - Chris Evans, Daniel Brühl

Avengers Infinity (2018) - Josh Brolin(CGI)

Avengers Endgame (2018) - Josh Brolin(CGI)

[cinnasite]

with great power comes great lesbianism

꩜ pairing: spiderman!ellie williams x female reader

꩜ warnings: explicit content, language

꩜ word count: 5.5k

꩜ synopsis: your campus crush is awkward, brilliant, and possibly allergic to eye contact. your city’s superhero is bold, brawny, and keeps saving your life. it takes a few close calls and some questionable physics to realise they’re the same girl—and she’s falling for you, too.

The first time Spider-Girl saves you, it's from a mugger in an alley behind the campus coffee shop. You're fumbling through your backpack for your pepper spray when she drops down like some extremely agile angel, all wisecracks and impossibly fluid movements.

"Hey there, citizen," she quips with her trademark enthusiasm, expertly knocking out the guy with a single punch. God, she’s always so extra on television. You didn’t think she’d be a hundred times worse in real life. "Didn't anyone ever tell you that walking alone at night is, like, really bad for your web of safety?"

You stare at her, dumbfounded, heart hammering from more than just the adrenaline. "Did you seriously just make a spider pun?"

"Maybe." Even through the mask, you can hear her intolerable grin. "You okay? No injuries? Emotional trauma? Sudden urge to take up martial arts?"

"I'm fine," you manage, though you're definitely not. She's hanging upside down now, her auburn hair falling in waves around her masked face, and something indescribable about her voice is making your stomach flip. You clutch your pepper spray tighter.

"Good. Great. Awesome," her extremely endearing stuttering doesn’t distract you from how delicious her biceps look in that top-notch suit of hers. "Um, you should probably get home. Soon. Don’t want to miss dinner. Most important meal of the day."

She swings away before you can thank her (or correct her on how the phrase is actually about breakfast), leaving you alone with your breathing irregular and a very inconvenient crush on a masked vigilante.

The second time is five days later, when a chunk of building facade decides to almost make friends with your head during the villain of the week’s rampage downtown. Spider-Girl appears out of nowhere, scooping you up in arms that are surprisingly stronger than anticipated (not that you’ve been thinking about her arms, haha, no way) and swinging you to protection on a nearby rooftop.

"We've got to stop meeting like this," she pants, setting you down gently. "People are gonna talk."

"Are you following me?" you gape at her, brushing dust from your jacket.

"What? No! That's—that's crazy talk. I'm a hero. Heroes don’t follow. They heroically arrive. At coincidental moments."

You purse your lips, evidently skeptical, "Right. Coincidental."

"Very coincidental. Cosmically coincidental, even. The universe is just really invested in us meeting, apparently."

While she goes off on a tangent about something too philosophical for your understanding, you’re more focused on scrutinising her mannerisms. There's something eerily familiar about the way she gestures, all animated hands and panicky grace, but you can't seem to place it. You table your suspicions for another time. That is, if there is another time.

And, oh boy, there is. 

You're walking home from a last-minute convenience store visit when a car runs a red light, heading straight for you. It’s downright ridiculous. At this point, you’re convinced that you’re undeniably cursed. Before you can ponder over the pros and cons of becoming roadkill versus finally escaping the group project from hell, a blur of red and blue tackles you to the pavement, and suddenly you're staring up at the sky wondering if you've died.

For a moment, you're pressed chest to chest with Spider-Girl, her masked face inches from yours. You can feel her heaving, quick and shallow.

"Okay," you whisper. "Now I’m certain you're following me."

"I—" she scrambles backward, nearly tripping over her own feet. "It's not what it looks like!"

You shake your head, trying to gain sense of your surroundings, "It looks like you're stalking me."

"I prefer 'keeping tabs on.' For very legitimate reasons."

You let out a disbelieving laugh, studying her, "What's your name?"

"Girl, do you have a concussion?” 

"Your real name, smartass."

She freezes, her frantic spiraling reaching an abrupt halt, "Come on, gorgeous It’s not so simple. That's classified information."

"Of course," you stand with a defeated sigh, running a hand through your hair and trying not to fixate on how she chose to refer to you (gorgeous, gorgeous, gorgeous). "Well, thanks for the save. Maybe next time you could text me when there's danger instead of lurking like a weirdo?"

You're halfway down the block when you hear her call out: "I don't have your number!" You turn back, grinning, "I guess you'll have to ask for it like a normal person!"

The girl in your Advanced Calculus class is strange.

Not bad strange—sort of a cute strange, truly. She showed up six weeks into the semester, all quiet and nervous twitching, taking the only empty seat right next to you. She has freckles scattered across her nose and the greenest eyes you've ever seen, and she fidgets constantly, like she's got too much energy for her own skin.

"Ellie," she'd introduced herself on her first day, awkwardly extending a hand that was covered in small scars and calluses. "Williams."

"Nice to meet you," you'd replied, and something about her crooked smile made your chest tight.

She's brilliant in class—when she shows up, of course. Professor Martinez assigns a problem set on differential equations and Ellie solves them with an elegance that makes everyone lean forward to so much as catch a glimpse of her work. But she has her quirks like not making eye contact while explaining her solutions, and doodling in the margins of her notebooks—intricate patterns that look too similar to webs, you suppose. 

Also, she stares at you. A lot.

"Earth to Ellie," you mutter during a particularly boring lecture on integration techniques. She's been gazing at you for the past five minutes, completely obvious about it.

She startles, knocking over her water bottle. "Shit, sorry. I wasn't—"

You stifle a laugh, "Staring at me?" Her face goes pink, about ready to burst if she could, "I was thinking about derivatives. Pretty intensely."

"Uh-huh, here," you hand her some napkins from your bag, helping salvage her soaked notes. "What's your take on the fundamental theorem of calculus, then?"

"It's... fundamental," she says, then grimaces when she seems to realise how that sounds. "I mean, it's inherently elegant. The way it connects differentiation and integration like two sides of the same coin."

You're impressed despite yourself, "Not many would choose to explain it that way, but it’s a fitting analogy."

"Thanks." She plays around with her pen and you wonder how someone’s fingers could be so long and slender and—

Oh my fucking god, please stop.

You snap out of your thoughts to come face-to-face with Ellie rambling, too engrossed in what she’s saying to notice how your neck is embarrassingly flushed. "I'm good with connections. How things relate to each other."

As if summoned by her words, her phone vibrates with what sounds like a notification. She glances at it offhandedly and her whole body goes tense.

"I-I have to—bathroom—emergency—" she's already gathering her things, moving with surprising dexterity despite her apparent alarm. At first, you can only blink at the sudden shift, thinking it's some kind of elaborate excuse or a joke you’re not in on. But she's already weaving through chairs, clutching her bag like a lifeline.

"Everything okay?"

"Yeah! Fine! Totally fine! Just, erm, digestive issues!"

By the time you lurch to your feet, she's vanished around the corner, leaving behind only the ghost of her perfume and a rapidly cooling seat. Twenty minutes later, news alerts start buzzing about Spider-Girl stopping a large-scale robbery across town.

You start paying attention after that. Really paying attention.

From your elaborate observations, you’ve concluded the following: Ellie disappears from class every time there's a Spider-Girl sighting. She shows up the next day with new bruises she claims are from "aggressive skateboarding" or "really competitive rock climbing." Who does she think she’s trying to fool? Moreover, she knows too much about physics and momentum for someone who supposedly just likes math.

"Want to study together?" you nonchalantly ask one Thursday under the guise of Professor Kim sending out a particularly brutal assignment. In actuality, you were on the prowl for some hardcore evidence to back your hypothesis. "The library has those group study rooms."

Ellie's eyes light up, caught off guard by the offer, "Yeah, yes! Absolutely. I mean, if you want. I'm probably not that helpful, but—"

A pointed stare from you shuts Ellie up, "You're literally the smartest person in our class."

A sheepish smile is all you get in response. The study session is a disaster and the best three hours of your week simultaneously.

Ellie is smart, walking you through complex equations with a patience that makes you genuinely grateful to have her by your side, but she's also the most distractible person you've ever met. Her phone buzzes constantly—emergency alerts, news notifications, text messages that make her face go pale.

"Popular girl," you can’t stop yourself from teasing after the seventh interruption.

"Not really. Uh, I volunteer with this community safety thing. Neighborhood watch type deal."

"Neighborhood watch?"

"Mhm, very active neighborhood watch."

She's helping you with a particularly tricky problem, leaning close enough that you can smell her shampoo, when her phone starts borderline shrieking with alerts.

"Shit," she mutters, grabbing it, looking beyond apologetic. "I have to—"

"Go," you say, even though you're disappointed. "Your neighborhood watch thing?"

"Yeah. Last-minute emergency... watching."

She's halfway to the door when she turns back. "Can we do this again? The studying, I mean. Not the emergency part."

You try to bite back a more than pleased smile. You’re not successful, "I'd like that."

After she leaves, you sit in the empty study room for a while, thinking about the way she explained vector calculus like it was poetry, the way her eyes lit up when she talked about complex theorems, the way she looked at you like you were the most interesting equation she'd ever encountered.

Until reality punches all of the air out of your lungs: "Spider-Girl Saves Civilians Trapped in Terrible Industrial Fire."

The realisation hits you during the next class.

Professor Kim is explaining the mechanism behind projectile motion, and Ellie is taking notes with the intensity of someone who needs to understand exactly how objects move through three-dimensional space. Which is apt, you guess. 

"The trajectory of any projectile can be calculated using these equations," Professor Kim drawls, writing on the board. "Accounting for initial velocity, angle of projection, and gravitational acceleration..."

Ellie's pen moves across her notebook, but she's not just copying the equations, you notice. She's modifying them, adding variables, and sketching what looks like trajectory paths between buildings.

Huh, that’s interesting.

"Miss Williams," Professor Kim’s voice booms throughout the hall, "could you share your perspective regarding the topic at hand?"

Ellie looks up, startled. "Oh. I-I was just thinking about how you'd need to account for air resistance in real-world applications. And wind patterns. And if you were, I don’t know, swinging between buildings, you'd need to calculate the optimal release point to maintain momentum while accounting for the pendulum effect of the swing itself."

It’s dead silent. You raise an eyebrow. The class stares at her.

Professor Kim clears her throat, "That's a good question. Yet very specific, Miss Williams."

"I just think about practical applications," Ellie mutters weakly.

After class, you corner her in the hallway, determination oozing from the way you stride over to her. "Swinging between buildings?" you ask.

Ellie can barely hold it together, buzzing with the need to be anywhere but in front of you. "Hypothetically."

"Hypothetically," you echo, studying her face. "You know, I've been thinking about patterns lately, since our conversation. Like how Spider-Girl always seems to show up right after you disappear from class."

Ellie goes very still. "That's... cool."

"Is it? Because I've been doing some math of my own. The timing, the locations, the way you know exactly how web-swinging would work from a physics perspective."

"Funny story, I’m… ah… writing a research paper on Spider-Girl’s abilities—"

"You have the same voice as a certain masked hero who's saved my life three times."

Her face goes pale. She opens and closes her mouth a few times, unable to devise an escape plan. And she has tons of experience in those. "I can explain."

You lean closer, lowering your voice, "Can you? Because I'm starting to think my study partner is also the girl who's been stalking me from rooftops."

"I haven't been stalking you!" she protests, then catches herself. "I mean, I don't know what you're talking about."

You tilt your head, close enough to see the panic in her green eyes. "Prove it."

"How?"

"Kiss me."

"What?"

"If you're not Spider-Girl, then kissing me shouldn't be a problem. But if you are..." you let the sentence hang, your own pulse skyrocketing.

Ellie stares at you, bewilderment painting her features. "That's not—that doesn't prove anything."

"Doesn't it? Because I'm pretty sure Spider-Girl has been wanting to kiss me for weeks. The question is whether Ellie Williams wants to kiss me too."

The words tumble out before you can second-guess them—bold, reckless, and so unlike you. But for once, you don’t care. The hallway is empty, most students having fled to their next classes. Ellie looks around desperately, like she still believes that she can scheme her way out of this.

"I—" she starts, then ultimately stops. Her shoulders slump. "Fuck."

"Is that a confession?"

"It's an acknowledgment that I'm terrible at this secret identity thing."

You grin, pleased with yourself, "So you are Spider-Girl."

"Yeah." She runs a hand through her hair. "And I've been going crazy trying to keep away from you while also making sure you're safe, and I think I'm falling for you but I can't tell if it's because I'm Spider-Girl or because I'm Ellie, and—"

You kiss her.

It’s soft, at first, almost hesitant, but it lands with the quiet certainty of something long overdue. Her words die against your lips, a half-formed thought swallowed by the warmth of your mouth on hers. She lets out a soft, startled sound, something between a gasp and a sigh, and then she’s kissing you back like it’s instinct, like she’s been waiting for this as long as you have.

Her hands rise to cradle your face, fingers trembling just slightly as they settle against your cheeks. She leans into you, melts, and the world narrows down to the press of her body against yours and the wild, thunderous beat of your heart.

When you finally pull back—breathless and stunned—she doesn’t say anything. Just stares at you with wide, shining eyes like she’s seeing something brand new.

Like she’s never wanted anything more.

"Both," you whisper. "You asked if you're falling for me as Spider-Girl or as Ellie. For me, it's both. I'm falling for both of you."

Her smile, the brightest you’ve ever seen, could power the entire campus. "Really?"

"Really. Though I have to say, your secret identity skills need work."

"Yeah, yeah. I'm getting that." She ducks her head, but not before you catch the rising blush, equal parts pride and bashfulness. You’re not sure if it’s the jab, the kiss, or just you that’s got her blushing like that, but whatever it is, you want to see it again. 

"We should probably talk about this somewhere more private," you say, glancing around the empty hallway.

"My apartment?" Ellie suggests, then immediately looks panicked. "If you want. For talking. Just talking. Very innocent talking."

You laugh, carefree, watching the panic bloom across her face like she’s just proposed something scandalous instead of, quite frankly, simply suggesting. It’s cute—dangerously cute—and a spark of amusement curls in your chest. "Ellie."

"Yeah?"

"It’s alright. I'm not going anywhere."

Her apartment is small and cluttered, textbooks scattered across every surface, equations scrawled on sticky notes stuck to the walls. Such a nerd, you think to yourself with barely controlled lust. There's a familiar suit hanging in the closet, and you stare in awe.

"So," you begin, settling on her couch. "How long?"

"About a year. There was this lab accident—" she sits beside you, close enough that your knees touch. "Radioactive spider. Very original, I know."

"And you've been doing the superhero thing since then?"

"Someone has to. The city's not exactly overflowing with good-natured people."

You drink in her face, taking in the small scar on her cheekbone, the way her eyes are alight with something unfamiliar. "Are you okay with this? Me knowing?"

"Terrified," her eyes widen a little, like she hadn’t expected you to ask. Like the idea that someone would care enough to check in hadn’t fully occurred to her. The tension in her shoulders eases, just barely, and when she speaks, her voice is softer. "But also... relieved? I've been wanting to tell you for weeks."

"Why didn't you?"

"Because people I care about get hurt. It's like a rule or something," her nails scratch at her skin anxiously. "And I care about you. A lot."

It slams into you—her honesty, raw and unguarded—and you have to swallow the rush of feeling that follows. You’ve waited so long for this, for her. Now, she’s here, and you don’t trust yourself to breathe too loudly in case the moment shatters. "How much?"

She looks at you then and the intensity in her gaze makes you forget how to breathe. "Enough that I've been taking patrol routes past your apartment building to make sure you get home safe. Enough that I nearly blew my cover multiple times because I couldn't stand the thought of you getting hurt. Enough that I've been falling asleep thinking about you and waking up wishing I could tell you everything."

Your lips quiver, "Ellie..."

"I know it's crazy. I know I've been lying to you, and that dating me comes with risks you never signed up for. I know you think I'm some kind of stalker. Fuck, I am—"

You kiss her again, slower this time, like you're trying to commit the way she tastes, the way she feels under your hands to memory. Her fingers tighten at your waist, tentative at first, then surer, pulling you closer until there’s barely any space left between you. You can clearly tell that she’s been waiting for some semblance of permission to want this as much as she does. She tilts her head, deepening the kiss with a quiet groan that makes your knees go a little weak.

It’s not a confession. It’s a surrender. A promise that neither of you quite knows how to verbalise so soon.

"I don't think you're a stalker," you mumble against her lips. "I think you're extremely awesome. And hot. And selfless."

Ellie chuckles, "And?"

"And I think I'm completely gone for you."

She pulls back to meet your eyes. "Both versions of me?"

"All versions of you. The hero, the student, the girl who makes terrible spider puns and gets flustered when I catch her staring."

"I do not get flustered."

"You look like a tomato right now."

"That's unrelated."

You throw your head back, and she grins, that same, crooked smile that's been driving you crazy for weeks. "I love your laugh," she appreciates softly.

"I love your brain. The way you see patterns in everything, the way you explained all of those formulae like they were beautiful instead of impossible."

"They are beautiful. Math is, like, the language the world uses to describe itself."

"See? That. That's what I'm talking about."

She shifts closer, her forehead resting against yours. "What happens now?"

"Now you stop trying to protect me from a distance and let me be part of your life. The real part."

"It's dangerous."

"So is crossing the street. So is falling in love with someone," you trace the line of her jaw with your fingertip. "I'm not asking you to stop being Spider-Girl. I'm asking you to trust me enough to let me choose to be with you anyway."

She's quiet for a moment, and you can see her calculating probabilities, a deep furrow set in her brows. Finally, she utters, "I've never had anyone who knew. About me, I mean. All of me."

You nod in understanding, "How does it feel?"

"Scary. Amazing. Like I can finally relax."

"Good,” you smile, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "Because I plan on knowing you for a very long time."

"Show me," you say later, when you're curled up together on her couch, her arms around you and her chin resting on your shoulder.

"Show you what?"

"The Spider-Girl stuff. I want to see how it works."

She tenses slightly. "Are you sure? It's kind of intense."

"Ellie. I've been dreaming about this for weeks."

She's deeply amused for a moment, then she gently untangles herself from you and stands. "Okay. But if it freaks you out—"

"It won't."

She moves to the window, and you watch as she seems to almost, in a way, transform. Her posture changes, becomes more fluid, more confident. She presses her palm against the glass, and you see her fingers stick to the surface without any effort.

"Holy shit," you gawk.

"That's not even the cool part." She grins, extending her wrist. There's a soft thwip sound, and you jump back as a strand of webbing shoots out, sticking to the opposite wall. "Web-shooters. My own design."

"Can I...?"

"Touch them? Sure," she comes back to the couch, holding out her wrist. The device is sleek and mechanical, clearly homemade but extraordinarily sophisticated.

You run your fingers over the metal, marveling at the craftsmanship, "You built this?"

"Built, tested, redesigned about fifty times. Turns out web-slinging is more complicated than it looks."

"This is incredible. You're incredible."

She rubs the back of her neck, "It's just engineering."

"It's genius-level engineering that you did in your spare time while maintaining an impeccable GPA."

"My GPA is not impeccable—"

"Ellie," you look at her seriously. "You're amazing. Not just as Spider-Girl, but as you. The fact that you use your intelligence to help people, that you built all this to make the world safer... it's the most attractive thing I've ever seen."

She stares at you for a moment, then she's pressing her lips to yours, urgent and hungry. You respond immediately, your hands fisting in her flannel shirt as she guides you back against the couch cushions.

"I've wanted to do this for so long," she barely contains her whimper. "Every time I saved you, every time you smiled at me in class, every time you caught me staring..."

"I was hoping you'd stare," you admit, biting your lower lip. "I've been trying to get your attention for weeks."

"You always had my attention," her fingers trace the skin just above your waistband, and you shiver. "From the first day you sat next to me in class, I couldn't think about anything else."

"Then why didn't you say anything?"

"Because girls like you don't usually go for awkward nerds."

You giggle, bringing her face back to yours for another kiss. "This girl does."

"Yeah?"

"Hell, yeah," you tug at her shirt, suddenly desperate to feel more of her.

She helps you pull her flannel off, revealing a simple black tank top underneath. There are more scars here, small ones scattered across her arms and shoulders—evidence of her other life.

"Do they hurt?" you ask, tracing one with your fingertip.

"Not anymore. I heal fast now."

You lean up to kiss the scar on her collarbone. "I don't like the idea of you being hurt."

"I'm careful."

"You throw yourself off buildings for a living."

"I'm strategically careful."

You're about to respond when she kisses your neck, and whatever you were going to say dissolves into a soft moan. She's good at this, all careful attention and gentle pressure, like she's been thinking about exactly how to touch you.

"Ellie," you whisper, and she responds by trailing kisses down your neck.

"I love the way you say my name," she whispers against your skin. "Both when you're annoyed with me in class and when you're like this."

"Like what?"

"Desperate. Wanting me."

"I do want you," you thread your fingers through her hair, tugging gently until she looks at you. "I want all of you."

Something shifts in her expression, heat darkening her eyes. "All of me?"

Instead of answering, you flip your positions, pushing her back against the couch and settling yourself astride her lap. Her hands immediately find your waist, fingers digging in like she's afraid you'll disappear.

"Hi," you say softly.

"Hi yourself," her voice is rougher now, her breathing uneven. "This is... this is really happening?"

"Unless you want to stop."

"Fuck no," she sits up, bringing your faces level. "I just... I've imagined this so many times, but I never thought..."

"What?"

"I never thought you'd want me back."

You cup her face in your hands, thumb brushing over her cheek. "Ellie Williams, I've been hopelessly crushing on you since the first time you rambled about one of your silly interests. Finding out you're also the badass superhero who's been saving my life is just a sexy bonus."

She laughs, light and surprised. "Sexy?"

"Very sexy. The competence, the confidence, the way you move like you know exactly what your body can do," you roll your hips cheekily, and her grip on your waist tightens frenziedly. "It's incredibly hot."

"Oh."

"Tongue-tied?"

"Shut up," she says, but she's grinning as she pulls you down.

This time when your lips meet, it's different. Needy. Her hands slide up your sides, thumbs brushing just under your ribs, and you arch into the touch with a sound that makes her eyelashes flutter.

"Is this okay?" she asks, fingers playing with the hem of your shirt.

"More than okay."

She helps you pull it off, and for a moment she just stares, dumbfounded. "You're so beautiful," she licks her lips, and the reverence in her voice astounds you.

"So are you,” you drag her into another makeout, rougher this time. She meets you halfway as you both start to move—slow, desperate grinding that leaves no room for doubt. Her thigh slots between yours, and the friction pulls a breathy curse from your lips.

Ellie’s hands are everywhere, the curve of your back, your shoulders, the line of your throat. She mouths at your chest through your bra, tongue dragging over the fabric until your head tips back and a shaky moan escapes you. She hums against you like she’s proud of your reaction and you’re already giving in, her name slipping like a prayer.

You pull back to meet her eyes. "I need you, Ellie."

Something in her expression shatters—restraint, maybe, or whatever thread of self-control she was still clinging to. Her jaw tightens like she’s trying to hold herself back and failing spectacularly. She exhales sharply through her nose, then grabs your hips with both hands, grinding up against you like she can’t stand even an inch of space.

“Fuck,” she mutters, like the word is forcibly ripped out of her. “Say that again.”

“O-oh,” you gasp at the delicious movement, clutching onto her helplessly. “N-need you, Els. Please.”

She stands without warning, lifting you with her, and you wrap your legs around her waist. The casual display of strength makes heat pool in your stomach.

"Show off," you tease.

"You like it."

"Wrong. I love it."

Her bedroom is small and messy like the rest of her apartment, but you don’t mind. She sets you down gently beside the bed, her hands immediately finding your waist again.

"Are you sure about this?" she asks, and there's a fond vulnerability in her voice.

"Ellie," you step closer, pecking the tip of her nose. "I'm sure about you.”

"I’m sure about you too," she smiles, and then she's walking you backward until your legs hit the mattress.

You fall together, a jumble of limbs and fast kisses and hands that can't stop touching. She's careful with you, gentle despite the strength you know she possesses, and something about that contrast—the deadly superhero being so tender with you—makes you feel cherished in a way you've never experienced.

"I want to make you feel good," she moans against your ear, and it sends shivers down your spine. "Will you let me make you feel good, baby?"

"E-Ellie," you can only manage to stammer, and she smirks deviously against your neck.

"Just like that."

Ellie doesn’t hesitate. Her hand slips beneath your waistband, knuckles brushing your skin as she works her way into your pants and under your panties. The first drag of her fingers through your slick makes both of you gasp—you at the contact, her at the way you’re already soaking for her.

“Jesus,” she remarks, almost in devotion, before slipping two fingers inside you, slow but unrelenting. Your hands dig into her shoulders, hips rolling up to meet each thrust, and she finds a rhythm that makes your head spin. Her palm presses snug against your clit, every movement measured and devastating.

"You're so responsive," she murmurs, pressing kisses down your throat. "So perfect."

"Not perfect," your reply is strained, hard to think with her touching you like this.

"Perfect for me."

When her lips follow the path her hands have traced, you're already trembling. She takes her time, building you up carefully, until you're writhing beneath her.

"Please," you beg for the second time that day, and she looks up at you with her insatiable, lidded gaze.

"Please what?"

"Please don't stop."

"Never," she swears, and then she's making good on it, using her mouth and hands to take you apart piece by piece.

She sinks to her knees like it's second nature, tugging your pants down completely with an urgency that makes you shy away. Her mouth is on you almost instantly, tongue parting you with aching precision, and the first slow lick is both torture and life-changing. Her hands grip your thighs firmly, anchoring you in place, as if daring you to pull away.

Not that you would, not when her mouth is right there, focused solely on your dripping cunt.

She moans against you like she’s the one being eaten out, the sound sending vibrations straight through your core, and you choke out a gasp. One hand trails from your thigh to slip two fingers inside you, easy from how wet you already are, and the combination of her mouth and the rhythmic movement of her fingers is devastating. She fucks you with purpose, stroking that perfect spot over and over as her lips wrap around your clit and suck.

Your hands find her hair, threading through it with desperation as you grind helplessly against her face, barely coherent. 

“Mmm, yeah, good girl. There you go. Use me however you want.”

Your eyes roll back at her words.

The tension coils tighter and tighter, until it snaps all at once—a blinding rush of pleasure that leaves your vision white at the edges as your body bucks against her, undone completely.

She doesn’t stop until you’re gasping, overstimulated and twitching. Until you're crying out her name and seeing stars. Afterward, she holds you close, pressing soft kisses to your temple while you catch your breath.

"Okay?" she asks quietly.

"More than okay," you move in her arms, meeting her eyes. "Your turn."

"You don't have to—"

"I want to," you reassure her softly. "I want to make you fall apart the way you just did to me."

Her face contorts into something akin to burning desire and you grin as you begin to return the favour, taking your time to explore every inch of her skin, to learn what makes her gasp and moan and whisper.

She's beautiful like this, her usual composure completely gone. When she finally climaxes, it's with your name on her tongue and her hands tangled in your hair.

You collapse together afterward, sweaty and satisfied and completely content. She pulls a blanket over both of you, and you snuggle into her side, your head on her chest.

"Hmm," you sigh eventually, tracing lazy patterns on her skin. "This is nice."

"Nice?" she laughs, the sound vibrating through her chest. "I pour my heart out, reveal my secret identity, and give you the best orgasm of your life, and you call it 'nice'?"

"Best orgasm of my life? Someone’s cocky."

"Was it not?"

You grin, leaning up to kiss her chin. "It was incredible. You're incredible."

She tightens her hold around you. "I plan on doing that a lot more, just so you know."

"I’m counting on it."

You lie there in comfortable silence for a while, enjoying the feeling of being close to her. Eventually, though, a bunch of doubts and concerns start to creep in like phantoms in the night.

"What happens now?" you ask timidly.

"Now we figure it out as we go," she presses her face into your hair, inhaling deeply. "Together."

"Together," you agree after a few beats of silence, and you can't think of anything that sounds more meant to be.

Outside the window, the city hums with its usual evening hustle and bustle. Somewhere out there, people are going to need Spider-Girl's help. But for now, she's exactly where she belongs—in bed with you, planning a future that includes both sides of who she is.

And you can't wait to see what comes next.

[tobiasdrake]

Where do you fall on the "killing vs. not killing bad guys" argument? I know the debate is complicated and there's a lot of various factors for and against either side, so I wanna hear your take on things.

An intensely complicated subject that tends to get oversimplified on both sides of the equation. I generally don't like to take a "side" on this because I feel like the idea of there being "sides" on killing misses the point.

Unless you're talking about cold-blooded execution of a subdued foe, killing generally isn't a choice you get to make. It's a consequence of the choice you already made to use violence.

While arguments about killing villains exist beyond superhero comics, this is a particular way that they tend to happen in superhero media. Superhero stories depict their heroes as, effectively, SWAT teams. The Green Goblin is about to blow up Newark, so Spider-Man breaks in and smashes his face against a brick wall until he passes out.

Part of the fantasy is the idea that nonlethal violence is easy and reliable. After Spider-Man reduces the Green Goblin's HP to 0, a Windows menu pops up and says "Would you like to finish him?" Spider-Man boldly clicks "No" after every fight like the hero he is.

It allows fans to enjoy brutal takedowns of bad guys without having to reckon with the reality that when Batman brought an entire floor down on top of that guy's head, he probably didn't wake up in a hospital bed. Batman can throw a guy off a third story balcony and watch his knees crack as he hits the ground and the story assures you that he's fine. He'll just need a little stay in the hospital.

But realistically speaking, all of these guys would have body counts. Not because they were aggressively trying to murder, but because you don't really get the choice. It is extremely easy to kill someone and surprisingly difficult to nonlethally incapacitate them. The line between how much blunt-force cranial trauma will knock someone unconscious versus how much will kill them is extremely blurry and it moves.

There are less lethal ways of incapacitating someone than others. Obviously, tasing someone has a lower mortality rate than shooting them with bullets. But the only surefire way to uphold a Code of No-Killing is to not use violence as your problem-solving tool in the first place. And there's not a lot of de-escalation training going around the Avengers Mansion.

So it always just feels kind of self-delusional when superheroes brag about not killing people but their primary mode of problem-solving is to shoot a guy in the face with an exploding arrow or something. You're gonna kill people if you're Batmanning. Sorry, that's just the reality of violence. When you throw a guy off a roof, you don't get to choose what physics is going to do to that sack of meat and bone as it hits the ground.

Now, on the opposite end of the spectrum, should superheroes kill people on purpose? Uh. No. I don't want cops extrajudicially murdering whoever they don't like, and I don't want Batman to do it either. Due process exists for a reason.

Superheroes should not try to kill people. But they are going to kill people sometimes, because their hammer is violence and their stories are just excuses to pit them against nails.

"But the Joker always breaks out of prison." Yeah, but he also always comes back to life. If you can nitpick about genre conventions then I can too. Hell, often times you can't even redeem a villain without the next writer unwriting it and making them a bad guy again. At a metafictional level, there is rarely any way to truly do away with a popular villain.

But. Y'know. Let's talk about heroes who aren't fucking copaganda. In the broader fictional sense, should stories end with the hero killing the villain or shouldn't they?

This, again, has no simple Yes or No answer. It depends heavily on the themes being explored and what the villain is meant to represent.

We need to talk about the "demise" of the villain, which can be a literal death or it can be many other things. The primary function of the villain is to be wrong about something. To oppose the hero, who is right about something.

The villain holds bad ideas, bad beliefs, bad ideology. The hero may start out holding good ideas, or they may be something that the hero comes to over the course of the story. But by the time these two meet in the third act climax, they are meant to embody the two faces of the story's central thesis. Regarding whatever this story is trying to talk about, the hero is right and the villain is wrong.

Whatever form it takes, whether literal death or not, the demise of the villain is the final statement on their incorrect or even toxic beliefs. Which often does take the form of literal death because it's easy to write a comeuppance that way.

Luke Skywalker believes that there is love in his father's heart for him, and Emperor Palpatine is confident that Anakin is truly lost. But Luke's love for his family wins out and destroys Palpatine.

Scar is selfish, cowardly, and disloyal. Simba returns out of a sense of responsibility and loyalty to his people, coming clean to them and accepting his place among them. Scar tries to sell out the hyenas to save his own skin, as well as stabbing Simba in the back. For his treachery, the hyenas rip him to pieces; He is devoured by the very loyalties that he selfishly betrayed.

Obadiah Stane, the embodiment of war profiteering and the military-industrial complex, is literally consumed by the clean energy project that Tony wants to move the company towards instead.

Sauron underestimates the power of the small and meager folk, and believes wholeheartedly in Great Men of History. And so when Great Man Aragorn marches to his gates, he allows himself to become convinced that this is his true nemesis, his true rival, the threat he must face. This is the glorious battle that will decide the fate of Middle-Earth. And so he turns his eye away from the common folk that will be his undoing.

The villain's flaws, their toxic ideology, the things that make them the villain, are what their demise is supposed to be about. They can be consumed by their failings or undone by the hero's virtues, but either way, in a well-executed demise, a closing statement on the story's thesis is made.

But a well-executed demise doesn't necessarily have to be fatal, either. Like I've said, it can be things other than a literal demise. Sometimes it absolutely should.

In Civil War, Zemo is driven by an obsession for revenge. His homicidal retaliatory bloodthirst is a toxin that he infects both T'Challa and Tony with over the course of the story. Tony succumbs and has to be defeated with force, though Steve still demonstrates his strength of character by sparing Tony's life in the end even when the madness of the battle threatens to grip him too.

But it's T'Challa who delivers Zemo's demise. Not by killing him, but by making the choice to rise above vengeance. T'Challa breaks the shackles of Zemo's infectious vengeance and chooses mercy. And it's in this moment that Zemo's feelings, his cruelty, are opposed and vanquished by T'Challa's heroic virtue.

Firelord Ozai believes in the Social Darwinist ideology of Might Makes Right. He leads a culture where disputes are settled with deathmatches and believes it is his right to blanket the world in fire because he has the power to do so, and no one can stop him. Aang, by contrast, is a pacifist at heart because those are the values he was raised in; Values of a culture that Ozai exterminated, whose very last vestiges exist only in Aang's heart.

Ozai would kill Ozai and Azula, who often gets left out of this conversation. Because theirs is a culture where righteousness stands hand-in-hand with brute strength. Where who is right is decided by who is left standing when the dust settles, and who is a pile of ash. Aang defeats Ozai; By Ozai's belief system, Aang is stronger thus Aang is righteous and it is his Conqueror's Right to execute Ozai where he stands.

But Aang doesn't just beat Ozai; He rejects Ozai's way of life. He renounces the belief system of the imperialist colonizer and holds true to the belief system of a people they destroyed. While a simultaneous outcome plays out between Katara and Azula, as Katara similarly chooses mercy once she's obtained a position of power and control over Azula.

Special note also to Zuko who demonstrates that he actually cares more about protecting people than about winning his Glorious Deathmatch of Imperialist Honor. Which also serves as a rejection of Azula's beliefs that relationships are founded on fear and control. Zuko, too, rejects the belief systems of Ozai and Azula and warrants recognition. Ozai would never have taken a hit like that for Azula. Azula would never take a hit like that for Ty Lee.

It's this mercy that breaks the Hundred-Year War, destroying not the perpetrators of it but the very principles on which it is founded. This philosophical annihilation of Azula and Ozai's very understanding of strength and power is their villainous "demise", and weighs far more than just cutting their heads off and calling it a day ever could.

There is no correct answer to whether or not heroes should kill. What matters most is how the demise the writer chooses for the villain reflects upon the story's central ideas and thesis.

[physalian]

Lateral vs Vertical Magic Systems

I… think I’m the only one to use these terms? What I mean by this is different than hard and soft magic, slightly.

Quick recap:

Hard magic systems have rules and strict definition for what can and can’t be done

Soft magic systems go more off vibes, magic exists but the exact mechanics are not important or don’t exist

—

I think you can have a lateral or vertical magic system that’s either hard or soft, and what I mean by this is:

Vertical magic is where everyone has magic of wildly different flavors but hones them all for the same specific purpose.

Lateral magic is where everyone has magic of the same flavor but uses it for wildly different purposes.

Here’s some vertical magic examples:

Percy Jackson: Nobody uses their demigod powers for anything other than staying alive, by and large, and there’s a huge variety of demigod power possibilities and very little overlap. Whether it’s physical combat or mental, these kids’ powers exist so they can fight gods and monsters.

Naruto: I have not seen most of this show so correct me if I’m wrong but, this is a world where ninjitsu is almost exclusively for combat. While there’s core principles, the heaviest hitters in the show all have wild and exclusive powers or special moves that only they can use that go far beyond skill in martial arts (except for Rock Lee).

X-Men: By nature of it being a comic book, the premise of the world is built in heroes versus villains and how they use their powers to beat the snot out of each other. In X-men specifically, mutants are persecuted and can’t use their powers legally, and have little choice beyond using their mutation to stay alive and “do good”.

Lateral magic systems might be something like:

Tinker Bell: You’re a nature fairy, by and large, and everyone gets their power from the same source, pixie dust, each using their flavor of magic to suit their niche purpose in the environment

Danny Phantom: Yes, he’s a superhero and must have fights, but all of Danny’s super-powered rogues are ghosts, with no exceptions, and everyone is limited to how creatively and uniquely they use the same basic ghost principles of possession, telekinesis, invisibility, and intangibility, + their special trait, but all also suffer the same issue that unites them more than once: They are dead, and good or bad, the living fear them.

Fullmetal Alchemist: Alchemy isn’t limitless, and its practitioners typically focus on one very specific kind of alchemy of their choice with the hard rule that everyone must follow of construct, deconstruct, and reconstruct, and get really, really good at honing it mostly for combat, but also in fields of science, engineering, etc. There is alchemy and only alchemy, and it has rules.

—

Last Airbender is both! Its bending rules are strictly limited to the four elements and how creative you can get with your element… but it is also a show that heavily features martial arts and how that bending can be used in combat, but it also built a world where bending factors into other jobs, arts, and the very fabric of society.

Why does lateral vs vertical magic matter?

When you’re designing your magic system, you have to think about how this magic would integrate into a world as if its always existed there. Is it hidden magic, like in most urban fantasy? Or is it baked into the fabric of society, like with bending? Does everyone start with the same basic tools and go wild, or does everyone start wild, and all chase the same aspirations?

Whichever you pick does depend on the story you’re telling. A lot of the media I mentioned is action-adventure, which means that all magic, lateral, vertical, soft, or hard, leans toward one thing in the end: Combat.

But beyond combat, how can your magic be used? Are people allowed to practice it without regulations or is it heavily structured by their fantasy society? If it has always existed, how would their would be fundamentally different than ours?

[avvail]

truth potion/serum 😌

“What’s that?” The hero murmurs uneasily under their breath, watching as the villain carefully inserts the needle into the soft flesh of their forearm, making them wince slightly. They watch it plunge into their vein, only daring to tug against the restraints once the needle is out of their skin.

The villain merely sends them a smile. “Nothing that’ll kill you.”

“Let me guess,” the hero growls. “A fate worse than death? Are you really trying this bullshit with me after all this time?”

“You don’t think our dynamic is a conventional one?”

The hero shuts their mouth, contemplating what the villain’s game was. If it was a sedative, it was a slow acting one, since they couldn’t feel any symptoms creeping up on them just yet. It was peculiar - they felt just fine.

“Let’s be honest,” the hero sniffs, and they don’t miss the way the villain almost laughs in amusement. They don’t know why that’s funny. “If our relationship was a conventional one, you would have killed me the moment you kidnapped me.”

The villain hums, their eyes roaming from their face languidly, kissing their teeth. The hero watches with a stubborn frown as they begin to circle around them, ever so slowly, and it makes them nervous.

They try not to shift.

“You’re right,” the villain sighs from behind them, and they want nothing more than to crane around to keep their eyes on them, but they can’t. Their heart races relentlessly in their chest, clenching their jaw. “Would you rather we adhere to the stereotypes?”

They roll their eyes. “If it means getting killed, then why would I?”

“You’re self righteous and selfless, aren’t you?” The villain teases. “Doesn’t that come with your job?”

“It doesn’t mean I’m eager to die. Dying means defeat, and I wouldn’t ever let you defeat me. You and I both know that.”

The villain stops beside them, a smile on their face that the hero doesn’t like. They send them a sharp glare for good measure, just because they can.

“So, is that a no?”

The hero wants to know where this is headed.

“No,” they confirmed. The villain stepped closer to them, their thumb gently brushing over a tender bruise on their temple. The finishing blow that had rendered them unconscious, making it easy for the villain to drag them here into their clutches. The hero forces back a wince, their eyes hard and determined. The villain loves that look.

“But you’re like that with others,” the villain comments, still stroking their temple. “Other villains, I mean. Especially Supervillain - the typical good versus bad. You know they’d kill you if they could. Stereotypes, after all.”

To hero resists the urge to lean keenly into that touch. “Because I know Supervillain is dangerous.”

“Dangerous?” Their eyes gleam mischievously. “You don’t think I’m dangerous?”

They shift. No dizziness yet, and their vision is completely clear, along with their mind. It’s not a sedative. What are they planning?

“No,” they respond after a moment, and the villain’s jaw ticks. It’s the only sign of irritation they’ve seen from them, but their tongue blurts more before they can stop themselves. “You’re dangerous in different ways.”

The irritation disappears, and the thumb slips down their cheek.

“Dangerous in different ways,” they muse, as if chewing the words that came out of their mouth. The hero’s heart is pounding against their ribcage, and they’re not quite sure why. The villain is incredibly close, feeling pinned down by their cold gaze alone.

“You’re easier to be around,” the hero speaks, trying not to stammer over their words. “I...” I hate you, don’t get me wrong. That’s what they want to say, but their throat closes up before they can. The villain’s thumb strokes the bottom of their jaw, and they shiver, as if encouraging them.

“Because I know you won’t kill me. When given the chance, you go easy on me.”

“You think I go easy on you?”

The hero gives them a disgruntled look. “You never torture me. Last time you kidnapped me, I slept in one of your guest rooms.”

“You were still a prisoner, or did you forget?” The villain scoffs. Of course they had been. The hero had spent all night trying to pick the lock, to smash the windows, but there was no point. They were a prisoner, but it never felt like they were in danger. Not in the same sense they felt when the supervillain almost incapacitated them. It was different.

“That’s not the point,” the hero snaps, unaware of their own rising irritation. They jerk their head away from the touch, feeling as though it was distracting them. The villain has this arrogant smirk on their lips, as if they know exactly what they’re doing. “If I ever kidnapped you, I wouldn’t stick you in a luxurious room. I wouldn’t let you sleep on a bed, I wouldn’t have you here and not torture you.”

The villain hums, their voice dropping low. “You like it when I treat you good?”

“Yes.” No. “I do.” It’s weird.

It takes a single, heart stopping beat for the hero to realise what they’d just said, their brows furrowing in confusion. They open their mouth to say something else, before their eyes flick down to the red pinprick from the needle in their skin. They release a shuddering breath.

“A truth serum,” they breathe. “That’s what you injected me with.”

The villain lets out a dark, amused chuckle. “I was waiting for you to figure it out.”

They lean back, creating a rift of air between them where the hero can still feel their warmth. It still feels hard to breathe, their wrists flexing under the restraints, and they grind their teeth hard together. This is dangerous. This was exactly what they were talking about.

“Are you tired, Hero?” The villain’s soft voice questions, enough to make the hero swallow uneasily. Their heart is racing now, so fast they feel like they’re going to throw up. They screw their eyes shut.

“Yes,” they say, feeling fingers under their jaw, tipping their head back. Their eyes open instinctively. The villain almost coos.

“And you love how easy it is with me,” the villain murmurs, admiring the embarrassed, shunted look in those cute eyes of theirs. “Love how I treat you.”

The hero’s fists clench. They desperately try to say no. “Yes.”

“And,” the villain purrs, their thumb brushing along their bottom lip with precious ease,” it’s dangerous because it’s so easy to shut your brain off. So dangerous to let your guard down around me. Easy to manipulate, as much as you wish that wasn’t true.”

The hero almost whines. “Yes.”

“Do you think I’m manipulating you?” They ask, their voice a hushed whisper, like a soft lull in their brain. The hero squirms, but they still can’t look away, not even daring to swallow. The villain leans in closer, their lips so close to theirs, and their voice turns dark. “Do you think it’s working?”

Who knew the hero’s weakness was simple acts of kindness. The villain had never thought going so easy on them would make them putty in their hands. But it did.

The hero bites down on the inside of their cheek, straining not to answer. The villain’s fingers curl around a lock of their hair, tucking it behind their ear tenderly. Too tenderly - the hero loves it.

“Better not fight it,” they hum. “It’ll hurt.”

“Yes,” the hero finally gasps, the throbbing pain in their head easing. They almost feel out of breath, trembling under each of their cunning touches.

The villain’s eyes gleam, leaning forward to kiss them. The hero had been so adamant they could never defeat them, and it almost makes them crackle. Maybe never in the stereotypical sense, but they had proved this was not a stereotypical rivalry; what was true defeat if they didn’t conquer them, after all?

@badthingshappenbingo

[kitkat13001]

✦ — 2. black sheep

⋆.˚✮ prev ⟡ m. list ⟡ next ✮ 2.5k words

-> hitoshi shinsou x pro-hero!reader

✮ with you and hitoshi constantly at each other’s throats, this mission is seeming more and more impossible. will a break in the case make things better or worse. . ? ✮ tracklist: black sheep - brie larson and metric, complicated - avril lavigne, snap out of it - arctic monkeys, transparent soul - willow smith, taking what’s not yours - tv girl

it takes some time for you and shinsou to settle into a half-decent routine. it’s rocky at first, both of you struggling to gauge being in such close quarters after being apart for so long. 

it’s weird. it normally takes you a while to get accustomed to working with others. you’ve always struggled to adjust to a teammate, and you’d never been able to keep a sidekick. 

your quirk is better suited for combat versus support, so you’re often sent out on your own. that combined with your headstrong personality makes you an easy standalone, so aside from working with your fellow lurkers, you don’t work in teams a whole lot. 

still, with your career riding on this operation, and edgeshot keeping a close eye on you, you try to make an effort to be civil. but it’s hard. you and hitoshi have always been polar opposites, but where that used to be strength has now turned to nuisance. 

patrol, paperwork, recon, debrief, report. awkward silence, meaningless small talk, avoidant glances. sarcastic comments, clenched teeth, childlike bickering. you spend the next few days in these strange spirals. 

it takes some adjusting, and you find yourselves butting heads frequently, but you’re surprised by how quickly you both seem to fall back in together. time (and a lot of other things) has warped your relationship, but there’s muscle memory underneath it all. 

the shift gives you whiplash. you walk and you argue. you sit in silence in the office. but a villain comes along, some low-threat thug on the street, and taking him down is effortless. you and hitoshi seem to work in seamless tandem. 

you notice things the longer you work with shinsou. 

he always walks just slightly behind you. he usually doesn’t speak first. on patrol, he moves when you move, like magnets. 

he always eats at his desk and then disappears, presumably for a smoke break on the roof. he always waits until the last minute to turn in his mission reports, but he never files them late. he takes his coffee black, which normally you would assume he only does to seem cool — except that you know he’s drank it like that since high school. 

he catches you staring exactly once. you’re both on a roof during a recon run, leaning against the railing. he’s gazing down at the city and you’re deep in thought, studying his side profile. 

four years seems like a long time, but he actually doesn’t look too different. he’s a little taller (or just standing more straight now?), and he’s got a couple new scars. his hair is longer. 

you’ve seen him occasionally on the news, of course, but only briefly. he hates the press, never takes interviews or public missions if he can help it. photos of him are rare, and usually blurry candids taken from afar. nothing like seeing him up close, anyway.

“do i have something on my face or what?”

your cheeks heat up when he glances at you in his peripheral, but you hold his gaze and squint. “you have such rbf it’s insane.”

hitoshi stares at you like you’ve grown a second head.

“this is why nobody wants to work with you, huh?”

you make an indignant noise, shooting him a cutting glance. you wish you had a good comeback but it’s the truth. you can’t keep a sidekick or partner to save your life. 

“whatever.”

he laughs dryly, satisfied with your lack of response. smug bastard. 

you both return to the increasingly familiar silence, watchful eyes focused below. 

the weapons shipment is set to go down at the end of the month, according to kamihara’s contact. until then, you and shinsou are supposed to be collecting evidence and keeping an eye on known operatives — though it’s really glorified busywork. 

you heave an irritated sigh. “i hate this reconnaissance crap,” you huff, kicking at a pebble on the ground. “i feel like such a loser just waiting around.”

“has anyone ever told you you’re way too impulsive for your own good?”

you click your tongue. “yeah. you, about a million times. and edgeshot, pretty much daily. kamui, too. not takeyama, though, ‘cause she’s the exact same.”

“dream team,” he replies loftily. 

you peer at him through the corner of your eye and he’s got some faraway look in his eye. 

“you keep in touch with anyone else from school? i haven’t seen you in many team-ups.”

he raises one eyebrow with a half-smirk. “you keeping tabs on me?”

you snort. “huh! you wish.”

“kaminari and i talk sometimes. if i’m in the area we’ll patrol together. once in a while monoma and i get paired up if i feel like traveling.” he shrugs, tugging lightly on his capture scarf. “i like working alone. easier that way.”

“i’m gathering that. you know, i…” you trail off, realizing that he’s not listening. you scowl, ready to say something about it until you see the way he’s laser-focused on the scene below. you peer over the ledge, watching as a suspicious-looking figure slips out of the building below and slinks off. 

shinsou hops the railing, rappelling down the building in pursuit with you right on his tail. you two keep a good distance as you trail the presumed villain, ducking behind a pile of empty crates. 

you peer out, trying to see where he’s headed, but he’s looking right at you and takes off at the sight. 

you curse, sprinting after him as he runs across the street and shoves through the crowded square. shinsou peels left, climbing up to run parallel to you along the rooftops.

the villain clambers through the crowd but he’s hard to miss with all the people he’s shoving over screaming. you cut through the crowd, in hot pursuit, shouting for people to clear away. 

someone to your right screams and dives away as a large red disc sails right at them. sirens ring out and the crowd begins to disperse as law enforcement aids evacuation. you keep running, dodging more of those sharp discs the villain sends at you. you’re agile, but the constant dodge slows you down. 

where the hell did hitoshi go? you wonder. you can’t let this guy get away…

you duck another disc, sprinting to catch up when you see hitoshi drop down on the opposite end of the street. cornered, the villain rears back for another vault of discs, this time headed right for shinsou. your body reacts quicker than your mind and you dive forward to deflect them. the tendrils of hitoshi’s capture scarf dart over your head as you block the disc, and the villain shouts as he’s swiftly detained. 

you get to your feet, brushing yourself off as hitoshi steps forward, standing over the villain. “you all done there?”

“ha!” he spits back, “not a—” he stops, face and mind going blank as shinsou’s brainwashing takes hold. 

“alright, enough. get up and walk,” shinsou commands, watching with smug satisfaction as the villain obeys immediately. 

he’s stronger, you think to yourself, awed more than you care to admit by hitoshi’s power. his compulsion was so strong you almost felt like obeying him yourself, even though he hadn’t directed the command at you. you and him trail behind as the villain ambles toward the police officers that have collected around the square’s perimeter. 

“that was some move,” you whistle lowly, trying to sound nonchalant with the compliment. shinsou doesn’t turn his head. 

you think he’s just trying to focus on keeping the guy under control, but then he huffs a little under his breath. “thanks for almost letting him get away.”

the nerve! you think, offended once you get over the shock of his backhand. “thanks for ditching me back there!” you retort, skin prickling and hair on end. “you would’ve got skewered back there if it wasn’t for me!”

“i would’ve been fine!” he scowls, turning away to unravel the stupefied villain and hand him over to the authorities for detainment. “i just don’t see how this entire operation is even a two-person job, that’s all.”

by now you’re practically boiling over with frustration. “you know what, ‘toshi? i didn’t ask to be partnered with you, okay? let’s just get through this stupid mission and then we can go back to never talking again.”

he studies you for a long time with an exasperated expression, before finally asking, “that’s really what you want?”

you don’t really know how to answer that, so you just frown. “i…well, yeah, i guess.” 

isn’t that what he wants? from all this attitude, it’s clear he wants nothing to do with you. 

“fine, whatever. thanks for the save.”

you can’t tell if he’s being sarcastic or not this time, and you don’t know even know which is worse. you just stand there, smarting and feeling incredibly stupid. 

“i hate him!” 

mt. lady looks up when you slam your locker door, collapsing onto the bench in front of you. she gives a half-smile. “that bad?”

“i’m going to wring his neck if i have to be in the same room as him again in the next twenty-four hours,” you reply with a deadpan expression. 

“well, good thing you’re done for the day, no?” she gestures to where you’re changing out of your hero costume into your casual clothes. 

you stifle a loud groan into your balled-up shirt. you heave a sigh when you come up for air, the very picture of absolute misery. “no. we gotta be there for the interrogation. we think he’s involved in the syndicate we’re tracking right now.”

takeyama blinks, giving your shoulder a squeeze. “good lord. well, don’t strangle him too hard! he’s too pretty to kill, you know?”

oh, you know. but that’s the least of your problems right about now, so you just wave her off and take another moment to collect yourself before you have to go back. 

you make your way to the lower levels and find hitoshi leaning against the wall outside a detainment room. his head is ducked to avoid eye contact and you don’t bother to greet him. you peer through the one-sided glass and find the same villain from earlier cuffed to the table, absolutely seething. detective tsukauchi is seated across from him, looking equally vexed. 

must be serious if he’s here. you’ve worked under kamihara on cases with him, and you know he’s one of the best at what he does. 

you watch as tsukauchi gets up from the table and exits the room, meeting you and shinsou outside. 

“afternoon,” he greets you both politely with your hero names and a nod. “apologies for dragging out your duties, but it seems he won’t talk. we’re suspecting he’s not much more than a grunt, but it does seem that he knows something, particularly pertaining to the shipment i understand you two are tracking.”

“if he does, i’ll get it out of him,” shinsou assures him. tsukauchi nods, moving aside to let him through. 

you trail behind as he adjusts his modulator mask, striding into the room and calling out with tsukauchi’s voice. 

“ready to talk now?”

“yeah, right! you’re gonna hafta bring in that mind-control freak ba—”

he stops short in the middle of his sentence, his face going slack and eyes turning white. you almost wanna laugh. 

“aww, careful now,” hitoshi replies, back to his normal voice and sarcastic tone. “you might hurt my feelings. not the sharpest tool in the shed, y’know, falling for this twice.”

he slides into the chair opposite the villain and you perch on the table, waiting. 

“talk.”

a shiver runs down your spine when you feel the wave of cold control that passes through the room. 

the man speaks like he’s in a daze, slow and robotic. “my name is hiroto kaori. i’m thirty-six. i live on—”

hitoshi pinches the bridge of his nose like he’s warding off a headache. “about the weapons shipment, the organization you work with. what do you know?”

“a huge order of illegal firearms and other weapons is supposed to be imported for the syndicate.”

“where? when?”

“a week from tomorrow. i don’t know where.”

your heart jumps a little. “a week from tomorrow?” you ask before you can stop yourself. “the briefing said it’s not supposed to be for another three weeks!”

“why did it change?” shinsou asks, brows creased. 

“i don’t know.”

you curse, sliding off the table to pace the room. 

shinsou turns to you. “think your boss has a bad contact?”

you shake your head. “kamihara wouldn’t send us in without being sure. maybe they found out somehow? changed it up hoping we’d be too late to catch them…”

“maybe,” he murmurs, before turning back to the villain who’s still sitting placidly. “what else do you know?”

“that’s all.”

hitoshi sighs, standing up with a huff. the villain blinks slowly, bewildered as the control wears off. you and hitoshi file out as he begins to shout profanities after you until the guards inside subdue him. 

“a week…” you huff in disbelief. that’s much sooner than you expected. “and they’ll probably be expecting us now if they find out we’ve got this guy.”

hitoshi is quiet for a while before responding. “not necessarily. they think they’re ahead but there’s still a chance to catch them by surprise.”

“we don’t even know if it’s the same location,” you reply despondently, sliding down the wall you were leaning on until you’re on the floor. you stifle a long groan into your palms. “the fucking report on this is going to be a nightmare. and we’re probably going to have to stakeout, that’s going to be great.”

you keep rambling on, so caught up with the nightmare unfolding in your mind that you’ve half-forgotten shinsou standing right in front of you. 

you look up, almost surprised. “what?”

he’s looking at you strangely, some odd expression on his face. like he wants to say something. four years ago, you would’ve been able to tell what it was without a problem. now you just wait.

hitoshi shifts, visibly uncomfortable. “i’m…sorry about earlier,” he mumbles, voice strained like it’s physically paining him to admit this. “i…i shouldn’t have said those things. after agreeing to do this mission with you, and now…maybe i shouldn’t have said…”

you resist the urge to squirm under his intense gaze. he’s always had eyes that seem to look right through you, almost boring into your soul.

“um, thanks…? i guess…”

he nods resolutely, more to himself than to you. he makes a face. “and after all the hassle it took to take this mission. tch. maybe it’s a good thing it’ll be over quicker.”

his words puzzle you, and your stomach dips as he turns to leave. you get up quickly, trying to make sense of it. 

“‘toshi, wait!” you reach for his hand to stop him before he disappears. “did you…i thought you were assigned to this?”

he looks at your hand on his wrist, cheeks reddening. you quickly drop your hand, embarrassed. 

“i was offered. but i thought…” he trails off, shaking head again. “it doesn’t matter what i thought. i just wanted to apologize for being an ass is all. so i’ll stay out of your way and this whole mess will be over soon.”

he doesn’t give you a chance to respond (not that you think you could’ve come up with anything to say anyway) before he’s stalking off down the hallway, leaving you with hot cheeks and a pit in your stomach. 

dividers by @/saradika-graphics, header by kitty with pics from pinterest!

taglist: @deadhands69 @frvv @cccandynecklaces @tokeposts @lover-no-lover61 @getvaccinated @accidentpronedork @crushmeeren @p4rkcha3w0n @cyberesc @bloomstream @eloshifts @bythevay @cc1306 @nobodybutnnoorr (ask/comment if you’d like to be added!)

writing action is hard :/ trying to the get the story moving along!! <33 moving some outline stuff around but the next chapter should be a lil more balanced i hope 🤞 enjoy! hope this lives up to excitement that’s been expressed!!