#hero villain series

[chaotic-orphan]

Heroic betrayal (ix)

Read part one here // Continued from here

THIS SERIES HAS NINE PARTS??!?! IT DOESN’T FEEL THAT LONG, MAYBE FOUR OR FIVE WOW!!!

*~*~*~*~*

Hero woke up buried under extremely heavy sheets. It felt like a net of blankets weighing down on her, like a giant warm hug of safety. The first thing she did when she woke up was nestle deeper into the warmth, letting out a light hum as she did. She was entirely too comfortable, her mind rosey and hazy, exactly how she liked it.

A heartbeat steadily under her ear, warmth radiating off her mattress. The fog in her mind turned thick, impenetrable and she wanted to be sick. The warmth around her clawed at her desperately, trying to lull her into a false sense of security.

She had bolted from the bed, backing up until she hit the wall behind her, before she properly opened her eyes. Her chest heaving with heavy breaths as she glared at the man in her bed.

Flynn peered at her with one eye open, casually throwing an arm under his head to prop himself up. “Mornin’,” he said, his voice low from sleep.

“You fucker,” Hero hissed, her mind flashing back to last night when Supervillain fixed her nose. Flynn had settled her mind for her, leaving her in his artificial weightless-haze. “You said you wouldn’t use your powers on me.”

Flynn shrugged. “I didn’t want you to suffer.”

“No, you didn’t want to see me suffer, and there’s a chasm of a difference between them,” Hero huffed, crossing her arms over the shirt she was wearing. “Then sleeping with me?”

“You never complained before,” Flynn said with a lazy, cocky grin.

“That was before I knew you were a fucking scheming bastard, who,” Hero continued, walking towards her door and opening it. “Coincidentally, has his own room in this hell house. So please, get out.”

Flynn stared at her through half-lidded eyes, two hands behind his head now. Hero hated when he did that. She hated how it exposed his muscles and somehow made him hotter. He knew it too. He knew that she liked it when he reclined like that, because she told him once after a long night.

“I’m comfortable.”

“You’re a liar.”

“I’m a comfortable liar.”

“I hate you,” Hero snapped. The cocky smile dimmed on his face, and she took a little bit of satisfaction at it. Ignoring how it pulled a little on her heartstrings too.

“I know,” he replied softly.

Hero swallowed, lingering by the door, arms folded across her chest. “Were you here all night?”

“Yes,” he said with a sigh, running a hand through his hair as he sat up.

“Why?”

“Because you said you didn’t want to be alone,” he answered honestly.

Hero scoffed. “No doubt from your loopy induced haze in my head.”

“Despite what you may like to believe,” Flynn said, getting to his feet. He was fully dressed in the shirt and tracksuit he was wearing last night. Decent and gentlemanly. Infuriatingly. “I can’t sway your ideas in your head. If you want me to, I can find a telepath for you to put all your blame on.”

“Oh yeah? And will you kidnap them too?” She snapped, eyes blazing.

Flynn scoffed, grabbing his socks and shoes before walking towards Hero by the door. Hero’s heart beat double-time the closer Flynn got to her, but she maintained her resolve.

That was, until Flynn stopped in the doorway beside her. She shifted her feet under his gaze, feeling his eyes travel over every pore, lingering on every feature, tracing a line down the curve of her neck.

Her breath hitched when he reached forward, a hand cupping her cheek, the heel of his palm tilted her head up. So gentle. Filled with too much everything— Flynn knew her better than anyone, knew what made her tick, what made her nervous, her fears. His touch lit a fire under her skin, but his eyes laid her naked before him, and sent shivers down her spine.

“We could make this so nice,” he whispered like the snake tempting eve in the garden, his thumb running over her bottom lip. “We could go back to the way things were. We were happy.”

How Hero ached for that to be true. How she wanted to abandon her defences, to forget the heartache at his betrayal, and run into his awaiting arms. He could make her forget everything, what he did to Sidekick, what he was doing to her. Hell, he could make her forget that she was ever a Hero and it would be so easy.

Her eyes burned with unshed tears as she swallowed a sob and covered his hand with hers. “That was before you betrayed me, and everything I thought you were.”

“Hero…”

“How can I believe anything you say? How do I know that you weren’t seducing me as some plan you concocted with your father?” She asked, breathlessly. He dropped his shoes and socks with a clatter to the floor and stepped closer to her, caging her in against the door.

His eyes implored her to trust him, to love him, to believe him. She couldn’t look at the desire in them, so she looked at his lips instead. His soft lips.

“You know what we had was real,” he murmured, his hot breath fanning her face. “Believe in us. Believe in what your heart knows to be true. I love you, Hero.”

Hero’s bottom lip trembled against his touch. She swallowed and turned her head away, pressing her hand against his chest with more restraint than she thought herself capable of.

“Please, Flynn,” she said, her voice soft like the static in the air before a thunderstorm. “Just leave me alone.”

Flynn paused, his touch faltering and for a second she thought he was going to kiss her anyways. Something heartbroken inside her that still loved him told her that he would never do something like that. That there were lines of decency even a traitor wouldn’t cross.

“Fine,” he said, dropping his hand from her face and stepping back, scooping up his discarded shoes and socks. Hero did the right thing. She knows she did the right thing, so why does it feel like something just tore a hole through her chest? “Look, I know we were friends once, maybe more than that, maybe not, but right now Hero? I’m your only friend here. Your only refuge.”

Hero felt as if she had just been slapped. “Is that a threat? Be nice to me or else?”

Flynn had the audacity to look hurt. “No, that’s not—”

“Goodbye, Flynn,” she ground out through clenched teeth, stepping away from the door and grabbing it in her hand, ready to slam it in his face.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “See you later.”

The moment he stepped out of door frame she closed the door and leaned her back against it, sliding down and hugging her knees to her chest. She let the tears fall when she was alone, unaware that on the other side of the door, Flynn was listening to her, a pained expression colouring his features.

*~*~*~*~*

Hours later a knock sounded on her door. Hero ignored it. She watched the door handle open from her bed, her back propped against the headboard, her legs stretched out, crossed over at the ankles a book with its spine broken between her fingers. She inclined her head when the door opened, expecting it to be Flynn but froze when she saw a mess of black hair.

Villain was wearing a red leather jacket, contrasting against his sharp pale features and dark hair, making him seem other worldly. He smirked when he noticed Hero’s tension, he kicked the door open with his foot, crossing his arms and leaning against the door frame.

“I’ve been told to call you for dinner.”

“Like the good dog you are.”

“Woof,” Villain replied, a grin that made her skin crawl spreading across his features. “Of course, you hurt Flynn’s feelings so he’s licking his wounds in his room. You get me instead.”

“Yeah, well, I lost my appetite looking at your face.”

Shadow hands sprung from the backboard of the bed and grabbed Hero’s wrists before she realised what was happening. They squeezed, hard, until she dropped the book, shackling her in a ring of icy coldness, that yanked her arms back sharply and pressed them against the headboard. Hero didn’t even struggle and suppressed her whimpers of pain, but it must have shown on her face because Villain’s grin got wider as he stepped into her room.

“I would be nicer to me, Hero.” Villain cautioned, his fingers curling slowly into a fist in his hand, the shadows tightening more until Hero couldn’t keep her cries locked behind her teeth anymore. “We could be friends, like you and Flynn, hmm?”

“Friends don’t hurt each other,” Hero ground out, pulling against the shadows keeping her pinned. With all the effort she put behind it, it only resulted in her muscles shaking in her arms.

“Well, we’re not friends yet, and besides, it’s not hurting each other. I’m just hurting you.”

Hero looked away from Villain, staring pointedly at the wall to her right just to piss him off. Who did he think he was? Another cold hand stroked a finger along her jaw. Hero shivered at the touch, but refused to look at Villain. That’s when she heard footsteps round her bed until she was staring at worn, red leather in front of her.

“It doesn’t have to be like this,” Villain said, crouching down so he was eye-level with the stubborn Hero. He tilted his head with a smile. “Hmm? You’re stuck here, y’know. Unless you grow a spine and want to kill your friend, in which case, well, you’d belong here.”

“Let me go,” Hero snapped, pulling against the shadows. Villain let out a dark, breathy laugh, standing again as he shook his head. His hand shot out, as cold as his shadows and pinched her chin between his fingers tilting her head up sharply.

“The sooner you learn your place here the better, I mean,” Villain said, sucking in a breath as if it hurt. “Upsetting Flynn? The only person here on your side? Not a smart move, not one I would make. Or Supervillain if he were in your shoes. I mean, aren’t you supposed to be smart? Isn’t that your whole thing? Cause god knows you’re not strong.”

Hero’s lips curled back into a snarl and she shot her leg out. Shadows caught her ankle before it made contact and yanked her down the bed, but the hold on her wrists didn’t budge and so her body was stretched taut, pulled in two directions.

Villain released his grip on her chin when his shadows caught her foot and now he just stood back as she cried out and tried to gain purchase on the bed with her other leg for support.

“You know, it’s not nice to kick people.”

“Get off of me!”

“I’m not on you, Hero. Why? Do you want me to be?” Hero’s breath caught in her throat at the very thinly layered threat in Villain’s voice, and the sick fuck seemed to feed off her panic. “Relax Hero, I’m not that kind of Villain. I won’t touch you until you beg for it.”

His words sent shivers down her spine, and when the shadow on her ankle dissolved Hero quickly pulled it into her chest, retreating up her bed back to where her hands were pinned, not taking her eyes off him for a second.

Villain hummed, then turned and walked towards the door. He lifted his hand and clicked his fingers without looking at her. The shadows dissipated, leaving her wrists red raw but otherwise unharmed. “Come along, Hero. Like I said. Dinner’s ready.”

On the way downstairs, Villain rapped on Flynn’s door and yelled: “grubs up.” Hero didn’t take her glare off of Villain’s back the whole way down her U-shaped stairs to the second floor. It wouldn’t matter either way considering all the shadows he could utilise to torture her, and there was no way she could keep eyes everywhere.

Though when Flynn’s door opened, she paused on the last step of her stairs, watching him as he walked out of his room and shut the door. He didn’t look at her as he followed Villain down the stairs. He may as well have slapped her in the face. Actually, she’d rather he would have slapped her, or looked at her, or even paused when he saw her in the corner of his eye. But he continued through the landing and to the stairs like she wasn’t even there, and Hero swore her heart broke inside her chest all over again.

She followed the brothers down to the dining room in silence. Flynn and Villain were already sitting down at the Supervillain’s side of the table, both on either side of where Supervillain sat. Hero stared at the chair beside Flynn, something urging her to sit beside him, but instead she sat at other opposite head of the table. Yanking her chair out and sitting down.

Why should she be the one who’s suffering or feeling guilty? Flynn should be the one feeling guilty. It was his fault she was here. His fault that she was on Supervillain’s radar in the first place. His fault that Sidekick is in the hospital.

Villain’s cunning eyes went between the pair. “Trouble in paradise, lovebirds?”

“Oh shut up, Vil,” Flynn snapped.

Hero leaned forward, clasping her hands in front of her as if she was about to conduct a meeting. She smiled sweetly at Villain, sickeningly sweet. “Yes. No trouble at all, Vil. I wouldn’t touch a villain with a ten foot pole if I could help it, but considering I’m on house arrest with a family of villains, I’ve had to make some concessions.”

Flynn shot her a scathing look, his cocky smirk sliding onto his face. “That’s not what you said when you were cuddling me this morning.”

Villain’s entire face lit up, eyes going between the pair, enjoying the two of them silently fuming at each other. “Damn. You could cut the tension with a knife. Get a room, guys.”

Supervillain stepped through the doors that joined the kitchen to the dining room with two steaming plates. “Dinner’s ready!” He exclaimed happily. Noticing the atmosphere, he raised his brows. “What’s wrong?”

“A lover’s tiff,” Villain answered at the same time that Hero and Flynn bit out: “nothing.”

Supervillain hummed, walking down to Hero and sliding a plate in front of her. It smelled divine, like last time, and Hero’s stomach grumbled at the sight. Two steaks of salmon and green beans and cauliflower. “For your strength,” Supervillain beamed at her, then walked to Villain and served him next.

He disappeared through the doors again. Villain smiled at Flynn. “I got mine first, I’m the favourite.”

“You wish,” Flynn said, folding his arms across his chest. “He serves me last because hr wants to make sure my dinner is still hot.”

Supervillain appeared again and sat at the table beside Flynn, handing him his plate too. “Ah. Bon Appétit.”

They ate in relative silence, Villain or Flynn would say something and they’d start a conversation that would ebb and flow while Hero ate quietly, trying her best not to scoff the whole plate down in seconds, but she didn’t have breakfast or lunch today, so she was starving.

“How’s the nose, Hero?” Supervillain asked.

“It’s fine,” Hero replied coldly, then stiffened, thinking better of disrespecting him and added a quiet, “thank you.”

“Good. Glad to hear it. I actually got you some papers today.”

Hero raised her brows. “Oh.”

“To keep you up on the news,” Supervillain told her, his smile reminiscent of his son’s, though maybe a bit more civil, but no less shark-like and menacing. “Don’t want you completely disconnected from the world.”

Hero pushed at the remains of her dinner with her fork, tightening her grip on the utensil. “You just want to torture me as much as possible, is that it?”

“Torture you? What would be the point? I have you immobilised and incapacitated. I don’t need to torture you any further. I just thought you’d like to know—”

“How the world’s doing outside my fucking prison?” She demanded, raising her gaze to meet Supervillain’s. Supervillain’s smile remained on his face and she wanted nothing more than to climb over the table and slap it off. “No thanks.”

“Things can be pleasant for you here, Hero.”

“Thanks, but no thanks.”

Supervillain tilted his head to the side, steepled his fingers in front of his face. “You didn’t let me finish, Hero. Things can be pleasant for you here, Hero, or—”

Hero felt the cold hands of Villain’s power grab her wrists again and yank them behind the back of her chair, her fork clattering along the floor of the dining room. “We can make it very, very difficult for you if you’d prefer. Which would you rather, now that you’ve tasted the cell and the room?”

“I’d rather you let me go, you fucking dick!” She hissed, trying to yank her hands free, but each time she got an inch her hands were clamped down tighter, almost dragging her over the chair, but she planted her feet on the ground, resolute, and glared at the man. “Stop threatening my friends and give yourself up to the proper authorities while you’re at it! That’s what I’d prefer over this playing house bullshit!”

“Hero,” Flynn cautioned. Hero scoffed. She would have threw her arms up if she could, bordering on hysterical.

“Now you deign to talk to me?” She cried. “Save it!”

She turned her gaze, crueller now, back to Supervillain, adopting a false sense of innocence. “I mean, this isn’t really a proper family, is it? Where’s the mother figure after all?”

Hero only got the briefest of seconds to enjoy Supervillain’s easy smiling expression dipping, turning to cold fury before a shadowed hand grabbed her throat, followed by Villain who grabbed her where the shadow hand did, and slammed her back against the wall.

“You fucking bitch,” he seethed. “You really don’t know when to shut up, do you?”

Hero spit at him in reply, cracking a smile despite her face that was steadily changing from red to purple at her oxygen being cut off. It wasn’t a proper glob, more like a spray of saliva, even her fucking spit was limp at her circumstances.

“Villain,” Supervillain said as Hero gasped on air that she wasn’t getting. Hero could barely hear him when he spoke again, her eyes rolling to the back of her head as she clung desperately to air. She fell to the ground deadweight, head smacking off the floor but she barely noticed it as she gasped in oxygen like a fish being thrown back into a river.

Her throat screamed at the abuse, screamed at her to stop fucking tempting fate and cruelty of the family of villains but she couldn’t bring herself to care if they killed her or not. It would be preferable, honestly.

But then who would help Sidekick? Her stupid, logical voice chimed in as she pushed herself up by her hands. A pair of tailored trousers met her gaze as she righted herself, she had only begun to tilt her head up, her mind cloudy when she felt a hand lock around her upper arm and drag her to her feet.

She stumbled up, her leg faltering behind and falling again but the grip didn’t loosen and the legs didn’t slow down and Hero was forced to make her legs work after depriving them of oxygen for the last twenty seconds.

“Dad.” Flynn’s voice. “Dad!”

“Enough, Flynn.” They were in the kitchen Hero realised, the wood of the dining room floor replaced with the black tiles. Supervillain was holding her, dragging her to the far side of the kitchen and she had the sense to start digging her heels in when they reached a door she wasn’t familiar with. “We tried it your way, Flynn. Now, we’ll try it Villain’s way and compare notes.”

“Dad, no. Wait!” Flynn cried. Hero turned her head over her shoulder to see Villain’s sharp grin, arms around Flynn to stop him from following Hero and Supervillain wherever they were going. “Dad!”

“Ladies first,” Supervillain said after he opened the door and with a pause, he pressed his hand to Hero’s back and shoved her down the stairs.

*~*~*~*~*

Continued here

Orphanage roll-call: (lmk if you wanna be added or removed): @xenlust @books-are-everything @micechomper r @shywhumpauthor @aarika-merrill @xxgalgurlxx @0eggdealer @watermelonrandom @tippytappytyping @silentpotat0 @swift-perseides s s @gloriousqueen101 @ladygwennn @books-are-everything @isnortkoolaidpowderteehee @memepsychowhowantsuperpower-blog

[aphel1on]

i have such a love for characters who descend into madness or villainy out of deep, deep empathy. characters who fundamentally cannot cope with the cruel realities they find themselves in and blow up about it in spectacular fashion. fallen angel type characters with tears of outrage in their eyes. characters who break before they bend, and break so badly they splatter blood all over their noble ideals. every variation on it gets me so good

[reinfalllz]

Wild Life Comics

This edition is titled: The Entrapment Conundrum or something

the latest wild life episode summoned me to return to making minecraft fanart

[ourmoodwaves]

˚⋆｡४🗡️

[lotus-pear]

rewatched madoka magica again today bc i fucking hate myself and to absolutely no one’s surprise i went through all five stages of grief in a single evening

[itsnothingofinterest]

This is probably a weird note to end my time with MHA's run on; but I find it so strange how I still see people calling Tomura out on just being a destruction-hungry villain with supposedly no plan or follow up...as though he is unique for that simplicity. Especially after the ending we got. Like, Deku and All Might never really had a plan when they were reshaping society by beating up the enemy and everything worked out fine for them, but does anyone call them out for just using violence to mindlessly solve everything with no further plan? (Well, yes. Me. Right now.)

Because like, really thinking about it; how different was All Might's plan from the start of his career to take down AFO and become a symbol, and Deku's plan to end the villains and bring everything back, from Shigaraki's plan to end hero society and bring about a world accommodating to the League? It all seemed to boil down to the same basic premise of Step 1) Beat everyone & everything making things worse, Step 2) ...it all just kind of works out from there. (I guess All Might planned on being inspiring and uplifting, but then we could also count Tomura's plan to be imposing and...uplifting but for different people. Deku was winging it every step of the way though.) Everyone's getting on Tomura's case for doing nothing but destroying; but all evidence from when the heroes do it suggests violence & destruction works. And it just never fails to bug me when people call Tomura out for stuff that's fine when heroes do it.

Which, yeah, let's touch on how it did just work out for Deku that way for no logical reason, least of all anything he planned. He punched out the big bad just like All Might and now things are like a hundred times better than they were under All Might with no more Tenkos abandoned in the street. If stuff like that just happens if you punch out your enemies hard enough, then why couldn't that happen for Tomura? Maybe if he had destroyed the government & hero society it would've, idk, been so fear/awe-inspiring that all the villains would've been nice and cooperative under the PLF and everything would've been fine. Or something. No more contrived than what we saw with the old lady plot line, MHA is just a series where that stuff works out. Heck, one time it actually did just work out that way for Tomura:

Again, violence and destruction works in MHA. I mean; duh, it's a shonen manga.

Plus all this is ignoring the fact that, unlike those two, Tomura did have a follow up to the violence. He did have a step two, or at least one & a half, after "beat down all the bad guys in the country." Rather than just going "and everything will work out from there," he had his guys plan for the future so he could say "and Spinner, Toga, and RD et. all will make sure everything works out from there." (Admittedly, not much; but also, not hopes and dreams.) He did have a plan, it was just the plan from the Overahul arc, where he was last asked to have a plan: leave it to his allies.

And hey, that means it's actually better than what we saw from genius All Might and brainiac Deku. So why are we still, even after everything was over, acting like there's some expectation as a villain he didn't meet? I guess it's just in the nature of a 'tantrum-having man-child who wants nothing but destruction' to put more forethought into the future he wants to build than the society-uplifting greatest heroes.

That or maybe everyone had really detailed follow-ups for when they won that Hori never went much into, but that'd render this post a bit pointless so shhh.

[byjovewhataspend]

sorry guys i just Can Not get over these three being coworkers

I spent so much of this manga wanting deku to interact with these two (and deku NEVER ONCE speaks with mic in the WHOLE SERIES despite CANONICALLY BEING A HUGE FAN ) only to find out they were hanging out DAILY for YEARS as EQUALSSS

anyways <3 hes in the group chat. he goes drinking with them. hes on the gossip train. hes the cucumber in the sandwich

[hufflepuffwritingstuff2]

Forced Vacation- Part 2

Part 1

Hero stirred to a cool sensation going up and down their arm. They groaned weakly as their eyes fluttered open to a shady umbrella overhead. They felt a soft surface underneath them and heard the lapping of ocean waves nearby. Then they remembered their situation. Hero sat bolt upright, but they were yanked back down.

“Hold it! You’re not going out in the sun until I’m finished!”

Hero’s head jerked to the side.

“Villain!? What the heck are you doing!?”

Villain got another helping of sunscreen out of the bottle and applied it to Hero’s other arm.

“Hooking you up to my doomsday device,” Villain said, “…what does it look like, darling?”

Hero opened their mouth, closed it, opened it again, then closed it fruitlessly. Villain chuckled, then sat them up. They started to apply more of the citrus-scented stuff to Hero’s back.

Hero blinked in confusion. They looked down at their body and saw that their suit had been replaced with swimwear. Their cheeks turned red at the thought of someone undressing them.

“Oh relax,” Villain said, “I didn’t peek.”

That made Hero feel a little bit better, but only a little bit. In a few minutes, Villain was finished. Hero went to stand up again, but Villain stopped them.

“Hero! It has to sink in for at least fifteen minutes!” Villain protested.

Hero huffed, then begrudgingly sat back down. Villain smiled.

“Good,” they said, “I hope you’re not so jumpy because you’re planning on escaping, my dear Hero.”

Hero opened their mouth to speak.

“Because if you were,” Villain continued, “you’d have a pretty hard time getting off this beach, let alone the island. I have security measures everywhere. And I know you don’t plan to swim all the way back to the city; that would be insane even for you.”

Hero scanned the beach. Various henchmen dotted the sand dunes, waiting in case they decided to try something. So they were stuck here.

“How long?” Hero grumbled.

“You still have about thirteen minutes-”

“No.” Hero shook their head, “how long are you keeping me here?”

Villain cracked an annoyingly attractive grin.

“As long as it takes, Hero. As long as it takes.”

That wasn’t an answer! Hero went to say so, but Villain shoved a straw in their mouth.

“Strawberry daquiri,” Villain explained, “go on.”

Hero eyed it suspiciously.

“Virgin- no alcohol.”

Hero still didn’t drink.

“Oh for the love of-” Villain took a small sip from the drink, “-there. Happy?”

Satisfied, Hero started to sip on the daquiri. It was so sweet and refreshing, they relaxed on the spot.

…

Hero dried their hair with a fluffy towel. The beach had been tolerable. Okay, it had been really fun, but they weren’t about to admit it. They had been escorted to Villain’s fancy villa at the heart of the island and had been left to shower and change. Hero had done both, and was now dressed in a loose, flowy outfit that swished in the breeze.

“Had fun, my little mermaid?” Villain smiled, leaning on the doorframe.

Hero whirled around.

“It was… it wasn’t torture,” Hero conceded.

“I would hope not, considering I had to practically drag you out of the water for lunch.”

Villain had left the beach completely soaked, but not because they had been playing in the water too. Hero may have splashed them a few times… they were completely dry now, though, and wearing a crisp button-up and shorts. Hero giggled thinking about the beach.

“Come on,” Villain nodded to the door, “you’re going to love what Chef made.”

Hero’s urge to fight was fading evermore into the back of their mind. They joined Villain and followed them to the patio where various foods and delicacies waited.

Part 3

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Master Tags:

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@electrons2006

Series Tags: @whump-bunny @kawaii-cakes @fangedcinnamonroll

[call-me-copycat]

Because of one of my recent posts, I feel the need to ask:

If you have not read it (or at least haven't read it all), would you guys be interested if I were to share some panels every now and then?

I've noticed every time someone online posts a strip without context, everyone finds it hilarious and wants to know where it's from - I don't see many people that know about SMASH? So I thought I'd ask

I own all 5 books, it's terrible but in a good way in my opinion (⁠๑⁠¯⁠◡⁠¯⁠๑⁠) - I will admit some of it is a little too crude for me though..（´・ω・｀）

SMASH is where a lot of popular artwork came from! (Most of it was from Horikoshi responding to Neda's work but still)

He drew the cast as children for a chapter, and little Aizawa caught a lot of attention:

Then Horikoshi drew this for Neda after that chapter:

There was another with a genderbend artwork from Horikoshi after Neda (I believe it was from the same novel too) made a genderbend strip:

Anddd here are some random panels for those unfamiliar! (´∇｀)

Bonus warning from Horikoshi:

[villainboygirl]

Brad: Stop trying to be a hero, Loki. You're a villain. You're good at it. Do that.

Loki: ...Fine. *he plays the villain and torture Brad*

Brad:

[a-whisper-in-the-forest]

Oh my goodness, I just read Coffee and Tips and IT’S SO GOOD! I love the civilian’s and villain’s dynamic and like villain said “now that I got a taste and want more.”

So I was wondering and hoping, could you please continue it? I understand if you were intending it to be a fun one off story, are too busy or can’t.

It’s alright either way and I know when it’s hard to continue something you write and feel like there’s nothing more to add. So no pressure. Thanks regardless, it’s absolutely wonderful and I love your writing style! Please take care and I hope you have the most wonderful day and everyday beyond that! 💖✨

Hi! That's so nice! I hope you have a wondeful day too and everyday beyond that haha. Anyway, here it is! There's a bit of fighting, so not that sweet (unless you think protective villains are sweet). I hope you like it. Enjoy!

Part 1 (coffees and tips)

Somebody I care about

Civilian looks at the clock. Only one hour before their shift ends. They sigh as they wipe down the already clean counter. There weren't a lot of customers today, they are probably all scheming in their lair. It has been their most boring shift in a while.

Just as Civilian puts away some clean mugs, a customer walks in. “Good morning! Can I get you anything?” they say as a record on a loop. As they turn around though, their heart makes a little jump.

“Villain! I didn't know you were coming today,” Civilian smiles. “I didn’t have anything else to do today and my henchmen are horrible at making coffees,” Villain says, also smiling widely. “It’s a nice day, right? The sun has been shining all day.” Civilian lets out a sigh. “I’ve been here the whole day. I haven’t had the chance yet to enjoy the weather.” Villain takes a few steps closer to the counter. “I’m sorry to hear that, you should come sit outside with me.”

Civilian really wants to go sit outside with them. Villain has visited the café a few times now and they always enjoyed their conversations. They can rant about their problems and tell them about their life and Villain would always listen very carefully. Then, after buying themselves and Civilian a coffee, they would leave an outrageously large tip (not that they were complaining) and leave. Civilian doesn’t know why villain does this, but it is so relieving being able to tell somebody everything they were worried about. They could really use a talk like that right now.

Right as Civilian wants to agree with Villain’s proposal, another person bursts through the door. “There you are! I swear Villain, if you don’t give back Sidekick right now!” Superhero’s voice booms across the little café. Now it was Villain’s turn to sigh. “They really don’t understand the concept of free will, do they?” Villain asks themselves more than anyone else in the room.

“Hand them over!” Superhero yells. Villain lets out an annoyed groan and turns around. “You morons really are too thick to understand what I’m saying, huh?” Superhero lets out an offended scoff. “Morons?! How dare you call us that, you lowlife thief!”

They get closer to Villain and start getting in their face, which, given Superhero’s height, looks ridiculous. Villain towers over Superhero, not only by physical height but also by demeanour. “I’m only going to say it one more time. Sidekick. wanted. to. change. sides.” Villain starts slowly. “They are not going to and don’t want to come back to you.”

“Lair.” Superhero hisses. “Are you serious? I wouldn’t want to go back either if my boss acts like this.” Civilian only realises that they said that out loud after it was said. Superhero’s gaze snaps to Civilian. If looks could kill, they would drop dead right that instant. “I don’t need your opinion, rat. Be a good peasant and keep your mouth shut.”

Civilian saw something in Villain shift. “I think it’s time for you to leave,” Villain says in a tone that sent shivers down Civilian’s spine. “I don’t think the same thing. Who are you to-” That’s all Superhero could say before crashing into a wall. Villain slowly walks towards the coughing hero. In a ice cold tone that would scare the toughest person on earth, Villain talks slowly. “I don’t want to see your face ever again. You run back to your agency and tell them to never expect Sidekick back.” Superhero is still trying to catch their breath. After a few minutes they manage to speak. “But-” Villain kicks the kneeling Superhero down and puts their foot on their neck. “I don’t want to hear it. You’re lucky someone I care about is in the room. Otherwise, it wouldn’t have been so kind.”

Villain lets the hero go and steps back. The Superhero runs out and doesn’t dare to look back. Civilian comes around the corner of the bar. They can’t help but repeat the words in their head.

‘Somebody I care about’

It makes their heart jump and their stomach is feeling funny. “Sorry about that,” Villain starts, “Just tell Boss I will pay for the damages.” Civilian nods. They are thankful it won’t be taken out of their paycheck. “I think it’s better that I leave,” Villain says as they push a heap of cash into Civilian’s hands. “For the trouble.”

Before Civilian can ask about anything, Villain is out the door. Even though villain isn’t there anymore, there are still butterflies flying in their stomach.

[lord-squiggletits]

I think the key component to my personal reading of post-Delphi Pharma is that he's trying to be a horrible person on purpose. Not "on purpose" in the way that people have free will to exercise their own choices, but in that Pharma's "mad doctor" persona is a performance he puts on to deliberately embrace how much everyone else hates him. Basically, if people already think you're a "bad Autobot" and a horrible doctor who just kills his patients for fun, why try to prove otherwise to people who have already made up their minds about you? Just fully embrace the fact that people see you as an asshole. Don't try to change their minds. Don't plead for their forgiveness or understanding. Just stop caring. If you're going to be remembered as a monster, you might as well be a memorable monster, and eke as much pleasure and hedonism as you can out of it before karma catches up to you and you inevitably crash and burn.

I mean, I guess you could just go the route of "Oh, Pharma was always a fucked up creepy guy and Delphi was just him taking the mask off," but I really don't like that interpretation because, for one, it feels really wrong to take a character like Pharma becoming evil under duress and going, "Oh well clearly he did the things he did because he was evil all along," as if somehow Pharma breaking under blackmail/torture/threat of horrible death was a sign of him having poor moral character. As opposed to, you know, suffering under the very real threat of horrible death for himself and everyone he cares about while being manipulated by a guy who specializes in psychological torture.

The second reason is that it just doesn't make sense to write Pharma as having been evil all along. I mean...

Occam's Razor says that the best argument is the one with the simplest explanation. Doesn't it make way more sense to take Pharma's appearances in flashbacks, his friendship with Ratchet, his stunning medical accomplishments, and the few we see of him speaking kindly/sympathetically (or in the least charitable interpretation, at least professionally) towards his patients and conclude "This guy was just a normal person, if exceptionally talented." Taking all of these flashback appearances at face value and assuming Pharma was being genuine/honest is a way simpler and more logical explanation than trying to argue that Pharma for the past 4 million years was just faking being a good doctor/person. I mean, it's possible within the realm of headcanon, but the fact is Pharma's appearances in the story are so brief that there simply wasn't room in the story for there to be some sort of secret conspiracy/hidden manipulation behind why Pharma acted the way he did in the past.

I just can't help but look at things like Pharma's friendship with Ratchet (himself a good person and usually a fine judge of character) and the fact that even post-Delphi, pretty much every single mention of Pharma comes with some mention of "He was a good doctor for most of his life" or "He was making major headways in research [before he started killing patients]" which implies that even the Autobots themselves see Pharma's villainy as a recent turn in his life compared to how for "most of his life" he "used to be" a good doctor.

And although Pharma doesn't know this, we as the readers (and even other characters like Rung) know about Aequitas technology and the fact that it actually works, so... if Pharma really was an unrepentant murderer, why couldn't he get through the forcefield too? The Aequitas forcefield doesn't require that a person be completely morally pure and free of wrongdoing or else how could Tyrest get through, just that they feel a sense of inner peace and lack feelings of guilt. Pharma has murdered and tortured people by this point, and put on quite a campy and theatrical show of how much he sees it as a fun game, so why then can he not get through?

It circles back to my headcanon at the start of this post that the "mad doctor" persona is just that-- a persona. Delphi/post-Delphi Pharma's laughing madman personality is just so far removed from every flashback we saw of him and everything we can infer based on how other people see/saw him before that, to me, the mad doctor act is (at least in large part, if not fully) a persona that Pharma puts on to put his villainy in the forefront.

To avoid an overly simplistic/ableist take, I don't think Tarn tortured Pharma into turning crazy. To me, it's more like the constant pressure of death by horrific torture, the feeling of martyrdom as Pharma kept secret that he was the only one standing between Delphi and annihilation, the physical isolation of Messatine as well as the emotional separation from Ratchet, being forced to violate his medical oaths (pretty much the only thing Pharma's entire life has been about), etc. All of that combined traumatized Pharma to the point that the only way he could avoid cracking was to just stop caring about all of it. Because at least then, even if he's still murdering patients to save Delphi from a group of sadistic freaks, Pharma doesn't have to feel guilty and sick about doing it. As opposed to the alternatives, which were probably either going off the deep end and killing himself to escape, or confessing to what he did and getting jailed for it.

In that light, Pharma becoming a mad doctor makes sense. It avoids the bad writing tropes of "oh this character who was good his entire life was actually just evil and really good at hiding it" as well as "oh he got tortured and went crazy that's why he's so random and silly and killing people, he's crazy" and instead frames Pharma's evil as something he was forced into, to the point where in order to avoid a full psychological breakdown and keep defending Delphi, he just had to stop caring about the sanctity of life or about what other people might think of him.

Then, of course, the actual Delphi episode happens, and Pharma's own lifelong best friend Ratchet basically spits in his face and sees him as nothing more than a crazy murderer who went rogue from being a good Autobot. Then Pharma gets his hands cut off and left to die on Messatine. At that point, Pharma has not only been mentally/emotionally broken into losing his feelings of compassion, he's received the message loud and clear: He is alone. Everyone hates him. Not even his own best friend likes him any more. No one even cared enough about him to check if he actually died or not. He will only ever be remembered as a doctor who went insane and killed his patients.

So in the light of 1. Having all of your redeeming qualities be squeezed out of you one by one for the sake of survival and 2. Having your reputation and all of your positive relationships be destroyed and 3. People only know/care about you as "that doctor who became evil and killed his patients" rather than the millions of years of good service that came before.

What else is there to do but internalize the fact that you'll forever be seen as a monster and a freak, and embrace it? People already see you as a murderer for that blackmail deal you did, so why not become an actual murderer and just start killing people on a whim? People already see you as an irredeemable monster who puts a stain on the Autobot name, so why beg for their forgiveness when you could just shun them back? You've already become a murderer, a traitor, and a horrible doctor, so what's a few more evil acts added to the pile? It's not like anyone will ever forgive you or love you ever again.

Why care? Why try to hold on to your principles of compassion, kindness, medical ethics, when an entire lifetime of being a good person did nothing to save you from blackmail and then abandonment? Why put yourself through the emotional agony of feeling lonely, guilty, miserable, when you could just... stop caring, and not hurt any more?

[moodyvoid]

If you were in charge of the bnha anime, what fillers would you have made for the league?

Personally I feel like we were robbed of a beach episode, I would adapt the smash manga where the league is (curiously there is one where they go to the beach) and I think that the league deserved to play with Shigaraki's new powers to get to know them (this before the war), as well as using Redestro's money irresponsibly.

Sigh, maybe in another universe

Yesss. A beach episode based on the smash comic would have been amazing. Literally any mundane thing I would enjoy watching them do.

I’d love a haunted house adventure. 👻🎃

A BODY SWAP EPISODE. (That ultimately results in them all becoming closer bc they gain a better understanding of each other’s struggles and each other’s quirks)

CHRISTMAS/SECRET SANTA episode. 🎄 (to get a better look into their interests)

An episode with what they did in their free time or a look into their personal lives like the dorm-room episode would be great. How they behaved in a roommate situation together. What were their daily conversations like? What did they say to each other when passing in the hallway at 2am? How often did they fight over who’s doing the dishes?

I’d take anything.

[evelynpr]

"You know, that animated show's main antagonist who's a man born hundreds of years ago, grew up incredibly protective of his brother since they only had each other. "

"Whose brother then left them for someone else who proceeded to emobdy something they will forever despise- leading to them killing their brother and those like their partner, and doing inhumane experiments to try to bring this brother back to life?"

"Their brother replica then growing up as their personal servant, then coming around to be part of how they are defeated in the end by the protagonist"

...which one?

[wisebeth]

why does the pjo series have to unnecessarily villainize goddesses (hera & athena) or show them as silly ladies (aphrodite & demeter) BUT posiedon and apollo are somehow shown as the coolest/most likeable gods, even though arguably, they're right after zeus on terms of corruption?

ares shown as the worst god after zeus and hera amuses me. last time i checked, he was the patron god of amazons and literally killed a man for attempting to rape his daughter but guess who cursed women for rejection? apollo. guess who raped women when they said no (aside from zeus)? posiedon.

[chaotic-orphan]

Intoxicating Fear (XIX)

The blood of the Covenant

Part one // Masterpost // continued from here

It's a day late but listen I just discovered jujutsu kaisen and wowza - I have never related more to a character than Satoru Gojo and the forced self-awareness I now have to endure bc all the other characters are just constantly criticising him - for good reasons ofc but like, I don't need the personal attack? Anyways! ENJOY

~*~*~*~*~*~

The moment Kit’s eyes lazily fluttered open he wanted to shut them again. There was no haziness to the morning, no brief reprieve of waking where there are no thoughts and you exist in a limbo state: halfway between dreaming and consciousness.

No. Not even the incredibly comfortable bed could provide a respite from his mind.

Kit didn’t get any of that.

The first thing that greeted him when he opened his eyes was Ambrose telling him that there was a telekinetic Villain in the city. And the only telekinetic hero Kit knew of was Mentor. There was Sawyer with his shadows too, but that Villain wasn’t Sawyer. Kit knew the coldness of his shadows.

Not to mention the strange thing happening with his own powers around Ambrose. It seemed like all fucking roads just lead back to Ambrose.

Kit had to get out of bed. He had to go downstairs and face Ambrose. He had to watch the news and see the scale of Ment— Villain’s— destruction. He had to call Superhero and try to ignore the feeling in his gut that told him this Villain — whoever he was — was actually Supervillain making an appearance for the first time.

His stomach turned as his mind linked Supervillain and Mentor together, but he couldn’t stop the thought from forming. He couldn’t seem to stop anything lately.

Kit clenched his teeth as he pushed himself up and out of bed. His socked feet touched soft carpet like a cloud and tension seemed to leave his body at the feeling. Ambrose may be a rich, entitled prick, but if Kit could wake up to these carpets every morning maybe he would be too.

He stretched, his limbs cracking as he woke them up. The exhaustion from yesterday’s overused powers had dissipated overnight, leaving Kit a bit more refreshed than usual. Actually, no. Not refreshed. He felt great! Normal. Aside from a mild headache but there was no bone deep tiredness in his limbs.

It felt strange, but in a good way. He clicked his fingers and a small blue bolt formed between them. Before he could be relieved, the bolt sparked violently, red tongues of lightning forked out of the blue until Kit dropped the charge.

Shit.

Kit walked out of the room, and opened a few doors before he found a bathroom. Ignoring the luxury of the room, Kit froze in the doorway. A mirror hung above the sink and reflected Kit’s bright red eyes back at him.

“No, no, no, no, no!” Kit muttered, half-running to the mirror and pulling his eyelids down. “Stop it. Stop it. Snap out of it!”

Kit slapped himself in the face and checked again but nothing. He turned the tap on, maybe he just needed to splash some water in his face. Yeah. That was it.

The water was cool over his fingertips and refreshing as it splashed his face, but when he looked up again all he saw was red. Kit slammed his hand down on the edge of the sink, glaring at his own face in the mirror.

This was all Ambrose’s fault! Before him Kit’s powers were under control! Always under control, but now… this thing with his eyes it made him sick. His electricity was supposed to be blue not red.

“Fuck!” Kit cried, smashing his fist against the edge of the sink again. “Stupid!” Punch. “Fucking.” Punch. “GAAH!” Punch. Punch. Punch.

Ambrose paused with his mug halfway to his lips in the kitchen, hearing a slight commotion upstairs. Mallory must be awake. Then slow, heavy footsteps not even an elephant would make down the stairs.

Kit got to the end of the staircase and looked right and left. The two halls looked identical, both grand and leading different directions. Kit just wanted a coffee… he trudged to the left, trusting his instincts.

From his right, he heard Ambrose: “in here, Mallory.”

Kit was about to throw a tantrum like a toddler, but instead he walked past the staircase and town the hall to the right. On his left he saw a kitchen from some ostentatious show house, like something you’d see on TV, but he ignored it and focused on the Villain sitting at the kitchen island.

His black eyes glinting with amusement as Kit stormed in, going straight for the kettle. Or well, he would’ve gone straight for the kettle had his knees not hit the floor with an echoing thud.

Kit hissed. “What the fuck?”

Ambrose frowned where he sat and stood, walking around the counter to see the hero on his knees in just his boxer shorts and t-shirt, staring up at Ambrose with wide red eyes glowing.

“Morning.” Ambrose said, then a smile came to his lips which bubbled into a laugh at the hero’s confusion. “Oh, I completely forgot.”

“Forgot what?” Kit snapped, trying to move his legs back and stand but he couldn’t. His knees were glued to the floor as if all gravity had amassed in his kneecaps that now seemed to weigh ten tonnes.

“God it seems so faraway now,” Ambrose murmured, being the cryptic fuck that he was.

Small streaks of electricity cackled from Kit’s eyes. “Forgot what?” He asked through clenched teeth. “In case you didn’t know, Rosey, I’m not exactly a morning person, so if you could undo whatever the fuck you’ve done, I’d appreciate it.”

“But you look so good on your knees,” Ambrose told him, reaching a hand out and ruffling Kit’s hair until Kit slapped his hand away. “Like a good puppy.”

“Oh fuck off, dickhead! Let me up.”

Ambrose’s black eyes danced with amusement. “Only if you ask nicely.”

Kit rolled his eyes. “Oh fuck off. I’m just going to fucking crawl I guess.”

“Ki—it,” Ambrose sing-songed, his voice moving like flute notes through his ears. He recognised the coldness of Ambrose’s powers pulling at his mind, the threat of what he could do.

Kit huffed out a breath. Crossing his arms over his chest. He didn’t look at Ambrose as he mumbled: “can I get up?”

“What was that?” Ambrose asked, putting his hand to his ear like a pre-school teacher. “I couldn’t hear you over the coffee brewing.”

Red eyes snapped to black. “Can I get up? Please?!”

“Of course you can get up Kit.”

This time when Kit moved his legs, his knees didn’t keep him rooted to the spot.

“Dick,” he muttered under his breath, forcing himself not to shoulder check the villain as he passed him on the way to the kettle. “Can you undo whatever that is?”

Ambrose hummed. “I’ll have to get back to you on that. It was a measure to teach you manners.”

Fuck off, Kit thought venomously. I just want a coffee. Kit didn’t answer as he zeroed in on the kettle, and plugged it in.

“Oh, I already made a pot of coffee,” Ambrose said. Kit glanced over his shoulder at Ambrose, stare hard. Ambrose gestured to the counter on the opposite side of the kitchen and Kit was about to throw a fit. He wanted to throw the kettle at the man’s head, but he knew he just needed a coffee and then he’d be fine. So he restrained himself and walked to the coffee pot.

The smell of the coffee went straight to his heart. “Is this… drip coffee?” He asked as he poured the black liquid into the cup that was set out for him.

Ambrose scoffed behind him. “I know you’re used to living in squalor, Mallory, but I don’t keep instant coffee in the house.”

“Wow. I’m not complaining,” Kit said, turning to the island and going to sit beside Ambrose. “I mean, I don’t live in squalor, but drip coffee would be nice every morning.”

Ambrose’s black eyes went to Kit’s face as he sat into the stool. Kit was too busy looking at his bare legs to notice. “I forgot my trousers,” he grumbled, feeling the tips of his ears going pink.

Ambrose waved the comment away. “I’m sure you had more pressing issues this morning?”

Kit raised his pained gaze to Ambrose. Black eyes searched Kit’s red ones with a mildly contained annoyance. “I was hoping there wouldn’t be any lingering effects of yesterday.”

“Lingering effects?” Kit repeated incredulously. “Lingering effects?! Oh I’m sorry if my overworked powers are inconveniencing you in any way, Ambrose. I’m so sorry—”

Ambrose waved him away. “Okay, you’re being dramatic.”

While Kit continued speaking over him, sarcasm dripping from every syllable: “so very, devastatingly, sorry that my powers are all out of whack because a fucking sadistic piece of shit just loves to push me until I can’t go further.”

“Apology accepted.”

Kit scoffed, shaking his head and took another gulp of his coffee. Fuck it tasted so good, it almost made him calm down. Almost.

“But the fact of the matter is we have more pressing issues.”

A sardonic smile slid its way onto Kit’s lips, resting his chin in the palm of his hand and gesturing between them. “What is this “we” you speak of?” He asked, red eyes alight with amusement.

“Mentor, Kit. I’m talking about Mentor.”

Kit’s face dropped as he straightened. “What is this we you speak of?” He repeated tightly.

“Mallory—”

“No,” Kit spat venomously, running a hand through his hair. “No, I am not talking about Mentor with the person who destroyed his mind for fun. No. We’re not doing this.”

“Kit— it’s important, we need—”

“STOP SAYING WE!” Kit roared, slamming his hands down on the table. Red sparks erupting around him as his anger grew. He wanted to smile at the look of fear that flashed across Ambrose’s face as the electricity spit and spewed around him, like a thousand hungry tongues hissing at the air around them.

“There is no we, Ambrose.” Kit continued, his voice echoing slightly with static as if he were speaking through an old radio. “There has never been a we. The only thing that joins you and me is Mentor, and that’s a very thin line because you didn’t know about our connection until what? This week?! You have no fucking right to speak to me about—”

“Mentor is my father.”

The silence would have been deafening if Kit’s electricity didn’t stutter and stop with a pathetic jolts like an old man’s fart. Kit’s mind screeched to a stop with a record scratch, before running ten miles a second because what the fuck did Ambrose just fucking say?!

Kit just stared as Ambrose clenched his hands into fists and loosened them again, repeating the gesture as if he were reaching for something he couldn’t quite touch. It felt as if Kit’s eyelids were torn with how wide they stared at the villain in front of him because this was some fucking sick joke, right?!

“It’s not a joke,” Ambrose said quietly, a wry smile on his face when Kit’s immediate thought was: get out of my head. “It’s not a joke, Kit. I wish it were.”

“You’re—” Kit began, but didn’t have enough breath in his lungs to finish the sentence, his eyes prickling with tears that he refused to let fall. “You… you’re lying. There’s no… you don’t even—”

Kit wasn’t making sense. They were all half formed thoughts spilling from lips as he wondered whether he should kill Ambrose where he stood now, or later.

“You don’t even share the same last name,” Kit settled on, his mind reeling. Ambrose met his eyes finally and Kit wished he hadn’t. He didn’t want to see the vulnerable humanity lingering in Ambrose’s black gaze, the hard tilt to his brows. The confession seemed to strip Ambrose of everything that him, well… Ambrose, and left a man, no a boy, not much older than Kit sitting before him. “You don’t even look alike! You’re not— you can’t be—”

Ambrose sucked in a breath through his nose, burying his face in his palms and rubbing his eyes. “I can show you my birth certificate if you’d like.”

Kit sprung to his feet because he didn’t know what else to do. His body was wired — no alive — with a restless energy that he couldn’t quell or control and the only way he could do something about it was somehow related to jumping off the stool.

“You— you! There’s— you can’t be Mentor’s son! Mentor didn’t— doesn’t have a family!”

Ambrose scoffed, running his hands down his face until they settled around his cup in front of him, his gaze distant. “He would say that.”

“You’re lying.”

Ambrose turned his head to face Kit, though he didn’t really look at him. More like through him. A wry smile pulled at the edges of his eyes.

“Believe it or not, Kit. The fact remains the same.” Ambrose took a sip of his coffee or tea or whatever, while Kit just stood uselessly staring at Ambrose and trying to logic a way to this being some joke, or ruse. “I wish it wasn’t true either.”

“You— you—” Kit stuttered, his hands balling into fists at his sides. Ambrose widened his eyes slightly, raising a placating hand towards Kit.

“Hey, Kit. Calm down.”

Don’t tell me to calm down, Kit wanted to say but he couldn’t get the words out. He couldn’t stop shaking, his entire body felt as if he just drank a vat full of caffeine and it wanted to go, go, go. It was as if someone had just jump-started every nerve in his body, every muscle contracting, every blood cell oxygenated and his body felt far too small as everything seemed to constrict inside of him and there wasn’t enough space and his veins felt ready to burst and—

“HEY! KIT!” Ambrose screamed from far, far below Kit. He wondered distantly what was happening, why Ambrose felt so far away. Why Kit felt like he couldn’t breathe and yet never felt more alive at the same time. “FUCK!”

KIT PLEASE! STOP! Ambrose cried in his mind, but there was no power behind his words. It wasn’t a command, which Kit recognised was strange. Ambrose wasn’t one for allowing free will and all.

Still, there was something wrong. Something very wrong with this picture and Kit couldn’t quite put his finger on what. Every time he tried to narrow it down, the thought ran like water through his fingers and he couldn’t really feel his own body anymore.

Kit crashed down to reality when his head cracked off the tile and he groaned. Ambrose was on the floor beside him, far enough away that the sparks didn’t reach him that were still spluttering from Kit’s body, but why was he on the floor?

“Kit? You with me?” Ambrose asked, black eyes wide with… that couldn’t be concern, not in Ambrose’s eyes. Kit must be hallucinating. Maybe this was all just a dream, a terrible bad dream and he would wake up and everything would be fine.

Instead, Kit groaned in pain, trying to push himself up. His muscles wouldn’t listen though and just shook uselessly beside him, not supporting his weight.

“Kit, talk to me, please.”

“Shut… up… dick.”

“You just thrashed my kitchen, Kit, I think I’m allowed to speak to you.”

Kit blinked, rolling onto his back. “I— what?”

Ambrose didn’t have to answer for Kit to see the scorch marks in the ceiling of his perfect kitchen, or the cracks in the shapes of lichtenberg figures in the walls. Kit winced, glancing at Ambrose who looked to be lost in concentration.

“Ambrose… I didn’t mean for that to happen.”

“I know.”

“No,” Kit protested, raising his hands in front of his face. They sparked and hissed like Kit was in overdrive, hooked up to his own nuclear reactor, a steady stream of small bolts charging the air around his palms. “I’m not doing this.”

Ambrose nodded, tapping his temple with his index finger. “I know,” he said again, and got to his feet. “The best thing I can think to do is the power dampeners.”

Kit sat up with an effort, pressing his back against a counter in Ambrose’s ridiculously massive kitchen. “Did they work?”

“No, knocking you out, worked. Though I doubt you want to do that every time this happens.”

“I’d rather not.”

“Well, then. Power dampeners it is.” Ambrose said with a breath. “Does the circuit still close if you wear the two of them on one hand?”

Kit shrugged. “I don’t know. I haven’t tried it. Usually when you’re catching criminals you want their hands bound too.”

“Hmm, I assume it would work the same. Only one way to find out, right?”

Kit nodded, pushing himself to his feet. Only then did he see the real extent of the damage he did. The stools were scattered around the room, appliances ripped out of sockets. Half of the kettle was melded to the door of the microwave, the microwave itself looked like a crushed aluminium can.

Kit glanced down at his fingers, at the red lightning. Did he really do all this without realising?

His mind went back to his Academy days, when he had first arrived and was only learning how emotions tied to his abilities. It was Superhero who sat down with him and taught him that in order to master his gift, he had to cut off the link between his emotions and his abilities, or he wouldn’t get anywhere as a hero.

This red lightning, it seemed, burrowed all the way down to Kit’s emotions — his negative emotions — anger, rage, hatred, confusion. How could he stop something he could barely recognise the warning signs of?

“Don’t think too much about it, Mallory. Let’s just do one thing at a time. The power dampeners.”

Kit nodded. “Right. The power dampeners.” He repeated, glancing down at his bare legs. “And trousers.”

Ambrose smiled. “Yeah. Might be a good idea.”

Kit walked back out of the kitchen, when by the door Ambrose stopped him again. “Kit, if you want fresh clothes, feel free.”

Kit stopped in the door, glancing over his shoulder at Ambrose who looked mildly embarrassed at the offer. It was a strange thing to see on him. He didn’t quite meet Kit’s eye, his hand wound tight around the back of a chair, while the other brought the mug to his lips.

Kit could tease the villain about it. Usually he would, but he felt gross and shit, so he just nodded. “Cheers.”

Ambrose raised his head, meeting Kit’s eyes and nodded slightly. Then Kit took off down the hall and up the ridiculous stairs and into the first room he found last night. He wanted a shower, he decided when he picked his jacket off the ground, taking the power dampeners from his pocket and tossing them on the bed.

Something to relax his muscles and clear his head. That would be heavenly right about now. Kit grabbed his jeans and threw them on the bed too. He bunched a fistful of his shirt and brought it to his nose, and winced at the smell. Yep, okay. He needed a shower.

He turned in the room, taking it in for the first time. It was huge, as was everything in this stupid house. He walked to the wardrobe that was tucked into the corner of the room, opening the doors. He expected suits and tailored trousers, but was pleasantly surprised when he saw a couple of old hoodies hung up. One of them an old Harvard sweatshirt that had the initials O. Ambrose embroidered into the chest.

It felt like important information, but Kit didn’t really care. His mind racing with the fact that Ambrose was somehow related to Mentor. His son? Why wouldn’t he tell Kit that he had a son? Why weren’t there any pictures or mentions of him ever?

It didn’t make sense. None of it made sense.

Kit sighed, closing the doors to the wardrobe and opening the long door beside it. Inside were shelves of t-shirts and sweatpants and jocks and socks.

Kit took what he needed and walked to the bathroom, searching for towels before he locked the door.

“Mallory,” Ambrose said from outside.

Kit walked over to the door to see Ambrose outside, two towels in his hand. “Oh. Thanks.”

“No problem.”

Kit grabbed them and closed the door, locking it and turning on the shower. He ignored the flash of red he saw in the mirror. He stripped and stepped into the shower, and almost gasped at the pressure of the water drumming down on his shoulders and head.

It was so good. Better than a hotel’s pressure good, better than Kit’s shitty apartment shower anyways. He let out a long, soft sigh of relief as he felt the rushing hot water unwind the knots and pressure in his muscles. He could die under the water and he would die happy.

He washed the memories of the last day away. God was it only a day? The stress from work and Superhero’s babying treatment of him after his illness, mixing with the pains of being with Ambrose for any amount of time.

Kit rubbed his neck and collarbone where Ambrose had choked him yesterday, still feeling a phantom tie wrapped around his throat like a weighted shadow. His gaze trailed down to his arms where the cuts Ambrose had forced him to make were glaring up at him. They had scabbed over at this point, almost healing. The scabs turned yellowish-green under the water, then a purple red beneath it.

All this pain, all this… abuse Ambrose had subjected him too. Was this the price for meeting Mentor? He knew it was too good to be true when Mentor chose him, out of everyone in his year, to personally apprentice under.

The man who little by little, wore down his walled defences while building his strength and magic and confidence. Who made sure he ate everyday, who taught him the value of nutrition and how to make a proper cup of tea…

Kit slammed his fist against the tiles of the shower, hot tears mixing with the water on his face. Ambrose was a monster. He couldn’t be related to Mentor. Mentor… Mentor was a saint. He saved the entire city!

He trusted Kit!

Why wouldn’t he tell him that he had a son? Why keep it secret?! Especially someone as powerful as Ambrose, you’d think he would scream it from the rooftops.

But… but… Mentor was alone when he chose Kit. No trace of a family anywhere in his house, no other heroes mentioned it. He was alone, like Kit, and they made a family together. With each other.

Kit knew it was true, that it was real. It was the only thing he had ever been sure of in his life, so why! Kit banged his fist against the tiles again. Why was there an ache in his chest as if his heart was poisoned?! Why was there a voice in the back of his head that sadly told him that Ambrose wasn’t lying?!

Why!

Why!

Why!

Why!

Why?!

Maybe Mentor was the villain from last night. Maybe Kit never really knew him at all. Maybe Mentor only trusted him with a very small part of his life.

Either way Ambrose had the answers. Kit needed to face them, no matter how painful they would no doubt be, to hear him out.

He scoffed, sniffing. “Listen to yourself,” he muttered to the tiles, his voice uncharacteristically empty. “Hearing Ambrose out? What’s wrong with you?”

Kit sniffed, wiping the snot from his face. “Pathetic.”

He glanced to the shelf in the shower and grabbed the shower gel, staring at the bottle. It wasn’t a 3in1. Kit raised his eyes again to see other bottles in the shower. Kit stared. His brain buffering as his hand reached out to grab another bottle.

Shampoo.

Fancy looking shampoo.

Ambrose just wasted his money on fucking everything didn’t he? Was his toilet paper sheet gold?

Kit shrugged, putting the shower gel back and squeezed out some shampoo onto his hand. It smelled good. It smelled fancy.

Kit quickly showered and dried himself, wrapping the towel around his waist as he walked out to his room. Kit changed into a new t-shirt he borrowed from Ambrose and pulled on his jeans and jacket and runners.

The power dampeners he fastened around his right wrist, feeling his powers immediately diminish. When he locked the second one around the same wrist he snapped his fingers on his left hand. Nothing.

He breathed a sigh of relief.

One problem down.

He pocketed the key and left the room. Ambrose was standing in his kitchen, also dressed, his hair wet from a shower. Ambrose wore a loose sweatshirt that looked soft and black cargo pants that tucked into his boots.

Kit held up his hand triumphantly as he fell to his knees. “The power dampeners worked.”

Ambrose raised his head from an iPad, one eyebrow quirked in amusement. “And you have pants.”

“Mission successful!” Kit beamed, not caring that he was still compelled to kneel in front of Ambrose like some servant to a king.

“Good.” Ambrose said with a nod, sliding the iPad across the counter top. “You can stand, Kit. I have some bad news.”

Kit groaned, pulling himself to his feet. “What now?”

The frustration died in his throat when he saw the headlines: Water Hero kidnapped by new Supervillain, Superhero reports.

“What?” Kit asked with a breath, looking at Ambrose. “What is this?”

Ambrose stood with his arms across his chest, a hand on his mouth as he shrugged with one shoulder. “That villain last night—”

“But why would he take her?” He said “he” instead of Mentor because his brain didn’t equate the two. “That doesn’t make any sense!”

“I don’t know.”

“There has to be a reason?” Kit demanded, scrolling through the article.

“I already checked,” Ambrose said with a shake of his head. He waited patiently until Kit fact checked that there was no mention of why the villain took her. Kit turned his sad eyes to Ambrose again, putting the iPad on the counter. “I think we need to go see Mentor.”

Kit deflated at the suggestion. He knew that this was coming. That eventually they’d have to go and see Mentor and check to see if he really is — if he could be…

Fuck.

Kit didn’t want to think about it.

He steeled his expression and his resolve. “Fine. You can explain everything on the way.”

Ambrose nodded stiffly, not fond of sharing his past with the Hero, but maybe, it was time to share everything, especially if that new supervillain is Mentor.

*~*~*~*~*

Continued here

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