#possessive villain

[villainousauthor]

"I cannot believe you! I don't wanna even see your face right now." Hero rages, throwing their hands up in disbelief. They're dressed down in their normal civilian clothes, and so is Villain, who's currently looking at them all too pleased.

"I mean, can you blame me?" Villain asks, voice still light.

"Yes! This is the third date of mine you've ruined this month," Hero steps up to Villain, getting in their face, pointing at them as they talk. "What I do outside of my Hero work is absolutely none of your concern."

"Oh please, none of these people have even been worthy-"

"This guy was so nice! I could have really liked him." Hero interrupts, eyebrows drawn down into a harsh glare. Villain grabs the hand currently inches from jabbing them in the chest, holding it tight in their own grip.

"That's part of the problem. I don't want you getting too entwined with any of these lesser people. Your focus should be on me," The Villain's voice was now laced with seriousness, making sure their claim was understood. "Us, our fights, our rivalry. Me."

"Possessive freak." Hero bites back, but doesn't take their hand away.

"Let me make it up to you if it upsets you that much. I'll take you out to dinner."

[villain-enthusiast]

The hero coughed blood.

Fucking shit, they thought frantically, hand pressed over the gaping wound in their side. Their new opponent packed a serious punch, more than what the agency had expected when they sent the hero out to stop them. Somehow they’d escaped, but not without the nasty stab to their stomach.

Class two villain my ass. The hero grunted as they stumbled into an alleyway, nearly slamming their shoulder into one of the brick walls. They slipped into damp corner and sat down gingerly, their breathing shallow. Cold sweat broke out on their forehead.

They shook the sputtering communication device on their wrist. Busted. The hero suddenly realized with disturbing clarity that they would die here if they didn’t get help soon, bleeding their guts out on the floor.

Blinding pain shot through their torso, and they closed their eyes, muscles clenching. They couldn’t stand up, not without passing out. And with their internal bleeding, pressure to the wound would be largely ineffective.

They were so totally fucked.

“Hero?”

The hero’s lids snapped open. The cloaked figure before them dipped and swayed, but they forced themselves to concentrate. No, that wasn’t their assaulter, that was—

“Villain,” they rasped.

“What are you doing all the way out here?” The villain’s tone was mocking, but could the hero hear a hint of concern?

The hero attempted a sloppy smirk as they approached. “Oh, y’know, just decided to get stabbed and die today. Regular hero shenanigans.” Shit, their words were slurring.

The villain didn’t respond, crouching down in front of them. Their fingers brushed over the throbbing cut on their cheek, ghosted over the bruise on their jaw—it was funny, the hero noted, how the villain's first instinct was to check their face—before trailing down to the still-bleeding wound at their side. Their hand paused.

The silence was so thick that the hero could hear their wavering heartbeat in their ears.

“Who did this to you.” The villain’s words were quiet. Deadly.

The hero choked on a disbelieving laugh. “Like you care,” they wheezed, but even they could hear the doubt in their own voice. When the villain continued to wait for an answer, they added, "One of your lackeys.” Their eyes fluttered as a wave of fatigue overwhelmed them.

The villain snapped their fingers. "Hey, stay with me." They gently removed the hero's limp hand from their side, examining the gash. They swore under their breath.

"That bad, huh," the hero huffed.

“This looks like [other villain]’s work,” the villain muttered. “Destroying your comms, letting you escape with a fatal wound, making you think you’ve gotten away when really,” their eyes slid up to meet the hero’s detached stare, “you’re on the brink of death.”

“How kind of them.”

The villain shook their head. “Why were you even fighting them? They’re superhero’s responsibility. You’re supposed to be going after me.” They paused, gaze darkening. “And only me.”

The hero shrugged minutely. “Agency assignment.” Their muscles clenched as white hot pain rattled through them again, leaving them weaker than ever. “Can you just kill me already? That’s what you came for, isn’t it?” They titled their head back against the wall and closed their eyes, feeling their body grow more distant by the second. “Just fucking do it.”

They heard the villain move, and they waited for the knife against their throat or the gun at their temple, but instead, gloved hands slid under their back and legs, lifting them up.

What? The hero shifted weakly, but the villain shushed them and bundled them closer to their chest.

“No questions. I’ve got you,” the villain murmured, holding them tightly as they sprinted down the alley, making sure they didn’t jostle their injury. “You can sleep now. I’ve got you.”

And the hero, somehow feeling safe in their enemy’s arms and too tired to wonder why they were being saved, succumbed to the pull of unconsciousness not a second later.

.

part two

[caker-baker]

Placate

The hero wanted to believe it was one of their friends, an agency member, someone else, anyone else, they would have taken a burglar at this point.

But no. No friend, agency member, or burglar would leave the front door open so purposefully, so dauntingly.

They knew this day would come, they just didn’t imagine it would be so soon.

The light turned on.

“Where have you been?” The villain asked from the lounge chair, petting the hero’s cat.

It was very obviously a rhetorical question, the villain knew where the hero had been, because now the villain was here, too.

The hero’s eyes flicked down to their purring cat comfortable in the villain’s lap, back up to the villain’s expectant face.

“I was–am on an assignment.” They wondered how fast they would have to be to get their cat and then get to the panic button.

Not fast enough.

If they needed to be placating, they could be. It would what drew the villain to them, they knew that now.

“An assignment that takes six months?” The villain asked, lazily waving their free hand around. “An assignment that gives you this? It’s cutesy, comfortable. Too small for my taste, but you know that.”

It was a test hidden behind poisonously pleasant words.

Will you be telling me the truth? Are you foolish enough to lie?

A question the hero didn’t want to answer, but there were limited options.

Placate, placate, placate.

“It’s my final assignment.” The hero clenched their fists, nails digging into skin, forcing upon them clarity to think, a reminder not to stutter, not to feel. “Going civilian, for my safety.”

“Oh?” The villain’s eyes widened for a fraction of a second. “Do tell. What was so dangerous that your little agency felt the need to give you an identity change?

Another test.

“It was noted that the others–other–other villains,” The hero forced themselves to take a breath in, and clenched their fists even harder. “were targeting me, thinking it would hurt you.”

“Mm.” The villain cocked their head to the side, looking at the hero in an indecipherable way.

Disappointment? Amusement? Hunger?

The hero was never able to tell.

“Well. I can admit my faults, but this is an easy fix, my darling. I’ll handle the others. Now, the car’s been running just a bit too long, so if we could?”

The villain stood, still holding the hero’s cat.

“I can’t.” The hero’s fists unclenched, wondering if their cat could be swayed to jump from the villain’s arms. “I signed a contract. If I re-emerge, I could be considered an active threat, measures would be taken against me, um, I can’t.”

The villain smiled. “Now that is a bigger problem, but I could garner a few solutions. Come along, we can even bring…” They trailed off, looking at the cat’s name tag. “Chestnut.”

“I’ll become a public enemy. I don’t own the name Hero, I just use it, I–”

“And that’s the very problem, isn’t it?” The villain let Chestnut jump from their arms, watching the hero’s shoulders relax ever so slightly. “This day and age of heroics and villainy, it’s all very theatrical. We used to do this because of values, morals, plans for world domination.”

They gave the hero a once over.

“The other heroes are good at the limelight, thrive, even, it’s the whole reason they sign the contracts and take the name, but they can’t beat you in character, and the numbers of casualties in their fights versus yours speaks volumes. You weren’t good at the attention, not until I got to you, at least.”

“And I thank you for the help, but I’m done with the cameras, interviews, the saving people.”

“What a shame. You used to talk about being a symbol, about helping people, a hero through and through, not any of that pretending you’re a movie star. It’s what makes you…”

“Malleable?”

“I was going to say unique. No need for the dramatics.”

When the hero didn’t respond, didn’t move, didn’t even look like they were breathing, the villain’s polite mask dropped.

The hero hated that, how easily the villain could switch around their personality. They also hated the villain’s unblinking eyes.

The villain could blink, the hero was sure, but whenever it was just the two of them, the villain always made sure to be constantly watching.

“As I said, I can think of a few solutions to your problems.” They held out an expectant hand. “Shall we?”

“You were using me.” The hero blurted out. “You weren’t trying to help me be better, you were–you were–”

“I was what?”

“Making me into a tool. You would have turned me into a monster.”

The villain scoffed. “A monster? Please. You would have been beloved by the world, no contract or agency could hold you, you would have been second to none.”

“Except you.” The hero noticed that Chestnut was curling around the villain’s legs, slowly realizing that their best option at this point might have been to turn heel. “I would have been second to none except you.”

The villain smiled again, though it looked more like an animal bearing their teeth in annoyance.

“Eventually not. Once we’ve finished with the others, all the theatrics and the celebrity treatment, we could begin the real work. We could be equals, my darling.”

“You were manipulating me so that you could have the perfect opponent?” The hero felt bile rise in their throat.

There was evidence of the villain using them, solid proof shown directly after that scolding from the agency for allowing a villain to mentor them, but to hear it from the villain themselves was something else entirely.

“Twist my words in whatever way you’ll have. We both win. You won’t have to worry about the performance of being a hero, you can simply go out and save the day how you like. Tell me it’s not tempting. Now, it has been a treat tracking you down, my darling, they hid you well, but I must insist we leave. There’s a long drive ahead of us.”

“No.”

Chestnut had wandered closer to the hero.

“Ah, would you prefer we fly? It’s not my favorite, but–”

“I’m not going with you.” They reached down slowly, picking up Chestnut, hoping to make it look as though they were holding her for comfort.

The villain watched, their jaw clenched, anger barely concealed.

“I made you.” They seethed through an unusually quiet voice. “And if I have to, I will break you, and build you up again.”

The hero took a step back. “Find another hero to manipulate.”

With a deep breath, the villain collected themselves, never breaking eye contact with the hero.

“You know, part of the plan was to make you fall in love with me.” They admitted, taking only a step forward to match the hero’s step back. “Or at least have you grow fond enough of me that you wouldn’t betray me so easily. But obviously, it didn’t work. Lucky for the both of us, I can work with fear. You have an abundance of that, don’t you?”

The hero turned heel.

There was no placating a villain.

[wh3nturtlesfly]

CW: Suggestive

“You’re late.” The lamp beside the couch flickered on, and with it Villain’s displeased expression emerged.

“You’re trespassing.” Hero shrugged off their coat and made the rest of the way inside, trying to ignore the glare trained on their every movement. Hero grimaced at the charred fabric of their uniform, a setback that had nearly gotten them hurt tonight.

“You didn’t answer my calls. All six times.”

“I was busy,” Hero rubbed their tired eyes. Muscles sore from the fight, they were hardly in the mood for Villain’s attitude. Their nemesis clearly had other ideas.

It only took a beat for Villain to cross the room, slinking through the shadows with a feline grace. Hero hadn’t caught the movement until Villain was close, eyes dark as they pulled the closet door shut.

“I thought we'd discussed this before,” Villain’s voice had dropped dangerously low. They inched closer, forcing Hero back. “You know I don’t like it when you’re out for so long.”

“It was an emergency,” Hero caught Villain’s wrists before they could fully pin them against the wall. Their partner only scoffed, eyes alight with something dangerous.

Villain leaned close, their lips brushing lightly over Hero’s jaw. Hero shuddered. “I highly doubt it was pressing enough,” Villain edged closer, “Especially not to deprive me of our precious time together.”

The corners of their lips turned up and through half-lidded eyes Villain gazed upon Hero. Their Hero. “Since you decided to be gone for so long-,” they trailed a teasing finger down the Hero’s torso, thumbing at the hem of their shirt and earning a lovely shiver in return, “I’ll show you how much I missed you.”

Villain lunged forward, pressing their lips to the Hero’s throat.

A gasp escaped the crimefighter, words completely forgotten the moment Villain trailed down farther. They worked across the Hero’s collarbone, gentle where their previous battle had left scrapes and burns. Still, when it came to the rest of Hero, they were anything but careful.

With a hand on either side of their waist, Villain bracketed Hero’s form. They pressed closer, a devilish smile gracing their face each time they paused to catch a breath. Hero bit hard on the inside of their cheek if only to keep from falling apart. The feeling of Villain’s lips across their skin was intoxicating and soon they had threaded a hand through the Villain’s hair to pull them closer.

Villain finally managed to meet them at the lips and Hero melted. It was exactly what their nemesis had wanted. A grin overtook their features before they surged forward, taking the Hero all for their own. Villain’s cool fingers managed to wander their way under their shirt and a shiver sent its way up the Hero’s spine. They gasped into the Villain’s mouth, and received a low chuckle in return.

Just as fast as it had begun, Villain broke away, smirking when Hero chased after them. They stopped them with a finger to their lips, “So eager,” Villain hummed and trailed the same finger down the Hero’s jaw, descending further to dip just under the collar of their shirt, “I warned you what happens when you cross me.”

They leaned forward again, just enough to press a chaste kiss to the Hero’s cheek. A sultry smile emerged on Villain’s face. “So now love, have you learned your lesson?”

It took a moment for the Hero to process it, caught up on the pure bliss that filled their core. Slowly their eyes met that of their partners and they managed to get out a small nod.

Villain chuckled, “That’s good.” They held the Hero close, carding a hand gently through their hair. “No other Villain deserves you. You are mine, and I am yours.” Villain’s eyes slid shut, overcome with delight as they trailed their fingers across their Hero’s skin. “Believe me when I say I’ll follow you to the ends of the earth.”

Hero sighed, overcome with delight. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

[amethystpath-writes]

No, No, No

NOT A PR0MPT

I present to you /*…a vampire snippet. Yippee! Tough themes: character death, a little bit of blood- not descriptive, possessive and manipulative villain. Arguably not the worst, but worth mentioning :p

******

“Hero, we need to-” Lover’s voice was cut off with a loud bang. Hero would have screamed if her ears hadn’t rang out first, but the sound was so loud that any and all processors went out the window.

In a daze, she looked behind her. What happened? What was that sound? Was it really Lover’s voice she heard? Where was he? Hero held her head to settle the swaying of her vision.

“I warned him.” The footsteps entering her room was what drew her attention to Lover.

A shrill gasp filled her ears. It was her. Her gasp. Lover’s body. Her tears. On his red chest.

She found him, and oh, how she wished she hadn’t.

“No,” she heard herself say. “No, no, no, no, no!”

“He could have left. I gave him the opportunity to, but oh no. Poor. Hero.”

Hero couldn’t stop the no’s from spilling. She tripped over them, mumbled and groaned and cried, rocked back on her heels and rested her knees against Lover’s back. “Say something. Lover, stay with me, please.”

She hadn’t paid attention as to where the steps came from, where they were going, or even where they stopped. If she had been paying attention, she would know the footsteps stopped where Lover’s head lay, where she was crying and shaking her partner’s body. So much hope, and what for?

“Come on, up you get.”

Hero wasn’t sure of the words leaving her mouth. All she knew was that she was screaming so hard that her voice could no longer be heard. Not by herself, not by the man hefting her over a shoulder, and certainly not by Lover, who Hero now realized was in a pool of something glistening.

The moonlight filtered through so perfectly through Hero’s room at night. It only brightened her room after 3am, so she didn’t get to bask in it often. Had the circumstances been different tonight, Hero would have ran to her window and watched the moon until she could hardly keep her eyes open. The light was bright enough to lull her to sleep, and dim enough that it barely reminded her of what she was as it touched her skin.

“You can’t leave him! You can’t leave!” The pool, she finally realized, was blood. Lover was bleeding out. Of course, his chest was red earlier, when she pressed her head aside it, but Hero thought…well, Hero was in shock. She didn’t think anything.

“The money is in bringing you back alive. No matter for anything else.”

The word ‘money’ did not register in Hero’s brain. This man was being paid to kidnap her by any means necessary, including killing Lover and leaving him to rot on the floor of their bedroom.

She swung her legs into her captor’s legs, trying to aim higher or lower- wherever his more sensitive spots were. She felt disoriented, but she punched and kicked and kneed and-

“You keep doing that and you’re not going to like the consequences.”

But Hero wasn’t good at listening, especially when it came down to large, burly men carrying her over a shoulder. She screamed, “Put me down!” until there was a rasp in her voice.

The man obliged, bouncing his shoulder so that Hero’s body became unhooked from his own. However, he kept hold of her legs so that they acted as a fulcrum. Hero’s body fell back and she had only a moment to realize that she was about to hit the ground.

In the next moment, Hero was opening her eyes against weights on her lashes. She was tired- so tired.

“You look unwell. Go back to sleep, doll.”

Her eyes were already half-closed by the time the voice spoke. She easily agreed with it. She didn’t feel well, as much as she was sure she looked unwell.

But then again, her eyes were opened, and though she was unsure whether it was the same moment, or another undetermined amount of time, she wasn’t susceptible to suggestion.

A groan escaped her lips as she drearily blinked. All she could focus on was the intense throbbing at the back of her head. Hero touched a finger to it. She gasped, not at the pain which erupted at her own touch, but at the fact that everything she thought she remembered, every hazy detail, was real. “Lover.”

“Not quite.”

Her head snapped up, taking in the room she sat in for the first time. And not just the room. Villain.

“Where am I?” she demanded, though her voice shook.

The room was grey, and Hero could only tell by the hand-width slit in the wall, which allowed for one beam of sunlight to come through. Aside from Villain standing across the beam of light, the room was empty.

“You’re home, with me,” Villain said. When Hero didn’t respond, he continued, “I heard you put up quite the fight.”

Why wouldn’t she? Large men walking into her room after her partner just…“Where is he?”

Villain returned her question with a smile. With just the barest daylight seeping through, Hero could only slightly see the wicked teeth that scared her away so long ago, the ones she found her tongue rubbing against in her own mouth. She recoiled from herself.

“You think Lover was your friend?”

“He was my partner.”

He began stepping forward, slowly, as if preparing to comfort Hero. “He was hindering you, my sweet, from your full potential.”

Her gums were throbbing, something that hadn’t happened since she and Lover became an item. Even when the man broke in, Hero felt more confused than fearful or defensive.

“You cannot change what you are.”

“I wouldn’t even be this if it wasn’t for you,” she bit back. Her gums hurt badly enough that a short whine escaped her.

“Do you know why it hurts?” Villain asked. “Your head, your gums, Lover’s death?”

Death? No, he wasn’t dead. Sure, he was injured, and badly at that, but no, Lover wasn’t dead; he couldn’t be.

“It’s because you ran, Hero. I was willing to help you adjust, to grow into what you are, but you refuse to embrace it. You want that pain to go away, don’t you?”

Her pain had nothing to do with her running. If anything, she should have run away so much sooner. In fact, never knowing Villain would have been the best. He was a predator, a killing machine. And now, Hero was just the same- or would be, if she didn’t choose to control her urges.

“I’ve dealt with the pain for long enough.” And it was true, she had. “I don’t need to conform to it, or whatever it is you’re trying to convince me to do. I don’t need this,” she said. “I don’t need you.”

“You love me,” the villain said. “And I know you do because I can feel your heart beating from here.” Here, being two feet away from her. Still, it was a distance that no regular human would sense a heartbeat from.

“I am terrorized by you. I am horrified and I’m scared.” She didn’t want to give him the upper hand or any advantage of the situation, but what didn’t Villain already have? He was suave and he got his way with anyone. He was strong- mentally and physically, and it wasn’t just because of his theory of ‘leaning into vampirism.’ He killed Lover- no, not killed. He hurt Lover, and Hero was going to get him back.

“You’re still thinking of the mortal.”

“Get out of my head.”

“You can come back to me, Hero. That- that temptation is gone, and I’m here for you. I’ll help you adjust.”

“Stay away from me,” she blurted as Villain took a step towards her. “Stay away from me. I don’t want you. I will never love you, Villain. Never.”

Now this…this stopped Villain in his tracks. While his emotions were known for being hidden, now they were ever clear. Anger. Disgust. Vengeance.

“You’ll learn,” he said. “You’ll learn that you need me more than the very blood in your veins. When you’re starved- because you don’t have that little blood bag you called Lover- you will beg me to love you like I did. You’ll beg me to give you another chance. And because I won’t bow to you, bow to you like I did the moment I turned you, you’ll stand in that window until you burn.”

Hero felt the heat of him, the anger pulsating against the beating of her heart. Whether she liked it or not, the two of them were synced.

“When you fall, it will be no one’s fault but your own. I offered my love. You denied it.”

With this, Villain left, and Hero cried in his wake.

[the-broken-pen]

if ur doing requests, I would absolutely looveeee anything w enemies being forced to work together/fake dating <3 thank you!

“Smile, hero,” the villain murmured. “There’s photographers.”

The hero pulled back, looping her arms over his shoulders as he looked softly at her. Cameras flashed out of the corner of her eye, and she grinned at him, digging her nails into the back of his neck.

He hid his wince with a smile.

“Maybe stop trying to rip out my spinal cord in public, love.”

“Sorry babe.” She smiled wider. “I’ll save it for the bedroom.”

His hands settled on her waistline, tugging her flush against him.

“Oh, hero,” he pressed his lips to her ear. “And when my blood is on your hands, what then? The public adores you, but do you really think they won’t slaughter you for ruining their ‘golden couple’?”

She had to turn her face into the side of his neck to hide her snarl, because he was right. Her superiors knew who he was. They knew who they forced her to work with, stand with, fall in love with. And they had her do it anyways, because they looked pretty together in pictures, and the media couldn’t decide if they wanted to be with them or be them.

The perfect pair—the golden couple.

“Hmm?”

She could feel him grinning, real this time, all cat like satisfaction and cruel amusement.

“Go fuck yourself,” she hissed, and he laughed.

“Sorry, what was that?”

She put her palm to his chest and shoved, grabbing his lapel.

“I love you,” she breathed, soft with adoration. Someone cooed, and the camera flashed.

His smile was sharp.

“Oh,” he agreed, “I know.”

Someone reached for her arm, and he caught it before they could touch her. For a moment, just a moment, she saw that writhing mass of power beneath, the darkness he hid so well with a smile.

“Sorry, sorry,” the person apologized as the villain released their hand. “I figured I should introduce myself—”

“Colonel,” the villain greeted, and the man shook his hand. He almost reached for hers, then thought better of it, eyes darting to the villain. Anger flared in the pit of her stomach.

“You’re enjoying yourselves?”

She smoothed a hand down the side of her dress, beaming. “Oh, absolutely, I—”

The villain wrapped a hand around her waist and tugged, pressing her against him. She slammed her foot into his.

“We should be going,” he said pointedly, and the Colonel swallowed once. He disappeared into the crowd and she whirled on the villain, eyes flashing.

“God, can you be less possessive?”

“They know who I am. You think they expect me to play nice, especially when I’m clearly so taken with you?”

He looked out over the floor, eyes catching on everyone who was pretending not to watch them. She glared at him.

“You—’’

“Hero, you’re going to be the death of me.”

“That’s the plan,” she snapped, and his smile was real again. She didn’t resist as he tugged her closer.

“I think maybe I could love you,” he said casually, and before she could manage a response he twined his fingers through her hair and kissed her.

It was like being swallowed by the sun. She melted into him and he kissed her like she was everything, as if he took every breath for one more chance to see her face, every heartbeat for another second to spend with her.

They broke apart, and she was gasping, his grip on her hair the only thing keeping her up.

He winked, smirking, like he knew that and was proud of it.

Her lipstick was smeared on his mouth. He tasted like cinnamon.

This would be splashed across the news by midnight.

“I hate you,” she reminded him, half breathless. At some point her hands had ended up in his hair.

“Maybe,” he grinned roguishly. “But you love the way I kiss you.”

And he kissed her again.

[mentalityofacoolduck]

Prompt #3

Warning: yandere themes

Supervillain assigns Villain to fight Hero. Villain and Hero engage in fights and banters and eventually grow to become good friends, even though they're on opposite sides. As time passes, Villain develops feeling for Hero and decides to confess. Hero rejects Villain, because them being together could put them both in danger. Eventually, Villain's innocent crush turns into something more sinister, and they begin stalking Hero and prevent any other Villain from fighting them. They start acting creepy and possessive, and it eventually gets so bad even Supervillain notices. Supervillain gets so creeped out by Villain's behavior, they take it upon themselves to protect Hero from Villain.

[faenemy]

A pristine suit-

An elegant operatic mask-

Months of planning-

Wasted.

All because a certain someone couldn’t keep their mouth shut. Alas, attempting to scam your business associates is never exactly a good idea, especially when the existing agreement between the two parties is… fragile, to put it gently. Everett had always preached that the only way to run this world, their world, was through connections, the more relations to power, the more people in their pockets, the better. Their dear cohorts, however, seemed to disagree with this sentiment. Otherwise, they doubted they would be here now.

Everett could barely stand to imagine those two, from them proposing this stupid sham of a deal in the first place to ratting them out the second they had a chance, to-

Gunshots echoed through the halls, interrupting their train of thought, being significantly too close for Everett’s comfort. Not a second after, the villain Arcane appeared behind, disheveled and quaking with fury. His eyes shone white as he aimed, then fired, at Everett. Screaming as a bullet embedded itself into their leg, Everrett whipped around toward their attacker. If this was the game Arcane wanted to play, then he should have chosen a different opponent. The room lit up in an electric flash, lights sparking and shattering, before falling into complete darkness. With an arc of their hands, waves of power were sent across the room, scorching all they touched. A violent shriek could be heard in the darkness, but Everett had no time to check if their target had survived, and, grabbing the nearest wall for support, they ran.

It was times like these that they were most grateful to have always memorized the layout of the building, in which an exchange would take place before they had even stepped foot inside. With the help of small surges of energy to light their way, they managed to find their way into a corridor with one flickering, neon exit sign straight ahead. Hobbling over to the door and propping themselves against a wall, Everett reached down to examine their leg. In the dim red glow, red could barely make out the lodged bullet, however, they could regrettably still feel it. They tore at their suit, ripping off a chunk to use as a bandage, hoping to stall the blood loss slightly.

Grunting, they pushed the emergency door open, hit suddenly with the cold night air. A million stars twinkled overhead, but they were not the only thing staring down at them from above. For there stood their now ex-comrade, Forge, a smug grin plastered across his half-covered face, not but three floors over where Everett exited. With no time to lose, Everett raced down the stairs, Forge hot on their heels. The man threw himself over the railing, hoisting himself up onto the floor below.

“How are you feeling tonight, friend?” called the villain, spitting out the last word as though it was fire to the tongue.

“I- What were you thinking, Forge? Never mind, don’t bother answering that, I don’t want to hear your bullshit reasoning.”

“I was thinking about how you don’t seem to help me nearly as much as you hinder.”

With that declaration, Forge aimed a burning punch at them. The wall behind them cracked, melting rapidly at the point of contact. Everett knew that making any physical exposure to Forge would leave them howling and hoping for some damn Neosporin. Another adrenaline-filled day, another flashy fight, another disastrous show. But they could avoid all the pain Forge brought with ease, if only they could stick their performance’s final landing.

Pushing themselves off the fire escape's railing with as much force as they could muster, Everett took one last look at their friend, and the moment their feet left the metal, electrified the entire steel staircase. A look of horror flashed through Forge’s eyes before they were overcome by agony. Everett had heard plenty of screaming and crying in their time, with much being caused by their own hand, but nothing could have prepared them to listen to those of their once closest friend.

A whimper of pain escaped their lips as they landed roughly on the ground below. Everett attempted to rise to their feet but found themselves crumbling under their own weight. If their leg hadn’t been messed up before, then it was safe to say it was now. The impromptu bandage was a bloody mess, Everetts's side ached from where they had hit the ground. Each breath was a struggle as they were left gasping for air. They weren’t safe here, in a hotel parking lot, their now enemy mere feet away. Groaning, they tried to pull themselves away from the wreckage that they had left behind. Their vision swam with stars as every inch of their body cried out in anguish.

Crack

Their back collided harshly with the brick wall behind them, as they were pulled up by the collar and thrown. Their attacker stood, fists raised, prepared to finish what Arcane had started. They say people fight the hardest when backed into a corner, and with adrenaline flowing furiously through their veins, Everett hoped the saying was true. Maneuvering past the first blow, but falling victim to the second, they felt their mask fly off their face, losing what small but valuable protection it had given. When the third hit came, Everett reached up to intercept it, aiming a well-timed kick to their opponent’s gut. Thrashing they were dragged to the ground by their assailant. Their opponent was larger, and more experienced in physical combat, and it showed as Everett found themselves taking a brutal fist to the face, followed by a knee to the gut.

They attempted to end this fight, to throw thunder from their fingertips just to find- nothing. There on their wrist, a suppressor cuff. It had been latched on during the scuffle without them noticing.

Oh God no

Everett felt the blood rushing down their face, they heard the suffering screams, yet they could barely recognize them as their own. They weren’t ready to die, not yet. This wasn't part of the plan. This wasn't in the script.

The brunette braced themselves for pain, pain that would never come. Instead, they felt their assailant's weight lifted from their chest, as they were pulled off the ground and into steady arms. Muffled words were spoken above them, but the sounds meant nothing to Everett, only the warmth and care with which their savior cradled them. Fingers ghosted over the wound on their leg, while Everett couldn’t help but flinch at the pain it sparked.

Shouts echoed, nothing but white noise that fell upon Everett’s uncaring ears as the gentle arms holding them slipped away. They tried to grasp them, to beg their angel to stay, but their body had long fallen into a state of resistance. Though their vision blurred and their head spun violently, Everett opened their eyes to see a blonde woman, hair streaked with vibrant pink, standing defensively in front of them. A white swan-like mask hid her face from view, a stark contrast to the black of her suit. She was a hero then.

Their hero.

Whatever fool had tried to approach the pair was floored in seconds, caught in an unseen web, unknowing of their entrance into the spider’s lair. With a flick of her wrist, their hero tightened the individual’s unseen restraints, circling them before latching a pair of suppressor cuffs onto them. Everett found themselves searching through fuzzy memories for any recollection of a hero with similar abilities or appearance. In their hazy state, all that they could turn up were blanks.

They were pulled out of their musings as raised voices accompanied by thundering footsteps approached.

“Stay here. I’ll take care of this, alright?” the blonde turned her back to them, stepping toward the sound.

Everett stared as the woman lifted herself into the air, suspending herself pointedly overhead, observing as she made an odd motion with her hands. As a man rounded the corner, most likely trying to track Everett down, they were a wanted criminal after all, their hero lunged. She swung downward, the man’s skull collided with the concrete with a horrid sound. A bullet whizzed by her as she flipped back up and into the air. It was less like Everett was watching a clash and closer to them viewing an orchestrated performance. Each maneuver was made in elegant swings and every attack was delivered in graceful leaps. The star themself paled in the glory of the woman before them.

“Are you alright? I mean- You didn’t get hurt any further, right?” the blonde questioned.

The question flew right past Everett, for the woman's mask had been torn slightly in the fight, allowing them a glimpse of soft auburn eyes.

"I.. your"

Though their words failed them, Everett’s vague gesturing toward the hero's face seemed to get their point across.

"Oh, uh thank you, I didn't even notice that."

Through the gap in her mask, Everett swore that their hero's cheeks took on a rosy hue. She bent down, taking their injured leg into her hands and carefully examining it. The hero reached up to her ear, Everett hearing a soft click before she began to speak.

“Primo- yes, I’m alright. There’s a civilian, a staff member?” she shot Everett a questioning look as she spoke. They nodded quickly in reply, having forgotten that they had lost their mask in the fray. Their hero probably assumed they were some poor hotel employee caught up in a villainous team-up gone wrong. A witness who had almost been eliminated for simply being at the wrong place, at the wrong time. They doubted that any hero would treat them with such kindness if they were aware of Everett’s actual profession.

“-needing serious medical attention- Out where the fire escape should lead to, in the parking lot… I have a few wrapped up down here. Yep, I’ll be with you soon.”

Another click sounded, and their hero turned toward them to speak.

“Alright, there’s a healer on their way right now, they’ll be here in a moment, I promise. Just hold on a little longer, ok?”

Though Everett’s head was swimming, they gave their hero a small smile, nodding. Their gesture was seemingly returned by the hero, though the lower half of her face was covered, Everett could swear they felt it. Focusing on the cold brick digging into their skin from behind, they attempted to ground themselves, for they weren’t safe yet. Would the heroes try and move them to a medical facility? They couldn’t risk their identity being exposed, after all. Currently, Everett appeared to be nothing more than a civilian, but if that defense fell, they would be left injured and vulnerable. But none of that would matter if Everett died beforehand, so here they sat, waiting to be saved by the enemy.

Their hero seemed to catch on to Everett’s distress, for out came rambles of fairytales they hadn’t heard since childhood. They wondered if she had used this to calm children down before or if it was what she defaulted to when someone was stressed. Everett couldn’t deny that it was a good distraction from the pain, a hero sitting side by side with a villain, energetically recollecting the tale of Rumpelstiltskin, hands gesturing rapidly in emotion. Telling the villain of a miller’s daughter and an impish man who spun straw into gold. As their hero began to speak of the woman’s second night in the king’s captivity, she cut her story short.

Looking up, they watched as their hero waved someone, they presumed the healer she had spoken of, over. Crouching down, the two exchanged a few words before their hero gave a quick two-finger salute, departing. With a flick of her wrist, the woman leaped into her own unseen web, climbing up and to the entrance of the top floor.

Everett watched as she disappeared from their sight, feeling the healer’s powers spread through their side. The pain spiked and then subsided as their body swiftly rehabilitated itself. Questions flew from the hero’s mouth the second that Everett seemed in a proper condition to answer them. Who do you work for? Why were you attacked? What and who did you see? Why are you wearing a power suppressor? Playing the part of the fool, Everett allowed themselves to burst into tears, crying about how they just wanted to go home, how they didn’t mean to enter the wrong room- how they had been shot at and hit, thrown out the fire escape- Obviously their sob story worked as the healer hastily tried to comfort them, they weren’t nearly as good at it as their hero, and after prying away the suppressor, promised to deliver them to an area in which they would be safe, or at least away from the fighting.

Though the healer remained concerned, Everett could tell they were needed elsewhere, and with little convincing, managed to be left alone just outside the hotel's gates. As the hero turned to leave, Everett heard their communicator click softly, before calling a name, Puppeteer. Like being doused with an ice-cold bucket of water, they were awoken from their stupor. Puppeteer was a recently debuted hero, being on the field as a hero, not as a sidekick for only a few months. Her power? Strings of fate. The ability to create and manipulate linear structures, strings, if you would, being visible to her and her alone.

That was their hero.

With a sigh and no hope of getting a proper ride tonight, they begrudgingly walked to the nearest bus stop. Nothing like being chaffered to a high-end hotel, dressed to impress, and leaving at the end of the night a mess, in multiple ways. At least something good came from the night. Puppeteer, they tried the name out on their tongue, just to find it less than satisfactory. How they wished to speak to their hero freely, to learn who she was under the mask, to call her by her name, and not a title that some higher-up had chosen.

But for now, she was just that, Puppeteer, and they were just another civilian she had saved. Oh, how they hoped to change that fact. How they would.

What have I done AHhhhhhh constructive criticism is welcome but please be gentle cause I'm fragile, thanks for reading and have a lovely day/night

[villain-enthusiast]

tw: very toxic/possessive relationship and behavior, captivity

“Would it hurt you to smile a little more?” the villain mused, eyes trained on the reflection of the hero in the vanity’s mirror.

“Hard to do when there’s nothing to smile about,” the hero muttered, shifting uncomfortably in their seat. The villain had given them—or rather forced them into—an intentionally revealing outfit for the night.

The hero hated the villain’s parties. They hated the false luxury of it, the wealthy spectacles, the self-conceited conversations of people whose money was bought through blood. They wouldn’t let themselves get swept away in any of it—not when they knew of the people suffering beyond the villain’s gilded walls.

But if they wanted to live, if they were ever going to have a chance of making it out of this hellhole, they had to tolerate it. They had to pretend they liked it all—the sheer shirts, fine wine, the penetrative gaze of the clamoring guests…

“I’ve given you so much to smile about.” The villain tilted their head in a similar way a snake does to analyze its prey. “Silk clothes, a warm bed, good food.” A corner of their lips tilted up seductively before they added, “My love.”

A shudder ran down the hero’s spine and they looked away from the mirror, determined to avoid the villain’s possessive expression.

Fast as lighting, the villain’s hand shot out and grabbed the hero’s chin, forcing their face back towards their reflection. They squeezed their eyes shut. They didn’t want to look at themselves anymore, didn’t want to see how vulnerable they were, laid bare for the the hunger in the villain’s eyes—

“Darling,” the villain purred, the word dripping with venom. “By now you should know what the rules are.”

“We’re not at the party yet,” the hero retaliated. “I don’t need to follow any rules—,”

The villain’s fingers dug painfully into their jaw and the hero inhaled sharply, cracking their eyes back open.

They could do nothing as the villain tilted their head back ever so slightly, just enough to keep their eyes locked on the mirror while the villain leaned down to press feather-light kisses to their exposed throat.

Helpless. Just the way the villain liked it. The hero’s eyes burned with the embarrassment of it all.

“And here I’d thought we were past your disobedient stages,” the villain murmured against the hero’s skin, sending goosebumps skittering down their jugular. “Do I need to remind you who you belong to?”

I don’t belong to anyone, the hero wanted to snap, but they held their tongue, knowing better than to answer with such defiance.

The hand holding the hero’s chin trailed down to curl around their neck, the villain’s thumb fitting right over the hero’s racing pulse. Their free hand brushed slyly over the hero’s bare abdomen, tracing sensitive circles up and down their torso.

It was too much. Too overwhelming. The hero couldn’t stop the whimper that clawed up their throat, and at the way the villain’s eyes flashed with lust, the hero wanted to risk looking away all over again.

“I want you to say it, Hero.” The villain tilted their head in that predatory way again. “Who do you belong to?”

The hero swallowed. Their skin flushed with heat, even with the sparse amount of clothing they had on. They knew what game the villain was playing at, knew what part they had to act, but they still hesitated.

I don’t belong to anyone, I don’t belong to anyone…

The villain’s grasp on their throat tightened in warning, enough for the hero’s breath to hitch. “Say it,” they whispered, deadly.

“You,” the hero bit out. “I belong to you.” Their eyes shuttered as they fought the instinct to close their eyes and pretend that the shame gnawing through them was just as fake as their words.

The villain smirked. “Good.” They let go of the hero’s throat and ruffled their hair in a mocking show of playfulness, as if whatever just happened was all a joke. “I’ll be back in five to take you to the guests.” They made their way to the exit and paused at the doorway. “Oh, and do me a favor and smile a bit more when we get down there. You are mine, after all.”

Only when the door slammed shut behind the villain did the hero finally close their eyes, silent tears tracking down their cheeks as the villain’s words echoed incessantly through their head.

[a-scary-lack-of-common-sense]

ANTAGONIST FIDDLEFORD❗️⁉️❗️❗️💥💥💥 FUCK SHIT UP BABYGIRL, I BELIEVE WOMEN'S RIGHTS AND WRONGS <33

30 years ago, during Ford and Bill's fallout; instead of threatening to steal Ford's eyeballs, Bill just goes ahead and steals Fiddleford's! Which then further leads to Fiddleford parting ways with Ford as his research assistant.

In my perfect world, where my AU is a 40-episode fully animated show; this episode would reveal the seemingly unsuspecting Old Man Mcgucket as the leader of a powerful secret cult of memory erasure. Mcgucket, believing Ford to still be under the influence of "the demon that stares," kidnaps him and attempts to "exorcise"/erase the so-called demon out of Ford's brain.

However, with the metal plate bolted into Ford's skull not only keeping out demons such as Bill, but also keeping them in; Bill is forced to instead take over Ford's body with nowhere else to go. Together with the twins who've come to rescue their Grunkle Ford, they frantically run from a hoard of cultists and their terrifying leader.

The twins discover that their Grunkle Ford's past goes much deeper than they had originally anticipated, and that their Uncle Bill isn't who they think he is....

[poobirdy]

a bingqiu witches x xianxia fusion, as prompted by cass and fulfilled as part of an ongoing fundraising event at svsss gotcha 4 gaza!

[wh3nturtlesfly]

For the prompt event- 13 and N please!

It appears great minds think alike, thank you for the request from both of you!

13, N: Mind Control, “Thought you could run from me, didn’t you?”

“Thought you could run from me, didn’t you?” The voice came from behind them. Hero thrashed in the trap locking their ankles to the floor. The metal cuffs bit back and it was an effort not to topple over. Laughing filled the corridor and along with it, a dark shadow.

“So noble, it must be humiliating to appear so weak, so… helpless.” Finally Villain emerged, crossing the tiles with a feline grace. They circled the area and allowed their hand to trail over the counters. Beakers clinked beneath their touch, filled to the brim with deadly concoctions.

Hero’s hands tightened around the vial in their hands. They had been lucky not to drop it when the trap was triggered. Something so dangerous had to be discarded properly, destroyed for certain.

Villain’s interest peaked. “You’ve found one of my little toys too, how adorable.” They stepped closer and Hero flinched back. Such movements left them stumbling, though Villain snaked a hand around their waist before they could tip back. “Careful, I wouldn’t want your fragile bones to snap. I’ve heard the manacles can be quite unforgiving.” Their gaze fell onto the trap, lips splitting into a grin.

“Let me go,” Hero hissed. Though their arms were still free, they couldn’t risk dropping the solution. Without their legs, their movement was already hindered greatly. It seemed their hands truly were tied, and the Villain knew it all too well.

They chuckled, “You know I can’t do that, not when you have something of mine.” Villain reached towards the Hero who tried to pull away. It was useless. Villain’s hand slid around their wrist easily, constricting until the vial loosened in their hands. They caught it before it could clatter to the floor.

The solution was a deep violet in color. Bubbles swirled around the surface, glittering almost like stars, though what was inside held nothing of beauty. “I assume you know what this can do,” Villain waved the vial in front of Hero’s vision. They let their nails bite into Hero’s skin when they tried to grasp for the object.

“Other than hurting innocent people?” Hero’s eyes narrowed. They winced as Villain’s finger slid up from their wrist, moving to rest under their chin. Deep green eyes locked with their own, piercing as they were forced into Villain’s gaze.

“Hurt, or persuade?” Villain smiled, “Mind control seems to be nothing harmful, especially when it goes down so easily.” The vial swished as they twirled it between their fingers.

“You’re a monster,” they grit between their teeth.

“A monster?” The Villain almost looked offended, “No, nonono…if anything my dear, I am a genius. And you are quite wrong in the purpose of my creation, I would never use it to destroy the innocent,” They yanked Hero forward, “because no one on this wretched excuse of a planet is innocent.”

A pause in breath as Villain took a step back. They marveled in the shadows of their lair, this very room being their favorite place. It was a special delight, seeing the Hero helpless beneath their gaze, and they didn’t intend to spoil it.

Cold in their palm, Villain found their fingers tracing the lip of the vial. The cork top was rough against the pad of their thumb. It's only defense, power unleashed with the simple flick of a lid. “Tell you what,” they let the words roll smooth off their tongue, “I won’t use this on any of your precious people.”

A glimmer of hope shone in the Hero’s eye. This was all too easy. Villain let Hero sit in their pride for a moment, the thought that they had broken through, only to crush it beneath their palm. “You’ll make a much better subject after all.”

Hero blanched, “What?”

“Data can only do so much my dear, and you said it yourself,” They drank in the sight of the solution. Swirling purple, absolutely magnificent, “It would truly be a crime to hurt someone blameless. I must first test it on someone, and to have the big strong Hero beneath my hand- well that’s almost too much of a treat.”

Villain stepped forward and laughed as the Hero fought against their restraints. Bolted to the ground, they couldn’t so much as move an inch.

“No,” the word fell from Hero’s lips as nothing more but a hushed plea. Their eyes darted frantically between the vial and Villain’s gaze. Both were entrancing, endless seas of color that threatened to drown anyone who came too close.

They thrust their hands at the Villain when they came into range. It was a weak attempt, nothing more than flailing limbs and curses. With one hand Villain caught their chin, dragging Hero forward and with the other they held the concoction.

“Won’t it be so lovely to have you? Listening to my every word, I long to own that pretty smile of yours.” They ignored the scrape of Hero’s nails against their skin, even as it drew blood. My, they were so desperate.

“Let go of me!” They screamed, “Don’t!”

Villain raised an impatient brow, “Hold still now darling,” fingers playing around the edge of the glass, Villain popped off the cork. Hero’s response was absolutely beautiful.

“No- no, get that away from me!” They pulled at Villain’s hair, punching and scratching. Villain’s grip never so much as loosened. They held a power greater than anything the Hero could throw at them, and hearing their cries only strengthened it.

“Wait- please!” A scream tore from the Hero’s mouth, echoing off the walls in a chorus of absolute terror. Villain only laughed, grabbing Hero’s face and tipping the vial over their lips.

The liquid flowed from its glass prison, swirling through the air with a glow of brilliant violet. It burned upon the Hero’s tongue, a lick of fire as it was forced down their throat. Their hands flew to their neck and they grasped at the skin as if they could drain it from their veins. Villain only laughed.

What started as a trail of blazing liquid quickly morphed into something searing. Hero could feel it in their skin, piercing their veins and poisoning their mind. They knew how the concoction worked. It started in their bloodstream, shutting down their nerves and filling their mind with a new command. Bones aching, everything would be restructured, everything wiped. The liquid was not only for control, it was strengthening, sending a power surging through the Hero that they alone would never have the freedom to harness.

They cried out, doubling over. It burned, god, everything hurt. Hero was sent to the floor, thrashing along the tiles like a wounded animal. The cuffs bit into their skin, but they didn’t notice. Couldn’t, when each of their thoughts was being stripped away.

First, it was foggy, like grasping at straws. Hero hung onto their memories, nails pricking their skin from clenching their fists so tight. Everything fleeting. They forgot their own name. Forgot their power. It was fading much too fast.

“No!” They writhed on the ground, hands curling round their hair. Tears pricked Hero’s eyes, it was gone so fast, like watching the last of their thoughts slip under the drain. In the metal cabinet Hero caught their reflection. It was almost unrecognizable. They saw their own eyes shift from caramel to darkened violet as they could do nothing but watch. It consumed them, sparkling with the chemicals that left their head pounding.

Hero’s joints grew stiff, no longer under their control. Vision blurred and heart slowed to its own rhythm. Their mind was wiped like a slate, nothing left of them. Only violet. Burning, searing, violet. The substance was their livelihood, coursing through Hero’s veins as they finally fell still.

“Now that wasn’t so hard, was it?” The voice was an echo. It bounced off the walls of Hero’s mind and they couldn’t help but gaze up towards it. Warm hands braced their arms, helping them to stand. They faced deep green eyes. Something lured them to follow such a gaze.

A finger trailed along their jaw, and the touch was familiar, welcomed. “This suits you,” The one before them said with a smile. Their hands came up to smooth the wrinkles in their uniform. “No more writhing in the dust like an animal. You’re perfect this way, all mine- isn’t that right my dear Hero?”

Hero. Was that what they were? A silent command shot through their nerves, compelling them to take the figure’s hand. Villain’s hand, a small voice told them. They felt Villain’s hand upon their cheek, and again those eyes-

“Say it for me love, just so I can hear it myself.”

The words fell from Hero with a mechanical grace. As if programmed, they didn’t even have to think. Fate brought the sentence to their tongue, twirling around until it felt just right. “I…I’m yours.”

“That’s right.” Villain hummed. They pressed a chaste kiss to Hero’s forehead, “I can’t wait to see what we can do together.”

Somewhere deep inside, Hero was screaming.

[rhiangalaxy]

@artsarasp 's System Possession AU has got me in a chokehold Orz

[ID: A Scum Villain Comic. Image one depicts System Possessed!Shen Qingqiu looking cheerful with his hands pressed together and saying "We got the torture labyrinth tomorrow". Shang Qinghua is looking at SQQ with a nervous/horrified expression, holding an unraveled scroll and responding "What?". Image two depicts chibi versions of the two, with SQQ reiterating "We gotta get tortured for eternity tomorrow", with a :3 face and gesturing towards a system box that has the words "New Mission" with a cheering kamoji and blue sparkles. SQH responds "Ohhh, Okay" with a tired nervous expression. End ID]

[bigfatbreak]

What does Tom think of Emilie after meeting her?

the only Agreste he's not massively disappointed with is Adrien himself. It's a good thing that's the only one he plans on sparing.

[thirstywaffles]

When your crush finally loves you back

[ID: Scum Villain fanart of Luo Binghe. He's standing with his arms spread slightly at his sides, palms up. He's smirking and his eyes glint red. There's a large caption across his body that says "i am no longer mentally ill". /end ID]

[sunderwight]

SV fic where Shen Yuan's status as a body-snatching entity is revealed before the Immortal Alliance Conference can happen.

Maybe the system suffers a glitch while some unforeseen side quest is active, and suddenly Shen Yuan's status is revealed and some of the other peak lords he's with seize the opportunity to exorcise his spirit and put Shen Jiu back in his place.

Shen Yuan has mixed feelings about this development, needless to say. On the one hand, it's kind of not actually that bad? He got caught out like a week away from the IAC and the necessary Abyss plotline, so at least like this, he's managed to give Luo Binghe a slightly better time on Qing Jing for the past few years and equip him more capably to survive the Abyss, but he also doesn't have to personally throw him down there. That's the silver lining.

On the other hand, everything else about this situation sucks! He got attached to his life as Shen Qingqiu, dammit! And now he's been revealed and branded as some kind of horrible demonic spirit thing, and he was rather painfully expelled (even though he wasn't even there willingly in the first place), and so he's been reduced to some a kind of sparkly ghost light hovering on the fringes of existence, highly susceptible to being harmed if any more righteous cultivators get it in their heads to disperse him!

Which is better than just being catapulted back into his rotting corpse in the other world, but not by as big of a margin as he'd like.

Basically, in terms of his ability to influence the world Shen Yuan has been downgraded back to "read only" status. He finds that he can manifest himself in places that he's already been, or around people he has a particular affinity towards, but they can't perceive him and he can't communicate or even do much more than some minor poltergeist type activity. Which he is cautious about anyway, because if he gets caught around Shen Jiu, Shen Jiu is going to disperse him with extra prejudice.

Unfortunately, nearly everything Shen Yuan cares about is in Shen Jiu's orbit.

So he can only watch, metaphorically gritting his teeth as the newly-restored Shen Qingqiu kicks Luo Binghe out of the bamboo house, burns all the bridges that Shen Yuan painstakingly rebuilt for him, refuses point blank to let Liu Qingge help with Without-a-Cure, resumes and even begins taking more frequent trips to the nearest brothels, and neglects his duties to turn into a paranoid wreck as if he half-expects Shen Yuan to steal his body back from him the next time he lets his guard down. Corporal punishment spikes back up on Qing Jing Peak.

Shen Yuan is surprised to hear the whispers of dissent, even so. A spirit possessing a righteous cultivator is a pretty damning incident, and there's no way that he could come out of it smelling like roses. And yet, even though his -- Shen Qingqiu's disciples know enough to be circumspect about saying anything of the sort, there are still murmurs and rumblings about how things used to run, not too long ago.

Ming Fan quiets any such talk as soon as he hears it. Ning Yingying scarcely seems to know how to respond to the situation, except to sometimes plaintively insist that she hadn't even noticed much change between Shen Qingqiu's at all. But Luo Binghe...

Well.

Whenever there are mutterings, it often seems as though Binghe is there. Nodding. Whispering. Carefully putting forth suggestions that others barely seem to recognize as suggestions. Shen Yuan only notices because he knows what Binghe's capable of when he decides to be manipulative, and even he finds himself wondering if it's not just a coincidence, something he's imagining, because Luo Binghe hasn't even blackened through his Abyss arc yet.

Even so, there he is, musing carefully on how strange it was that he's heard that Hong Jing hadn't identified any untoward presence in Shen Qingqiu before, how Shizun had never done anything bad to the peak despite all the claims that he'd supposedly been possessed by a malicious entity for years, and wasn't this new Shen Qingqiu acting much more suspicious? Much more malicious? Isn't is the new Shizun who jumps at shadows and talks to people who aren't there, and seems so uneasy in his own skin?

If one had to guess which version was an unstable monster possessing a human's body, and which was the righteous and noble peak lord... ah, well. It's just surprising, isn't it? Luo Binghe would of course never suggest that this new Shen Qingqiu was in actuality the being that had stolen someone else's place. He's surely never second guess the judgment of the peak lords, who claim to have let an interloper among them for YEARS in total ignorance. It's just something to think about.

Alas for Binghe, though a lot of the peak seems inclined to agree with him, he can't win over enough to inspire anything worse than discontent. The "new" Shen Qingqiu does behave a lot more like the one that most of the Qing Jing knew prior to his qi deviation, after all, and it's no mystery why Luo Binghe -- spurned former favorite, now back to being at the bottom of the pecking order -- would be unhappy with the change. Shen Yuan appreciates that this is at least doing a good job of setting up Luo Binghe's altered opinion on his shizun, and he's touched that he made a good enough impression for Binghe to be mad about the sudden regression, but he wishes he could tell Binghe that there's simply nothing to be done about it. That is the real Shen Qingqiu, and Binghe ought to concern himself more with the upcoming conference!

At least, despite being kicked out of the bamboo house, Luo Binghe managed to farm enough good opinion with some of the other disciples during his tenure as Favorite that he doesn't go back to sleeping in the woodshed. Without Shen Qingqiu expressly demanding it, no one would dare, just in case Luo Binghe might regain his status one day. There seems to be an awareness that "evil" Shizun would have made them run laps, but "good" Shizun would now probably whip them half to death in a fit of temper. No one wants to take chances.

Finally, the Immortal Alliance Conference rolls around. Shen Yuan can only watch and cheer Binghe on as best as he's able to, even knowing the probable outcome. And Binghe does so well! He fights bravely but also smartly. When Shen Qingqiu arrives, Binghe doesn't lose an ounce of his caution, though he does still nobly defend his master even though the good feelings between them have dried up. He correctly identifies Without-a-Cure's flare up and silently helps compensate for Shen Jiu's weakness, and sticks by him even though the Original Goods is hardly appreciative.

When the Abyss opens up, and Luo Binghe's demonic seal is broken, Shen Qingqiu seems almost relieved to have this information brought to light. He accuses Luo Binghe not only of orchestrating the invasion of demons at the conference, but of arranging fro Shen Jiu to be replaced too.

"Of course, for a demon like you, summoning some wicked force into this master's body would be easy!" he spits.

Luo Binghe looks bowled over by the accusation. But rather than defending himself, he latches onto it as if it might be some kind of lifeline.

"For a demon like this one... it would be possible?" he echoes.

Shen Jiu hurls more accusations. Of course it is. Luo Binghe is not just any demon, but the most powerful, dangerous, and destructive sort there is. Little is beyond the scope of a Heavenly Demon's power, or wretchedness. Luo Binghe must have uncovered his heritage and seen a convenient means of ridding himself of an inconvenient master. Wherever that horrid spirit is now, it's probably just waiting for the next chance to leap back in at Luo Binghe's call!

"Shizun's spirit... that spirit from before, it still exists?" Luo Binghe catches.

"As if you don't know. Beast. Even the sect leader could not destroy your minion completely," Shen Jiu sneers.

"And it would be within my abilities to put it back in your body. Instead of you."

"You won't get the chance."

Shen Jiu stabs Luo Binghe before throwing him into the Abyss. Binghe fights back, but he seems reluctant to injure his shizun, even now.

Shen Yuan supposes that such reluctance won't survive the Abyss. Still, it's emotional for him. That such a little kindness could cause Luo Binghe to hesitate, even at this point, it really speaks to the resilience of hope in Binghe's heart.

Shen Yuan's little ghost light almost follows him down. But the Abyss would be too dangerous for him, even as he is now. He'd be a little mote of spiritual energy, easily gobbled up by any number of creatures in that place, if he wasn't just swept up by the chaotic ambient energies themselves. So he can only stay behind and think some very colorful swear words in Shen Jiu's general direction, until the rift closes and leaves no trace of Luo Binghe behind, except for the shards of Zheng Yang.

The shards are left behind. Shen Yuan finds that he has a little bit of spiritual storage space. Just enough to maybe fit all of them, so he goes and painstakingly uses his limited powers to lift up each piece and drop it in. It takes him hours and hours, but luckily the clean-up of the whole disaster is something that will take months. No one seems inclined to go reclaim Luo Binghe's shattered blade or risk getting too close to the remnants of the rift, even closed. So, Shen Yuan manages.

The next few years prove difficult. Shen Yuan finds that it's hard to retain his presence in the world. His little spirit has dampened considerably, and few things seem to perk him back up. He has more troubles following anyone who isn't Shen Jiu now that Binghe is in the Abyss, and Shen Jiu is depressing as hell to spend time around. He's rotten with kids, sucks at teaching, he has no friends, his health is deteriorating, and Shen Yuan has no interest in seeing what he gets up to in the brothels.

But Binghe is definitely coming back, and Shen Yuan wants to see him again.

His patience is rewarded the first time he finds his consciousness drifting, only to snap back to awareness in a place that's not Qing Jing Peak. He instead finds that he's in an unfamiliar patch of wilderness along a river, watching as Luo Binghe fights a small pack of demonic beasts.

It's definitely not the Endless Abyss. Has it been five years already...? Shen Yuan hadn't thought so, but then again, he's not the best at keeping track of time in this state.

Luo Binghe defeats the beasts, but they land more hits and wound him worse than Shen Yuan would have anticipated. The wounds aren't healing as quick as they should either. Was Binghe poisoned? Or is this a remnant of Shen Yuan's own poor teaching, the clumsiness in sword practice he never totally managed to correct leading somehow to this?

He gets it when Qin Wanyue and several other Huan Hua cultivators show up, however, and Luo Binghe manages to play the righteous cultivator who just survived a harrowing battle role to the hilt. It takes him very little effort to get the Huan Hua disciples to take him back with them and help "patch him up", and soon enough Shen Yuan has front row seats to watch as Binghe ingratiates himself with the sect.

Mostly, Shen Yuan is just relieved to confirm that Binghe did indeed survive, and glad that he's out of the horrible Abyss and in a place where he can rest and eat decent meals and be fawned over by his well-deserved admirers. Though Luo Binghe seems colder even than Shen Yuan expected, especially in some places where a bit of charm would serve him better. He declines outright to address the Palace Master as "shizun", even though he accepts the offer to stay as a guest disciple at Huan Hua Palace, and he is abrupt and aloof towards both Qin Wanyue and the Little Palace Mistress, despite their obvious interest in him.

Binghe doesn't seem to sleep as soundly as he should either. At night he often brings out a dream stone, which Shen Yuan recognizes as an amplification tool from the novel, but it seems that whatever Binghe is trying to search for with it is beyond his reach. Sometimes Shen Yuan imagines he can hear his disciple's voice calling Shizun at night. But always, Binghe is asleep, and there's no one in Huan Hua Palace he has deigned to address like that anyway. It's a trick of his own imagination, missing the days when Luo Binghe could call out and he himself could answer.

Things go mostly according to the plot, with a few disruptions here and there. Luo Binghe seems to be lagging behind on the romantic subplots, but rushing ahead on the vendetta against his old teacher. The Trial of Shen Qingqiu takes place at Jinlan City, with demon instigators who work for Luo Binghe accusing the peak lord of colluding with demons and setting him up to seem like he was involved in the sower attack. Shen Yuan knows, from watching Binghe, that the sower thing was mostly taking advantage of an existing situation to frame Shen Qingqiu. Binghe himself didn't have anything to do with Jinlan's suffering, but is obviously not above using it to his advantage.

Combined with Qiu Haitang's testimony, Shen Qingqiu is arrested and locked up where Luo Binghe can torture and dismember him at will.

However, Binghe... doesn't do that?

Instead he swiftly relocates Shen Qingqiu to a prison in the demon realms, and seems to abandon his concerns with Huan Hua Palace and the righteous cultivation sects altogether. He just leaves them to fight it out amongst themselves, as if he's got no concern with who comes out on top, and in the meanwhile he keeps Shen Qingqiu locked up but surprisingly well-treated?

Despite Shen Qingqiu's obvious terror and vitriol towards him, Luo Binghe forces him to eat nutritious meals, and attends to his health problems, and makes no move to injure him at all. He has nothing good to say to Shen Jiu, but he doesn't hurt him. Yet there is something distinctly weird about the whole dynamic, not at all like someone who has decided to keep a prisoner under ethical conditions for moral reasons or something like that.

Shen Yuan's not sure what to make of it.

In the end, Shen Jiu himself illuminates the situation.

It happens after Shen Jiu has rejected food. Luo Binghe tuts and asks if Shen Jiu suspects it would be poisoned. Shen Jiu sneers at him.

"I know it isn't," he says. "You wouldn't poison this body. I know what you're after."

"Oh? Wise Master Shen figured out this much?" Binghe replies, dry as the fucking desert.

"You're keeping me in this condition because you want to put that thing back in my body!" Shen Jiu accuses.

It takes Shen Yuan a moment to realize that Shen Jiu is referring to him. That he thinks Luo Binghe is keeping him fit and healthy for Shen Yuan's sake.

Wouldn't that be going too far just for some old teacher who was nice?! Yes, he knows that he made an impact on Luo Binghe, but it wasn't hard! Shen Jiu set the bar at the earth's crust, clearing it hardly required the kind of effort or devotion that would inspire an entire elaborate scheme purely on Shen Yuan's behalf!

He can't believe it.

But, Binghe doesn't deny it.

In fact he smiles, his expression somehow conveying that Shen Jiu guessed perfectly correct, but also that there's no good it can do him. Binghe has never looked so much like a piece of PIDW fanart before, with some dark and potent rage simmering just beneath the veneer of his placid smile.

"Shizun should not be referred to so impolitely," Luo Binghe counters. "If anyone in this room is a thing, it is this usurper in front of me."

"Usurper?! In my own body? You're mad."

Binghe tuts.

Master Shen should understand that his claim is contested. After all, if one woman gives birth to a child but then casts it into a river to die, but another fishes the babe out and cradles it to her breast -- which woman deserves to be called that child's mother? Just because Shen Jiu was born into that body, doesn't mean he deserves it more than anyone else.

But even if he did, Luo Binghe wouldn't care. He would kill to get his Shizun back. This isn't really so different from that, is it? And there is no love lost between him and Shen Jiu to make him hesitate. If his Shizun disagrees, he may disciple Binghe as he sees fit once he returns.

Shen Jiu points out that Luo Binghe's machinations have ruined his reputation. Even if he gets that creature to possess his body again, there's no way that they could infiltrate Cang Qiong Sect a second time.

But Binghe waves off his concerns. He clearly has thought of this, and has plans for it, but is also not about to be stupid enough to monologue any more at Shen Jiu. Once he leaves, Shen Yuan lingers for a little while, and notices that Shen Jiu actually seems genuinely concerned about what might happen to the sect if Luo Binghe succeeds and gets Shen Yuan put back on Qing Jing Peak.

Of course, Shen Yuan knows he wouldn't actually do anything to harm Cang Qiong, but Shen Jiu doesn't. This is the first time Shen Yuan has seen him actually reveal shades of what might be called a noble impulse.

It's not much, but... sigh.

The thing is, Shen Yuan doesn't really want to steal anybody's body! No one consulted with him the first time it happened! And they sure aren't consulting with him now, either, although to be fair they can't. But he might just have enough ability as a little ghost light to stave off some of this whole process, and he's got to decide if he wants to try. Or if he'll let Binghe have his way, and succeed in pushing Shen Jiu back out and giving Shen Yuan his life again.

Because Binghe will definitely succeed if he really does try. That's how the world works.

And if he did... that might be the only way for Shen Yuan to get his life as Shen Qingqiu back. Which he does want, desperately! He misses it. He misses it both in the general sense of having a body at all, but also in the particular sense of all the things he managed to attain as Qing Jing Peak Lord. As Shen Qingqiu.

Shen Jiu, also, makes a very tempting sacrifice in all this. Shen Yuan frankly hates his guts. Maybe it could have been different, but the fact that Shen Yuan worked so hard to try and make that life better, only for Shen Jiu to just go right back to being an intractable asshole who, frankly, should never be in charge of children ever, rankles! He went right back to mistreating Luo Binghe as well, and threw him into the Abyss, and if Binghe's plan was to violently kill him again as revenge for that then Shen Yuan wouldn't fault him. He didn't fault him the first time. He wasn't going to fault him even when it seemed like he would be the one Binghe was destined to rip apart in justified vengeance.

This is different, though. Shen Yuan wants to fight for the life he longs to be living, especially now when the axe of the Abyss is no longer hanging over him.

But is he willing to actually become the thing everyone else decided he was in order to get it? A body-snatching, malicious spirit?

Shen Jiu is horribly unsuited to his life as Shen Qingqiu. But, it is still his life. Shen Yuan really just managed to borrow it for a while.

Deep down he knows that, even if he would like to ignore it.

So when Binghe finally sets up the ceremony, and Shen Yuan's soul is called back into Shen Qingqiu's body, he hesitates. Shen Jiu is poised like a snarling, wounded animal within the confines of his own body. Even the gentlest tap would knock him back out again. Shen Yuan gets the sense that the system is also there, just waiting and even eager for him to do it. Take back the body, resume whatever quests or directives are waiting for him there.

Shen Yuan, even as fragile as his own spirit is, could crush Shen Jiu's battered soul to dust.

Instead he withdraws.

Binghe tries the ritual again, and again, and each time Shen Yuan feels stronger. But it doesn't matter, because he doesn't want to be an evil body-stealing parasite! He wishes he could just tell Binghe to stop wasting valuable resources on this, especially when Binghe could be focusing on other, more important things! Like building up happy relationships or consolidating his rule of the demon realms or establishing an actual strong foothold in the human world, or something!

Somehow, Shen Jiu figures this out before Luo Binghe does. Of course, he conveys the information in the worst way possible, snidely wondering what Luo Binghe did to alienate "that creature" he's trying so hard to resurrect so badly that it will refuse even the open, glowing invitation he keeps writing for it!

Excuse you, you miserable old man, Shen Yuan isn't avoiding Binghe! He is facing a very difficult moral dilemma and handling it LIKE A CHAMP! Fuck you!

Unfortunately, even though Shen Jiu has decided that Luo Binghe and Shen Yuan were in cahoots about the first body snatch, Luo Binghe knows that they weren't. He also doesn't know that his old Shizun knew full well that he was a Heavenly Demon the whole time. So now he has a lot of doubts to wrestle with, especially give that, despite the consensus of the rest of the world, Luo Binghe is not convinced that Shen Yuan actually is some kind of demonic spirit.

Maybe he's a good spirit that has rejected Binghe for his wretched blood?

But Shizun always said that things like that didn't matter!

So... maybe it's not his blood. Maybe Binghe's actions are what has caused Shizun to forsake him. All the terrible things he did to survive the Abyss, and the machinations afterwards, framing Shen Qingqiu and imprisoning him, setting himself up as a demonic ruler... all of that.

Binghe entreats his Shizun to forgive him. Or even if he won't forgive him, to still come back. Binghe will... stay away, if that's what Shizun wants. Just so long as Shizun is alive, is somewhere in the world, safe and happy, then... then...

He can't quite get through lying to claim that it would be enough. But it would be better than the current situation, so he tries.

Shen Yuan, luckily, has been juiced up enough from all the failed summoning rituals that later that night, he finally recognizes the little whisper-calls as echoes of Luo Binghe's dreams. And he's strong enough to follow the invitations! He goes to visit Binghe in his dreams, and reassures him that he's not trying to reject him at all. He's very proud of Binghe, and wants him to be happy and successful. Binghe could rule the world and Shizun would just cheer him on!

It's just that Shen Yuan never willingly possessed Shen Qingqiu in the first place. He misses his life, but given the choice, he doesn't want to be that kind of entity.

So, new plan -- if Shen Yuan won't take a body off of an undeserving asshole, then Binghe will make him a new body! Luckily, Shen Yuan knows a way to grow one. They "borrow" some genetic materials from Shen Jiu to aid the process, and then Luo Binghe, surprisingly indifferent about the whole thing, cuts Shen Jiu loose at the border.

Shen Yuan is surprised. Binghe really doesn't care about that? Turns out no, not so much. Shen Jiu is awful, but he's nothing to Binghe in the long run. (Also it's a long shot but if nothing else does work Binghe might have to force Shen Yuan to take Shen Qingqiu's body back, though of course he's not about to say so, and anyway Shen Jiu is still going to have a hell of a time waiting for him back in the cultivation world. Luo Binghe wishes him luck and every pleasure of trying to clear his ruined name, living a life on the lamb with an insidious poison constantly eating away at him, or the full enjoyment of a second visit to the water prison, whichever ends up happening.)

With the help of Luo Binghe's blood parasites, the Sun and Moon Dew whatever mushroom body grows in record time. A summoning ritual isn't even required, Shen Yuan just scoots right in as soon as the body is ready and blinks his eyes open to see his anxious disciple's face peering back at him.

Happily ever after!