#Broken Heroic Will

[siremasterlawrence]

Broken Heroic Will Part 1 - 2

Clark Kent is on his way home when a giant screen appears blaring over the entire city of The Great Metropolis showcasing a group of people rushing in to the Museum of Metro Technology and Science.

The main one stops cold facing both of the other men snapping his fingers they follow his orders informing him them to remove all of their guns and guards the space with the front door barricade.

The man quickly makes intake of the area all surrounding him when he spots the odd object sliding across the room he stops shy of the glass fading his hand as it pushes in through the glass and grabbing it.

The mind altering agent boggles a bit shook him to his core then spun about feeling all of his senses as he looks up knowing who else is here because the power level of the Man Of Steel.

He spins in mid air like a drill he burrows so deep in to the ceiling as it cracks up in a huge smash he continues to drive down to me in fashion the blue, red and yellow are a dazzling sight.

I giggle a bit throwing and catching the old no ancient object in his hand flipping it back and forth as it burns up with light shining it then absorbing it in to his skin with a strong vibration empowering him.

Superman is overwhelmingly not shocked at all to see me then throws a super hard shaft of a nightmare punch sending him flying so much craziness across the room hitting the wall.

His body sliding to the bottom of the room I glee with excitement laughing so loud in the main hall as let the noise echo in to his ears as he it is excruciating shaking his one body.

The man uses some magic creating a circle of power in the air creating a box out of thin air sending box decorating in Christmas like paper and a bow tie on top of it glowing in a aura it lands next to him.

The main raises his hand wiggling his finger as sprinkles of fire transferring him from the museum and leaving Superman is lost as his whole senses comes back to reality he signs heavily.

He is groggy picking up a box anger rage of himself unwrapping the bow tie, trashing the Christmas paper and unlocking the top of the box and the magic lifts upward in to the air.

The magic rains over him changing a multi array of color on to his body becoming more in to Kryptonite getting weaker and weaker as his energy draining his power from his body.

The box swirls on to his body as he began to float into the air traveling without his will or consent shooting him in to the sky he flew in to a magical hole transporting him in to a new dimension.

Crash landing in to a massively huge crater

leaving him in pain as he crying begging him for help as he rolls over in pain and some tears in his eyes as the man walks off in to the distant.

Clark tries to throw a punch catching both of his hands in his palms, Superman firmly taking it in his hands twisting them to the side and forcing him to his knees it is very obvious.

“How on earth are you doing this?”

“Oh Poor Superman!”

“Stop mocking me”

“Or What?”

“Super pussy”

“That is not my….”

“Not you what?”

“That word”

“You men a name “

“Yeah!”

“Dumbass”

“Take a knee”

“I will never succumb”

“Oh but you already have “

“You lie”

“Hardly! Look at me”

“I said look at me”

“Your eyes “

“I am your Lord and master”

“You are my slave “

“You are too powerful “

“Someone admits it “

“Who am I?”

“Master Lawrence “

“Clark Kent”

“Kiss me”

“I am not gay”

“You are now “

“Nnnnoooo”

“Yes”

“YES! I love you “

“It’s about time my boi”

“I am sorry”

“Do you love me?”

“With all my heart “

“Here to the moon”

“Wow!”

“Oooohhhhh”

“My God!”

“The world will crumble under his feet”

“I am yours”

“Is this not simpler?”

“Yes My God! I love you “

“Raise up to me”

“Kiss me like you are hungry “

Captain America aka Steve Rogers is on the beach ignoring everyone else a weird strangers palm lands on his wide shoulder holding it tightly and swinging him in to a gigantic bird cage.

Steve looks horrified watching an evil looking Superman with a sadistic expression arms crossed and ready to battle with darker like intentions he speeds over to the cage and raising.

He shook it over his head before he is proceeding to throw it fifty miles away in to the rock formations behind him and causing hell on earth with shamble of rubbles spread wide.

I stepped in to a horrible disaster area that is worthy of a construction site crew horror is on full display when Captain America is able to escape flipping in to the air he does a super hero landing.

A shield is thrown in to one rock as if it is so light weight starts to ricochet sending it hit me head on and I go rolling to the floor in total pain and he stares down at me into total disappointment.

I can feel all of my attention on him as when Captain America descending down right in front of me but Superman rushes to my side blocking his fist in a swift attack and gave a good punch to the gut.

Steve is struggling on the floor completely in a stems of hazy fog clouding him up all else fades disappeared in to nether world of his own mind and he is falling in to a life of my consuming him.

Clark grabs him jolting in to the air doing a semi back flip he slams his body in a fatal bone crushing pain his eyes roll back in to his socket and he is knocked in to a deep slumber.

Clark is unconscious waking up tied down to the chair he is stripped of his clothes and unable to move the fear in his eyes is clear that he is broken their is no way coming back from this.

“Why Clark? “

“Just what?”

“I am Master Lawrence’s vessel “

“No Clark”

“Stop it”

“Submit”

“I cannot “

“Feel the crushing pain of defeat “

“You cannot force me too”

“Too what Steve?”

“You can’t win”

“Master Lawrence….”

“He is using you “

“Lies”

“He freed me from my torment”

“All hero’s have torment”

“Such a loser”

“FUCK YOU!”

“Oh! I will Fuck you “

“Bastard you are cruel “

“Mwahahahahaha! You have no idea “

“I can’t fight you any longer”

“Why bother anymore?”

“I loathe you “

“Go on”

“I despise your like”

“No! You don’t “

“Keep telling yourself “

“Oh! I will”

“You love me”

“Make me bitch”

“Uuugghhh”

“My power is cemented “

“Resistance is futile “

“I can do this all day “

“Hahahah”

“Oh Captain!l”

“You no idea “

“What you will unleash?”

“Hell on earth “

“Nothing more would be satisfying”

“Uh huh!”

“What did I just say ?”

“Exactly! Haha”

“I give in”

“I give up “

“I am yours”

“Take my waist in your hands”

“Yes Master”

“Undress me”

“CUM”

The end

[chaotic-orphan]

Heroic betrayal (viii)

Part one here

Continued from here

TW: Carewhump, carewhumper, broken nose, lady whump, lady whumpee

Happy 4th July to those who celebrate it!! (And those who don’t)

*~*~*~*~*

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

“Hero,” Flynn said, voice soft. Hero swallowed the lump in her throat, trying to compose herself but she was rattled… Supervillain terrified her. “Hey, Hero.”

Hero stumbled back a step, eyes flashing to Flynn’s outstretched hand, as if he was about to touch her cheek. Her eyes hardened into stone as she sharpened her gaze into a chilling glare.

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

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

“And I’m just the job, right?”

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

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

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

Hero swallowed, the words like a knife in the chest… or more accurately the back. She blinked at him, wanting to scream and charge and hurt him, but she just stared.

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

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

So they’d hear her coming.

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

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

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

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

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

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

The salt from her tears washed into the cut in her lip from Villain and she winced. Usually, she was far more robust than tears making her flinch but she was just exhausted. It was a long night… or day. Or both? Whatever.

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

It was Supervillain’s master plan after all, making Flynn become her partner, her best friend… even, in fleeting moments, more than that. It was her greatest mistake, trusting him, leaving an acrid taste in her mouth, or maybe that was just the dried blood. He looked down at her lips, then back to her eyes, a sad look crossing his features.

“Here,” Flynn said, taking her arm gently and pulling a magnetic key from his pocket. He pressed the magnet to the bar and the cuffs clicked open like a ring-binder, freeing her wrists. She retracted them to her chest, slowly getting to her feet. She stood still, rubbing her wrists as she took in the room.

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

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

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

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

“Okay.”

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

Hero nodded, biting her lip to keep in her sob. Half of her wanted to jump at him and wrap her arms around him and ask him not to leave her alone, but the other half was stronger, prouder and so she just stayed still as he left and shut the door behind him.

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

There was a full length mirror in the small alcove beside the door and Hero almost started crying at her appearance. Her hair was a mess. It looked more like a bird’s nest made with dirt, leaves and twigs, probably from the scuffle in the woods with Flynn. Tear tracks streaked clean trails down their cheeks, cutting through some of the blood that was caked under her nose, and down her chin.

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

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

How stupid could Supervillain be that he—

The fire flickered in her eyes to a stupor, a sporadic smoulder, as the light dimmed and fizzled out. Her grip turned white knuckled on her blades, her hands shaking as the realisation dawned on her.

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

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

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

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

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

Flynn shot to his feet, almost startled at her voice. She blinked at him as he turned. “Uh, yeah. Yes, of course. This way.”

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

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

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

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

How the fuck was she going to survive this?

*~*~*~*~*

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

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

Sidekick’s battered body flashed across her eyes and she swallowed the bile that threatened to rise and spew from her mouth.

She got to her feet and stomped over to the door before she lost the nerve. She half expected to see Flynn waiting outside like before, instead she was met with two gleaming eyes.

Hero’s nostrils flared. “Villain.”

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

“What do you want?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You must let me treat your nose.”

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

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

Hero yanked their arm free. “I don’t want anything from you.”

“How adorable that you think this is an offer you can refuse.” Supervillain gestured for Hero to walk down the stairs to the ground floor. She hesitated, not wanting to spend another second with Supervillain but her heart betrayed her head and she reluctantly turned on her heel, walking downstairs.

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

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

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

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

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

“Sit beside Flynn, Hero.”

Hero shot him a black look at the order, but she walked towards Flynn anyways. “Why?” Flynn asked, locking his phone and putting it on the counter in front of him.

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

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

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

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

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

“May I?” Supervillain asked lifting his hands to her face. Flynn squeezed her fingers reassuringly. Hero swallowed her pride and nodded.

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

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

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

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

“Okay.” Hero braced themselves, squeezing Flynn’s hand as hard as she could.

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

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

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

“Hero, it probably is—”

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

“I think you need to calm down, Hero,” Supervillain told her. The condescension in his tone just rubbed her the wrong way and before Hero had even realised it a sharp knife was between her fingers, one from the knife block beside the sink. It wasn’t lined the way her blades were but it would do the trick.

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

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

Supervillain was the only one of the trio that looked the same before Hero summoned the knife. Actually, if anything, he looked more relaxed as he folded his arms across his chest.

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

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

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

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

“Dad—”

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

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

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

Supervillain took his time, leaving Hero sitting on the chair with her head back. He first crossed the kitchen to put the knife into the dishwasher, then some extra dishes on the sink before washing and drying his hands, Hero’s eyes following him all the while. Her head grew heavy on her shoulders like she was trying to hold back a kettle bell. Her neck strained as she struggled to keep it steady, not to move a muscle because she didn’t want to give Supervillain the satisfaction of seeing her fail.

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay, Hero. This will hurt.”

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

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

But Flynn was there, whispering to her.

“You’re doing great.”

“It’s almost done.”

“You’re okay, Hero.”

“It’s okay.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

*~*~*~*~*

Continued here

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

[pianokantzart]

Who’s ur fav character and why is it Luigi (only correct answer wink wink)

Okay listen, LISTEN... I love underdogs, but not just regular underdogs, I want true underdogs! I want the ones who are considered last choice amongst a large cast of underdogs. Socially awkward? Check!

Often pigeonholed as "dumb" or "goofy"? Check!

A tendency to latch onto someone else due to a lack of trust in themselves? Check!

A heart of gold despite it all? A natural tendency to prioritize the needs/desires of loved ones above their own? Double check!

Add on top of this the crippling anxiety! Luigi knows where he stands in the grand scheme of things, he knows that at the end of the day he's a just a simple plumber who is not meant to fight giant fire-breathing turtle monsters and ghost kings! 99% of the time he just wants a hot cup of tea, a good book and a nap!

But doggone it, he fastens his overalls and does the right thing when the chips are down! With every bone in his body trembling and every braincell in his head screaming "I DON'T WANT TO DO THIS" he pulls himself together and does it out of love! Luigi's the reluctant hero who is eternally reluctant, but that just makes him all the more lovable! Everything is working against him, even his own instincts. Nothing comes easy for him, and yet every step of the way he's trying his very hardest to do well by those he cares about!

It's just... aaaahhh it's so GOOD man.

[insufferablemod]

Hmmm..

[dovelywind]

ꕥ| Starlord & Gamora

GUARDIANS OF THE GALAXY: VOL. 3

[jasontoddenthusiastt]

Imo Jason is “irredeemable” by default because I don’t see what he needs redemption from.

[firequeensrules]

Some Batman 138 leaks...Yikes!

At least for once Damian get his ass beaten by Tim and Dick goes feral for Jason Todd's sake! Batman possessed or not is not getting a pass hopefully this time 😔!!

[softlysilverfountainsfall]

There is an oft-repeated scene in the Silm when one of Our Heroes has died fighting a noble but hopeless battle that they chose, and someone, somehow buries them properly AND it is specifically mentioned in the text that the grave lay undisturbed until some far future date (usually the breaking of Beleriand).

This happens to Finrod, to Fingolfin (though his grave was only undisturbed until Gondolin fell), and Glorfindel. For other dead characters, this precise formula does not occur.

(Beren and Luthien die natural mortal deaths and no one knows where they are buried, Feanor spontaneously combusts and none of his sons' burials are ever mentioned, and Turgon dies & is presumably "buried" in the collapse of his tower. Hurin, Morwen, and Nienor aren't buried [edit: Morwen was buried]; Finduilas and Turin are buried but it is not specifically mentioned that their graves were undisturbed afterwards. Barahir is buried by Beren but it isn't specifically mentioned that his grave was inviolate. Aredhel's grave isn't mentioned, neither is Thingol's, Dior's, or Nimloth's. Aegnor, Angrod, Orodreth, and Gwindor die in battle against the enemy but in a battle that came to them (Bragollach and of Nargothrond respectively) and was one they had to fight, not a hopeless battle that they chose and their graves' aren't mentioned.)

You will notice that I have not mentioned Fingon, who was famously "beat[en] into the dust with their maces...they trod [his banner] into the mire of his blood," or any who died in the Nirnaeth Arnoediad and were dumped in a pile by Morgoth's forces to create the Hill of the Slain/Haudh-en-Ndengin/Hill of Tears/Haudh-en-Nirnaeth.

The Nirnaeth is, of course, the ultimate noble but hopeless battle, and Fingon especially typifies that. (Relatedly, Azahgal's body is successfully borne away by his troops, presumably for a long-lasting burial place.) The Hill of the Slain is meant to be a symbol of Morgoth's power and a place of dreadful carnage and disrespect for those who fell and should break my argument--

But in one sentence Tolkien turns all that around:

"But grass came there and grew again long and green upon that hill, alone in all the desert Morgoth made; and no creature of Morgoth trod thereafter upon the earth beneath which the swords of the Eldar and the Edain crumbled into rust"

--and the symbol of Morgoth's total victory becomes a sacred, untouched grave of heroes.

[goldensunset]

i didn't think i cared much for n's final battle theme bc i'm a sucker for melodically strong pieces aka certified bangers. but i must say it does a good job at making you uncomfortable when you really listen to the details. it's got tritones, clock ticking sounds, heartbeats, fire and lighting sound effects for reshiram and zekrom, up and down flights, ominous choir, plenty of dissonance. i woke up in a cold sweat at like 5am today with it hauntingly stuck in my head for some reason and that makes it deserving of my respect

[mylastmoleculeofserotonin]

Kill the notion that Star Wars needs to step away from force users. I don’t know about you, but I love to see space wizards fight with glowy swords. The only thing that needs to change is the good/evil dichotomy of the Light and Dark sides of the Force. Give us a show about a Padawan who tries her hardest to be a great Jedi so she buries her emotions so deep within herself that she loses herself and becomes complacent with Jedi/Senate corruption and turns to the dark side to reconnect with herself and rediscover what made her want to be a Jedi in the first place. Give us the story about a child who’s sibling is taken by the Jedi so they ally with a Sith to break into the Jedi Temple and rescue their sibling. Give us a movie about a Dark Lady of the Sith and her apprentice defending their home planet from being absorbed into a sector of the Republic where their historical oppressors would hold their seat in the Senate.

All those stories could feature epic clashes between Force Wielders without contributing to the perceived stagnation of Star Wars shows featuring Jedi and Sith.

[bretwalda-lamnguin]

As much as I love Denethor as a character, and think his tragic arc and grandeur are fantastic, I do think there is something very funny about him as a character.

He's a pragmatist, with no time for wizards and their nonsense, while also having great supernatural powers of his own. He's in a fantasy romance, but has absolutely no time for it. His greatest vassal commands knights straight out of legend, and Denethor uses them as a tactical reserve. He's a medieval fantasy ruler who acts like a 18/19th century enlightened despot, seeing himself as the first servant of the state. He employs defence in depth tactics like he's a modern general, despite being in a fantasy war against an evil demigod. All logic suggests that this story is a tragedy, so he makes sure it is. 10/10 character he really doesn't belong here but also so does.

[starclast]

💛💙&🤍💗&🖤💜

[redbean-nom]

I kind of hope tech stays dead (probably bc of the silm fandom tragedy/angst instincts lol) but honestly it's star wars so he probably just got dumped in the pile of "characters to be resurrected if they seem like they could sell another movie" a la maul/boba/etc

[quietwingsinthesky]

okay. thinking. but a large contributing factor to why clara & even are never going to get along is that clara’s perception of even is just. wrong. not through any fault of her own; she’s literally not being given a vital piece of context aka Even Comes From A Fucking Spaceship.

after donna gets her memory wiped, the only people left who know this are the doctor (found them), jack harkness (onboard the tardis at some point prior to them picking a name and got curious), and the master (did Not ask for like 3 years of time hell, also assuming they were from earth, until they mentioned it offhandedly and made him pout in a corner of the tardis for an hour because you mean to say he’s been insulting that planet to their face for years and their lack of reaction wasn’t offense or hurt or anything because they don’t even think of it as their planet??? all that wasted time???) Clara doesn’t know. The Doctor never thinks it’s pertinent to bring up, Missy doesn’t bother, and Even. doesn’t like her.

so, to Clara, even is whoever came before her, is someone the doctor picked up and who couldn’t keep up or else they’d still be traveling with him instead of clara. even’s lack of attachment to the idea of humanity as a whole (like, say, in finding it a reasonable plan to use the dead to create cybermen because they’re just bodies at that point, just unused resources, and helping missy to that end) comes off as cold and callous rather than a very practical worldview formed by their original circumstances. their slowly rediscovered delight at simple things on earth becomes childish under a kind eye or fake under a suspicious one. Clara’s judgements would be sound, especially considering Even’s insistence on staying with Missy, except for all the history behind their decisions that Clara isn’t privy to.

and that’s really the crux of it, i think. that even’s history with the doctor is an unknown that clara makes assumptions about because she can’t actually see it. and even’s resentment of clara lies in how much they can see of her and the doctor, how much they understand about why he’d pick her, and that that. hurts. to be on the outside of.

[cyrsed]

i only realized recently that the reason it's been 3 years for isaac since ds1 is bc ds1 came out 3 years before ds2, which is cute. isaac has no memory of the past 3 years in ds2 bc he hasn't existed since 2008 lol. there's some fun (maybe partially unintentional in certain cases) meta narrative in ds2 that is interesting to think about? control vs lack of control, agency vs manipulation etc. i think it's sorta funny that isaac's arc goes from sort of "accidentally"/in self defense killing someone and feeling bad about it in a cutscene (QTE notwithstanding), where you the player don't control what isaac does, to the end where isaac is consciously making the decision to essentially execute tiedmann lol. which is interesting from a character growth perspective (like, what does it mean for him to take a life purposefully: is it catharsis? is it closure? is it heroic? idk about that since it's not like he wouldn't have died anyway lol, so is it just what tiedmann Deserves? oh, 2011 video games), but it's also interesting from a player/game interaction perspective, since the themes of dead space like paranoia/conspiracy/loss of control/memory/manipulation/free will/futility/etc. mean that isaac is never really in control and never really has agency. he's either manipulated by other humans, or by the marker, and very literally controlled by the player.

so in isaac's ds2 arc, ignoring the grief aspect, he goes from acting in a way that could arguably be considered to have more agency to it by killing someone in a cutscene where the player has no input into his actions one way or the other (other than being able to let isaac die if they fail the QTE, but the actual killing part is extra loll), to killing tiedmann, but with the caveat that the game gives the player the actual input to execute tiedmann rather than watching it happen like before. obvs that's just down to game mechanics more than anything, but it's FUN to think about the THEMATIC IMPLICATIONS okay??

[dark-elf-writes]

You introduce absolute gem ideas. The idea of Arthur as father figure to Shouto? Amazing. I feel like he would really listen and indulge Shoutos batshit conspiracy theories.

I also now want Luna and Shouto to meet.

Oh absolutely he would listen to his conspiracies. He’d also take notes and ask follow up questions that make Shouto think and do more research and come back with updated theories. (He went through this with Percy and knows that telling them outright that there’s conflicting information out there won’t do any good but if he points them in the right direction and happens to leave out a book or article where he knows that they’ll find them? He’s just encouraging their minds and critical thinking skills at that point.) He has a full leather bound notebook dedicated to Shouto (to match the ones filled with information on his other kid’s interests that he’s taken notes on over them years from everything on advanced chess strategies to the correct habitat and care of a dragon that went extinct a hundred years ago) that he flips through periodically and fills with more information whenever Shouto comes to him with something new.

Luna and Shouto would get along so well no lie. Just two kids that never really had friends until their mid to late teens that because so Them that most people outside do their friend group find it off putting. She tells him about the wrackspurts that fill his head and he tells her about how magic definitely started quirks after a critical mass of Dormants and Mugglehorns had been kicked into the non magical world. Both of them would kill and die for the other.