#sometimes the villains are heros

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt in Memes 5

Once more, have a prompt entirely in memes because I'm too lazy to properly write one right now lol.

[moodyvoid]

I know Tomura at his core was a genuinely accepting person when it came to the league of villains, but I wonder what kind of quirks he would have said no to.

Like Giran brings someone to the hideout and they’re introducing themselves and their quirk like

“I can make balloon animals come to life.”

“I can conjure a wet towel that I slap people with.”

“I can talk to animals, but they’re all really mean to me.”

“If we’re in distress, I can pull the exact object we need out of my pocket 75% of the time, but the other 25% of the time I just pull out a handful of spaghetti.”

“I can alter the clothes I’m wearing into different disguises, but it’s always costumes of characters from other franchises and I stick out like a sore thumb.” *Is currently standing there as Peppa Pig*

[yo-yo-yoshiko]

The Bedside Manner Duo.

Bonus Poppys cause I had to really practice to figure out how to draw her waahah! Conventionally cute designs are hard for me....

[the-modern-typewriter]

The villain stopped, attention zeroing in on the blood on the protagonist's lip. The very air, the clouds, the universe seemed to stop moving.

"Who?"

"It doesn't matter."

"Give me a name or I'll take it out on all of them."

The protagonist's jaw clenched. Their hand rose, smearing the blood away.

The villain was at their side in an instant.

If it was only pleasure at the excuse to cause pain - which it was - then maybe it would have been easy. But it wasn't just that. It was never just that.

"If I tell you, you have to promise me not to hurt them."

The villain cocked their head and raised an eyebrow. Chiding, but gentle enough. They both knew that wasn't a compromise the villain would make, just as they both knew the protagonist would not tolerate mindless sadism.

"Fine," the protagonist said, "you have to promise not to hurt them for more than -" they floundered - "ten seconds."

"Deal." It was too quick, too easy, and beneath the churning guilt the protagonist's heart swelled for such fierce protection.

They swallowed.

"Who?" the villain asked, again, soft.

They gave the name.

The villain, it turned out, could make ten seconds count for an awful lot.

[pa-pa-plasma]

hey i feel like we're really sleeping on that time Danny possessed Vlad & framed him for assaulting a minor

Editing with the clip because people don't believe me. Episode is 41: Eye for an Eye.

[echosdaffodil]

“We need more evil queer representation”

You can’t even handle John Constantine.

[chorusofcrows]

TWO.

Villain’s eyes glowed dangerously. Glinting a warning. Literally.

They sauntered forward, their black domino mask charred and torn down the center. Blood trailing down their face unnaturally, carving through a red-soaked eyeball, breaking their smiling lips in two and cutting down their neck. Their hand rested over a wound on their torso gingerly, their face mask lay broken, shattered, and forgotten on the pavement.

“This… isn’t… this isn’t what I-”

"Wanted?" Villain’s smile broke open to reveal their blood stained teeth, letting out a breathless laugh, “‘Course not, sunshine.”

‘It still happened’ didn’t need to be said.

Villain, with their free hand, grabbed one of their daggers from their thigh holster. They coughed, before shaking their head like a dog out of water, as if they were shaking off a dizzy spell.

Hero had never seen them this hurt. This broken.

“‘Course not.” Villain repeated again, the remaining intact, glowing white eye of their domino narrowing. It was as if they were trying to convince themselves, “I shouldn’t have given you that information. I shouldn’t have trusted it with you.” they spat a clod of blood from their mouth, raking their tongue over their teeth.

“You can.” Hero protested, “You can.”

Villain actually let out a laugh then, clenching their wound tighter, “What’d you think what would’ve happened when you told the Agency about this place.” The villain, knife still in hand, gestures to the burning palace behind them, their voice turned to mockery, “‘Oh really, Hero? That’s such useless information! We won’t do anything with that! Not like Villain is one of our biggest priorities right now!’”

“I-”

“‘It’s not like they have people there! People with lives! Employees and friends and family.’” The villain was choking, taking a deep breath in, letting out a long, ragged sigh. Their voice was cracking up, “I shouldn’t be wasting my time with you. I need to check for survivors.” They holstered their knife, turning around.

A villain. That certainly wasn’t a word to describe them.

They stopped their back to Hero, and their voice shaking, "I don't want to see them-" a sound resembling a fragment of a sob tore itself from their throat, "-broken."

This wasn't fair.

They cleared their throat, “My father is- was tending to the mess he made in the kitchen.” Villain mentioned as they walked away, “My step-sister and brother-in-law were visiting for the weekend, my mother was entertaining them. My sister should be on her way back from bringing take-out.” They turned their head around, with their good eye, “I didn’t think you’d be cruel enough to attack me in my own home. We trusted you. Mother even wanted to invite you over for Thanksgiving dinner.”

“I didn't-”

“Family.”

“Villain, I-”

Villain was already gone, wobbling and teetering through the rubble.

But Hero never told the Agency Villain’s location.

[wiihtigo]

non canon to casey official lore but what if she did get that son of a bitch

[defectivehero]

home where

"Are those single-use plastic bags?" The villain huffs, leaning forward from the hero's open windowsill. The hero's heart leaps out of their chest and they stumble backwards, very nearly falling over in bewilderment.

They place a hand over their chest as they regain their breath. "What the hell are you doing here?" The hero demands, staring at the villain casually sitting in their window.

"You really shouldn't leave your window open unless you want visitors," the villain sighs in lieu of an answer. "Practically asking me to break in." They tap their fingers along the frame of the window.

"Wow, okay, blaming the victim," the hero huffs, their mind spinning. They are somewhat convinced that they're dreaming—and that they'll wake up in a few hours, sweat-soaked and gasping for breath underneath their linen sheets. "And what was that about the bags?" They ask.

"Look at that bag of bags," the villain points at the clever contraption hanging on one of the drawers of their kitchen, turning their nose up at it. "Disgusting. And everyone thinks I'm the villain." The hero tries to process that statement for a moment.

"You are," the hero responds, staring at them in disbelief. "You kill people. All the time." Hence their appearance on several old-fashioned "wanted" posters and more modern newscasts.

"At least I'm not killing the entire earth," the villain gestures flippantly. "Get some reusable bags, you monster."

The hero promptly ignores the latter half of their statement, instead focusing on their accusation. "That's a huge exaggeration," the hero sighs.

"Okay." The villain shrugs. "Don't say I didn't warn you. Complacency is very dangerous when it comes to protecting the environment."

"You're such a fucking hypocrite," the hero responds, crossing their arms over their chest. "Your invention last week probably created enough nuclear waste to sink this entire city."

"Okay, rude," the villain scoffs. "I use sustainable energy sources, of course. Nuclear power is a no-no."

The hero blinks at them once, twice. "This is so weird." They remark aloud, bringing a hand to their arm and pinching at it hard. Surprisingly, nothing happens. Either this is a very vivid lucid dream... or it's reality. The hero isn't sure which would be worse.

"Your dreaming mind isn't nearly quick enough to predict me, dear," the villain says, swinging out of the window and landing on the floor noiselessly. "Besides, knowing you... your dreams are probably plagued with memories of the people you couldn't save."

A ragged breath is torn out of the hero's lips at the unexpected remark. The reminder is entirely unwelcome. They don't want to think of all the victims they failed—all the families they ruined. The hero desperately tries to suppress their quickly spiraling thoughts. "Why are you here?" Their voice is slightly more breathless; the villain is quick to notice.

"Do I need a reason to visit my enemy?" The villain grins, leaning closer. The hero doesn't bother hiding their discomfort, stepping to the side to enforce the distance between them.

"When you visit my home, yes," the hero remembers to answer in a few seconds. The villain's grin morphs into a dangerous smirk, and the hero is suddenly assaulted with the inexplicable conviction that they've made a grave mistake.

"Oh, you don't have to pretend this is the first time I've visited," the villain remarks casually, rhythmically tapping their fingers against the counter. "I've always known where you lived. You should know that by now."

Everything—the dull hum of their kitchen appliances, the traffic outside—descends to a tense silence. The hero's stomach churns as they think back to the inexplicable occurrences that have taken place throughout the past months: their water bill going up without reason; groceries going missing; takeout food appearing when they don't remember buying it. They had dismissed them as slips in their memory—they've been busy at the agency. But now that they really think about it...

"That was you," the hero chokes. Their heart is suddenly racing in their chest. They have never truly had privacy, have they? They suddenly feel very vulnerable. "Why do you keep sneaking in here?!"

"Well," the villain drawls, as if the answer is obvious. "It's easy, for one. You don't even have locks on these windows." The villain laughs as their eyes find the several windows in the room. "It's closer, sometimes. You have a lot more first aid materials than I do... You get the idea." They shrug nonchalantly.

The hero stares at them in shocked silence. "You've practically been living here," they breathe, a note of frustration leaking into their voice. Their head is spinning. Pain is starting to stretch through their temple and down their jaw from from how hard they've been gritting their teeth.

"Okay, now you're the one exaggerating," the villain says. "I'd hardly associate a few house visits with living here." They pick at their nails, as if entirely unbothered by this turn in conversation. It's clear they're entirely unapologetic about invading the hero's space.

The hero still feels the visceral need to convince the villain of the gravity of their invasive actions. "You used my shower," the hero accuses, with equal sentiments of embarrassment and irritation.

"I was bloody," the villain shrugs. "And your shampoo is nicer than mine."

The hero frowns. The farther they look back, the more they realize just how long the villain has been visiting. The villain's visits explain everything: things left in slightly different places than the hero remembers; doors unlocked when they should be locked; and... "Oh my gods, that's why my fucking washer hasn't been working! You broke it, you asshole!" They exclaim.

"I didn't break it!" The villain immediately argues, having the audacity to look offended. A guilty expression rises on their face as they avert their eyes. "I just... didn't know how to use it." They trail off, a sheepish grimace on their face.

The hero focuses on taking a deep breath in, exhaling slowly. When they speak again, their voice is deceptively calm. "Get out." They point to the window from which the villain entered.

The villain doesn't look surprised by the sudden dismissal, and somehow, they are agreeable enough to head over to the window to leave. "I'll be back," the villain says when they reach the windowsill, glancing over their shoulder and sending the hero an unreadable look.

"I know." The hero says defeatedly, letting out a long-suffering sigh. A hint of fondness escapes their voice and they hope their enemy doesn't notice. They know there's no convincing their enemy: it would be a futile effort. They have never been able to persuade the villain to do anything—and the hero doubts that will change now.

"Oh," the villain responds, staring at them in mild surprise, as if they hadn't expected them to admit it. "Okay then. Bye." They send an awkward wave over their shoulder and disappear. The hero stares at the empty window for longer than they should, before closing it and locking it. They're not sure why they're bothering to lock it—a simple lock won't keep the villain away.

Sure enough, three days later, the hero wakes up and walks out to their kitchen to find a pile of reusable bags on their counter. "You really need to get your priorities in order." The hero says. There is no one in sight—yet, somehow, they know the villain is listening.

©2024, @defectivehero | @defectivevillain, All Rights Reserved. Reblogs are greatly appreciated—just don't steal or share outside of Tumblr, please.

_______

me, unloading the groceries this morning: damn it, i forgot to buy reusable bags. i've been meaning to buy those. me, an hour later, sitting in front of my computer: what the fuck did I just write. and why did I write it.

did I overdo it with the banter? probably. do I care? ......only a little.

is the title from the sir chloe song? ....i plead the fifth.

thanks for reading!

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[monsoon-of-art]

How did rivers get a hold of hayday?

I honestly truly think that Rivers offered Hayday a job, like other bad guys do (Snake Eyes, Ant Queen, etc)

And Hayday went "oh sure. This guys harmless." And he lost that dice roll

[ravencromwell]

Fuck, just had a hell of a Holland realization, which everyone else probably realized years ago but indulge my horror: The Danes have their stone statue garden of traitors. And the only thing we've ever seen in WL that can turn people to stone is As Staro. The command Holland used to kill his fucking brother. The idea of him having to replicate that kill over and over with the traitors the Danes wanted to make sharpest examples of, and then walk past those kills every fucking day? I have nothing else to say except it's a fucking crime Holland didn't get the same sort of triumphant, bloody fight against the Danes Lila got against the earth mage who tried to kill her in the tournament, because to say he deserved it so much more is the flimsiest possible understatement.

[antianakin]

It's really depressing that the only real Jedi centric and Jedi positive show in existence is written for preschoolers, while many of the more "adult" shows are edgy and about morally ambiguous or straight-up evil characters. As if lessons about being kind and selfless are somehow not important or relevant to adults just as much if not more than they are to children.

It feels like characters who are unambiguously good are seen as only enjoyable by the very young and adult viewers will only actually appreciate characters who are cruel and selfish (and the requisite "tragic backstory" that always goes with it to help excuse their cruel and selfish choices).

It's just really sad and disappointing.

[raineandsky]

hey i just recently discovered your acc and I'm honestly in love with your work! I don't know if you do requests but just in case you do,could you maybe do a snippet of supervillain capturing hero and torturing for months until they suddenly got bored of them and ordered villain to get rid of them for good. Basically villain doesn't know that it was hero they were ordered to kill by supervillain and when they entered the cell where hero was to kill them,they suddenly recognize hero and become extremely suprised by what they saw. Villain for some reason can't bring themselves to kill hero and just stands there for who knows how long whilst trying to decide what they should do as hero just layed there slightly unconcious full of bruises,wounds,cuts, burns and dried up blood all over their body. Sorry if this was long hehe,feel free to continue it (if you want to of course) :)

welcome to the gang, glad to have you here!! thank you for the request, i hope you like it :D

-

A curse tumbles from the villain’s mouth before they can stop it.

Of all the people the supervillain has caught, has been bragging about catching, why was it hero? The hero should know better. The villain knows they know better.

The villain’s never seen them so… defeated. They’ve thrown their fair share of punches, of course, but they’ve never quite managed to have them half-conscious on the floor like this. Crimson paints their skin in crazed patches, black circles smudged underneath them, rope digging violently into their already reddened wrists. The hero lets out some half-hearted noise as the villain nudges their clothes back to survey the damage better.

Bad. Very bad. It’s a miracle the hero’s still alive, but that’s what they do, isn’t it? Survive despite the odds. The villain gets back to their feet with a scowl. Where the hell did the supervillain find them? Why would the hero let this happen? Probably to protect some random civilian, the villain knows that, but still.

The hero’s eyes open, kind of, unfocused and glazed over. They get a front seat view of the villain’s shoes and, for whatever mindless reason, weakly reach their bound hands out towards them.

The villain takes a half step back, more on instinct than anything, and despite the lack of… well, anything in the hero’s expression, they can somehow still see the slight distressed crumple of their face.

Fuck. Their heart stings, even though it knows better.

No, they think sourly. You’re here to get rid of them. Don’t show weakness. Show [Supervillain] what you are.

The villain’s dagger is inside their coat. It’d be so easy. Nothing more than a shallow, red line across the hero’s throat. Easy. Kind. Merciful.

They step forwards again, ever-so-slightly, and bend back down to the hero’s level. Their hands are where they left them, abandoned in their desperate attempt at connection, and the villain nudges their foot between their fingers in potentially the biggest show of compassion they've ever have.

It’s a kindness, right? The hero would appreciate it. It would be the nicest thing the villain’s ever done for them.

But it wouldn’t, even the villain knows that. The hero doesn’t want to die any more than they do.

Every passing second is throwing more doubts over what they’re doing here. They need to make a choice before the supervillain decides they’ve been down here too long. They need to act before they can change their mind.

The villain pulls their blade from inside their coat,

and cuts the rope at the hero’s wrists.

[thevoidstaredback]

Morally Grey in a World of Black and White

"Every villain is a hero in their own mind."

-Tom Hiddleston

Face down in the dirt was not an ideal way to wake up at all. Chuuya would argue that there were a million other ways an places to wake up that were better than face down in the dirt. One such example would be in a bed, maybe on his side, in a hotel. The best case would let him know where he was. As it now stood, he had no idea where the hell he was.

Normally, in a situation such as this, the logical thing to do would be to get a proper bearings and stock of the situation at hand. Gathering intel should be top priority. How one goes about doing that varies from situation to situation. However, a groan on Chuuya's left had him turning to see what was going on.

Also face down in the dirt, a few feet away, was a kid he'd never met before, but that didn't stop him from recognising him. The kid had a very monochrome colour palette for being a part of the Armed Detective Agency. Chuuya had seen the kid's picture before because of the bounty that had been on his head, and he'd seen an illusion of him at the hospital not even a week ago, but he'd never met the kid. Jinko, for that was what he knew the kid to be called, was Dazai's new protegee. Was that a good thing? Probably not, but that also lead him to hold high expectations of the kid. He was being taught by Dazai Osamu, so the kid had to be at least as skilled as Akutagawa had been when he was under Dazai!

Much like a cat, the kid stretched out on the grass as if basking in the sun before he stiffened and looked over at Chuuya. He didn't make a sound.

Chuuya smirked smugly, "Have a nice nap, Jinko?"

The kid flinched ever so slightly at something before shaking his head, "Where..?"

"No idea."

"Hm." The two let the silence take over again. They'd never interacted before now, so they didn't have much to go off of.

A quick scan of the area alerted the two to no other human presences. There didn't seem to be any animals either. It was weird. Not weird in the way that Yokohama could bost, but weird in the way that there was probably something happening around them that they couldn't figure out yet. It was kind of like the feeling that they both got when Dazai was scheming, but this was somehow worse.

Still holding the distance between themselves, the two made no move to face each other. Chuuya quietly noted the use of common sense in the detective. They'd been enemies not a week ago, but they were the only familiar thing around. Better to have their backs to each other than to the unknown around them.

Jinko hissed something that Chuuya couldn't quite make out before he was pulling him into the tree line. "What the hell?" Chuuya glared.

Jinko shushed him before whispering, "Someone's coming." And wasn't that just swell. Though, Chuuya had to admit that the kid had good instincts. He hadn't even heard anyone coming yet!

A few minutes of hiding in the bushes, there was a break in the plants opposite where the two hid and a kid with - was that green? - green hair stumbled into the clearing. They were obviously injured, but not bleeding. Honestly, they didn't look like a threat at all. As they fell to the ground and pulled out a notebook, they were seeming less like a potential threat and more like and injured bunny.

If Chuuya was confidant in his intel on the ADA, then he knew that the kid beside him would not let this injured bunny be.

Predictably, the were-tiger left the bushes to talk to the kid. Unpredictably, he kept his distance and seemed guarded in a way he hadn't been before. Was it because this green haired kid was a new variable in a new equation? Probably, but that didn't make sense. Jinko was guarded against the kid like he was ready to run, but he'd left his back open to Chuuya, a known enemy.

Enemy wasn't the right word. The Port Mafia and the Armed Detective Agency had a truce, but it was shaky at best. It would take a while for all parties to get out of the headspace of what was basically an attack on sight order. Hostile was a better word to use when describing their current relationship.

"Hey," the were-tiger said, his voice soft but his stance was ready for a fight.

The green haired kid startled and looked up at the grey haired kid with wide eyes. They looked ready to run and cry at the same time. It was pathetic. It would get them killed in Yokohama.

"Hey," the were-tiger tried again, this time he lowered himself to the ground with his hands up in surrender. It was a compromising position should he need to fight or run. Chuuya shook his head. Maybe Dazia wasn't doing a good job teaching the kid. "I'm a bit lost, could you help me?"

The kid relaxed a bit when Jinko didn't come any closer to him. "Y-yeah. You're in Musutafu in the Chubu Prefecture of Japan."

That...was not where Chuuya last remembered being. He was fairly certain that that wasn't were Jinko last remembered being, either. The situation just got a bit more complicated.

To Jinko's credit, he took the information in stride. "Huh. Cool. I've never been here before," he said, "Could you tell me more about it?"

The green haired kid was almost completely relaxed now and Jinko risked scooting closer. The kid made no move to get away, so Chuuya made himself comfortable. He had the feeling this was going to be a long conversation.

~~~

Atsushi really wanted to wake up from whatever not-dream he was having now. He was certain that he'd fallen asleep in the closet last night after bid Kyoka a good night. So how in world had he gotten here?! And with Nakahara-san of all people! He was glad that the Port Mafia Executive hadn't attacked him when his back was turned. He was also a bit relieved to realize that they were both confused about what was going on.

The kid with green - honest to god, the kid had green hair! - hair was helpful, if not skittish. Not that Atsushi could blame them. Though, they were very forthcoming with information, so that was a good thing. It was a good thing that could get them killed in Yokohama.

Nakahara-san had stayed hidden in the bushes while he talked to the kid. He was glad for that. He'd never officially met Nakahara-san, but he'd heard stories from Dazai and whisper's in dark alleyways. Nakahara-san was a force to be reckoned with and Atsushi was beyond glad that they weren't currently trying to kill or otherwise maim each other.

To Atsushi, Nakahara-san was an intimidating person. He couldn't imagine how this kid would feel should the man come out of hiding suddenly.

Either way, he was gathering information from his only current source. He found out where they were, what time it was, a basic layout of the surrounding area, and some landmarks to look for. Most of it was tourist stuff, but it would be useful to him nonetheless. He wasn't anywhere near being a good detective and was still technically an intern at the Agency, but he'd read enough books as a kid - when he could - and asked Kunikida enough questions to know a bit of what he was doing.

He also was given some extra information that he hadn't been after. The kid's - male, he'd realized and quietly confirmed - name was Midoriya and he was in his final year before high school. Smart of the kid to not give away his first name. It was a Friday and schools in the Chubu prefecture had just let out for the weekend.

"I better get going," Midoriya gathered his things and stood up. Atsushi did so as well. "My mom will be wondering where I am soon.

"I understand," Atsushi smiled. He really didn't, but that would only bring up uncomfortable questions that he didn't really have enough training to lie his way through. "Have a safe trip home."

"I will, thank you, Nakajima-san," the kid bowed, "You as well!" Then he was gone.

It was quiet for a minute before the bushes behind him rustled. He didn't bother turning around because he knew who was at his back. Was this a good show of trust? He'd find out in a minute.

"Nice job, were-tiger." Nakahara-san walked closer to him, "I guess they are teachin' ya something at the ADA."

Now is when he turned to face the Port Mafia Executive. "Thanks, Nakahara-san."

The man raised an eyebrow. "How'd ya know my name?"

He shrugged minutely to feign indifference. "Dazai-san likes to talk when he's procrastinating."

Nakahara-san huffed a laugh, "Yeah, that sounds about right."

Another bout of quiet overtook them as the sun set. Finally, Atsushi said, "We're a bit away from home."

"Yeah."

Yokohama was their home. They worked against each other in the past, and are likely to in the future, but Yokohama was their home. It was their place to protect and serve in their own ways. Yokohama was also an independent city-state. It's boarders had been closed long before they'd even been born. Based on what Midoriya had said, they were very much outside of Yokohama. They didn't know what could get them killed here.

"Have you ever been outside the boarders?" Atsushi asked. He suddenly felt very small as he wrapped his arms around his torso and sunk into himself a bit.

"Never." Nakahara-san answered. He suddenly didn't seem as imposing as before.

"Oh."

Storyboard Part 2

[rotisseries]

my favorite thing about mha has got to be how you can't tell if the writers are aware or not that the setting is in fact a corrupt police state

[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.