CW: Violence

Traditional hand-drawn animation my beloved

I love the warmth of the pencil

Idk why quality is so bad 😔

Malcom had lived a good five centuries on Earth, and not once had he seen such stupid, brazen audacity. He rubbed his eyes and blinked tiredly at the man in front of him. "First-- Goodness... What... What makes you think I want to help you?"

"I'll give you blood, sir," Emmett said, yanking his sleeve much too readily. "Or... Money? Please say blood."

Malcom crinkled his nose and gave him a once-over. "Listen, I don't know where you came from, or what you're in, but what makes you think you can just walk up to someone on the subway a-and just ask for something like that?"

"Why's it so weird? I want my mind stronger." Emmett clapped Malcom on the back, and Malcom glared daggers. "Maybe we can even help you fix your... Uh... Mind control difficulties? Make a game out of it."

"Listen, hush, will you? Also, what difficulties?! My mind control is fine!" Malcom took a deep breath and worried his lip. "Also, quit saying vampire this, mind-control that. You're freaking people out." He shook out a newspaper and hid behind it.

"Oh wow. I didn't even know they still made those." Emmett said, flicking the paper. "Do they? Is that from this century?"

"They sell them in supermarkets," Malcom sniffed.

"Oh wow, so they do. Sorry to question you, grandpa." Emmett grinned cheekily. "Hey, maybe I can teach you what we use in modern times. Do you know what the internet is?"

Malcom gave him a deadpan look and held up his smartphone. "Sometimes I just like print better," he said. "Now go find some other poor sucker to pester."

Emmett stared at him with an almost hungry look, and gripped the newspaper. "Make me," he said.

Malcom grimaced. "This is some sort of weird fetish, isn't it? Let me sit you down and tell you about a little thing called consent. No means no."

"Listen," Emmett said, suddenly very serious. He seemed like he was having difficulties getting the words out. "I... Killed... Under a demon's orders. It was... I swore I'd never do it again. And I've seen you around. We take the same route almost every day. And you seem... Safe."

Malcom was at a loss for words. Emmett's pleading tone moved him, to be sure. But more than that, he knew how it felt to be a puppet.

"I have a feeling I'm going to regret this," Malcom muttered. "Listen, Emmett... Fine. I take Venmo. I won't say no to a little blood too. Nothing from the vein. All the hair and arm sweat-- just-- no. Get some sterile needles, wipe it down, get it in a bag or bottle for me. You're not diseased, are you?"

"Not that I know of, sir," Emmett said.

"And quit calling me sir. It makes me feel old."

"Good day, good sir. I would like to be put under mind control" "I… I'm sorry… It's just… People usually don't offer volunter to do that." "Oh, it's just that I need to practice how to get free once in a while to not get rusty."

The Monster crawled out from under the bed. "You saw that, right?" He asked in his low, scratchy voice.

He skittered towards the light in the back of the closet, now dim. He felt along the edges of the wall with his claws and growled, "The portal's already closed."

Rainbow Panda stared at the closet, breath caught in his fuzzy throat. "We need to go after him."

The Monster's lip curled. "We? You want to work together with me?"

Panda sighed, world-weary. "I don't agree with your methods, but..."

"But you admit I was right," The Monster finished, a somber edge to his voice. "I tried to make him more afraid, more cautious. Now he's been taken who-knows-where."

"Oh, just admit you like scaring people," Panda scolded. He adjusted his bow-tie, a habit for whenever he was agitated. "If he wasn't so desperate to prove himself, he wouldn't have ignored his gut."

The Monster shook his head and pulled back the clothing in the closet, looking for a seam or crack left over from the portal. He seemed to be lost in concentration, and didn't reply. "We can return to our squabbling after the boy is safely home," The Monster said finally.

Panda bowed his head. "You're right." He slid off the bed and hobbled over to the closet. He picked up a small keychain flashlight from underneath a pair of discarded socks. "What even was that?"

The Monster shook his head. "I have lived in this house for many years," he said. "I have seen all kinds of imaginary creatures manifest into being, but I have never seen one promise a life reborn in a new world. Much less see a human take that promise at face value."

The teddy bear stopped in his tracks. "Isekai. Portal fantasy," Panda explained, voice quivering. "He's been reading webcomics and watching anime."

The Monster stopped to look over his shoulder. "Web... Comics?" He grunted. "How do humans use webbing in comic-making? That sounds made up."

"Do you not-... Wha--... That's not important!" Panda shrieked. "The boy is in grave danger! A key component to most isekai is being reborn into a fantasy world after dying!"

"But... How do we find him? Where did he go?"

They sat in silence, wheels turning.

Quietly, the teddy bear hobbled to the bookshelf. "We need to read," he said. He shook the bookshelf, causing some of the books to fall off.

The Monster groaned. "You read. I'll keep looking for a way to get through."

"These stories always start with a character feeling powerless and inferior in life," Panda said. "Oftentimes isolated."

"We should like such stories, then," The Monster laughed. He crawled under the bed and returned with a box of crayons.

"I need you to take this seriously. He followed that... That charlatan because he didn't see other options," Panda huffed. "What are you doing with those crayons?"

"Drawing a portal," The Monster said. "I know not of these new webbed comics--"

"Stories," Panda corrected. "Just say stories."

"--but I know of the old tomes, and the old tomes drew doors with crayons," The Monster finished.

He gently pulled out a red crayon between thumb and forefinger, and drew shakily over the moulding, an imperfect straight line up to his height. The line sloped angular, then back down. Finally, a doorknob, jaggedly circular.

"Did it work?" Panda asked, uncertain.

The Monster pushed on the door. It pushed in, ever so gently. The doorknob, like a writhing ball of yarn, floated from the wall.

Panda abandoned the book and padded over to the makeshift door. With bated breath he tried the knob, and sure enough, the door opened.

"O-oh," Panda said. "It... It opened."

He seemed to hesitate at the opening. The Monster tilted his head. "Are you afraid?"

Panda nodded, and grabbed his hand. They jumped into the abyss together.

Down, down they fell.

Swirling around them were strange lights and discordant sounds.

Laughter.

Music.

At the end of it, a large field of grass.

The boy was hunched in the center of the field, shaking.

Panda ran to him. "Wait! I'm here! You don't have to be afraid."

The boy turned, tears in his eyes. He was... Laughing? His smile died seeing the small stuffed bear.

"What are you doing here?" The boy said. Annoyed.

A girl and boy around his age emerged from the long grass.

"What is that thing?" The girl said.

The Monster backed into the shadows of a tree and hissed at the sunlight.

"We came to save you!" Panda said proudly, chest puffed out.

The new boy snickered. "Save him? He just destroyed a lich, and you think he needs you?!"

"Maybe the little bear is going to save him from loneliness," The girl said with a snarky smile. "Oh, wait, he doesn't need you for that, either."

Panda, taken aback, looked back at The Monster helplessly. The Monster shook his head.

"This world is dangerous," Panda tried.

The boy huffed a laugh. "So is my old one. At least in this one I have the power to fix it."

Panda wilted. "You... You can change the old world too," He whispered. "We could change."

"I'm not a child," the boy said. "I'm sick of being treated like one."

"But--" Panda grabbed his arm, and he pushed him back.

"I'm not going back," the boy growled, and pulled out a sword. "Back off or I'll run you through."

Panda backed away, tears in his eyes. Then, stupidly, foolishly, he lunged for a hug. "I'm not letting you--"

The boy was true to his word. The Monster watched from the shadows as the sword pierced through the back of the stuffed toy. Panda went limp.

The boy laughed, high-pitched.

"That was a bit dark," the girl said, a little disapprovingly.

"Well, he did warn him," the new boy said snidely. "Besides, he was probably a spy from the Iridescent Wastes. Why else would he look like a rainbow puke bear?"

The boy discarded the teddy bear, and the three left the field towards a path to the edge of a small town. The Monster rushed to the stuffed toy and clutched him tightly.

"My old friend," The Monster moaned.

Panda did not respond. His little bowtie lay crooked, held on by a string.

The Monster sobbed, because how couldn't he? He was alone in this strange world to save a boy who didn't want saving, and lost the closest he had to a companion.

The sun melted into the horizon and cast long shadows over the grassy fields, and The Monster craved his little hideaway under the cozy bed. He crept to the edge of town, skittering across cobblestone streets. He knew well how to camouflage, and that he did when townspeople passed by with their oil lanterns.

A small tailor's shop sat at the corner of a long strip of shops, and The Monster scuttled over to the rich fabrics and glistening buttons in the window. He clutched the teddy bear tightly, and crawled in through the open door. The tailor, done with his long day, closed the shop door and locked it. He blew out the lamps that lit his workstation and proceeded to bed.

The Monster waited until the coast was clear, and searched around for an appropriate needle and thread. He wasn't adept at stitching, having only seen it as a small Monster many years ago, but gently he poked the stuffing back in and jaggedly stitched closed the hole in Panda's chest. He took a small piece of ribbon and wrapped it around his wrist to keep his small friend secure.

The Monster waited for the tailor to retire to bed. He crawled underneath, holding the stuffed bear aloft. He hoped the Under-the-Bed network worked in webbed comics. He felt around with his clawed hands until they grabbed onto the crook in the wooden floorboards. He smiled, sharp and toothy, as a jagged passage revealed itself to him.

--

Panda woke up in a sweat, which was strange because he had never once sweat before. He shifted in bed, and felt strange, like he was much, much too long. His fur was all on top of his scalp, the rest replaced by soft, smooth flesh. His eyes had lashes, and his little bowtie was replaced by a pajamas.

"What am I?" he asked, and even his voice was different, less squeaky and more... Human?

"We await your orders, my Prince," a soldier announced from the door.

"Prince?" Panda repeated. "Prince of what?"

The soldier looked at him with mild concern and embarrassment. "Apologies, it is early still. I will ask your personal attendant to assist you."

Suddenly a whole team of people were poking and prodding Panda, and he remembered idly how he got passed around and brushed and dressed and tossed about during a birthday party once, and wasn't this sort of similar?

He was brought down to breakfast, and that was a little more out of his depth. He didn't quite have a mouth, or teeth, or any sort of involvement with food before. He pushed the food around with a fork, trying to judge what was and was not supposed to be part of the food. The cloth seemed safe enough, but he got strange looks trying to nibble that. Thankfully the attendants assumed he had no appetite, and he was able to skip the whole thing.

In the drawing room, scary-looking men were peppering him with questions. "I believe we are at a disadvantage trying to flank them from the west side," the General said. "I say we sacrifice the new recruits to get them off-guard, then head them off in the mountains. They'll think they're winning and get sloppy."

"S-sacrifice people?" Panda said. "No! Don't do that!"

The General gave him an odd look. "My Prince, are you well? You yourself proposed the idea."

"W-well, it was a bad idea," Panda said, eyes sparkling with tears. "It sounds like we have a lot of big feelings, but we should use our words when we're hurting. Not hurt other people."

The General crinkled his nose. "My Liege, are you mocking me?"

Panda crumpled into tears. "No! No, no no and I don't get what's going on!" He wailed.

The military commanders and lords looked helplessly at the Royal Advisor, who in turn looked upon the Prince with a mixture of morbid fascination and disgust.

"Perhaps you should retire early, my Prince," the Royal Advisor said.

Panda grimaced. He looked over the map before him and whimpered. He tried his best to be brave, but this was far outside his element. The Royal Advisor gently guided him out the door.

"Perhaps he has... Reverted to a more child-like state as a result of the accident?" one of the Lords in attendance murmured.

"The Prince did take quite a fall," another agreed.

The door shut behind them, and the Royal Advisor guided Panda back to the Prince's room.

"Rest now, sire," the Royal Advisor said. Panda nodded uncertainly. The door closed and he dropped to the floor.

"...Monster?" He called from below the bed.

It was silly to half-expect his old friend to be underneath, but-- apparently not silly enough. From the floorboards appeared the telltale fanged creature, long claws climbing up from a set of endless Nightmare stairs.

"Monster!" Panda cried, and threw his arms around the beast, who flailed and hissed at the unexpected embrace. The Monster slipped out of his grasp and fled to a far corner, wild-eyed and heaving. The teddy bear slipped from the ribbon and fell to the floor.

"Who are you," The Monster said, baring fangs, "Who calls upon a wretched creature such as I."

Gently, Panda picked up the teddy bear and tilted his head. "You... You kept me," he said softly. He hugged his old body close. "You do care."

A low, beastly rumble from the back of the beast's throat. The Monster slowly lowered his shoulders, anger and fear replaced by curiosity. "...Panda?" he asked, uncertain, "Is that you?"

"Yes, Monster. I explained isekais to you, right?" Panda explained. "Death in an old world, and rebirth in a new one!"

"But you died in the new world," The Monster said. "Are you trapped here?"

Panda shook his head. "I don't know. What's important is getting the boy to safety. We'll figure the rest out later."

A child goes missing late one night after investigating a light emanating from their closet. The Child's teddy bear and the monster that lives under the bed must put aside their differences and form a truce in order to rescue the child.

What I've read before, I've loved. What I haven't read yet, I'd love to.

Love how tumblr has its own folk stories. Yeah the God of Arepo we’ve all heard the story and we all still cry about it. Yeah that one about the woman locked up for centuries finally getting free. That one about the witch who would marry anyone who could get her house key from her cat and it’s revealed she IS the cat after the narrator befriends the cat.

The slow progression of corruption and the misery it spreads, and how one woman takes it upon herself to do something about it, is what makes this such a brilliant use of the prompt.

The "evil" king was dead long before their empire turned to tyrany. However, the lords keep telling the peasants the king is alive just so they could blame him for all the atrocities they commit.

The Beast (Part 1)

The crowd screamed and ran at the sight of Hero's monstrous transformation. Hero roared, a pained and animalistic sound. Their shaking hands grew to long and sharp claws. Their teeth, jagged and pointed.

Hero cautiously approached a mirror mounted on the wall, terrified by what they might find. They recoiled at the beast that stared back.

They fled, out the doors and into the crowded streets. More people screamed. Someone threw a can, and they yelped. Shots rang out.

"The beast is getting away!" Someone cried.

They darted down an alleyway, and they kept running until they felt well and truly alone.

Or, so they thought.

"Ah, so you're the one they're after," said a voice in the shadows.

Hero bristled. They knew that voice.

"Oh. Oh my," Villain whispered reverently, stepping into the light. "You're marvelous."

"It went this way!" A voice cried.

"You're not safe here," Villain said. They threw open the doors to an abandoned warehouse. "Quick, inside."

Hero scrambled into the warehouse doors, up the wall and into the ceiling rafters.

The Villain shouted, "It went the other way!"

The angry voices receded, and Hero momentarily relaxed.

Villain closed the doors and all looked around. "Well, that's not ideal."

Hero shrank back into the shadows. Villain couldn't see them.

Villain ran to an intercom mounted near the doors.

"Listen up," Villain called over the intercom. "My pet is loose somewhere in this warehouse. Whoever brings them to me unharmed receives a little bonus."

Their lackeys sprung into action, running back and forth along rows of shelving and in and out of the various shipping containers littering the warehouse. A few ran into each other in their haste.

"Where did you go?" Villain muttered, scanning the ceiling.

They locked eyes with Hero, who bristled.

"They're on the ceiling nearest the compactor," Villain announced over the intercom.

Hero jumped down and scampered across the concrete flooring. Two lackeys tried to head them off, and they ran towards a set of stairs. Two more lackeys blocked their path, and they jumped off the stairs and darted over the shelving, toppling boxes in their wake.

"Boss, they're too fast!" One of the lackeys complained.

"Get the tranqs," Villain said.

Darts whizzed by as Hero tried to shake their pursuers. They cursed themselves for seeking asylum from a villain of all people.

They dove down to a set of doors and launched at them, but they wouldn't budge. They looked for some kind of lock or obstruction, but too late.

Something hit their shoulder. They tried to wrench it out, much too late.

They snarled as Villain approached them.

"Sorry, darling, but I can't have you tearing apart my warehouse," Villain said.

Hero realized they were laying down. They tried to get up, but they suddenly felt so, so weak. Villain knelt down and pet them gently, peering into their terrified eyes. They tried to nip at the Villain's hand, but that didn't seem to deter them.

"Rest now," Villain said.

Hero whined and went limp.

Part 2

I love love all your writing and jealous villains / possessive villains always make me kick my feet!! Can I request a hero that’s been under appreciated by the city and getting hurt / almost killed by civilians they were meant to protect? And the villain finds the aftermath? ╰(*´︶`*)╯♡

"My god." The voice was strained. Familiar. Them.

It really wasn't the hero's day, was it? They released a slow, pained breath, pushing themselves gingerly off the grimy, rain-puddled street. "Enjoy the show?"

"What show? You could have taken them. You should have taken them."

The hero grunted. They straightened. They wobbled.

The villain appeared out of the shadows, at their side, in an instant. It took the hero a moment to realise that the villain had placed a steadying hand on their arm.

The villain's face was harsher in the streetlight; all firelit edges, beautifully demonic, orange pinpricks glinting almost red in their furious eyes. Rain spat down, soaking into the villain's hair and clothes. They didn't seem to care.

The hero did a double-take. The flippant comment they'd been about to make died in their mouth.

"How much did you see?" the hero asked.

The villain's jaw clenched. "I just got here."

It was an unexpected confession. On closer inspection, the rapid rise an fall of the villain's chest suggested they'd been running.

"Huh," the hero said.

The villain's gaze raked over them, taking in every bruise and scrape and bit of blood. "You didn't fight back. Why didn't you fight back? You could have pulverised them. Made them fear ever hurting someone again. That's what you do if I attacked you."

The hero shrugged, awkwardly. They eased their arm free of the villain's grip.

"That's not an answer," the villain snapped.

"I would have killed them. Normal people can't deal with my powers."

"So better to let them nearly kill you?"

The hero shrugged again. Everything ached; they weren't especially in the mood for hearing about how wrongly they'd handled getting the flying spit kicked out of them, they weren't in the mood to explain how the villain was different. Even at war, it was easier with them.

"You're in uniform," the villain said. "They knew who they attacked."

"Oh." The hero hadn't realised. The truth of it struck them like a low blow and their shoulders slumped, as if it wasn't already far too late to brace and curl into a foetal position to guard the heart of them. "Right. Yeah. Well, bold move on their part!"

They tried for chipper. They failed completely.

The whole time, they'd been so preoccupied, they'd thought the strangers had no idea. A wave of stupidity, prickling with humiliation, washed over them. Their eyes felt hot.

The hero swore under their threat.

"I'm going to kill them." Possessiveness threaded low and heated through the villain's voice.

"I don't need you to do that."

"I know. It will be my absolute pleasure." The villain grabbed the hero's arm again as the took a step and stumbled. "They shouldn't-"

The hero could feel themselves beginning to shake, a myriad emotions welling up inside them, threatening to explode, as they listened to the villain's insistence that really no one else should be allowed to touch what was theirs.

"I said, I don't fucking need you to do that."

The villain went quiet. Still.

The hero closed their eyes again, already regretting their sharpness. A treacherous tear rolled down their cheek. Christ. That was all they needed, wasn't it? Cherry, meet the top of the garbage pile. They swiped furiously at their face and didn't say sorry. They couldn't say sorry. They'd never stop, they were sure of it.

"What do you need?" the villain asked.

The hero glanced up at them, startled.

It wasn't that the possessiveness was gone from the villain's face, only that the burning of it had finally cleared enough for the hero to see what lay beneath it.

The care, the sincerity, in the villain's question felt like a knockout blow. They didn't know what to do with it. They had no armour for it, no shield.

"What do you need?" the villain asked again, softer, when the hero said nothing. Their other hand rose, cupping the hero's cheek. "You want me to get you home? Your leg's screwed. You can't walk."

"I can walk." The hero looked down at their leg. They could...well, it wouldn't be fun walking. They eyed the villain. "Seriously?"

"Well, I'd prefer to hunt the bastards down and kill them, but I also do an incredible taxi service, yeah."

"Thank you."

The villain looked almost as uncomfortable as the hero felt. They shrugged. Their jaw worked, eyes narrowing when they caught sight of the hero's injuries again. The hero could feel the villain's fingers flexing against their skin with barely leashed violence - and, yet. It was leashed.

The villain dropped their hand.

"My car is this way. Can you - can I - I can help you get there. If I'm allowed."

"You're asking permission to touch me?"

The villain glared at them.

Despite everything, the hero managed a weak smile back. "Yeah," they said. "You're allowed."

The villain nodded, wrapping an arm around the hero, before pulling them up into an unexpected bridal carry. They were strong. All lean muscle and warmth against the hero's frozen body.

"I'm going to get blood on you," the hero said.

"Because nobody has ever bled on me before ever."

The hero huffed.

They let the villain walk them out of the alleyway, brain still sluggishly working its way through all of the implications of the villain's sudden appearance.

They'd come running when - what? When they learned the hero was in trouble? When they learned that the hero wasn't fighting back to the full extent they were capable of?

Thoughts were hard and the villain's car was warm, the heating soon on full blast.

Thank you. It welled in their throat again. The hero choked on it.

They didn't think they'd ever been as well looked after as they were that week.

The blank page

There was something intimidating about the blank page. No words seemed good enough, she thought to herself. She looked at the blank page again, crisp and white, like a snowy field frozen in time. "You could be anything", she thought. A furrowed brow. An ink pen caught in between two fingers while scratching her scalp with the rest of them. The rain pladdering against the window 🪟🌧️☔

The villain sprawled languid, more somber than usual, on the rooftop of a towering business building. Their head rested on the wall leading to the stairwell, legs dangling precariously over the edge. Staring down at the street with an intent that made hero's blood run cold.

"V-villain," Hero murmured with some measure of trepidation.

Villain leaned back, gazed at the hero from upside down, and smiled slow.

"Hero! How on earth did you find me?"

"I'll tell you i-if you come down," Hero said with a note of urgency.

"And why would I do that? I can hear you perfectly fine up here!"

"P-please come down."

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were worried about me," the villain said, tapping them teasingly. "Scared of heights? Or think I have something up my sleeve?"

"I know you saw what the mayor said," Hero said. "I... I don't even know where to begin."

"So don't," Villain said. "After all, you agree with him, don't you? You just stood there and let him say everything. Of course you'll deny it and feign being neutral--"

"No, that's not--"

"Because that's so much less messy, isn't it?"

"I--"

"Listen, sit back, grab some popcorn, and I'll make a show of it just for you." They stood, one foot on the edge, one arm holding a pole as they dangled over the rooftop edge. "Your life will be sooo much better if I just--"

"VILLAIN!" Hero yelled. They climbed up and grabbed for their collar, but Villain dodged, spinning gracefully to the other side of the pole. Hero lost their balance, and Villain grabbed at their collar to steady them. "Careful, darling, we're high, high up. You don't want an accident, do you?"

"V-villain, please--"

"Aren't you afraid I'll push you?" Villain said. "Poor, sweet, trusting thing."

Hero sucked in a breath. Looked down below. That was a mistake.

"Villain, please, get down from here," they pleaded. "Please, I need you, please--"

Villain sneered. "You need me? What sentimental hogwash are you spewing now? You've never needed someone like me. Besides, you should worry more about yourself." Villain gripped their collar tightly, eyes wide with a hungry sort of malice. "Aren't you letting your guard down too much?"

With a yank, they swung Hero over the edge, toes barely holding the rooftop's edge.

Hero SCREAMED, panted, scrambling for as much purchase as possible.

"You're pathetic," Villain said. "Weak and trusting and SO easy to manipulate. A good little puppet for the mayor up until now."

"VILLAIN--" Hero screeched, voice cracking.

"But now I hold the strings," Villain said. "And it's time to make you dance."

They shoved Hero's feet off the edge. Kicking air. Crying. "Please please PLEASE--"

"Say it. Say I'm a monster, you COWARD. A filthy creature that needs to be eradicated--"

"V-villain--"

"An infestation on an otherwise fine society--"

"VILLAIN, NO--"

"You coward," Villain spat. "Say it to my face."

"Y-you're not."

"Liar. I'm a monster. Say it."

Tears fell from Hero's face.

"N-no. You're right. I'm a coward."

Silence.

Villain drew them back to the ledge.

"The m-mayor... Is the monster. I s-shouldn't have let it get this bad. We can't let him keep on like this."

There was that same somber look on the villain's face.

"I-I should have stood up to him," Hero sobbed. "I-if you... J-jump... It would end me." They hiccuped and buried their face in their hands. "I... I c-can't... I..."

"Hey, uh..." Villain gripped their shoulders. "Let's get down... Okay?"

"I'm a coward," Hero sobbed. "All this time... I just kept quiet... And for what? I almost lost you."

Villain patted their shoulder gently.

Hero looked up at them with watery eyes.

"I... I care about you. You're so used to being the villain you can't picture anything else."

"Heh." Villain shook their head. Put some distance between them, back turned. "You martyr. I just threatened your life."

"They're calling for your blood and disrespecting your life's work, and I stood by and let them. I betrayed you."

"It... Hurt," Villain said, hugging themselves. Head hung. "More than I care to admit."

"I'll make it right," Hero said. "Most don't see it, but your motives are good. I'll make them see it."

"I'm a villain, darling," Villain said with a sad smile. "My motives hardly matter."

Hero closed the distance and laid a gentle hand on their arm.

"They matter to me."

"Do I even have a purpose?"

"You're the reason I'm tolerating this world at all."