Villain - Blog Posts

did he call her "Spike" or "Mom"?

ref to this

Associated fic: Nurture My Nature

Wasn't sure if I was going to post any art for this fic given that the subject matter is extreme, however since it's not gooner shit... If you do decide to read this fic: PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD READ THE TAGS.

i don't think spinner thought tomura was being honest about kissing him...

Wait. If All for One can see his vestiges all the time does that mean that his mom was still able to take care of him? Obviously she wasn’t physical but was she the one who taught him to speak, to read, to write, so that he could teach Yoichi all of these skills? Did she scold him when he fought with his brother? Was she standing over his shoulder telling him what trash was safe to eat? To stay away from the used needles that littered the concrete, to stay away from the bitter tasting liquor that she’d lived off of. Did she warn him when the anti-meta soldiers were coming? Did she love him, even as he used her ability to kill countless people? Did she cry when she realized her baby lived longer than she did, laced with more suffering than she’d ever know?

Or did she stay silent and watchful, wondering what creature she had released upon the world?

Seven of Lord All for One's elite employees, from Hurt Me Like I Deserve.

The Takami Thief, Takami Kettie, Lieutenant of All for One. S-ranking. Has killed over a hundred people, including twenty-six heroes. Weapon trafficker.

Charybdis, Mokuto Tomie, Sergeant of Typhon. Was one of the best informants around- a decade ago.

The Bone-Breaking Vulture, Takami Mukuro, Lieutenant of All for One. S-ranking. Has killed over a hundred people, including seventeen heroes.

Three Feathers, Jackpot!, Takami Hanare, Loyal Mercenary. Has made a name for himself anywhere assassinations are fair game.

Orak Zubotrova, Lieutenant of All for One. Has cleaned and laundered over a billion dollars. Makes medical equipment for illegal hospitals across the world.

Hell's Judge, Takami Kyouna, Lieutenant of All for One. Drug and sex trafficker.

Takami Umitori, Sergeant of Sunshine. Responsible for over seventy-five cases of missing and dead children, including notable cases like Todoroki Touya, Shimura Hana, and Chisaki Kai.

The Villain of Forgotten Affinity

Uriel Cain is a dictator who came to rule over the Rive Isles many O years ago. He has been in power for so long that people have forgotten what led up to him being put in power. He possesses magical, though not very gentle, abilities. He likes the blood of his enemies, banter with annoying heroes, his daily cup of tea and dragons.

Questions?

If you want to ask any questions about the story, I am happy to answer them. If it spoils a plot point, I will give a criptic answer. If it is inappropriate, I will give you a random, not at all related, fact about a character or the story.

[Extra] He hates being called Koa and hates being called his last name. He also has a distaste for statues.

Prompt #74

By @writingpromptsworld

“You’ll always be here to fight me, right?” The villain asks, pinning the hero to the wall, keeping an arm under their neck to keep them there firmly.

The hero grunted, leaning their head back to the rough bricks. They smirked slightly. “Why? Scared I’ll choose some other villain over you?”

“Shut up.” The villain said, pressing harder. The hero groaned, their hands moving to the villain’s waist.

They kept the smug grin on their face. “It’s okay, you can admit it. You like me, or dare I say, prefer me.”

And that was all it took for the villain to break. They leaned forward and smashed their lips with the hero’s, and the hero let out a laugh, pulling the villain closer.

Prompt #71

By @writingpromptsworld

When the hero finishes their training for the day, and comes home, they do not expect to see the villain sitting in the middle of their room, with a presumably champagne glass in their hand.

However, what was more strange was the fact that the villain had decorated the whole place for the hero’s happy birthday. But the decorations weren’t normal like balloons, banners, and…. Other decorations.

There were knives, and other weapons hanging around the room vaguely, yet somehow fashionably. There was a cake in the middle with the hero’s name, painted red, their name in a black font. And the villain sat, grinning.

The hero stood still for a second, taking it all in slowly. If it was anyone in the hero’s space, they would have been shocked. Horrified, perhaps. But the hero, the hero barely blinked an eye at it. They sighed. “Is this the birthday party I get for working hard all day?” They asked, setting down their backpack.

The villain chuckled. “If that was your way of saying ‘thank you’, I regret to inform you it's not the best way.” The hero perked an eyebrow, before sitting down opposite the villain.

“And why would I be thanking you for this?” The hero asked, motioning around the room in a ‘what the heck is this?’ tone.

The villain pouted, their full lips crunching into a perfect circle. “Now that’s not very nice. I worked very hard to find all of your hidden guns, and even the knives! Gosh the knives! Why do you not have a knife holder?” They mused, their brows frowning in concentration as if this was a serious thing they took great interest in.

The hero pursued their lips. They hadn’t eaten much all day, and the cake(however bloody it was designed to look) appeared as delicious as water in a dessert. Their stomach growled, and they glanced at the villain. The villain smiled sweetly.

“Let’s cut the cake! Happy birthday, my hero.” The ‘my’ was really unnecessary, the hero thought but let it go anyway.

They leaned forward and blew off the candles. The candles were all black. “Thank you.” They mumbled, feeling uneasy yet a sick kind of affection towards the villain for remembering their birthday and even throwing a party. No one had done it, not even their closest so-called colleagues.

They put on a smile. Not forced, but genuine. The villain smiled just as genuinely back. The hero devoured the cake, it was a chocolate cake, their favorite. And while eating, the villain spoke up. “Just because I did all this doesn’t mean I’m going soft on you during our fights, just so you know.” They licked their lips, a flirtatious grin spreading across their cream kissed lips.

The hero rolled their eyes with a smile. “Yeah, yeah. You’re a big baddie, who doesn’t have a heart and has a stone cold persona. Blah blah blah.”

The villain laughed, gazing at them with love filled eyes. The hero couldn’t ask for more for their birthday.

Prompt #70

By @writingpromptsworld

“What…so you’re just letting me escape? Just like that?” The villain questioned, suspiciously. Their eye narrowed slightly, examining the hero.

The hero shrugged, smiling. “You did say you’re not feeling too well, so I’ll let you off the hook for today.”

The villain stared in a little disbelief. “Oh…”

“What?” The hero questioned, raising an eyebrow.

“You’re being oddly nice.” The villain mused, a confused frown crossing their features.

The hero chuckled. “I can’t fight you while you’re not at your best. It wouldn’t be fair.” They offered a sweet smile.

The villain’s heart beat in their chest, staring at the hero’s smiling face. They huffed, rolling their eyes. Goddamn it, they couldn’t understand why the hero was being so soft like this.

“So I can just leave then?” The villain asked again to make sure. The hero nodded, the smile still there.

The villain stared at them for a second, controlling the urge to kiss the smile off the hero’s face. They sighed.

They left after a lingering glance at the hero.

Snippet #3

The villain came forward, slow and unwavering. A mask was plastered on his face, but it failed to disguise his face completely. The hero recognized him immediately.

The ballroom echoed with music all around. People laughed and danced with joy spilling out of them. Each one of them was dressed in fancy gowns and suits. Everyone was having fun, except the hero.

Damn this mission, the hero thought.

The villain let on an almost sweet smile as he reached close to the hero. "May I have the pleasure of dancing with you, handsome?" The hero's heartbeat rose. Suffocating him, the room was.

The hero glanced around, begging for someone to come for him and stop this from happening. No one came. He hesitated, before giving his hand to the villain and letting him guide him.

The villain led him to the dance floor, and let his hands fall to the hero's waist. The hero felt himself doing the same.

"You know, the mask doesn't help in hiding your pretty face." The villain whispered in the hero's ears. His hands tightening around the hero's waist.

"I never meant to." The hero returned, suddenly confidence. If he was going to do this, he was going to do it right, he thought, as he squeezed the villain's waist back.

❌Not a prompt ❌

I wanted to post this cuz I think it's awesome. Lemme know what you think plz!!

Aindreas truly didn’t mean to catch the eye of Eiran. But now, facing down the bastard, Calen, panting and kneeling over his stomach where Aindreas knows he had hit Calen with acid, he can’t find it in themselves to regret it. Eiran had caught his eye at a neutral ground's nightclub, and they orbited each other like stars for months before Eiran had made the first move. Enemies to lovers was not something Aindreas had ever predicted for himself, but the gentle demeanor and sunshine exterior of Eiran was irresistible.

Hero and villain stand on opposite sides of a ruined street. Sand decorated the ground and parts of the road had holes melted into them; some of them were still sizzling. Buildings are leveled around them, sirens blaring somewhere off in the distance. Most of the leveled buildings are covered in sand, Calen had struck out wildly in the desperate hope of hitting Aindreas; they were equally matched in long range combat, Aindreas’ acid proved an effective shield for the sand Calen threw around. Aindreas himself had not been very careful either, kneeling on both knees on the pavement of the leveled city, he knew that several buildings, especially foundations, had been melted through when Aindreas’ aim had been off. Calen had the wonderful ability to infuriate Aindreas into carelessness.

The sun was setting, fiery rays of red and orange light spilling across the leveled city. Light was dimming in the world, like the light of Aindreas’ eyes. They are at a standstill, after throwing magic at each other for what felt like hours, neither of them making any substantial ground on the other. The sounds of emergency services rushing towards the crumpled buildings were the only sounds in the otherwise still street besides the panting of both hero and villain. An unspoken agreement hung in the air. One of them would not feel the summer sun again.

Calen is the first to rise, stumbling to his feet, unstable from the injuries and exhaustion. Aindreas doesn’t move, he doesn’t need to, acid had been pooling in his palms since he stopped moving, just like the copper taste of blood in his mouth. He knows his only hope of surviving the battle was taking out Calen in one fell swoop. There isn’t much hope for him, he didn’t have the proper training that Calen did. Maybe if he did, Aindreas could win.

“How could you?” Calen says as his voice cracks. “Eiran is mine! He belongs to me.”

“He’s not property,” Aindreas says back, shouting over the distance that separated the two. “I’m sorry that it came at the cost of your friendship, but he chose me!”

Calen’s face turns red over the white sheen of exhaustion. The sand surrounding Aindreas rises as Calen raises his trembling arms, and even as far as Aindreas is, he can hear the muttered spells Calen whispers, pleading with the magic in his spirit to give him energy. Aindreas, limbs protesting, rises out of his kneeling position to his feet as well, calling upon the ever-faithful magic inside him to defend himself from the attacks that he knows are forthcoming.

“Veniat ad me, virtus mea defendat me,” Aindreas chants, the acid that had been pooling in his hands rises, twisting and writhing in his palms, suddenly alive. The magic is slower, writhing through his arms, sluggish where it had been quick before. When he quit St. Henry’s School for Magicked Boys, he never expected to end up here. He wanted to change the world, reform society on the whole and for the better, not spend his days fighting meaningless battles. What a waste of a career.

Calen could taste his fury, the palpable need for revenge tingled on his skin and seeped into his brain. Eiran had always been his, they had been friends since high school. They’d sworn a blood oath to each other when they graduated from St. Henry’s, they were as close as brothers. Then, out of nowhere, Eiran had started to pull away from him, from their mission.

They had always vowed to protect the city, to preserve it just the way it had always been. Aindreas had swayed Eiran to the wrong side of the decades long battle. Calen would win if it meant the end of him; maybe Eiran would see where he had been wrong when Calen was gone. Because they were wrong.

Calen began to chant louder, his voice coming out clearer as the magic in his spirit responded to his plea for strength. His feet lifted off the ground, sand whipping itself into a frenzy around him. He shot a hand out in front of him, shooting magic, wind, and sand towards Aindreas. Aindreas’ mouth was moving, and a wave of liquid acid shot from his palms, protecting his body and melting the sand onto the ground. Calen threw another wave of sand, this one washing down from the sky like the waves of an ocean crashing down onto a beach.

Aindreas barely blocks the second wave, his arm pushing itself up from where he stood, trembling as it is raised. Calen grins; gotcha. He summons everything he has in him; time to end this, once and for all. He shoots sand as fast as he can: up, under, on the left and right. Even as the amount of sand tapers off with each wave, the acidic defense is also. Exhaustion seeps into Calen’s bones, his arms lag and the magic answers his calls slower, the blasts sluggishly making their way through the air, falling where Aindreas stands. But where Calen is weaking slowly, Aindreas weakens faster. Sand begins creeping its way behind Aindreas’ defenses. Then, a wave of sand isn’t met with a wall of acid. The weight of the sand brings Aindreas to his knees. Calen has the briefest notion that he should stop, Aindreas is down, but the niggling feeling that Aindreas deserves death refuses Calen’s small attempts to quit the battle now and run for his life.

Aindreas groans, a pained sound winding its way through the air as he hunches over his side, blood pooling in the fabric of his clothing. Sand was sharp, all the better for cutting the dog, the filth, the cretin. His own wound throbs, as time passed on the defensive, the biting wounds ate away at his skin. The burning and sizzling also cauterized the wound, stopping any bleeding before it started. As Aindreas would bleed, Calen would retain his strength.

Calen mustered one more effort, even as his knees trembled, and his vision foggy. Calen piles up sand above the cowering man, dumping pounds of sand on him, burying him in sharp rocks, cushioning his dying body in earth. As his vision goes black, he grins, sharp corners and blood leaking through his teeth. He had won, and now it was time for him to rule.

(A call is placed when two super-powered individuals are found collapsed on the same street. One of them would spend the rest of their life in prison. But for now, first responders load them into separate vehicles. Digging into a pile of sand was lent to the fire fighters, the task difficult. The man buried underneath could hardly be classified as human, but if anyone was the monster, it was the intact body on the other side of the street. The buried man’s skin was more cuts and bruises than anything else, and the blood rapidly pooling out of several large injuries had the paramedics scrambling for emergency blood bags. He would be lucky to survive with severe scarring.)

Aindreas had the briefest recollection of flashing lights and pain, so much pain. A finger forced his eye open, and a bright line shone into it, and as he flinched away, he could hear the shouts of “Survivor! I have a survivor here!” There was movement, Aindreas wasn’t sure if it was the ground beneath him or himself. Maybe both, probably both. He came back to himself, blinking crusty eyes open to a white hospital room. Shit. He couldn’t be here. It’s dark, the blinds drawn closed and the lights dimmed. The kindness is not lost to him, especially because of his eyes’ sensitivity.

He opened his mouth to do, what? A hoarse, croaking sound forced its way out as Aindreas leaned his head up, the rest of his body held down by some immovable force. His vision was still blurry and spotty. A plastic cup of cold, so cold but so so refreshing water was pressed to his lips. He drunk it greedily, trying not to gasp or choke. There was a person holding the cup, someone important, who was it? He tilted the cup slowly, allowing Aindreas only a few sips at a time. Blinking away the exhaustion and the confusion, Aindreas turned his head to look at the person next to him and proceeded to choke on the water flowing down his parched throat.

“Careful there, Addy,” Eiran said as he chuckled softly, wiping the spilt water on Aindreas’ chin. “I really don’t want you to go out via drowning after surviving your fight.”

“What are you doing here?” Aindreas asked, his voice was hoarse, and his throat ached from the small effort. Eiran leaned back into his small plastic hospital chair and smiled sadly, not looking him in the eyes.

“I didn’t want you to be alone.”

“Why aren’t you with Calen? He’s your best friend.”

“Calen almost killed you; he was ruthless and used too much force. How could I support him after that?” Calen spoke softly, a hand coming up to cradle his chin. He was looking at Aindreas with soft and loving eyes. Aindreas knows that he is a bad person for it. Eiran was happier without him, but Aindreas couldn’t stay away.

“So did I, we were both fighting for our lives, intent on killing each other.” Maybe Aindreas was wrong for doing so, killing was never something he ever wanted to make himself believe he could do; but after the first time someone died in his arms, the system itself and the rules he ascribed himself too seemed broken. His mother had been diagnosed with cancer, her body was weak from working two jobs to support Aindreas, so the treatment only drained her more. Dropping out of school to help pay the bills was the only way they would continue to survive. Since then, life had become a game of survival, and he was really bad at it.

Eiran searched Aindreas’ gaze, his eyes unwavering in their intensity. “I don’t blame you for what you had to do to survive, I know Calen is wrong.”

“So was I,” Aindreas said weakly, dropping Eiran’s gaze to where his hand met Aindreas’. “I wasn’t just defending myself. I was attacking him.” The unspoken repercussions of his actions hung in the air like a fog, waiting to devour Aindreas in a flawed system. He wouldn’t fight it, dragging Eiran through years of court appearances and witness stands just for him to be condemned.

After Aindreas’ mother died, his father always absent from his life, going back to school was impossible. He wanted nothing more than to be a hero, gallivanting through the city and saving people, people like him. It seemed almost impossible, until it wasn’t. Aindreas wanted to think his mother would have been proud of him, but he wasn’t sure.

Aindreas wanted to change the world for the better, improve the broken system. Everyone deserved a chance, right?

(Outside, the police gathered. Heroes are called and a gathering of magic so great it pales in comparison to the Council of Mages and Magicked Folk begins to collect. They were preparing. The villain inside the hospital was dangerous. Even injured, the magical capabilities of any scared and cornered mage were worth the extra protection. A group of protection mages lift spells around the whole hospital, and a group of offensive mages begin to discuss strategy. The villain inside the hospital will not surrender easily.)

Calen was pissed. He had been awake for almost two days, and nobody had come for him. The midday sun filtered through the window, heating his room and his blood. His mother and father had called, insisting they were busy with the upcoming semester. The group of freshman mages were apparently more difficult than previous years. His mother and father ran the top university for magicked folk. They supported him through high school and college, he earned his way into the college that they ran, no matter who said it was rigged. His whole family worked for what they got, just like everybody who succeeded in this world.

The people who didn’t obviously just didn’t work hard enough. His parents had made sure he knew that from the beginning. When he questioned it, they had brought him to the camp of free loaders underneath the city bridge. It was clear, well, they made it clear, that no one there had a job, nor would they ever contribute to society. They deserved to be homeless; they deserved to suffer.

When Aindreas dropped out of school to help his mother, as stupid as that was, Calen could maybe understand. But then Aindreas had to come back up from the weeds of the unworthy to try to revamp society as a whole; how stupid. His mother was poor because she just didn’t try hard enough. Calen thought Eiran understood that, until Aindreas just had to come in and manipulate him into thinking he was in love. How ridiculous. Eiran had always and should always be loyal to Calen.

Calen could understand why his parents didn’t visit him; they were busy, too busy for their injured son. But the fact that Calen had yet to Eiran made a vein pulse in his forehead and an uncomfortable feeling settle in his chest. It never went away, the disgusting feeling festering in his chest and often crawling up to the base of his throat. As Calen sat in the hospital bed, covered in bandages and casts, his fists refused to relax from their clenched position and Calen began to believe Eiran was a traitor.

When they met in high school, Calen thought they would be together forever. A stupid idea, now that he thinks about it. Calen only ever wanted to improve an already wonderful society. Everyone who was successful worked hard for it, and those who didn’t weren’t. He thought Eiran understood that.

Eiran came from a family that painstakingly worked their way up the social and capital ladder to end up at the top. Eiran wasn’t always rich, yet somehow Calen understood him. But then Aindreas came in with his sob story about how he didn’t need to work for power or influence. Like he expected things to just be handed to him. And frustratingly enough, it was. He never finished high school, never worked his way through college, never put his everything into getting an apprenticeship like Calen did.

Why? Why did he succeed? Why did Calen fail? He worked so hard. The burning in Calen’s nose refused to make its way to tears tracking down his face, he would not cry. So instead, he sat in a hospital bed, alone, with his fists clenched at his sides and his glare directed at a small patch of the wall in front of him. Feelings were weakness, if his father were here, he would be boxed over the head. Yet the feelings rushed in, unbidden and unwanted, boiling inside of him, clogging his brain and his senses until all he could think about was his rage. Cold fury like a frozen blade, a ruthless thought of revenge, cut through the fog in his head. Aindreas was always going to be tried for the destruction he wreaked on the city, but without the lawyer support that Calen and his parents had, he would end up in more trouble.

What better way to get back at Aindreas than to prove to him that Eiran never changed. Calen would swoop in at the right time, being sweet and promising that he had changed. Eiran would never know until it was too late. Eiran would never leave him again. A cold grin stretched across Calen’s face, seeds of malice being planted into his head in the fury and open wound of Eiran’s betrayal. Yes, everything had to go to plan.

Aindreas would rot forever, like he was always supposed to. Calen would rise to power, just like he knew he was always going to as well. Eiran would make a wonderful first war trophy. Proof of Calen’s superiority. Calen even bet that Eiran would look amazing in chains, tied down like the traitorous dog he was at the foot of Calen’s throne.

(The police and heroes finally begin their invasion into the hospital. Cries of alarm go out from scared nurses and startled doctors, but the invading forces don’t stop until they come to a door. The chief of police and the most powerful hero in attendance are the first to enter, drawing a cry of alarm from the inhabitants. The sun sets behind the mountains in the distance as a villain is packed into the back of a police van, never to see the light of day again.)

azkaban

Chuvash State Opera and Ballet Theater, Russia

you should be scared of me

✨ Commissions | Links✨

I actually drew Infinity. Man she deserves more art real bad. She's such a mood.

✨ Commissions | Links✨

I almost forgot to throw in that badass drawing of Orion⚰️ Have a few progress shots too:

Behold! My first art work of one of my favorite cartoon antagonist The Beast from Over The Garden Wall

I love it and consider it canon and over-hated.

I know John Lasseter had genuine intentions with it because he loves these characters. I’ve seen the commentary, interviews, behind the scenes thing,etc. He made this because he wanted to. Not because of toys, if it were than I think he’d also own them as well:

The point is that I love Cars 2, I waited five years to have seen my favorite characters again and meet new ones in whatever screen time they had.

There’s flaws, not going to lie, but I still appreciate the movie. When I know there’s flaws and acknowledge them it kind of makes me appreciate the movie more.

I never found Mater annoying. If anything he actually became an interesting character with his knowledge of car parts, how he’s very literal minded like someone with Autism or in the spectrum, and how he’s never really thought about how people see him and it actually does make sense. He’s never left Radiator Springs, let alone the flipping country so of course he doesn’t know exactly how these things. Especially since Lightning doesn’t explain to him exactly what to do and not to do. Not to mention, Sarge, Fillmore, Luigi, and Guido seem to be terrible babysitters if they can’t keep track of Mater for leaving!

Also Miles Axlerod totally started the Disney Villain Surprise thing that Disney’s been recently in the animated canon (King Candy, Prince Hans, Yokai/Professor Callaghan, Assistant Mayor Bellweather, and Te Ka). Except I think he does it best and is probably the most intelligent of all of them since he was pretty prepared if Plan A didn’t work he’d have a back up plan. He also doesn’t show up to his meetings, physically. He live-streams at the meeting and with both a disguised voice and body.

That’s Axlerod’s engine, but not his body color. This is Axlerod just after the crash in Italy:

That’s a darker, grassy green, than the more pale-ish, almost bluish green. The disguise itself must have been design for him to easily and quickly place it on while getting his clutch assembly fixed and then taking it off to go back into the public eye. That’s pretty damn prepared.

Axlerod’s also a pretty amazing liar since he fooled a lot of the characters, including a lawyer (Sally), the spies, and the in-universe media. However, it’s not an out-of-nowhere type thing like Hans as it was foreshadow in a much better way while still keeping it a surprise (in my opinion).

There’s also the fact that unlike the other surprise Disney Villains, he didn’t reveal himself to the heroes due to him thinking that he won, but because he was under the threat of death by Mater. Yeah if you think Mater was basically holding Axlerod hostage with the bomb on him and if he didn’t turn it off, they were both going to die! Keep in mind, Axlerod wanted Lightning dead because he chose the alleged alternative fuel Allinol and thus gave alternative fuel another chance to redeem itself. Since when Mater came with a clearly alive Lightning and accused Axlerod of being the mastermind, Axlerod’s plan at this point was busted. The most he can get out of at this point would be his life and what he made off of the World Grand Prix. But even getting out this with his life is a problem for him since Mater figured it out and isn’t going to let him get away unless the bomb is deactivated. Unlike the other surprise Disney villains Axlerod was at a crossroads of being screwed either way. If he didn’t deactivate the bomb, he would die, (and possibly the spies, Lightning, and Radiator Springs would be arrested):

If Axlerod did than he’d go to jail. Axlerod chose the one where he wouldn’t die.

Mater noticed the bolts that are attached to the bomb on him were also the ones ordered by the mystery engine. An engine that was specifically made for a British car model and one that uses oil. There’s also how Mater specifically says that he DOESN’T leak oil. Axle rod put the blame on Mater because he was literally right next to him when it happened and easiest car to blame, because honestly if Mater didn’t come at that moment Axlerod couldn’t have blame Lightning, as the oil leaker and thus would have somebody calling him out as either a liar or a hypocrite. If it were only Lightning and Axlerod up there and no Mater, who would you assume as someone who leaked oil? The racer or the former oil baron? That’s why it’s easier pin the blame on the silly, hick of a tow truck.

What I’m getting at is while some may see it as stupid cash-grab I do see it as something rather interesting and different, with thought and care put into it. John Lasseter WANTED Cars 2 to be different. He LOVED Mater and saw a lot of himself in the character. He WANTED to do this movie.

Can’t exactly defend him on Toy Story 4 though...

Reblog if you actually like Cars 2

I can’t be the only one out there!

Yeah I was a fan of the Hunger Games at the time and I thought the same thing you said. The world goes to shit because the Lemons won.

I actually had that idea for a fanfiction. Lightning was sent accidentally to an alternate timeline/dimension where he died because Sarge didn’t switch the fuel. When Our Lightning goes to back to Radiator Springs to get help (he thinks he’s still in his world at this point) he finds the town seemingly abandoned. He’s ambushed by the townies and captured, taken in by them to be interrogated. As they question Lightning and interrogate him he tries to tell the townie that he is Lightning McQueen, for reals. They don’t believe him because their Lightning is dead and that they think he’s one of Axlerod’s agents in disguise to mess with them or go undercover. Mater (who in this timeline never had a bomb on him and is leader of the Rebellion) and Sally come in to cross-examine Lightning with the two looking coldly at him. Mater, starts asking questions that only he and Lightning would know while Sally’s just circling around the two. Lightning passes the questions but they don’t trust him, they won’t kill him because there might be a reason as to how or why Lightning knew the things he did so they keep him around under heavy supervision. Any attempts at escape and the boy is shot dead in his tracks.

Meanwhile in addition to the members of Radiator Springs (including Mia and Tia, Otis, and The King) the World Grand Prix racers and Finn, Holley, and Siddley (they’re one of the few British spies who aren’t working for Axlerod) are are also working for the Rebellion in their respective countries. Often traveling to the main HQ of Radiator Springs to provide updates on the latest activity and plans of action. For a few years, the Lightning in that timeline had been dead, most tourists stopped coming to Radiator Springs because of that. Lightning’s death changed Mater as he went from being happy-go-lucky goofball to serious  to the point of unfeeling and wanting nothing more than to set things right with the world. Holley had felt saddened by how the Mater she’d fallen in love with wasn’t the same. She loved Mater the idiotic, but good-hearted spy, not Mater the miserable and emotionless agent. Staying mostly in the UK division of the Rebellion with Finn, she feels afraid to look at Mater in the eye, but still makes in-person visits to Radiator Springs to pass down the latest intel along with updates on plans and rendezvous. Francesco, in the Italian division has in a way felt like this was his fault, even though it wasn’t and joined in order to make amend. Over the past couple years, he has developed feelings of love for Sally but understands that she might not feel the same way as she had lost someone she loved for years. Francesco knows that if they ever get through this underground war with the Lemons, than he’ll tell Sally.

Why are my idea so weird?

So like, I’ve been meaning to hop onto my computer, where I’m logged on to AO3, so I can comment on a bunch of your fics. Particularly your original one. But I keep forgetting to, so I’ll just do it here 😊

I adored your original fic. Power imbalances (especial evil or drastic ones) are my absolute guilty pleasure. Plus your smut was top quality!!

thank you so much 🥹 !! I’m so glad people like my stories… I think my very, very favorite trope is the dark villain who isn’t actually… and I’m still wringing the shit out of that one hard, in every story I’ve written since, I think, lol. The big scary guy, the anti-villain who does bad things for a good cause, and then he cuddles the shit out of you (and fucks you) that gets me going non-stop. And I’m so glad you enjoy my smut too because I don’t know wtf I’m doing there, just writing what I like, or what I’m feeling at the time I guess 😬 (and trying to make it not suck). thanks a lot for the comment!

Musings On Thrawn

Let me begin this by stating up front; Thrawn is a villain. A brilliant, fascinating, charismatic villain, but a villain nonetheless. He is Holmes and Rommel and Moriarty all rolled into one. (Please don’t hate me for this.)

And I’ve tried to keep that front of mind as I have been writing this massive Alexsandr Kallus fic, Especially now that I am into the cat and mouse section where Kallus is spying for the rebels as Fulcrum, but having to interact with Thrawn on an almost daily basis. 

To prepare to write this I reread all the Thrawn books. I even read the first Heir to Empire, and if people thought Thrawn was vile in Rebels he was far worse in that Legends novel. I’ve also been rewatching a number of Rebel’s episodes.

In the books Tim tries very hard not to have Thrawn be as loathsome as Tarkin or Vader and succeeds, but it’s still important to remember he is not a good, kind man. Yes, he tries to limit civilian casualties… when possible, but he won’t let the death of innocents stand in the way of a victory. In the end it’s always about the cold equation.

In the Ascendency novels he makes it clear to Admiral Ba’kif that he would have destroyed the planet Sunrise and all of its inhabitants in order to destroy the Grysk threat to the Chiss. And he would have leveled Capital City if Ezra had not capitulated.

He also uses and discards his own troops in the service of tactics and strategy. In Treason he cold bloodily sends a number of Tie pilots to their deaths to verify his theory about the alien’s battle tactics. War for Thrawn is like a giant game of tactica or chess.

I do love the fact that Thrawn was the perfect Chiss to send into Lesser Space to serve in the Empire. While Thrawn, unlike many of his fellow Chiss, is able and willing to work with aliens he comes from a culture that is every bit as bigoted as the high human cult in the Empire. Which is another reason he can so easily slide into serving Palpatine.

Basically, he seems to be a man who has great difficulty forming personal relationships. (To be fair Tim has no choice, but to write books that focus on battles and strategy and political skullduggery and not much on the inner lives of the characters, and it certainly provides fanfic authors a rich playing field. Actually that is one of my complaints about the books. Nobody seems to have any personal attachments. Eli blithely waltzes off to the Ascendancy without a thought for his parents, but I digress). 

So, to lay our Blue Meanie on the coach for a moment….

All of his relationships take the form of mentor to mentee whether it’s with Thrass or Ar'alani or Samakro or Che’ri or Faro or Eli. And his emotional reactions to Thrass’ death, or sending away Eli seem very muted. The books do give us a potential reason for this reticence – the loss of the sister. The fear that he would be hurt again makes him avoid deep relationships and leaves him isolated. 

At his core, I think Thrawn is a man of the mind and not the heart. I think he fears strong emotion, passion because it might cloud his judgement, and open him up to pain again. 

All of which combines to make him a tragic figure. Which really is the best kind of villain. The ones who had the possibility to be heroes, but are brought low by their own fatal flaw.

A lot of fans project onto him many positive characteristics due to the new canon books, but it’s all the same Thrawn, he just gets darker over time.

Old EU/Rebels Thrawn: Ruthless. Coldhearted. Calculating. Mean.

Book Thrawn: Nerd. Socially inept. Meets his crush’s racist parents with a smile. Wants to save everyone in the Galaxy. Writes poetic and emotionally charged farewells. Can’t drive. Likes to cosplay.

This makes my heart hurt

Villain had Hero pinned against a wall. Hero was kicking and trying to get Villain off of them, but it was no use. Hero was only a child after all.

“No, please! I- I need to save those people!” Hero cried, Villain made no move to let Hero go.

“You don’t need to do anything, my child. Stop fighting.” Villain motioned to one of his henchmen to come closer. The Henchmen did, and Villain whispered in his ear.

“Kill them. All of them.”

Hero panicked, and struggled against Villains grip around their neck. Villain was only using one hand to keep them in place, and that made Hero feel so much weaker.

“No! No, please! You can’t!” Hero dug their nails into Villains wrist, which didn’t do anything.

“Those are innocent people! Please!”

Villain turned to see tears running down Hero’s face. But Villain didn’t mock them.

Villain placed their forehead against Hero’s, blocking their sight from the scene about to unfold.

“Kill me! Kill me instead! Just not them, please!”

Villain removed their hand from around Hero’s neck, using their hands to cover Hero’s ears. Hero still couldn’t get away, Villains body weight keeping them in place.

Hero could hear screams, then several rounds of gunshots.

“No! NO!” Hero punched and kicked Villain with all they had. Even with the hands over both of their ears, Hero could hear bodies drop to the ground. Then everything went back to silence, apart from Hero’s sobbing.

“How could you? Those were- those were innocent people!”

Villain still covered their ears and didn’t move, they didn’t want Hero to see what happened. Blood was all Hero could smell.

“I could’ve saved them!” Hero screamed.

“No, you couldn’t have. But I do promise you that this is none of your fault.” Villain told Hero.

“You are a child, you shouldn’t be involved in any of this.” Villain moved their hands to Hero’s shoulders and took a step back. Hero fell to their knees, sobbing.

“But-“ Villain cut Hero off.

“But nothing. Your parents clearly only care about the money you bring them, not their actual child.” Villain removed Hero’s bloody mask, Hero was covered in blood and dirt. Hero couldn’t stop Villain from taking their mask off.

“You are going to come home with me, and I will take care of you. I will make sure that your parents suffer immensely.” Villain said coldly, Hero continued to panic.

“No-“ Hero was cut off with a sharp pain in their neck. Villain had drugged them. Hero wasn’t prepared for how fast their world started to spin.

“Just go to sleep, you’ll feel better when you wake up. “

I finished it 😁 After two weeks of concept, developing the character and drawing this piece, I can proudly announce that I've finished this drawing.

And I've learned soo much in the process. I'm still not sure how I got the horn that shiny but I love his yellow eye and the fire in the background.

I also integrated him into my head-canons for my story "In-Between". His name is Derag and he is a half Demon destroying one world after another. In the process of planning this piece, I took a day time to write a chapter of his story and I also got this to a point where I can call the chapter finished (maybe it's not perfect but I can still improve on writing the next one)

Here it is, if you want to read it (Trigger Warning: descriptive violence):

<...>

One tried to crawl away, even after I cut off his leg. I picked my staff out of the corpse in front of me and slowly walked towards him, "Oh, and on what kind of adventure did you want to embark on?" He was still focusing on getting away but I clearly heard his huffing become louder.

It didn't take long for me to reach him and I kicked him to the ground. He was staring at me with fear and oh, how did I love that expression. The moment when you realize that it'll be over soon. That you don't stand a chance. That you're powerless. I couldn't hold back a smile spreading on my face, "Hey, I asked you something." I ram my staff into his shoulder. He screamed, but since he was the last one, that wasn't a problem at all. I enjoyed it.

I started to spin my weapon around, digging a deep hole in his shoulder, "Honestly, if you had answered me, I might have considered ending it quickly. But now, I don't want to. That's why I'll make it painful. Because you acted rude." I fixed him on the floor by pushing my staff through and took a couple of steps back, "As you can probably imagine, I don't get many possibilities to talk to somebody. But you …"

I turned my attention back to my victim, "… You're boring." I pulled out my staff and sliced his neck. And after he stopped choking there was only calming silence left. Surprisingly, it didn't last for too long. I heard whispers coming from not too far. Were there more than these couple of people? Then why didn't I notice them earlier?! That guy's scream probably warned them! God, dammit! I need to get rid of them quickly before they manage to warn anyone!

I walked towards that direction. I was confirmed to be going in the right direction as the whispers turned into terrified screams. As I arrived at the source of the voices, I was standing before a group of young women. They pushed one of them towards me, causing her to trip and fall. One of them exclaimed, "W-We give you this sacrifice and you leave us alive!"

… I wasn't expecting that. I wouldn't have thought they would be the kind of people 'sacrificing' somebody to save their own skin. What do they think I am?! A bloodthirsty demon, who feeds on his victims? Hah! Then I realized I was still staring at the woman in front of me. She didn't even dare to look up at me. These women were not different from the men I killed earlier. I couldn't stand people like them.

I grabbed my staff and threw it towards the one who talked. The tip of the blade impaled her through her chest against a tree. The others screamed. As one tried to run away, I grabbed her by her neck and choked her to death, "You know, I hate people who abuse weaker ones to hide their own weakness." I dropped the corpse on the floor. One of them stood there terrified with that priceless expression on her face. As I walked towards her she started begging with teary eyes, "P-Please! D-Don't kill me! I-" I smashed her against a tree, causing her to drop dead.

Then I turned my attention to the woman on the floor. She still didn't move an inch and tried not to cry. I guess she was scared. Strangely, I was hesitating about what to do. Normally, I would go and make her death quick, but for some reason that felt wrong this time. Maybe it was because I witnessed how the others treated her.

I went over to the tree and pulled my staff out of the stem, causing the corpse to drop on the floor, "You know, I hate to kill women but these ones were insufferable and deserved it." I noticed how she sat up behind me. As I looked at her, she froze. It almost seemed as if she would have stopped breathing for me to not notice her. But now I was able to see her face for the first time. Her tearful face with her green eyes staring at me hopelessly.

I crouched down in front of her, "They did you pretty bad, huh?" She was still staring at me but carefully nodded. I tilted my head to the side, "Tell me, what's your name?" She answered after a couple of seconds, "A-Amelia." I smiled at her, "It's a pity, I have to kill you, Amelia. But sadly, you would go and warn others about me." I expected her to say she wouldn't and beg for her life, but she didn't. I guess she was probably the type of person to freeze in fear.

I straightened up and stretched, "But the least I can do is promise to make it short and painless." "… C-Can I ask for a last wish?!" I looked surprised at Amelia. She was just going to accept that? Not going to beg for her life? … interesting. I responded carelessly, "A wish?" She seemed to gather all her confidence to speak, "I - … I-If I h-have to … to die … Can I … Can I a-at least k-know your name?"

I burst into laughter, "Hahaha! I wasn't expecting this! You're about to be killed and your last wish is to know my name…" I crouched down and gently took her face causing her to flinch, "You don't need to waste your final wish to know my name, sweetheart. But surprisingly for all the worlds I have been in, you're the first one to ask for it. But it's not that many people would have meaningful conversations with me…"

I got up and prepared my staff to chop her head off, "My name is Derag. I also like to call myself destroyer of worlds… Do you have any last words, Amelia?" First, she stared at the floor. But then, she looked up with a smile, "M-Maybe we meet again in another life, Derag." How was it possible that she smiled in a situation like this? Where was that fearful face of realization when everything comes to an end?

She was … different. I wasn't used to that kind of behaviour causing me to hesitate once again. Then I swang my staff and … I stopped. She didn't move. She didn't even flinch as I was about to cut her head off. She only scrunched her face up, preparing for what came next. But I stopped before the blade reached her neck.

I didn't want to do this. Not to her. Not after she was the only person ever really talking to me. She was betrayed by the other women, gathered all of her confidence to speak to me and it should end like this? That wouldn't be fair, would it? I took my staff aside and she opened her emerald-green eyes. She even looked a little confused.

I was desperate to explain the situation, "I, sigh … Listen, I don't want to kill you, okay? But If I let you go, you'll warn the others and I cannot allow that to happen." She looked at her now-dead companions, "… I guess they would already know if I returned alone." Then she stared scared at me again. I avoided looking at her face and looked back at the corpses. If I couldn't let her go back and didn't want to kill her, then what was I supposed to do with her?

Suddenly, I had an idea, "Amelia… You were the nicest person, I've ever met. So I want to make you an offer. Normally I would kill everyone in a world and then erase it, but I could make a little exception. If you want, you can come with me, or stay in this world. It's your decision."

I reached her my hand. She looked at it with her eyes wide open. Then she looked at me again, "I … I want to go with you." She took my hand and I helped her get up. I smiled at her, "Alright. Then we should leave, Amelia. I'll have enough time to destroy this world the next time." I called out for shadow and he brought us to my world.

<…>

(And if you want to know what happened before, I don't know either 😂 Maybe I'll figure it out after some time, maybe not)

Currently WIP for a drawing competition I want to participate. The theme of the competition is 'villain'. I still need to figure out the background in more detail and then I can start the actual drawing (and yes, I still consider this as a sketch. Just a pretty detailed one.🤣)

I have also never been drawing this long on a single drawing (an entire week). Normally, I finish a drawing in a couple of hours or in half a day. Still got a week left to finish that thing😁.

To anyone in a "Villain era"

I would just like to inquire why you haven't met the minimum requirements for the title. There is a complete and utter lack of charming and/or comically idiotic henchmen, the amount of remote and impractical lairs I've seen hasn't been so low since Jane Austen was at the peak of her career, there are no outlandish devices, schemes, and plots to take over a specific tri-state area, not to mention technology so advanced it raises the question of why you consistently battle a group of plucky teenagers with superpowers instead of curing cancer or something.

I don't know what kind of sham you think we're running here, but we are professionals, and professionals have standards. We don't give out the title of villain to any moron who sticks up a bank. We would kindly ask you to leave and not return.

The hero or villain debate has always been fascinating to me because personally, I would rather love the hero. Not because of their personality or anything but because if it came down to it, and the hero would be forced to choose between me or the world, I would rather they choose the world.

Because that's the world-that is billions of people with lives separate from your own that will suffer because of that decision. Your teachers, your classmates, your animals, a grandma that finally beat cancer, a child who was finally born.

"A hero would sacrifice you to save the world-" I'm gonna stop you right there because that's all I need to hear.

While I do see the appeal in picking the villain, I think I'd rather be loved by someone kind enough to put others first before themselves, and if sacrificing me is the way to do it, I'd have lived and died happy.

Either that or I'm reading too much into a fantasy plot and giving my two cents on a topic no one really cares about.

Currently continuing writing a boyslove story for my own little collection of my writing progress. (I started this story over a year ago and got the courage to finally keep on writing.) I'm at the part where the hero has to fight his most important villain, smth about his past(he's already together with the former villain hihi) and I'm obsessed with the sentence of the villain, I-

"So you still want to fight Mr. Zhedus. .. Then I'll be glad to finally bring you down on your knees and beg to stay alive.."

You know the feeling when you shouldn't fall in love with the villain? Oops.

19th century btw 🤭

Does anyone know why the villain waits for the hero to transform or to power up instead of attacking them when they are weak or still transforming is it like a rule or something

I just watched "Nimona" and it was THE BEST FILM I EVER WATCHED IN MY LIFE! Please, don't judge me. I was really enjoying the movie and I couldn't stop laughing several times. You can find it on Netflix at the moment. So, if you decide to watch it, the only thing I can say is - ENJOY!

I. LOVE. IT. That's all.