#let evil win

[miercolaes]

normalize your villains. writing wise. i think everyone knows villain behavior irl would get you a ticket straight to the highest security prison out there. but this is about building a fictional world. for context, i've recently been on a rewatch for the show once upon a time and this time, i've tried to stay impartial to the characters storylines. the villains seems irredemable in the first season and frankly, i'm disappointed that this changes. hear me out !!!!!

my version of wednesday addams is for the most part chaotic neutral. wherever the current sails, she'll follow. sure, wednesday has the potential to grow and have (somewhat) healthy relationships in her life, but at the end of the day, she's not a hero. she's not even the anti-hero. sometimes it plays out like that and she might look the part, but she's not good goddammit.

for the crimes that she've committed? guilty as charged. for all the people she had hurt? guilty as charged. for all the misery she'll cause others? you guessed it, guilty as fucking charged. i'm not going to water her down.

in my mind, the addamses were always the outliers, but with the bestest of intentions. morticia and gomez welcomed vile strangers into their homes and tried their very best to make them feel comfortable in their home. they have a skewed perception for the world, something that's unusual, morbid, downright grotesque. edgar allan poe, which netflix glorified and here i am doing a shoutout to train my beloved, would tremble had he known of the addamses. morticia and gomez are kind, in their way. but you know who never really was?

their kids. in the comics (both by the og author and some others icr the author, but more closer to our time), pugsley was the devil incarnate. he showed no remorse, he was clearly thrilled by the suffering he caused others. but i suppose the directors changed the storyline and made wednesday the brand new puglsey in the 90s movies. she showed no emotion, she was a okay with murdering her own, even if she knew as luck as it, their younger brother pubert would live. this time around, wednesday was the devil incarnate.

and i agree with the canon, she can be incredibly intelligent and even more ruthless than she is intelligent. but one thing i've noticed is that, she notices her parents being taken for granted. she is aware that others will use morticia and gomez's kindness against them. sure, they can take it, that's their thing after all. but wednesday noticed everything since she was a kid and she remembers.

and guess what?

just because someone went through hell and back (even if said hell is not the worst that could happen), that doesn't mean someone will come out kind and good. wednesday will forever doubt anyone in her life and she will push them away, just as she'll try to give them the world. but no matter the good she does, at the end of the day, she is the villain. it's not the addams family, it's just the kids and i say that because pugsley and pubert have the same rights as wednesday does.

at the end of the day, being evil after witnessing evil is okay. fiction wise, i feel like reminding. some characters are irredemable. just because they do good things sometimes that doesn't make them good. just like doing bad things sometimes doesn't make them bad. but here's the catch with the addamses. they always, always own up who they are. wednesday no exception to the rule.

wednesday, the villain, can do good things. she can save your muse, she can enjoy your muse's company, she can love your muse. but all of this, all the good things do come from a villain. did she deserve the awful treatment she and her family got in canon? of course not, that we can all agree on. but it doesn't matter what happened, what matters is what choices they make afterward. wednesday will always choose herself. wednesday doesn't pick good, she willingly chooses evil.

sure, a villain is capable of love. a villain is capable of both good and bad. but look at how it always ends. wednesday is a villain and she will suffer, your muse too if you dare to come too close. it's not fair, i know. but this is just my theory, vero's theory. and, you may expect it by now,

please, normalize your villains.

[snekdood]

"if we make america worse and more of a dictatorship that will be even harder to unravel and make it the way we want the country to be, maybe then everyone will join our Glorious Revolution!" bb girl you cant even be in the same room with someone who thinks you should vote, how in tf do you think you're gonna unite people to fight in The Revolution with you? it's gonna be you and your 5 friends, i hate to break it to you.

[zer0pm]

Imagine Luis casually claiming that he’s a better shot than you. Not going to take that lying down, you challenge him in the shooting range.

“You certainly know your way around a gun, my friend.”

A short subconscious grunt was given as an acknowledgement, you were too engrossed in cleaning your firearm to fully engage him.

The Spanish man continues with a pensive nod, “One can see that you’ve taken many shots, as well as many lives. You’re a force to be reckoned with for certain.”

“Thanks, Luis.” you reply with nary a hint of interest in the conversation. Was there a point to all of this praise, you wondered but did not want to ask aloud, minding your own business.

“It’s such a shame really,” Luis shrugs, leaning against one of the wooden barrels beside you. He then comments nonchalantly, “Your accuracy leaves much to be desired. Even I could do better.”

The room suddenly falls into silence. Tension hangs by a dainty pin threatening to drop. You were no longer tinkering with your weapon. Leon and Ashley, who were having their own friendly chat on the side, stopped talking to stare at you two intently. Even the Merchant, who possesses a socially animated personality, went completely quiet. The mysterious man who possesses questionably limitless contraband leans far over his table to observe the interaction between you and the cheeky Spaniard with great interest. Or rather, he was interested to see your reaction. The stillness drags on. Then finally, you rise up from your seat. A stony expression hardened on your face as you share eye contact with the dark-haired man beside you.

“Shooting range. Now.”

The elevator ride was just as tense, only the two of you were aboard inside. Leon and Ashley stayed behind for reasons undisclosed, but if you had to take a guess, they didn’t want to see the potential feud between you and Luis escalate in a cramped, underground space. Speaking of Luis. The instigator of this game stood on the opposite side of the shaft from you. He had an infuriatingly smug grin on his lips and a confident, carefree air emanating from his relaxed posture.

Normally, Luis presented himself as an amiable and charming man with a witty sense of humor that bordered on teasing depending on the context provided to him amidst conversation. You haven’t interacted with him as much as Leon or Ashley, too focused on survival to even consider forging any meaningful bonds. The few instances that you have engaged him, the man left a good enough impression for you to tolerate his presence. If you were to truly be honest with yourself, however, you were drawn to him. He had that sort of magnetic personality that you secretly could not get enough of. Your heart flutters whenever he focuses his attention solely on you, whether it be a seductive remark or a teasing joke, he made you forget for a moment of the difficulties you were facing. But you didn’t have it in you to reciprocate out of fear of growing attached what with certain death looming over you all constantly. So instead, you cherished those moments in silence, stealing glances his way every once in awhile when you thought he wasn’t looking.

Unfortunately, this time you’re looking at him for an entirely different reason. Daggers in your eyes pointed straight at the Spaniard. You’ve saved this man against from numerous plaga encounters. He knows what you are capable of. And for him to say that? The nerve.

Luis catches you glaring at him and he shamelessly winks back at you. You scoff and return your attention to your gloved hands, trying not to let this man dig under your skin further than he already has.

The elevators descent comes to a halt and you exit as soon as the doors ping open with Luis following not too far behind. The Merchant was already down at the range even though he was up on the ground level when you took the shaft. At this point, you never questioned the masked man or how he works. Some mysteries are better left unsolved. The real mystery here, however, is Luis’ sudden (and uncalled for) bout of disrespect for your combative skills. He thoughtlessly casted your abilities into doubt in front of your peers and in such a casual manner no less. What else could you do to restore your pride but challenge him and bring him down a peg?

“Welcome, strangers!” The Merchant greets you both jovially once the two of you reached him. “Today, we will be playing a new game. A game of skill and finesse, your patience and speed. Just like any other, really- but with a twist! A competition between two fine patrons of the gunslinging arts!”

“No competition,” you quickly corrected with crossed arms and a deadpan tone. “Just putting someone in their rightful place.”

Luis, who took his spot beside you, merely maintained his easygoing demeanor, not at all bothered by your attitude with him.

“Ooh! Let me guess, is it beneath you? That can be easily arranged. No contest needed.” He chimes in suggestively.

An annoyed grunt escapes your throat, you pinch the bridge of your nose to lessen the irritation bubbling inside. “Get on with it, Merch. Please.”

“That’s the spirit!” the mysterious vendor claps. “Let’s establish the ground rules, then. Firearm of choice?”

The Spaniard waves his hand to you. “You decide, I insist.”

“Such a gentleman,” you roll your eyes. “Pistols. Figured this is fair since you’re only barely capable of handling one type of weapon.”

The dark-haired man pouts exaggeratedly, “Such harsh words for a squire.”

The Merchant ignores him, nodding at your choice, “Pistols it is. Game conditions?”

“Doesn’t matter to me.” Boredom dripping from your lips, “You figure this out, Serra.”

“So confident, my friend. Very well. Let’s see…” Luis grabs his chin between his fingers, appearing to ponder heavily before lifting one ringed finger.

“Quick fire. One shot per target. Every target will be timed for five seconds. Every rest period in between will last just as long. A penalty will apply for each missed shot. Victor is decided when penalties can no longer be given to either player. Or one admits defeat. Naturally, I’ll decide what these penalties shall be. It’ll be a surprise, just to make things fun.”

Your brow lifts at these terms. With how he delivered them without a single stutter, one would think that he thought about this considerably. They were unusual too and you could not help the gnawing sense of undeniable intrigue and due wariness from showing upon your face. The last part stood out to you as the most interesting of the rules. What sort of penalties were going to be delivered? What does this man have up his sleeve?

The Merchant laughs boisterously in agreement, evidently deeming the terms to be acceptable for the little competition. He turns his head towards you once more. “Any contest?”

With a shake of your head, you confirm with cold confidence, “None. I won’t miss.”

Luis’ grin doesn’t falter at your words. If anything, it only grew wider.

The masked man continues, “And the prize?”

“Ha, easy.” Deadly eyes shoot at Luis with threatening intensity, “You eat your words and…” A pointed finger gestures towards his upper body.

“The jacket is mine.”

A gasp leaves Luis’ throat, genuine surprise glints in his widened eyes. “You’d really strip a knight from his armor?”

It was no secret that the man loved to keep appearances, his jacket being the main focal point to represent his sense of style as well as serving to draw wandering eyes towards the rest of his form. Taking it from him would be a considerable hit to his confidence and it was not at all because you were curious to see how the white button shirt underneath fitted his body.

The memory of defined muscle sneaks into the forefront of your traitorous mind. You once spotted a distinctive scar peeking beneath the fabric and asked about it. Luis, always taking the extra mile, pulled open his jacket and shirt to not only put the colored scar in full display, but the rest of his chiseled upper torso as well. You had to rip your eyes away at the time to hide the blush that was burning quickly on your cheeks, disguising it with a scoff of disgust. Ever since then, however, you couldn’t get the tantalizing sight out of your thoughts.

With a furious shake of your head, you give him an indifferent, level response, “Take it or leave it.”

After a thoughtful moment, the man sighs in consensus. “Alright then. But if I win- you must admit that I’m the better marksman.”

You waited a moment before blinking, “That’s it?”

“Eso es todo, my friend.” Luis nods, “A simple prize, no?”

Without further ado, the competition went underway. After setting aside a pair of handguns and enough ammo to take down an entire country, the Merchant strides out of the range. He also disclosed that the target mechanisms have already been set to Luis’ specific conditions with increased difficulty as the game goes on. Not only this, but the targets are color coordinated to match your respective gun handles. Yours are blue; Luis’, red. Again, you didn’t question how the Merchant achieved this feat in such an impossibly short amount of time.

“Range is set to go. Shooting a target that isn’t yours, missing a target, or taking no shot at all will count as a penalty,” the masked man advised. “Press the button to begin… and have lots of fun, strangers. Ehehehe!” His characteristic cackling echoes off the walls even as the elevator doors closed. Now, it was just you and Luis.

The clicks of a gun cocking brings you back to the present. “Prepárate, my friend.” Luis’ voice is laced with determination as he spoke to you. “It’s game time!”

Without warning, a swift hand slams the button and the first target quickly pops into view. Blue. Frantically, you take aim and fire. Although you weren’t in a readied stance, the bullet pierces through the blue-striped pirate cutout nearly at the edge. The timer nearly hits the last second. A close call.

You whip your head at the Spaniard in exacerbation. “That was dirty!”

His face dons a playful look. “Why so angry, my friend? You were successful, no?”

Your glare sends him running. The timer resets and a red target appears. Compared to you, Luis seemed prepared as he takes his shot and hits the target with ease.

Timer resets, blue. Timer resets, red. It went on like this for a few rounds. The cutouts popped up in random spots at close range only to be shot back down immediately. It was too easy. You use a rest period to reload before the timer resets once more and a red pirate whooshes into view. This one was placed much farther than the rest and was surrounded by multiple sailor cutouts. When the Merchant said that the difficulty would increase over time, you didn’t consider that he would turn the notch by this much. Luis would have to fire at an angle to hit the target and avoid the other obstacles while also being agile enough to hit it before the countdown.

A grimace curves down upon Luis’ lips, he jumps to a spot and lifts the pistol quickly. Ready, aim, fire!

He misses, lead hitting the back of the range with a resonating sound.

A snort almost escapes you and you couldn’t help but taunt him. “What? Feelin’ the heat already, Luis?”

Luis looks at you with the same unwavering smile. “Just warming up, actually. Don’t you worry.”

The man pulls his rings off his fingers and sets them atop the wooden counter. The two of you then switched places and a thought comes to mind. What is his penalty? There’s nothing else on the range that would identify as a scoring system. Perhaps an even harder target to hit? That seems rather punishing. You couldn’t ponder over this any further as your turn came up.

Timer resets. Blue target glides in, sailor cutouts surrounding them as well. This time, however, the angle was easy to spot and you didn’t have to move from your spot to take the shot. It falls back with a satisfying ping upon hit.

“Nice one!” Luis praises. It was genuine, devoid of his characteristic witty drawl. You couldn’t help but mutter a low thanks. Switching spots again, the competition continues. The man manages to find his groove once more and the both of you fell into a good rhythm between shots.

You will not lie, this was kind of fun. Luis truly was a decent shot and seeing him like this, focused and different from his usual suave demeanor that he exhibits like a tattoo on his sleeve, grows within you a newfound form of respect and admiration. He was pulling you to him all over again and he wasn’t even trying.

Timer resets. Red target. More sailors. And they’re all moving! Luis didn’t have the time to follow the pattern of all of their movements and fires blindly. He hits a sailor and mutters a half-hearted curse before proceeding to remove his shoes and socks.

“Luis, what are you doing-”

“No time for any questions. It’s your move.” The man motions you to take your stance and indeed a blue target flies in on the far end. Thankfully it slid about from the ceiling and became an easy shot despite it moving at a fast pace. Your shot lands successfully. As you switch places with Luis again, the gnawing question returns-

What is the penalty?

Luis is the only one that has been missing and nothing seems to have happened. The rounds have gotten harder for certain, but your targets have been set with the same difficulty. How is it shown that he is losing? Again, you didn’t have the time to question it as your turn came up soon enough.

Timer resets, blue target. Shot is fired, it’s a hit.

Timer resets, red target. Shot is fired, it’s a miss.

Luis exhales deeply from his chest. At first, you thought he was frustrated but your ears catch undertones of relief which you could not deduce until you see him unzip his signature jacket and shrug the leather off his shoulders.

“What the hell is this, Luis?”

“Ah this? The penalties for missing. Was it not obvious when I removed my other effects?”

Timer resets, blue target. Nothing.

It dawned on you in full force what this whole game was really all about. You thought it a genuine competition, a battle of egos. However, it became blatantly clear that Luis was shooting on a different range altogether. And he tricked you into playing with him.

You gaped in bewilderment. It was then replaced with embarrassed aggravation. “You’re an idiot. I’m not playing this stupid game. I’m out of here.”

Just as you were about to enter the parlor where the elevator was, Luis speaks up. “You can leave, sure. Pero, you’ll first have to admit that I’m the better marksman.”

Timer resets, red target.

Swiftly you turn back to him, your tone seething with heat. “You’ve missed a few shots while I’ve missed none. What makes you think-”

Bam!

The bullet cleanly hits the moving target from a range that should have required eyes. But the Spaniard was looking at you this whole time, wearing a confident (and infuriating) grin. You were speechless.

“If I remember correctly, you didn’t take the last shot. ¿Sí?”

This man is going to be the end of you one day. But damn was that a good hit. Renewed determination and excitement flows through your body. You take off one glove with your teeth and spit it at the ground before practically shoving the man out of your spot with your now bare hand. You can hear Luis’ cheeky chuckle behind you. Your attitude towards him may have started cold, but it is he who is making you shiver now.

Timer resets, blue target. Shot is fired.

These things were getting harder and harder to hit. Both of you are barely getting along. Luis was doing well enough though. Reduced to just his pants and shirt, he kept up his momentum. You, however, were not faring just as well. Now that you know the real game you were playing, you became undeniably anxious and it showed in your aim. You missed a few shots and had to shed your shoes, socks, remaining glove, and jacket. The only comfort you took from this was that you were relieving yourself from the unbearable heat permeating within the room.

Shot is fired. No hit. Blue target still standing.

Now it was Luis’ turn to taunt. “¿Qué? You missed? Is everything alright, my good friend?”

You ignore him out of spite and tugged at the hem of your top. As you pull the fabric over your head, your ears catch an appreciative whistle nearby. Once your shirt was completely off, you whip your head back to sharply glare at the shameless man who did not hide his appraisal of you. Grey eyes run along the length of your form slowly, lingering upon your newly exposed skin. There was no denying the desire in his eyes. It didn’t leave even as the timer restarted and a red target appeared.

He didn’t take the shot.

It was the perfect opportunity to mock him back, but nothing comes out. In fact, neither of you said anything for the longest time. The only sounds in the range were the pings of the timer and the cardboard targets popping in and out- both effectively ignored and zoned out.

Luis lifts his hands to unbutton his white shirt and throws it atop his jacket. He was bare from his neck down to his waist. Sweat glistened on his well-built chest, the hard muscles of his arms flexing as he stretched. He was probably the hottest thing you’ve ever seen in your life and he was looking straight at you when you finally found the courage to meet his burning stare. The heavy weight of his grey gaze pressed something deep and carnal within your soul.

After what felt like an eternity, the man picks up his jacket from the ground and moves over to one of the sturdy wooden barrels in the room. He leans against it before facing you once again and speaks in an intimately gruff tone.

“Tú ganas. You win.”

Luis stretches out a strong arm, signature jacket in hand. All you did was stare. Looking back and forth between his rugged face and the fine article of clothing he held.

When you didn’t make a move or say anything, he offers again, “Well? Are you going to claim your prize?”

Time marches on, accompanied by silence. Then finally, the floorboard creaks meaningfully under your stride towards him. Luis’ jacket is smacked out of his hand.

It laid forgotten for a long time.

[thrandilf]

Haven't seen a poll like this go around so. Why not!

[the-crowned-chimera]

Safia Elhillo, from Home Is Not a Country; “My Name” // I Hate My Mom, GRLwood // Silas Denver Melvin, from Grit: Poems; “Twenty” // The Family Jewels, Marina and the Diamonds // My Mom, Kimya Dawson // Nathalie Leger, The White Dress // Runs in the Family, Amanda Palmer // BLACKSMITH, Zeena Abbas // Mother, John Lennon // Runs in the Family, Amanda Palmer

[maskyartist]

more Crystal Clay AU (au by the fantastic @warning-heckmouth) thoughts once again cause my brainworms wont stop just listen hear me out-

Clay's smart as hell, he basically forced himself to be a nerd post-band breakup so like...picture with me,,,Clay pitting Velvet and Veneer against each other,,,straining their relationship by just sewing those liiiiil seeds of doubt anytime they're alone with him,,,,or just bringing up "totally real" things they said to make em look like liars

after all. hes the fun one. the dumb silly fun one! Who's gonna think he's got the capacity to lie?

im just sayin Clay's gotta have a mean streak somewhere in that heart of his that "Hm. John" that MEANT SOMETHING-

[stuckasmain]

Absolutely not to get onto people but if you put an android/human Hal in a military uniform I’d genuinely like to know why.

He’s not associated with the military, the government yes but not the military. He’s also a bit humbler than that? I don’t know. He’d want to fit in if he had a preference at all (like for example Dave is technically captain but dresses no different etc)

[anggltz]

HIIIIII me and my friends all picked 8 characters to compete for this tournament. the tournament doesn’t really have a theme it’s just whos best basically. THIS bracket is between William Moriarty from Moriarty The Patriot ANDDDD Osamu Dazai from Bungo Stray Dogs

[spooky-something]

These playlists are gonna make me cry, I can't, they're so bad...

Don't you dare try to gaslight me, Victor would NOT listen to Will Wood, leave him out out this...

Like, for actual characterization, this one had it, a lot of these songs are actually on our own Frankenstein playlist...

Heavy on HAD...

[drrav3nb]

This makes us...true partners

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

Now that Frank is confirmed to be someone who meets his doom in Lights Out my world has come crumbling down.. but yet is slowly rebuilding in a firey evil replacement of itself because who DOESN'T love some angst of your favorite character?? *cackling.*

you. you get it

[autumn-may]

thinking about the chess game in kh3 and yes I know it’s symbolism but honestly what the frick even was that. Imagine you’re playing chess with your bestie and after you beat him he just says ‘there’s more to light than meets the eye 😈’ and takes his king and moves it back to the beginning??? And puts seven more pieces on the board?? And Xehanorts just like cool with it???? Honestly if I was Xehanort and Eraqus did that to me I wouldn’t even have waited 64 years I would have taken him out right then and there

[skylessnights]

"I'll pour you a drink, Boss."

EVILIVE 악인전기 ▸Episode 3

[petrichormore]

anyway final thoughts on todays lore (unless something else happens) is that q!Bad has literally never been wrong in his entire life. And he ain’t starting now.

[adasknife]

capcom doesn't allow the women to become buff, but considering the canon (like ada swinging around, jill lifting heavy guns)

[princeanxious]

Me: Finally acquires everything i need, including inspiration, to actually fucking make an animatic

Also me: brain has decided my first ever animatic is going to be a minimum of 13 minutes long due to the specific audio that has made said brain go ‘brr’, thusly i do not get a choice in this

Me: somethings never fuckin change huh