#unsympathetic hero

[whumpster-dumpster]

A Villain who never really reforms but still finds ways to build bonds (dare they call them friendships?) with members of the Hero's team so if they're looking to switch sides, if they’re generally hard on their luck, facing a bigger threat, all else fails, etc. they know where they can turn if they so choose

A Villain who may take care of their own team (and by extension the heroic allies they make) better than the Hero takes care of theirs

A Villain who may end up being targeted by Superhero, who may gravely injure or kill them and doesn’t understand why so many of their hero teammates are so upset/angry/turning against them for it

[tss-whumper]

tss heroes and villains au

this is the summary of my tss heroes and villains au!

(cw -> implied kidnapping, c-ptsd, child abuse, extreme manipulation, torture, physical abuse, emotional abuse, violence, exploitation of children)

in this world, a small percentage of people are born with or discover a magical superpower, such as flight, teleportation, element manipulation, and these people usually become either heroes or villains. there are many hero academies, places that teach children with powers how to become heroes that protect their cities from villains.

but in ember city, this academy is very corrupt.

patton parsons, otherwise known as paw-ton, is the resident hero of the city, a very famous hero who defeats villains regularly and saves civilians from danger. he's known as being a very kind, comforting person who always does the right thing. he is also the headmaster of the hero academy in ember city, and he teaches children how to become heroes just like him.

his power? he can artificially make people feel emotions. he can make anyone feel anything, happiness, sadness, fear, anger, and even pain.

see where things can get a little scary?

anyway, enter janus, a sixteen year old kid with the power to create sensory illusions. he can make people hallucinate that there are people or things that aren't actually there. but he hates the hero academy because patton's rules are strict, and he basically abuses his students into obeying his every whim, even when they are harmful. after all, patton only cares about the greater good, defending the innocent. so if a hero child gets hurt in exchange for the safety of a civilian, then he's done his job right.

resenting this, janus runs away and becomes a villain, seeking to destroy the hero academy from the ground up.

fast forward about fifteen years, and patton has another student to replace janus. a young boy named roman who wasn't born with powers, but found a magical golden gauntlet that has fused to his hand, and allows him to teleport short distances and blast fireballs. roman wants to be a hero more than anything, so it's a good thing patton saved him when he was a baby from dying on the streets, and raised him as his own adoptive nephew, becoming a hero academy student. patton punishes roman harshly because though he has drive, the poor kid is horrible at being a hero, having no control over his powers and a general lack of common sense.

but when janus ends up running into roman while trying to pull a heist, he sees his own reflection in the eyes of this tired, abused young teen, and he strikes a deal with patton: if he gets to take roman out of the academy and raise him as his own, he'll give patton as much money as he wants, and if he fails to provide the amount patton wants, then patton can take JANUS back to the academy and become his prisoner.

patton is thrilled with this. not only does he get to get rid of one of his worst students, but he also gets the chance of having janus back in his clutches.

roman is a sweet little kid, but he's clearly very conditioned, only caring about helping other people, being a good hero, clearly things that patton drilled into him with years of harsh punishments. but the two become very close very quickly, as they realize that in this twisted world that sees patton as a perfect good guy, they're the only ones who truly understand each other.

but what if janus fails to get the money to patton? and how much does he sacrifice to make sure that roman is safe from harm forever?

there's more lore than this, but this is all i really want to discuss in one post because it's already a lot. let me know what you think!! it's one of my favorite aus of all time, and i can't wait to write about this.

[universitypenguin]

Do you think a mc needs to be likeable? The obvious answer should be no but then there are characters that just makes you go "ugh! They are so unbearable, I don't want to read this anymore!"

@ktficworld Here's my opinion: your character needs to be likable in comparison to the other people around them.

A key example of this is the movie Pulp Fiction. To give you a brief summary, without too many spoilers, this movie centers around two unsympathetic characters, Jules and Vincent. These guys are violent gangsters but right from the jump, Quinten Tarantino humanizes them with casual dialogue. He also sets up a shadow of darkness that helps you see the lighter shades of Jules and Vincent against a backdrop of pitch blackness. The shadow is their boss who is immediately positioned in the storyline as being so much worse than the main characters who we’re experiencing the story through. Knowing there's someone worse than Jules and Vincent wandering around in this universe draws us closer to these horrible criminals without us even noticing the slight of hand that Tarantino used to bring it about.

This, in my opinion, is the secret to making an “unlikable” character likable: play them against someone much worse than they are. Your readers will immediately pick the lesser of two evils and begin to cheer for your anti-hero.

Another factor about unlikable characters is that they’re often very engaging. Many of them are witty and humorous, a trait we automatically love in anyone because laughter makes us feel good on a biochemical level. It’s also important to recognize that an engaging character and a sympathetic character are two different things. Engaging characters fascinate us, but they don’t have to be sympathetic. 

For example, let's consider another Tarantino character: Hans Landa.

I don’t think anyone was rooting for the Nazi Colonel in Inglorious Bastards, yet he was the most memorable character of the whole film. Why? Unpredictability. The audience was spellbound whenever Col. Landa was on screen because you couldn’t guess his next move. He was active, motivated, and always had a clever plan. Even though he was incredibly unsympathetic, the audience wanted to see how Col. Landa was going to maneuver and turn things around to outsmart the protagonists.

Unexpectedness is key to selling an unsympathetic character, at least in my expereince. If your audience doesn’t like the person they’re viewing, then the best alternative to likability is fascination. This is probably the same reason people read books about serial killers. Their behavior is so deviant from the norm that it’s fascinating to study them and figure out what might have been going on in their minds or how they ended up so broken in the first place. 

Creativity is another factor that makes us like the villain. We know Batman is going to race to stop the train from crashing when The Joker places a bomb to detonate under the bridge. He’s the hero and that’s what heroes do. In that respect, Batman has become predictable. But The Joker can never be predictable - not really. Sure, he's going to cause chaos and mayhem, but how?! What will he think of next?! It's a question that easily holds our attention. We need The Joker to be original and find new, interesting ways of tormenting Batman. The audience is engaging with him due to the promise of unexpectedness and creativity. These are two sides of the same coin but I like to draw the distinction between making your unsympathetic character creative and making them unexpected. You can have the latter without the former in some cases, and it will work quite well. Throwing in some real creativity to your villainous character certainly adds spice to the recipe though, if you ask me.

This brings me to a common problem that writers - especially newer writers - can find themselves facing when they start working on longer plots. It’s what Brandon Sanderson refers to as “the Villain problem.”

The issue is that audiences often love the villain character more than the hero and they identify with the villain more than they do with the hero, because the villain is more active than the hero. Oftentimes the villain is the one who drives the whole story forward and the hero is trotting along, always lagging one step behind, which can become painful to watch unless that character is someone we’re rooting for. Hence, why the hero has to be sympathetic.

Let me prove my thesis about the villain being more captivating than the hero. 

Case Study #3: Thor and Loki. Who did you like more in the first movie? Loki. At least in the first two movies, I'd say that everyone was 100% on team Loki because he was so much more fun than Thor. He was motivated, active, and had a vision of what he wanted to accomplish. Thor was the reactive character who had no other goal than to stop Loki or, as in the first movie, to uncover Loki’s plot against him. Then in the 3rd movie the writers took the trope of ‘predictability’ and managed to use it against Loki, which was incredibly clever. Also, it proves my point that predictability makes a character boring.

The additional layers to Loki’s motivation fleshed him out as a character and really made his actions believable and highly sympathetic. However, despite all the sympathy he built up I would still say that his active role in driving the plot forward was a huge reason audiences loved him.

Another thing we love about an unsympathetic character is what I just touched on with Loki - understanding them. We want to know what could drive someone to such great lengths. If their reasons are plausible enough - as Loki’s were - then the audience will fall in love. Then your “unsympathetic” character can be turned into a real hit. 

To return to the metaphor I used in the Pulp Fiction example, Odin is the dark shadow that falls over Loki’s shades of gray. His actions serve to highlight the injustice that Loki suffered and turns his evil deeds - invading earth, trying to kill his adorable himbo brother - into inconsequential trivialities that the audience brushes off as if they were nothing, because we can feel Loki’s pain. We’ve seen the lengths he’s gone to in expressing that pain, how motivated he is to get the justice he feels he’s owed, and then boom! The unsympathetic character who was cast in shades of gray is turned into a bonafide anti-hero.

I’ll list a few examples of “unsympathetic” characters for you to consider below. If you’d like to do a few case studies of your own and see how my analysis stacks up against the portrayal of these anti-heroes, I would love to hear your thoughts on them:

Jules and Vincent - Pulp Fiction (1994)

Loki - Thor (2011)

Walter White - Breaking Bad

The Joker - The Joker (2019) & The Dark Knight (2008)

Hans Landa - Inglorious Bastards (2009)

Anton Chigurh - No Country for Old Men (2007)

Darth Vader - Various Star Wars Films

Thank you for such a wonderful ask - I had a lot of fun putting together my response!

[swallowtail-ageha]

Genuinely don't get redditors that try to say like. Pontiff sulyvahn is a tragic figure NO!!! HE LOSES HIS WHOLE APPEAL IF HE'S JUST CORRUPTED SADBOY #28R737293837271!!!!!

[typically-untypical]

Echoes of the Past - Day 19

Prompt:  “While some monsters are born, others are created. But, the worst monsters are those who believe themselves to be heroes.”

CW: Unsympathetic Roman, mild mention of fighting

Virgil ran down the alleyway, breath heavy as he attempted to hide. This was not how he expected his day to go and he wasn't happy with the outcome. It seemed, however, that that was all he ever tried to do. Hiding was such a big part of his life, he was pretty sure that was shy he had needed up with invisibility powers. It was good to be able to sneak away from uncomfortable situations, or to walk around the street without fear of being attacked because who attacked thin air? Somehow the hero chasing Virgil could see through his invisibility. He had been chased a few  city streets, the costumed "hero" making a scene as he shouted at thin air. Virgil hadn't even done something worthy of being chased. He had too much anxiety to possibly steal anything, so what did the costumed counterfeit want with him? 

Covering his mouth, Virgil did his best to hide his breath, looking around at his surroundings, trying to find a way out. He didn't even know how he was being spotted. His invisibility had never been beat before and he tried to sort through his thoughts. There had to be some reason why, was it air currents, or body heat? Maybe that’s what it was, didn’t this man have fire powers? Maybe he was reading Virgil’s body heat.

"Come out here you foul fiend, I have come to put an end to your villainy. "

Literally what villainy, he didn't do anything except exist. Okay maybe he had snuck onto the subway before but like, how was that any different than people jumping the gates? And he hadn't even done it recently, not since getting a job where he could actually afford to pay the transit fees. Honestly this whole thing felt targeted just because he had powers.

"Found you," the man was standing above him, wearing a theatrical prince costume, holding a sword that was on fire. Definitely fire powers, which explained so much. How did he cover his heat signature? He didn’t see any steam pipes or anything like that. Virgil didn’t want to die here.

"What do you have planned for me?" He asked, keeping his voice steady no matter how his body shook. He wasn't going to let some bitch of a prince intimidate him, even if he was completely intimidated.

"I'm turning you into the authorities, for all of the crimes you have committed."

"What crimes?" He knew there was a desperate edge to his voice. His eyes scanned the alley, trying to find anything he could use to escape. There was a leaking water pipe and if Virgil had super strength, he could pull that down and shoot it at the man in front of him, but all he had was his invisibility. He usually loved his invisibility but right now he was wishing he had had a different power.

Think, Think, Think!

"All of the crimes you've committed." This man was obviously delusional. There was no way that Virgil was going to be able to talk his way out of this. He wanted to do things peacefully but he had a feeling he wasn't going to be able to. His only escape was going to be fighting. He didn't like that, fighting would almost cement his guilt, but not fighting might get him taken to the police, which Virgil did not have the spoons to deal with right now. There would be long conversations and stressful situations and he didn't want to deal with it. He would rather deal with prince pompous. The phrase might have been "fight or flight" but Virgil was going to make it 'and'. All he had to do was distract the vigilante long enough.

He closed his eyes, dropping his invisibility, before lunging forward. There was no point in putting his energy into invisibility if the other man could see him. It would be better to focus on what he could do right now. Fight, survive, escape.

Virgil lurched forward, pushing the other man to the ground, his sword losing it's flame as it flew to the side. Apparently, he wasn't expecting Virgil to fight back. That was his mistake. Scrambling to his feet, Virgil made his way towards the end of the alley, trying to get to the street, he could mix in with the crowd and actually disappear. Virgil heard a growl from behind him, and that really didn't sound good. He had made the prince mad, but as long as he could get to the street...

Scrambling to escape, Virgil turned around the corner and was immediately grabbed. "Invisibility, now." The hand around his arm was firm but not harsh.

Virgil reacted on instinct, making himself invisible despite knowing it wouldn't work. Then he heard the hiss of a water pipe, looking back to see a looming warm fog filling the alley as he was dragged off. What was happening? What was happening?! Why was someone helping him? He wasn't going to complain but he still didn't understand what the fuck was happening.

After a few blocks they finally stopped, the man pulling Virgil into a restaurant that was full of people. He had told Virgil to drop the invisibility about a block back, and Virgil had finally been able to concentrate long enough of the dark hair and golden eyes of the man who had rescued him. "You alright?" 

Virgil honestly wasn't sure, but he nodded anyway. He was begging to feel numb. So much had happened tonight. "Who are you?"

"Your savior, now let's sit and talk, I'm starving." 

Virgil looked at the man who was leading him into a booth, handing him a menu like he owned the place. "You are pretty cocky about all of this." His voice was tired and the other man just raised an eyebrow at Virgil.

"You aren't the first I've rescued from the Prince of Piety, and you probably won't be the last. We are getting a team together. Do you want to join?"

Virgil looked down at the menu, let out a slow sigh. "French fries first, then we can talk business." He said softly. Today had been an exhausting day, and he knew that it was probably just going to get worse from here.

@simplestoryteller @fantasticfangirl21 @joylessnightsky @melaniidarling @tsshipmonth2020

[dimitrscu]

I've been in enough fandoms to know that this whole "radahn was beating malenia" thing is going to be one of those "fandom delusions" that will keep going on and on no matter what. It will not die. If the discourse comes up again on Elden Ring's anniversary, the same people will bring it up once more. Just fandoms being fucking exhausting, like clockwork.

Oh yeah for sure I don’t expect this to ever go away or anything. The whole “this vs that” has been a thing in quite a few fandoms for me too. I still remember the witcher fandom back in the day with whole Yen vs Triss thing and oh boy was that exhausting.

It’s funny how all this died down and then all it took was the game award hype to bring it back up again. Mainly the discussion surrounding the game being nominated for best narrative. You wait it’ll win goty then it’ll all come up again

[ghetsis]

.

[mishkakagehishka]

Like literally what if i do write that essay ab enstars and the meta of it all, the narrative, the plot and character arcs, the intertextuality (and its meaning in the narrative) and the way they almost invoke the "classics" (i say bc i'm not referencing ancient literature, but more 18th-20th century) with the avoidance of the modern hero and villain archetypes (which is, ironically, invoking the ancient and medieval classic lol)

[akisata-moved]

btw i will never ever be able to sympathize with any main character who is also a rapist. like. full stop

[whumpster-dumpster]

"Join us, join the winning side. You won't have to be afraid of Villain or take orders from them anymore."

"Heh...Wow. You honestly think I follow them because I'm afraid of them? No. You don't know them at all. But I think you'll be afraid of them after they come for me and they see how you treat your prisoners."

[weedle-testaburger]

i wonder sometimes if people who are like 'why do villains have to have a big motive/be sympathetic, why can't they just be bad guys?' hear themselves

[howifeltabouthim]

'I thought things would be different after we got back home . . . ' 'Different how?' 'I don't know. I mean, we went through this huge thing. And then I came back and everyone just expected me to go back to normal and act like it never happened. But it happened . . . I was there too. I almost died too. It's like no one cares except my family.'

Shannon Messenger, from Exile

[itmeblog]

It's Black History Month

(Over here in the US of A) So here are some podcasts to check out.

Absolutely no Adventures - a fantasy (un)adventure story that follows Sig, the owner of Signature Eats bakery, as he aggressively avoids becoming embroiled in any daring quests or chosen one shenanigans even though the universe really seems to want him to do just that. This is a story about cutting Joseph Campbell’s Hero’s Journey off at the knees to chill with friends and staying far, far away from the slightest whiff of adventure. And also baking. This is also a story about baking.

Afflicted - Lovecraft Country meets True Blood in this new series from award-winning producers Tonia Ransom and Jen Zink. In season one, a small East Texas town suffers supernatural disasters caused by a demonic book bound in human flesh…and only hoodoo can save the town from its affliction.

Apollyon - In the early 22nd century, the Apollyon virus wiped out 75% of the world’s population, and now most of the world is governed by the International Conglomerate of Research Scientists. Dr. Theo Ramsey is an ICRS research scientist who may have just discovered an effective vaccine for Apollyon, but the stakes to get the vaccine to the public are higher than she ever imagined.

Between Heartbeats - Tan immersive Urban Fantasy about the hurt, the powerful, and their growth within a broken world. We follow Sundiata, a guilt-ridden time manipulator with a knack for unemployment, and Nadia, a moralistic telepath determined not to lose control, as they balance frayed mental health against an unsympathetic police state. But when a malevolent presence rears is head, their neuroses become the least of their problems. Can our heroes make the most of their abilities before the option is taken from them?

Fan Wars: The Empire Claps Back - Two passionate Star Wars fans on opposite sides of the Last Jedi debate argue via Skype after their favorite forum closes down. If you love Star Wars (or call yourself a proud member of any fandom), you’ll love this romantic comedy told via

Harlem Queen - a Black historical fiction audio drama based on the life and times of Black, woman, "gangster" Madame Stephanie St. Clair during the Harlem Renaissance.

His Royal Fakin' Highness - What if Ophelia helped Hamlet get his throne back? This modern day, romantic comedy re-imagining of Shakespeare's Hamlet asks just that. As they stage an engagement in the wake of the king's death, these childhood frenemies must decide between duty and love.

InCo (This one's mine :D) - A Sci-Fi story about a disgruntled information seller, a mysterious space boy, and an android doing her best.

Janus Descending - a limited series, science fiction/horror audio drama podcast, follows the arrival of two xenoarcheologists on a small world orbiting a binary star. But what starts off as an expedition to survey the planet and the remains of a lost alien civilization, turns into a monstrous game of cat and mouse, as the two scientists are left to face the creatures that killed the planet in the first place.

Lady Lucy - Lady Lucy is an audio drama inspired by Shakespeare's "Dark Lady" Sonnets, 127-154. Between running her brothel, fighting the Church, murdering her friends' abusive husbands, and pretending to be a poet, the last thing Lucy needed back in 1586 was a surprise visit from her former flame... Will Shakespeare.

Liars and Leeches - Tonya Wright felt it all after the tragic murders of her sister and brother-in-law in a random act of gun violence. Struggling to travel outside of her home, she now lives constantly on edge about perceived threats that seem to surround her.

Nightlight - Multi-award winning horror podcast featuring creepy stories with full audio production written by Black writers and performed by Black actors. So scary it’ll make you want to leave your night light on.

Null /Void - a science fiction audio drama about a young woman, Piper Lee, whose life is saved by a mysterious voice named Adelaide. Piper soon uncovers a malicious plot by a monopoly of a tech company and must work with her friends and an unusual ally to help foil their deadly plot.

Out of Ashes - (currently remastering season 1) Follow a group of survivors as they navigate the ruins of modern civilization and battle against demons, ghosts, monsters and the looming threat of extinction from an ancient power.

Small Victories - A recently recovered drug addict tries to start her new lease on life, too bad life has it out for her.  This dramatic comedy follows Marisol through the ups and downs of her life.

The Courtship of Mona Mae - In the 1870s, pioneers Mona Mae Christophe and Zekial Montgomery search the American West for Mona Mae's mother, Clara. Mona must recall a past, long forgotten in order to survive, so that she can find her mother, love and create a way of life for herself.

Vega a Sci-Fi Adventure Podcast - In a fantasy futuristic world, Vega Rex is employed by her government to kill off the world's worst criminals. She's never met a criminal she couldn't catch…until now. Join Vega as she journeys through a world of bumbling apprentices, powerful technogods, and her biggest challenge yet. Hosted by Ivuoma Hall.

Witchever Path - is an anthology series where your decisions effect the story. Our stories are based in America’s NorthEast, featuring characters finding themselves in the thick of the unknown while tackling issues like queer identity, gender, race, and spirituality. Stories often focus on the communities not typically seen in stories taking place in New England, and giving voice to the perspectives of those communities while uniting under some universal themes. And the supernatural happens. A lot.

(All descriptions were taken from websites)

If you want to find more and there are way more there's a directory :D

[seravphs]

ੈ♡˳·˖✶ — AIZAWA X READER

“I’m dying.”

“You’re not dying.” 

You sit up on the couch and level your sulkiest pout at him. “No, seriously!” 

“If you were serious, I doubt you would be getting up,” he says dryly. He’s completely unsympathetic as he continues mopping the floor. 

“I’m dying and you don’t care about me,” you whimper. “I’m going to die all alone! And miserable! And unloved!”

Aizawa sighs. Scrubs the palm of his hand over his closed eyes. Shoves his hands through his hair. You feel the tiniest hint of guilt creep in. 

He drops his mop and walks over to you. For a second, you think he’s going to scold you. You know you’re being bratty. Aizawa’s had a long, tough day of being a pro-hero, and now he has to come back to babysit your spoiled ass? 

“Hey,” he murmurs, slipping his fingers under your chin so he can tilt your gaze up towards him. “Don’t do that.” 

“Don’t be mad,” you whisper, burying your face into his stomach. The cool cloth of his black silk pajamas feels nice against your overheated face. You really do feel awful. 

“I’m not mad,” he says. 

“Good. Cause you’ll regret this when your wife is cold in her grave and you’ll have to reflect on-“ 

“What brought this on?” He’s carding his fingers through your hair as you hide your face against him. It feels nice, having him comfort you. 

You could never lie to him. 

“I’m scared,” you sniffle, half genuine emotion, half illness. 

“It’s just a fever, baby,” he says. “Want me to take you to the hospital again? We can double check.” 

“No,” your voice cracks in sync with the plummet of your stomach. To your embarrassment, tears are leaking out of the corners of your eyes. “I was worried about you.” 

He waits patiently, still stroking your hair. 

While you had gotten your diagnosis, Aizawa had thought it might be a good idea to get his check up too. He was efficient like that, always the cool, level headed one in your little duo. 

“I saw your medical history. You have so many close calls, Shouta. So many times you could’ve died for real.” 

Aizawa pushes you down on the couch and tucks you back under the covers. He strokes your sweaty hair off your head, thankfully regretfully. He’s always tried to hide the intensity of his second life from you. There was no reason for you to have to face the brutality he did. It satisfied something in him to be able to protect you, even from a part of himself. But looking at the sparkling ring on your finger, he knows that it’s all about to end soon. 

Being a hero is as much a part of him as being your Shouta is. He won’t be the kind of fiancée who hurts you by locking himself away, even the aspects of him he wants to keep from you. He knows better, even if he likes seeing you as his refuge from hero life. At the very least, all he can do is try to ease the hurt. 

He lifts your ringed hand and presses a kiss to the stone you picked out together. “I’ll be careful. I promise not to worry you.” 

[dilatorywriting]

Heroes vs. Villains : Pomefiore

Gender Neutral Reader x Pomefiore vs. Neige Leblanche Word Count: 2.8k

Summary: Woe to the Ramshackle Prefect, being caught up in the drama between the Disney Villains and their respective heroes. Pomefiore Version ie. Wherein Vil tries his very best to correct your abominable wardrobe and you swoop in to kidnap save an unsuspecting gentleman in distress.

[PART 1] [PART 2] [PART 3]

“Your wardrobe is atrocious. And I’m not going to be seen with someone who looks like they rolled around on the floor of their closet and put on whatever stuck to them first.”

Firstly, your closet wasn’t big enough to step inside, let alone roll around in. So take that, Mister Metaphor.

Secondly, you didn’t even own enough clothing for that to be an option. Dressing yourself like some kind of confetti monster? Yeah, no. You had three pairs of donated, grey, uniforms and a couple over-large sweatshirts that Jack had kindly donated to you once fall set in. Today it just so happened to be Uniform #2 that was the clean one of the set. So.

All of that being said, from the sounds of things, your Crimes Against Fashion had spurred an emergency shopping trip. A shopping trip spearheaded by the Vil Schoenheit, and very hopefully being funded by his seemingly never-emptying wallet. Also, to be perfectly honest, Ramshackle was cold. And you would very much like some new socks and at least one fuzzy pair of pajama pants to go with Jack’s old crewnecks. Maybe a nice throw blanket. That alone was worth the blow to your dignity.

“Will I survive?” you lamented, as Rook fussed with your sad excuse for an umbrella.

“No,” Epel drawled, entirely unsympathetic. Not that you could blame the guy. An afternoon that the House Warden spent with you was one less hovering over Epel—one less hour stuck in front of a mirror, one less etiquette class that was more punishment than lesson. Perhaps one more secret rack of barbecue ribs snuck in from the Savanaclaw Dorm.

“Mon Coeur, you are going to get soaked,” Rook tutted, finally conceding on trying to fix your shredded nightmare of a parasol. You’d found it in one of the many dusty closets Ramshackle had to offer. One of the ghosts said they recognized it from their time on campus two-hundred years ago.

“Sorry.”

“It is far from your fault!” Rook gasped, and Epel rolled his eyes.

“Why don’t you ask Vil to buy you one?” your purple-haired friend mocked, and you fought the urge to stick your tongue out at him.

“Maybe I will,” you sniffed, indignant.

“More likely he’ll just see it an’ get all upset, and be like, ‘ah! How ugly this darn thing is! Throw it away before my eyes bleed!’” he crooned, dramatic—so caught up in his theatrics that he nearly dropped the little apple carving he was working on.

“Yeah, right. Like Vil would ever be caught dead saying ‘darn,’” you jabbed, and Epel hurled the fruit at your head. Rook caught it gracefully and returned it to the grumpy farm boy with a gentle toss. “But otherwise, spot on.”

“‘Spot on’ about what, precisely? Your collective complete and utter lack of decorum? This is a public space, show some class please.”

And with that scathing remark, Vil Schoenheit had officially entered the scene.

The venomous beauty’s purple eyes traced over you in the way that they always seemed to—picking apart whatever things he deemed worthy of plucking. His gaze landed almost immediately on your near-disintegrated umbrella, and it narrowed with distaste.

“You’re not bringing that with us. In fact, you might as well just toss it with the garbage on the way out.”

You and Epel made painfully long eye contact.

Rook shoved a red-and-white checkered parasol into your hands with an indulgent smile.

The journey to the outlets from there was actually pretty pleasant. Vil’s private car was swanky and smelled like the fancy sort of air fresheners that didn’t prick at your nose with an oversaturation of chemical fruitiness. He rattled off list upon list of ‘essentials’ that was sounding longer and more expensive by the minute. But (as he immediately confirmed upon seeing your mounting horror) this was to be a Schoenheit Expenditure, so you decided to let him enjoy himself and tally up a ridiculous amount of brand name garbage.

The stores had private parking. And that was immediately intimidating.

Vil fixed his ‘normal people disguise’ more firmly in place before walking you through the building with a surprising level of enthusiasm.

“It works a bit differently—” he continued, piling item after item into a cart that was already close to overflowing. “—Most of these products are meant to be customized, but I suppose we can look into that later. Off-The-Rack is not usually my preferred method of browsing, but it will have to do until we’ve bulked out your general wardrobe into something passable.”

He was muttering to himself like a mad scientist—holding swatches to your face, tugging bits of various fabric against your fingers. His efficiency and complete competence in all things was endearing, if not a bit terrifying.

Then, Vil draped a soft, amethyst, scarf around your neck.

“Here,” he said, still mostly buried in the racks. “You can wear this now—for the cold. This color suits you.”

“Really?” you hummed, doing your absolute best not to let your eyes fall to the price tag dangling off the end of it. You failed. “It’d fit you better,” you rambled, trying to take your mind off the triple-goddamn-digits you’d just seen. “It actually matches your eyes kind of perfectly, don’t you think?”

There was a pause then, and for a moment you worried that you’d said something irritating—maybe unintentionally questioning his fashion judgements or blablabla. One thing that you knew for sure was that when the King of Poisons had to stop and ponder on a reply, you’d done fucked up. And were his ears red? Oh no you must have really pissed him off—

“I am trying to focus on turning you into an even marginally acceptable member of society,” he rushed out finally, sounding strained. “So if you wouldn’t mind.”

“Fine, fine,” you sighed. “I’ll go grab us some coffees or something.”

“Don’t wander too far,” he called, sounding distracted. “And no—”

“No caffeine, decaf only. Stimulants will ruin your skin, and digestive tract, and blablabla,” you droned. “I know your drill.”

“That goes for you too, potato,” he tutted, a pleasant warmth coasting over the reprimand.

You waved him off with a grumble and headed out into the main building. It was bright—nearly unpleasantly so—and every surface looked like it was made of a stone so expensive that you probably wouldn’t even be able to pronounce its name.

You wandered around aimlessly for a few minutes, wondering idly if a place this upscale would even have a café kiosk. Surely rich people still drank coffee, but you’d also heard something once upon a time about how ‘to-go cups’ and ‘not savoring the brew’ were some kind of gross social faux pas. You sighed, and as your shoulders slouched you felt a brush of sinfully soft fabric against the back of your arm.  

You froze and reached hesitantly up to your neck. You were still wearing the purple scarf. You pinched at the ridiculously expensive cashmere with wide eyes. Did this make you a thief? I mean, no one had bothered to stop you or anything. Did these sorts of stores have different rules? Like an honesty policy maybe? And you technically hadn’t even left the building yet! So maybe—

WHAM!

“Ah! I’m so sorry! I just—I have to—!”

You were ripped out of your morality spiral by a sound like a storm, and you looked up past your assailant to see a herd of people stampeding in your direction. Immediately, your I-was-shopping-with-an-internationally-recognizable-superstar instinct kicked in, and you bodily hauled yourself and whatever poor sap who had nearly mowed you down into the nearest store and then into one of the changing rooms beyond that.

The tempest that followed was a roar of cacophonous noise, but thankfully brief. Only a few people ducked into the store you’d taken refuge in, and none of those ventured very close to your hiding place. You breathed out a sigh of relief. It sounded weirdly muffled behind the changing room’s thick, velvety, curtains.

“Th-Thank you for that,” stuttered whoever you’d just kidnapped.

“Don’t worry about it,” you shrugged, and turned to get a better look at your new partner in crime. Immediately you froze, an odd sense of recognition working through you. “Uhm—Are you Neige? Neige Le Blanc?”

“Leblanche,” he corrected gently, and then winced. Like he’d only just realized that maybe outing himself after being nearly accosted by a mob was not the best idea.

“Oh. Alright,” you said, dazed.

This was Vil’s arch nemesis? He reminded you a little of a cocker spaniel—with big, wide, heavy-lashed eyes and soft, dark, curls framing his perfectly petite face. Sure, he was lovely. And maybe you were a little biased here, but this guy—this, this walking cherub—was standing in the way of Vil’s absolute, tyrannical, reign over all things sexy? Sure, he was adorable enough. But most beautiful of them all? Come on.

“U-Uhm…” Neige stuttered, nervously clasping his fingers. “Do you… Want an autograph or something? As a thank you?”

“What?” you blinked, allowing yourself to be pulled back into the very surreal situation unfolding around you. “Oh. No thanks. I don’t want to be massacred.”

He gasped. “I know that they may not have left the best first impression just now, but I promise that my fans would never do that!”

It wasn’t his fans you were worried about. Vil’s high heels looked sharp enough to gut a man, and you did not want to be the first test subject for that hypothesis.

“Don’t worry about it,” you shrugged.

“…I might have to camp out in here for a while,” he mumbled after a quiet moment, morose.

“Probably,” you sighed, sympathetic. “Sorry.”

“You, uhm, you don’t mind keeping this a secret, do you?” Neige smiled, wobbly.

“I’m not going to turn you over to your ravenous fangirls,” you reassured. Because sure, the mean-spiritedness of the residents of Night Raven College may have been rubbing off on you, but you had yet to become that heartless.  

“Thank you,” he relaxed, genuine appreciation warming his dark eyes. And then he aimed that kilowatt, darling-of-the-world, smile in your direction and fired. “You’re my hero.”

For a moment you were honestly, thoroughly, dazzled. It was like you could hear songbirds and heavenly choirs singing all around you—filling the dark space with sparkles and warmth that danced merrily across your skin like the soft fizz in a soda pop.

But then, like a sign from God, your phone buzzed angrily in your pocket and you glanced down quick enough to catch a bright V.S. flash across the screen.

Oh shit.

You turned, ready to make a bolt for it and leave your companion stranded, when something atrocious caught your eye.

“Is that a sweater vest,” you gaped, poking at the stitched material poking out from beneath Neige’s RSA blazer. “With squirrels on it.”

“U-Uhm. Yes?” he squeaked, cheeks dusted pink.

How in the fuck does Vil think he’s less fuckable than this guy, what the fuck.

“I-I’m sorry, but did you just say—"

You hurriedly pulled the (stolen?) scarf from your neck and shoved it pointedly over Neige’s mouth, before wrapping it securely around the rest of his head. Your phone was buzzing again—longer and sharper this time. Like a certain someone was spamming you with indignant, ‘how dare you abandon my magnificent ass,’ essays.

“So that hopefully no one will recognize you,” you (lied) explained cheerfully, and tightened the makeshift gag. Now he could be the accidental thief. Neige gurgled his thanks into the fabric, or at least, you assumed that’s what he was spluttered out. It was hard to tell past the, you know, gag.

You peaked out beyond the curtains and observed the empty storefront like a proper super spy. All clear. Thank God.

You swiveled back and thumped Neige Leblanche on the shoulder with what was perhaps a bit more force than necessary, seeing as his knees had started to shake. He swayed in place, an odd shade of pink creeping past the barrier of the scarf and nearly all the way to his hairline. Hopefully he wasn’t about to faint or something—you really didn’t have time for that.

“Good luck,” you told him emphatically, before darting out of your hiding space and back into the horrible fluorescent nightmare before you.

“Wait!” you heard him call. “I didn’t even get your name—"

But at this point, your phone had graduated from spurts of rage to outright howling in indignation, so you didn’t have much choice but to keep on running. You pressed down on the green ‘accept call’ button with all the enthusiasm of a soldier being sent off to the front lines.

“What?”

“Don’t you take that tone of voice with me,” Vil hissed, doing an impressive job of keeping his voice low and level while simultaneously sounding ready to tear your ass to pieces. “Where are you?”

“I got lost looking for coffee with no caffeine. You know. The best part of the coffee,” you admitted. Sort of.

“You got lost?” he sounded incredulous. “In a single-story shopping center? With maps at every corner?”

“There were a lot of people,” you defended.

He sighed, clearly put upon, and you had the distinct impression that he was pinching the bridge of his nose. “Just meet me back at the side entrance. We should leave—it’s starting to get crowded and I don’t want to deal with the stampede when I’m inevitably recognized.”

“Of course,” you agreed easily, and made your way up to one of these supposed ‘maps at every corner.’ And oh. It was actually… very well drawn and very helpful. Fuck you, huh? “Did you get everything you needed?”

“I got everything you needed,” he corrected. “And we will be trying every single item on when we return to campus.”

You whined, and man, oh man. You didn’t think it was possible to smack someone upside the head through a phone, but somehow Vil made it work.

It didn’t take long from there to find the exits, and just in the nick of time too it would seem! As a steady stream of eager ‘shoppers’ began to flood into the building—most of them twittering about ‘did you catch a photo’ or ‘I heard someone saw him around that one store!’ Vil watched them through the tinted lenses of his glasses, lips pursed.

You were just about to step back into the car and out of the chilly rain when an eruption of screaming broke out somewhere in the near-distance. You immediately braced for impact, but when you were not immediately trampled into a pile of gelatinous goop beneath the thundering feet of hundreds of fanatics, you chanced a glance upwards.

Neige Leblanche was being herded out of the main entrance by a troupe of security guards, each one holding a different black umbrella over his head. It created a shadowed canopy that, despite the rain and gloom, somehow managed not to dull the radiance oozing off him and his perfect-perfectness. The fair beauty rubbed awkwardly at the back of his head, as if perplexed by the swarm of people ducking in and out like a pack of dogs circling a big, juicy, steak. Nevertheless, he waved to each and every fan—smiling demurely and sweetly as he went.

“We should go while they’re distracted,” you whispered, tugging at Vil’s arm. “And in case the swooning is contagious.”

He didn’t move. There was an odd sort of look on his face, one that usually preceded some of the most brutally cutting insults you’d ever heard.

You turned back to the growing mob, curious about what could have possibly snagged his attention—and ire—so completely.

Wrapped artfully around Neige’s neck, and flapping neatly alongside the chilly autumn breeze, was your purple scarf.

The dainty actor lifted the soft fabric to his lips, burrowing his chin into it not unlike how some adorable little round-cheeked bunny might photogenically cuddle into a—a cloud. Or a pillow of cotton candy. Or something else equally as cute and ridiculous. Neige’s cheeks bloomed a fetching shade of pink and his wide, brown, eyes glittered from over the folds of cashmere. His audience squealed.

“Well, at least it’s not you they’re mauling this time,” you hummed, shooting Vil another hesitant glance. That sour expression had twisted into a familiar and awful icy sneer that you hadn’t seen him dawn in a very long time. “Vil?” You called. “Are you alright?”

“Hmm?” he blinked, seeming to come back to himself. That frigid snarl was washed away by a mask of complete stoicism, and honestly, you weren’t sure which was worse. “Oh. Yes. Of course. Shall we?”

The hand he offered to help you climb over the many boxes of clothes and into the backseat was stiff, tight. It clapped around your wrist like a pair of manacles, and he didn’t let go until you were out of the parking lot, past the backroads, beyond the gates of Night Raven, and all the way back into the lavish halls of Pomefiore. 

[dailyadventureprompts]

Villain: Mavros Arator, Voice of the Ascendant

The demagogues seem everywhere these days, putting their words to the tune of the populace's nebulous worries: this week it's the impiety of the realm's leaders, last week it was the barbarians infringing on the borders, before that it was the decaying morality of the youth. It's the same old song, just with new lyrics to fit with the times. No one's sure just when the crescendo will hit or how, but everyone who's been paying attention know they're going to try to bring the whole house down when it does.

Setup: A charismatic figure has risen to prominence channelling discontent in the wake of an unfavourable war. As a gifted orator and veteran of a conflict remembered for being more "glorious", the words of Mavros Arator carry weight with both the military and common people. He agitates on behalf of those who resent the diplomatic capitulations used to secure peace in a losing war his own rulers started, and argues for a revival of "national spirit" to strengthen the homeland so it does not allow such a disgraceful defeat to happen again.

What separates Mavros from any other blowhard protofascist is the fact that he's looking to summon a demon to purge his homeland of those unsympathetic to his cause. Scoured clean of all those unwilling to fight and die and obey, he and the other true believers will form an unstoppable army that will march out under the banner of conquest to settle at spearpoint every historical grievance in the realm's long history.

It's up to the party to stop this instigator and the hatemob he's made of their neighbours before he enacts his plan and ends up ascending to full dark lord status.

Background: Mavros loved his homeland, as a young man he went to war to defend it, spent decades bleeding for it, and that love endured even after his homeland spat him out with nothing but a soldier's pension and a lifetime of traumas he had no words to explain.

That was the point of course, empires are built on the back of men like Mavros, shaped from their earliest days to believe that their homeland is singularly great and beset by threats on all sides, or that war is the measure by which a son may prove his faith and loyalty rather than an enterprise made to expand the holdings of the powers that be.

The problem for those powers is that Mavros didn't die like he was supposed to, he soldiered on driven by a manic dedication that persisted despite his comrades getting scythed down around him. When he was too old for soldiering he turned to having a family, raising four boys and feeding them one after another into the waiting jaws of his nation.

A man less ardent in his love of home, less firm in his faith might have wavered when they brought the first of his sons' bloody helmets back in lieu of a body. He might have seen how his virtues, his loyalty, had been abused by those above him, made him question the justness of the wars and conquests and pain he had been apart of. instead that loss, made him open to change. Instead Mavros's convictions deepened, and by the time of his third son's death he had become so entrenched in the pit of his beliefs that he had unearthed a new truth: He loved his homeland, it was just being held back by the people who didn't love it enough.

It was deep in that pit where Mavros first heard the whispering of Diridaxx, the fiend known to diabolists as "He who claws from below". In ages past the demon was said to prey upon the weak, wicked, and impious, before clashing with an ancient hero and being struck down with a blow so divinely empowered that it not only buried the fiend deep underground but reduced him to ash along the way, depriving him of the strength required to ever escape. The depths of Mavros's despair and his own desire to see those "less thans" cleared from his home formed a connection between man and demon: first dreams, then visions, then a pact. Influence in exchange for escape, followed by victory in exchange for slaughter. The fact that the hero of the old myth happened to be one of the founders of the realm that handed Mavros's own homeland its recent defeat was just icing on the cake.

Adventure Hooks:

The party is likely to encounter Mavros's influence long before the man himself, as thugs, opportunists, and grifters look to take advantage of the post-war unrest to raise their place in the world and make good on his words. A troop of discontented soldiers may be shaking down travlers on the road as an unofficial "toll" to repay their service , while an enterprising merchant might stoke xenophobia to turn townsfolk against a competitor of forign origin.

It'll take more than speeches and random acts of violence to summon Diridaxx from the pit, it will take sacrifice. (un)Luckily for Mavros, he's been sacrificing all his life, and all that is required is a bit of occult-recontextualization to turn the deaths of his sons into a ritual years in the making. With fiend's magic his follower's resources at his command, it's only a matter of time before he gathers the bones of his three dead sons (and their haplessly dutiful surviving brother,) from their resting place in foreign lands and cremates them, suffusing their pyresmoke with Diridaxx's own noxious essence.

If you want to add another big bad to the mix and given similar themes of would be tyranny and xenophobia, consider checking out my genocidal fallen angel villain: Insiyah who could be very easily be using Mavros as her agent, or working alongside him to bring about his vision.

Also consider checking out my writeup on how d&d tends to mishandle matters of morality in it's game, and the simplistic way it views evil. Writing that inspired me to write a villain who was a very human sort of evil who utilized magic, rather than the all too common magical evil around which most campaigns are based.

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