Tumgik
#and he was a plot twist villain
Text
If I had a nickel for every time Ben Barnes portrayed a morally gray villain in a Netflix show who got his face terribly scarred at the very end of the first season, and also got his girlfriend a bouquet of blue irises, I'd have two nickels. It isn't much, but it's weird that it happened twice.
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
243 notes · View notes
poorly-drawn-mdzs · 7 months
Text
Tumblr media
Gaslighter? I hardly know her!
[First] Prev <–-> Next
2K notes · View notes
sage-nebula · 1 year
Text
One obscure little Sonic thing that always lives rent-free in the back of my head is the Bad End to 8-bit Sonic 2, where it's implied that Eggman followed through on his threat to kill Tails since Sonic didn't bring him the Chaos Emeralds. It's ambiguous, so people who just don't want to think that happened can believe that, but the music cues in the updated re-release of the game and the fact that Tails just isn't with Sonic in the Bad End (and why wouldn't he be, if he were alive?) suggest otherwise to me.
Anyway, setting aside the fact that I don't think Sonic let Eggman live for very long after that (because there are a lot of things that Sonic can forgive but killing Tails isn't one of them), I also think about how Sonic would have to live after that knowing Tails was dead, knowing it was because he failed to save him . . .
. . . but also, thinking about multiverse shenanigans, I also think about, what if that Sonic encountered canon!Tails . . . a Tails who was successfully rescued / protected by his Sonic, who got to grow up to do amazing things like save Station Square from a nuke, and protect Sonic just as many times as Sonic protected him, and create amazing inventions and clean energy that helped the planet instead of hurt it.
And of course Sonic from the 8-bit Bad End would be proud, but also he'd be hit by the fact that . . . wow. His Tails could have done all that. His Tails could have grown up to be so brilliant, so amazing, such a positive force for the world, if he hadn't been murdered when he was 4 because Sonic didn't have all the Chaos Emeralds when he went to confront Eggman that one time.
It would be hard for Sonic from the 8-bit Bad End to look at Tails for a number of reasons, not the least of which being he misses his own little brother so badly—but also, knowing all that his Tails could have accomplished if he'd lived, and knowing that he'll never ever have the chance? Yeah, that would add a whole other layer to it, too.
277 notes · View notes
thatswhatsushesaid · 1 year
Text
Tumblr media
shitpost dispatches from the sangyao dungeons - [???/π] incorrect but plausibly canon quotes edition
173 notes · View notes
readyforsomeslapstick · 6 months
Text
alright, taking bets on who is holding the flashlight at the end of Ep8
I've got my money on two candidates:
either the one person who was in the Biddle house that we haven't heard from, and who was sold as a villain from the start.
or the one person who willingly walked into the Biddle house but whose plans got massively derailed by Harold's sudden appearance.
it's either Allison, the ex-girlfriend, or Nathan Bratt himself.
If I'm wrong, then Disney needs new writers.
29 notes · View notes
worstloki · 6 months
Text
Isekai where Darcy/Jane hit Thor with their van and Thor wakes up as a precious princess character of some fairytale world. Things progress as they tend to in isekai with some poor romantic interest villain character inadvertently ending up around him. Thor wants to get out of this world so bad and is subtly trying to drop hints for the villain guy to spill info on how to dimension hop. It soon becomes evident that Loki was also isekai’d and is stuck as the story’s villain.
23 notes · View notes
rosquinn · 7 months
Text
Tumblr media
bsd fans when the 3 year arc is solved in a 20 minutes episode (dazai had a plan)
26 notes · View notes
cheese-water · 1 year
Text
Empiresblr: Oh my god. I am so HYPED for Jimmy’s villain arc he hinted at this episode! It’s been a long time coming and after all the character had been though, I can’t wait to see how The Sheriff takes his revenge!
Empiresblr who also watched dsmp:
Tumblr media
109 notes · View notes
whynotimtired · 2 years
Text
I literally cannot get over the Luke and Leia parallels like of COURSE Will and El are twins of COURSE she's "the only hope" for Hawkins of COURSE he secretly has powers just like her. I'm going insane.
338 notes · View notes
speedane · 5 months
Text
Seeing a handful of people saying "I'd rather have Q than Evil Gaius sorry for shitting on MS1" in various platforms like Q is the only problem in MS1 lol
MS2 though is better than MS1 but the twist needs to be set up better. I would've accepted Gaius being evil if his motive is more aligned to his character although the writers are gonna deal with "then the EU/SD conflict is bullshit now that we know Gaius and Hyde are in cahoots with each other" now... but that's just my two cents
16 notes · View notes
Text
Ok, but what about Tonelico in Twisted-Wonderland?
Like, she wakes up in a coffin in another world (thankfully, not another lostbelt/lostworld), and she decides to take the form of her first ascension. Why? Because she doesn't know what's going on, where she is, or how fucked this place is. So it's better to seem as unthreatening as possible.
The thing about Twisted-Wonderland is that it is a world in which the people who should have lost won. A place where villains accomplished what they wanted when they shouldn't have.
Tonelico is Morgan La Fey, a villain.
So there is a possibility that she would finally, for once, win and accomplish what she always wanted (a place to belong that she can actually call home without fear that she may lose it at any moment).
What I'm basically saying is Tonelico may finally find the happiness she deserves in a villains world like Twisted-Wonderland (she may or may not try to permanently solve the blot problem, and she may or may not succeed).
Side note, I have the mental image of tonelico silently seething while planning ways to take out Crowley with dreams of taking control of the school herself (this crow man is useless when it really counts, and her mentality when it comes to incompetence has always been 'fine, I'll do it myself then').
12 notes · View notes
mirohtron · 1 year
Text
They'd met, before.
"It's all right, tiger." The superhero's attention was half-not on them as he spoke, flying down to ground a safe distance away from the burning building.
The civilian doubted the superhero remembered. They hoped that he didn't. Prayed. Buried their face into his shoulder just so that he wouldn't get a good look at their face. They hadn't used powers, had they? They didn't think they had. Superpowered people had greater strength, could hold their breath for longer, were more durable to fire and smoke, of course, but that wouldn't have been so noticeable, surely?
Just to stay safe, the civilian coughed a few times. They didn't know how regular human bodies reacted to inhaling so much smoke. They hoped they were doing it right.
The superhero gently set them on the ground. "Keep these people safe, yeah?" he said, jutting his chin to the people behind the two of them—and the crowd was mostly made up of the people the civilian had ushered out. The civilian looked down and nodded their head.
The superhero shot back up to the skies.
The civilian took to rounding everyone up, counting heads, inspecting for injuries. It was—it was odd, to do. Something so good, at the behest of one who told you off once upon a time for trying to do more. But surely the superhero didn't remember. Seventeen years was so long ago. Besides, the civilian understood now. Why they were told to not try to be better. Not be a superhero. You couldn't be a good person, as a superhero. It was impossible to not indulge in hedonism. To not lose yourself along the way. Goodness was like sand.
More people were getting dropped off by the superhero. Ambulances came. The civilian was fine, obviously, and didn't need help. Their breathing was fine. No burns on their arms, just ash. They helped paramedics. They soothed their neighbours. They prayed every evidence of their evil scheming that they'd brought back from their lair was burned in the fire. It wasn't much, but it was incriminating.
It didn't take much time for press to arrive. They ignored the civilian, at first. A couple interviewers came—small ones, who knew they wouldn't be able to talk over huge, charismatic journalists with years of experience—to ask questions. The civilian didn't want to give them their name. Or face. They pushed a camera away and tried moving away, but they caught a lady from the crowd coming straight for them.
"Here we have," she began, and shoved a mic in front of their face, "the brave civilian who took on the position of leader for the group of survivors of this burning tragedy. Civilian, how many people did you count injured?"
"I, uhm," the civilian began, and then another reporter shoved a mic in front of their face.
"What caused this fire?" he asked.
The civilian caught the lady rolling her eyes at him. "How long did it take for the superhero to arrive?" she asked. "Were there any casualties?"
The civilian tried putting on their most sheepish smile. "I'd really not like to answer any questions right now—"
"Did the superhero rescue you? Or did you run out of the building on your own?"
A camera flashed. Then another, and there was a brief moment of silence before the clicking of shutters was all that they could hear, and they were blinded by light. The superhero was right. They wouldn't survive heroism, with camera flashes burning their eyes out every other day. And if he didn't know their face before, he'd surely know now, with all the pictures that were being taken.
The civilian stepped back.
Like vultures, the reporters and camerapeople stepped closer. Crowded them. Shoved mics in their face. They couldn't see a single thing.
A big, strong, gloved hand rested on their shoulder. The civilian flinched and tensed up like stone. Between flashes, they caught smitten, blushing faces or story-hungry, predatory expressions from reporters wanting to stir up drama.
"Hey, everyone," said the superhero, over the civilian's shoulder, in a media-friendly, jovial tone and with a camera-ready smile that they could hear in their voice. He put a chummy arm around their shoulder and the civilian tried not to act put out. "I hope I'm not late. Wouldn't want to leave this poor thing to fend for themselves, ha! Am I right?" He stepped back and dragged the civilian with him, giving them a squeeze. "If you want to hide, just get behind me."
Aha. Right. When the civilian could totally just run right now. They very much wanted to, now that they'd gotten the opening and the reporters swarmed the superhero. They faked a laugh and half-hid behind the superhero.
"Superhero, superhero!"
"Yes?"
"What would you like to say to the brave civilian behind you? Eyewitnesses claim they were seen ushering out many people out of the burning building."
The civilian choked. Who the fuck told on them? They quickly searched for really good alleyways to disappear into.
"Ah—well, uhm." The civilian said stupidly. "Just trying to help! With, uhm, being raised with a good righteous role model like the superhero, instinct just overrode to save all those people." God, why did they say anything? They could feel their pallor.
"Oh, you look quite unwell. Did the fire cause several injuries?"
"Yes—yes! I might've, uhm, just inhaled too much smoke. God! Haha." The civilian coughed very weakly. "I should probably get to the hospital, y'know. Couldn't." That was a lie. They'd been checked on before the reporters arrived.
"Right, right." The superhero pat them on the back. "You should sit down. There's plenty of medical experts here."
The civilian did not look at him. They turned around and walked to an ambulance and sat there and watched the superhero walk to a spot further away, the reporters following like ducklings. The distance made it easier for them to breathe. A few officers answered questions here and there to reporters who had realised they wouldn't get an answer from the superhero.
Nobody bothered the civilian—there had been a couple reporters that came to them and the superhero politely and loudly requested that they 'keep off of the tired civilian'. They still caught the superhero eyeing them from time to time—did they recognise them? That scrawny little kid trying to be just like him, with a homemade suit and powers that they couldn't quite yet control? The civilian was half convinced they did. It made them want to shake out of their skin or maybe die. If the superhero recognised them, they'd probably be fucked. Royally. Their powers weren't so common.
The superhero glanced at them again. The civilian tapped their foot on the floor.
The superhero looked again. The civilian looked back this time, and tried to look a little ticked off. They didn't think they did that very well. They couldn't take it, though—they didn't like people. They didn't like the superhero, either. But they couldn't really leave. That would make them more suspicious.
So they waited.
Time passed.
People left as soon as the superhero snapped his head to a distant crime only he could hear and shot up to the skies.
They ached to go inside, to check if their things had burnt to a crisp completely. But they didn't want anything crumbling on top of them. Who would save them, then? Not the superhero. Not any hero. They were just there for the glory and the fame.
And yet...they stayed there helplessly, looking at their burnt apartment. Cold morning blue was beginning to seep into the horizon by now, stretching to touch the soft, grey-white edges of the moon. The smoke had left dusty residue on their cheeks and hair and singed clothes. They walked up to a wall on the building and kicked it experimentally. They didn’t hear any crack.
A soft whoosh came from behind them. Their hair swayed with the breeze.
The civilian whipped around.
The superhero stood in front of them and the villain's heart dropped in fear instantly.
"Hi," said the superhero. It wasn't... it wasn't threatening, no. But the civilian felt just a little faint. They tripped on their own feet in an attempt to step back and the superhero’s hands shot out to steady them by their arms. Ungloved.
The civilian swallowed. They tried to look calm but they weren’t sure if it was working. They weren’t sure if they were supposed to not look calm. They had no idea how to act. Maybe harmless. They tried looking like that. Small and harmless and unassuming.
"Hi," they said back.
The superhero looked them over. "All right? You look pale."
"I'm fine. Just peachy."
"Sure?"
Shakily, the civilian drew in a breath. They coughed weakly. "Just—I just inhaled some smoke. But it's fine."
"That's great." The superhero tilted his head. "I was just so worried. You seemed really scared, cowering into my chest and all. That must've been to protect your eyes, huh?"
"My—what?"
They were offered a smile. Camera-ready. "Your eyes. Smoke can irritate your eyes, unless you're a super. That makes you more resistant. To smoke. And irritation. And wheezy breathing."
Oh. Oh, they didn't know that. Their breath hitched. The villain didn't know what to do, then. Run? No, the superhero could catch up easily.
They pulled ash-matted strands of hair away from their cheeks, looking down. They coughed, weakly, and it was a bad attempt because the superhero chuckled.
"You've grown," the superhero said. They sounded half-fond. "I almost didn't recognise you."
"Oh." The villain felt dizzy again. So they hadn't been busted. No, of course not. They never took their mask off. When they'd come to the superhero, scrawny and hopeful, they'd taken their mask off. They still remembered the way the grimace on the superhero's face. "Yeah. Yeah. Puberty."
The superhero searched in his pocket and took out their old mask from seventeen years ago, badly burned but still retaining its colour. He held it out. "You kept it for so long," he said. "It's a little singed, but..."
Some naïve, hopeful part of the villain fluttered warmly at the gesture, and they smothered that feeling immediately. The superhero wasn't an exception. But they had to accept. They loved that mask. They'd made the entire suit on their own, with their saved allowances and abandoned spray paint cans they'd found underneath bridges and behind dumpsters in alleyways. "Thanks."
The superhero gave them another smile. He reached out, deliberately slow so that he wouldn't spook the villain. They didn't flinch.
He scrubbed ash from their cheek with his thumb. "Don't take your mask off next time," he said.
The villain reeled back.
The superhero gave a wince. It was more theatrical. "Too obvious?" he asked, and of course he wasn't expecting an answer, but the villain still spluttered. Their shoulders rose with heaving breaths. They held their mask close to their chest.
The superhero smiled. It was not friendly. It said, I will get you.
He left before the villain could answer.
The villain clutched their mask close, and then threw it to the ground.
32 notes · View notes
sunnibits · 9 months
Text
Tumblr media
need some dick from this guy so bad (NPC that doesn’t exist outside of our dnd campaign)
9 notes · View notes
justplaggin · 7 months
Text
CHUUYAAAAAAAAA
8 notes · View notes
regallibellbright · 3 months
Text
Honestly I think I'd hate Arthur Cantabella less if they'd simply removed the whole "Yeah no this is a government-condoned psychological experiment" aspect.
TESTING WHAT?! No, genuinely, what? Using the contaminated groundwater/weirdass Silver Fainting Allergy and/or the flower ink as a drug? Because uh, if that's the case, then I'm pretty sure using them both in conjunction contaminates your results.
Is it something about mob mentality? In-groups and out-groups with the elaborate tech crew made of convicted witches and victims maintaining the whole illusion? In that case, I think the fact that you're drugging and gaslighting the entire experiment group is also contaminating the results.
Also the whole fantasy setting is probably a confounding variable for Something.
Okay sure parents could consent to taking part in this experiment for their children, but uh, I'm pretty sure some of these kids were born AFTER the experiment began. Given the aforementioned Large Amounts of Drugging From Multiple Origins going on here, I have some concerns!
No seriously. Please. PL vs PW writers. Give me the grant proposal Arthur Cantabella submitted to get anyone to fund this project. I know it's Bill fucking Hawks, but even he's got limits! I don't see how he benefits from half this shit even if he wants to use the other half (I assume the drugs.) Why is he paying for the rest? There's a reason why Clive is established as being a lone schemer with obscene amounts of money who's keeping all his scientists in the dark and/or coerced to keep building, and it's so that we don't have anyone there questioning why he's building an elaborate fake town populated by actors in addition to his Underground Vengeance Mecha!
The fact that you somehow managed to get this cleared as a psychological experiment establishes that you know the field of psychology exists. Why in the name of all that is holy did you think building an elaborate fake fantasy town with an elaborate magic system which you make real through the power of drugging people, knocking the ENTIRE TOWN out every time a spell is used, changing things around them to simulate "magic" using the most ridiculous Renn Faire stage crew ever, and manipulating the clocks so no one's aware time is passing, with a system that prosecutes witches and burns them so that they can join the Renn Faire Stage Crew along with their victims, and positioning yourself as the all-powerful Storyteller who writes their reality into being would be a better solution than therapy?
Honestly I'd respect "I had a god complex, lol" more. Especially for that last one, but like. In general. Descole's out there living his worst life, he KNOWS he's an asshole supervillain agent of chaos, and I respect this because he has clearly CHOSEN to be Like This. You do you, man. Ditto for Don Paolo but like, less effectively.
This is not how any of this works.
Okay, setting... ALL OF THAT aside, you're doing this because your and your best friend's young daughters are understandably incredibly traumatized because they wanted to ring the bell early and the Weirdass Groundwater-Induced "Allergy" That Makes You Faint When You Hear Silver Ringing caused them and everyone else to pass out, and as everyone in the square below was having a fire festival, this caused a massive tragic conflagration. Okay. Yeah, this is bad. (I have. MANY questions about how this bell was made, excavated, and mounted in the square without anyone ever ringing it and realizing something had happened, but we're going to gloss over those for now, it's Professor Layton and I would otherwise be all over this incredible bullshit. It's great up until it asks us to think THIS was ever a remotely reasonable idea.) One of your daughters is all but catatonic because a story you told her earlier has convinced her she either is or will be taken by The Great Witch Bezella. Sure. (You suck.) Why the FUCK is your solution based on the other one unpersoning herself to her best friend and doing all the work to make the magic real? Yeah, sure, she agreed to it. SHE'S LIKE EIGHT TO TEN. HER BEST FRIEND THINKS SHE'S AN AWFUL MONSTER AND WON'T REACT OTHERWISE. OF COURSE Eve's gonna help, but that doesn't mean you should put the entire burden on her! She is ALSO horribly traumatized to the point of repressing what happened. Get her help too. The fact that the game seems to put their actions on remotely even footing when one of them has been treated like shit since she was TEN and one of them was an adult who PURPOSEFULLY AND INTENTIONALLY set up a system that would put her in this shitty situation means that yeah, no, they fundamentally are not. Of course her decisionmaking is misguided and terrible! She's a twenty-year-old who's been horribly mistreated for more than half her life! HER DAD JUST COMMITTED SUICIDE OUT OF GUILT FOR HIS ACTIONS IN SETTING UP THIS SYSTEM.
No one's going to hold them responsible for the deaths. This was a sequence of events so thoroughly unforeseeable that literally no one could have predicted it. It won't even reflect poorly on you and Belduke, because you two somehow managed to find the bell, excavate it, and mount it without ever ringing it and realizing it knocked you out and you all had an environmentally-induced silver "allergy" and at that point this goes into "acts of a cruel and malicious Writer-God" territory.
Also it was totally predictable that this elaborate system of misogyny would not actually help Espella in the long term as she instead repressed her memories and further internalized the whole witches = evil thing so that when those memories inevitably came back she would be in EVEN WORSE shape, this is why you should have gotten an actual psychologist who could have told you this whole thing was a terrible plan to write your grant.
No like does he drug all his requests to whoever he reports to (it has to be directly to the person signing checks) in the mind-control ink? This is my only explanation here.
Why. In God's name why. Did you not. Simply. DESTROY THE FUCKING BELL TOWER. You have a crane here! What possessed ANYONE to think just covering it up with Vantablack and gaslighting so people couldn't see it was a reasonable solution to the Trauma Tower? (There may be an explanation for this, it has been ten years, but this man's problem solving has been established to be so poor I award him no points.)
And if you were going to do this, why didn't you tell Newton? Or was it just that the lightning strike burning up the Vantablack was itself a reminder to him that you can't repress the past away and he was suddenly aware of how overwhelmingly POINTLESS all this suffering was? (Edit: I think it was this. No but seriously you could’ve just taken a fucking wrecking ball to that thing while you were rebuilding the town.)
Seriously why the fuck did Newton Belduke go along with letting you use his traumatized daughter like this? What the hell, man. What an asshole.
Also. Your problem was that you had two severely traumatized little girls (even if you only acknowledged one of them was traumatized.) Your solution was... to traumatize a shitload more young girls?
TO THE POINT WHERE AT LEAST ONE OF THEM ATTEMPTED SUICIDE?!
And then your best friend actually committed suicide?!
Like. Seriously. If these are the actions of a single, seriously traumatized person, the fact that you are making Literally The Worst And Most Inexplicable Decisions Ever Which Make The Problem Worse For Literally Everyone Involved is more... well, conceivable. I buy a traumatized eighteen-year-old with an obscene amount of money building an elaborate fake London that is allegedly London ten years in the future, hiring actors to populate it, kidnapping scientists, making them build an Underground Vengeance Mecha to destroy the city, and then kidnapping the Prime Minister who is the source of that trauma and hooking the engine of the mecha up to his heart. And then roping in the one guy who could conceivably solve the whole problem and stop him and Clive would let it. It's a bad idea on EVERY conceivable level, don't get me wrong, on an UNPRECEDENTEDLY terrible scale, but it's a bad idea in which it is very clear no one at any point has asked the person what the fuck they think they're doing here, what they are trying to accomplish, and why they are doing so with this objectively absurd method. Because they have not let anyone in close enough to key them to The Full Absurd Terribleness. It's either this or become Batman.
But Arthur? Apparently his decisions have been vetted by OTHER PEOPLE, and this just boggles my mind. I refuse to believe this. I refuse to believe NO ONE went "have we considered this is like eight hundred terrible ideas bundled up into The Worst Idea Ever?" And I refuse to believe he's anything but a massive asshole when his plan had so many awful consequences for literally everyone BUT himself!
Like, don't get me wrong. There are SO MANY examples of unethical experimentation on human subjects in the real world, psychological and otherwise. But most of them are not this incredibly convoluted, implicitly expensive, and we all generally recognize these days that they were bad.
Also, none of them were enacted as an elaborate setup to (incompetently) handle the trauma of the experimenter's daughter after he told her if she was bad a scary evil witch would possess her and then she and her friend accidentally enacted a tragedy whose scale and fundamental absurdity rival the Boston Molasses Flood, but without corporate greed. There were solutions to this that were so much easier, less convoluted, less EXPENSIVE, and less harmful to... well, everyone else involved, except Arthur Cantabella.
3 notes · View notes
clovernment · 1 month
Text
i unironically like bubaigawara pls tell me im not alone
2 notes · View notes