#Heroes and villains

[raineandsky]

#140

The hero rips the shop door clean off its hinges, and demands into the fleeing crowds, “Where’s the thief?”

People seem much too busy leaping out the way of the hero’s assault to answer him. He surveys the scattering crowds idly, waiting for his heroic senses to kick in and decide on someone amongst the masses. It does after a long second, locking in on someone darting for the back entrance, and the hero doesn’t waste time guessing whether his assumption is right.

The door batters off the wall loudly as the villain stumbles down the steps. Probably a favour to the shop—the hero’s already caused enough damage to the front door. He steps out as the villain runs across the car park. He just watches for a moment as he goes, humming a laugh as the man almost runs straight into one of the parked cars.

The hero isn’t in any rush. He always catches his prey. This may be the villain’s life on the line, but to the hero this is a simple game of cat and mouse.

He finally gives chase as the villain disappears around the corner. It’s not hard; the villain’s barely halfway down the road when the hero catches up to him. He cuts the thief off, bringing him to a skidding halt, but this isn’t capture to the villain—it won’t be until the hero has him practically unconscious, probably. The thief turns on his heel and leaps down a side-alley.

The hero always found it funny that these fiends still try to escape him, even after his reputation started to get around—he always catches criminals, and it’s always worse for those who think they can get away.

Clearly this one hasn’t heard the stories. The hero blocks his escape, grabbing onto his shirt so he doesn’t try doing a one-eighty again. The villain makes some noise that sounds a bit like, “Augh!”

“Nice try,” the hero snaps coldly. The villain looks terrified, for lack of a better word. “Now give me the stuff you’ve stolen.”

With shaking hands, the villain reaches into his coat. The hero tenses, prepared to snatch a weapon away, but after a moment of fumbling the villain presents him with a single apple.

“You should know better than to mess with a hero.” The hero tightens his hold on the other’s shirt. “Show me what you actually took.”

The villain pulls a pained face. “That- That’s it. That’s all I took. It was a grocery store, there wasn’t much else to take.”

He barks a laugh, once, awkward. The hero isn’t laughing. “They sent me after you for an apple.”

He can kind of see it now. His shirt is crumpled, his coat plain, his hair neat. The expression of a scared animal. The hero scowls—this isn’t a villain.

He gives the thief a shove, sending him stumbling back. He almost trips over a brick laying on the floor. The sight makes the hero feel even more tricked.

He holds his hand out expectantly. “Give me that.”

The civilian looks at the apple sitting in his palm. Then he sighs and puts it in the hero's expectant hold.

“There’s nearly no money going into this city,” he comments as the hero takes a bite. “None of us normal people can afford anything.”

“Get a better job then.”

“Not all of us can be heroes.”

The hero glances at him. It sounds like it’s bordering an insult but the man isn’t looking at him, so he simply hums in disinterest before heading back to the shop.

“Thank you!” the shopkeeper cries when the hero appears in the doorway. “Did you catch the thief?”

The hero takes another bite of his apple. “No,” he says flatly. “What’d he take?”

“Basically my whole shop!” The shopkeeper gestures vaguely to the shop behind her, which frankly looks more ransacked by the hero’s entrance than an actual thief. “He’s probably taken half my profits for this month with him.”

The hero nods idly. He’s only half listening—he’s busy reining in his annoyance. “Sorry he got away, then.” The apple crunches loudly into the following silence. “Better luck next time.”

“Thank you for trying. I’ve no doubt he’ll be back—I’ll call you then!”

The shopkeeper shouts that last part, since the hero’s already checked out of the conversation and is making his way to the shattered front door.

He can’t believe he got called out here for this. These common shop owners don’t seem to remember that heroes have better things to be doing than chasing petty thieves. He wrecks the last standing glass panel on his way out to make the point.

[unnameablethings]

concept:

supervillain × henchman with the twist that the supervillain is a sort of cartoon foppish dramatic gay villain with gonzo schemes and no bodycount. and the henchman is secretly a grimdark ultrapowerful Apex Predator supervilllain who came to Stake Out the competition. got mistaken for a henchman and found this so fucking funny hes just 100% committed to the bit.

hes carrying around boxes of fucking Acme Corporation sticks of dynamite. hes dressing in the matching stylish outfit. hes managing the other henchmen to execute gonzo schemes flawlessly. genuinely the most fun hes ever had in his life

his dumbass gay boss has literally no idea the lengths he is going to behind the scenes to make sure nobody interferes with any of this shit.

(apex supervillain, in his Supervillain Disguise. homoerotically and terrifyingly flirt/threatens flamboyant supervillain. smash cut to this poor man lying face down on a couch unpacking this with the very attentive henchman)

("hes going to eat me maybe????? but GOD that was the HOTTEST fucking thing thats ever happened to me. but i might DIE?? do u think he LIKES me...."

henchman: i think he does :3)

the ruse comes out when someone who the apex supervillain didnt catch comes to ACTUALLY challenge/harm his gay boss in public and apex supervillain is like. yeah no we're not doing this. time for the power of unfathomable violence.

gay supervillain promptly has a FULL MELTDOWN. oh my god the blood. and also. "you LIED TO ME???"

apex supervillain, apologetically: "I was waiting to see if you'd ever figure it out yourself. And the longer it went the funnier it got."

gay supervillain: "I TRUSTED you!! you were my BEST HENCHMAN"

apex supervillain: aw. past tense?

[the-modern-typewriter]

Hiii! Could you please write some hurt comfort hero and villain? Where it has a ��who did this to you” vibes! Thanks! No pressure if you don’t want to!

"You look..." The villain's gaze travelled slowly up the hero, taking in the hard lines of them, the uncanny iciness that had replaced a once warm, familiar face. "Different."

"And you look like hell. Let's get you out of here."

Despite the fact that the hero had just blown the villain's chains to smithereens, the villain didn't move. They leaned heavily against the cold concrete wall of their cell, still staring.

The hero's fingers flexed agitated at their sides.

"I can - if you're hurt, I can help you stand. I don't - you're safe now."

It was like an act they didn't know how to play any more. The script was the same, but the tongue behind the words was a sharper thing. A whittled thing. Made hard and venomous with desperation. Like the world had taken an axe to everything that made the hero them and started hacking.

"Who did this to you?" the villain demanded.

"What?"

"You're all..." Their head lolled, as they tried to tilt it customarily to one side. Their broken fingers hurt too much to wiggle them effectively in the hero's direction, but they did their best. "Not you. All..."

"They hurt you," the hero said. Flat. Deadly.

The villain wet their cracked, swollen lips. Their voice came out raspy. "I heard screaming."

"Yeah." Something dark and protective simmered in the hero's eyes. It looked awfully a lot like 'they deserved it'. Like how the villain's eyes used to look, through a mirror darkly, until the pain scorched through everything cold and steely inside them.

"You killed people. You killed...you came for me."

"We need to go," the hero said, through gritted teeth. "We need to get you out of here. Come on." The hero ducked down, only to falter when their gruff tug immediately made the villain's whole world go fuzzy with hurting. The touch turned gentle as the villain flinched. The hero's hands floundered, like they no longer knew the language of caring, but still remembered that they wanted to try.

A stupid prickle of tears stung the villain's eyes.

"Who did this to you? Who-"

"-Please," the hero said. "Put your arms around me. You need to work with me here. Please."

The villain wrapped their aching arms around the hero's shoulders. The hero lifted them up, holding them oh so carefully. Being upright was still enough to make the villain's vision pop and then blacken.

When they regained consciousness, they were walking through a slaughter house. Blood everywhere. As if a hurricane given teeth and claws had ripped through the building.

"Did I do this?" the villain asked.

"No, love."

But that wasn't quite right.

"No, I mean - I was gone," the villain said. Their head felt so fuzzy with everything they had been given, but the sharp edges of the hero were so clear, if only they could find the words to paint the picture half as well, let the knowledge swirling inside them settle. "You were on your own. How long have you been trying to rescue me?"

"It's going to be alright, okay? I've got you. You're alright."

"Are you?"

"I'm not the one who's been tortured!" It came out a snap, and maybe the villain should have flinched after an eternity of raised voices and raised weapons, but they didn't.

"You don't do so well on your own," the villain said instead, softly. "You never have."

The hero's throat bobbed as they swallowed, convulsive, choking something down. "Don't."

The villain raised a hand, rubbing their thumb over the gaunt line of the hero's face.

The hero flinched back.

"It's going to be alright," the villain said. "You're going to be alright. I've got you."

"You -" The hero laughed then, a broken thing. They jerked their head to the side but it didn't hide the tears glinting in their eyes. "Maybe let's not focus on me right now. You were - what they did to you - they told that they - I should have got here faster."

"I'm sorry they used me against you."

"Don't."

"Tell me their names?"

"They're all dead."

"Tell me anyway."

"I killed them."

"I know, love. Tell me anyway."

The hero swore, but the villain could practically watch some life creep back into those icy eyes. Some horror. Some thing that wasn't a stranger. Their hero. The hero held them a little tighter, cradling them a little closer against their chest.

"Just - later. Let me get you help. You need help."

Well, the villain couldn't argue with that. Still. Their own body didn't feel half as perturbing as the way the hero's eyes iced over again, determined to see through the job, to not shatter no matter what they'd done to get to where they were. To get the villain back. To save them.

They tucked themselves closer to the hero's chest, to their heart - thumping proof of life, proof of hope, proof that maybe they hadn't entirely lost the thing they cared about most of all.

Who did this to you?

But the villain didn't really need to ask.

The answer was always their own name.

[kaiwewi]

Their First Villain

Secret Santa gift for @the-modern-typewriter Prompt: "Scary villain x hero in a Christmas setting of your [the writer's] choice. Could go spicy, could go whumpy, could go unexpectedly sweet!" Hope you like this! Merry Christmas!! 🎅🎁

“You recognised me,” the villain observes, his tone unnaturally flat. His face betrays no emotion.

“Kinda hard not to, with your…” – the hero tilts their head at where the villain’s magic continues to spread, coiling around their limbs and securely fixing them in place – “…snake thingies?”

The individual tendrils really do vaguely resemble snakes, although the magic in its entirety reminds them more of some writhing alien monster plant from an old Sci-fi B-movie whose title they cannot remember. It’s not a good comparison anyway. The movie hadn’t been scary at all.

They experimentally try to wrestle one of their arms free, but despite the magic’s apparent fluidity, the moment they push or pull in any direction, whatever give appeared to be there all but disappears and they can’t move a millimetre.

“Oh.” The villain’s eyes widen. “You can see it.”

“See it. Feel it. Didn’t expect it to be this hot.”

An awkward pause follows.

They are decidedly not blushing. It’s just warm. All of them is so warm now that the villain’s powers have moulded themselves around the hero like something liquid but alive. Wherever the tendrils touch bare skin – their ungloved hands and that area just above their ankles where their pants don’t quite meet the rims of their boots – the raw energy buzzes, prickles just short of stinging.

They’d been shivering just minutes ago in their much too thin poncho and the not seasonally appropriate Agency office uniform. Well, they still are shivering, just no longer from the cold.

Where the villain’s magic is fever-hot, his scrutiny runs icy.

“You can see it, but not fight it,” he muses. “How curious. The Agency must be understaffed to send their defenceless little office drones out into the field.”

The hero would be glaring if the villain weren’t underscoring the point by pulling his magic tighter with the mere flick of a finger. That small, anxious sound that escapes them in response brings a self-satisfied grin to the villain’s lips.

“It’s Christmas,” the hero says, once the magic has settled again.

The villain raises a brow.

“Most of the regulars are on holiday, Christmas being a time best spent with family … or so I’m told.”

“Yet you are working.”

“Don’t have anyone.” They aren’t technically without family just … Sometimes, family isn’t a place of refuge and welcome. Not a home to turn to for holiday celebrations or company. Some families fashion themselves exclusive clubs with strict rules that refuse or revoke memberships as they please. The hero forces some levity into their tone. “I have nowhere else to be today, so, I’m helping out here.”

The villain chuckles. “Helping is perhaps not what I would call that.”

“Hey, I did recognise you,” they say, defensively.

“And look where that got you.” His smile is sharper than before, meaner. “Am I your first villain? My heartfelt condolences.”

They don’t dignify that with an answer. But the answer is yes. The villains they watched being interrogated through one-way mirrors at HQ don't count.

“Pity,” the villain says with zero warmth, “that you couldn’t just look the other way. What is it with you people that you're always so eager to cause unnecessary conflict.”

“Reporting suspicious behaviour is kind of my job.” It comes out barely above a whisper and carries the distinct cadence of an apology.

“Ah yes, and my mere existence struck you as suspicious behaviour because …”

Admittedly, once they’d recognised the villain, they hadn’t taken the time to consider his appearance beyond the magic he’d been wearing around his shoulders like a particularly weaponizable scarf. The lack of a combat suit in favour of a sleek, dark coat over a woollen jumper and cargo joggers – either an outfit designed to blend in or just what the villain happens to like to wear when he isn’t working – hadn’t registered any more than the total absence of weaponry other than his powers. And while he could have hidden those better, it’s not like he could have simply left them at home.

There hadn’t been time to ponder. It had all happened so fast. Their eyes had met, and a moment later the hero had already been scrambling away from the crowd, past a stall selling mulled wine and into the nearest alley, where they’d scrolled through their contacts with stiff, unfeeling fingers. The villain had caught up with them before they’d managed to call for backup.

Their gaze darts to the remnants of their smashed phone, sprinkled across the muddy snow, mere metres away but entirely useless even if they could reach it.

What if the villain hadn’t had anything nefarious planned? What if the hero’s brain had naturally jumped to the most prejudiced conclusion all on its own?

Of course, it is unfair to treat his mere presence as if it is a crime. But the things he could do ...

They think about the parents with their cameras, filming their ice-skating children, the squealing toddlers on the merry-go-round, the nice old ladies selling tea out of the back of a car.

“You could be a danger to all those innocent people,” they defend their judgement.

“And you could be a danger to me,” the villain replies coolly. “Would be unwise, letting someone roam free who can pick me out of a crowd with a glance. Perhaps I should thank you for revealing yourself. Very ill-advised. But quite convenient. You were so obvious about it, too.”

He has crossed the distance between them while speaking. Close enough now to reach out and tuck an unruly strand of hair behind their ear with his cold, slender fingers. His other hand settles almost gently on their throat, atop the magic that has slivered around their neck at some point during the conversation.

The tip of a new tendril is in the process of worming its way lower, nestling into the collar of their shirt. It laps against the crook of their neck and they cringe away from the touch as much as the magic allows. It doesn’t hurt. It would be so much easier if it did. The touch is light; it kind of tickles and, given the overall direness of the situation, the hero really isn’t in the mood for that. Or, they shouldn’t be.

Unhelpfully, their traitorous mind supplies them with a thoroughly inappropriate image of what else someone who isn’t the enemy could be doing to them with magic such as this.

“Tell me,” the villain says as the power shifts upwards, tilting their chin back with the movement, so his nails can bite into the newly exposed skin below their jaw, “is there anything else troublesome about you, or is it just the eyes?”

He looks most pleased when their breath hitches despite their best efforts to remain stoic. His grip tightens. He’s studying them intently, staring at their eyes like those are priced gems he considers adding to his collection.

Maybe, underneath the mockery, he actually does consider them somewhat of a threat. If he didn’t, why would he be looking at them like that.

It’s stupid, truly and utterly stupid, to feel flattered. This is not respect, they know, just sharp, calculating consideration. His attention promises imminent danger, might turn lethal at any second. It’s not something they should revel in. Still, it feels good, too – being seen.

Has anyone ever really seen them before?

Or perhaps that is the lack of oxygen speaking.

They struggle to focus their vision but all the twinkling Christmas lights in the trees are starting to smudge into dull, red and golden blurs. Vertigo is clawing at them.

There is absolutely nothing they can do against the villain's grip. They're so pitifully out of their depth.

They think about their bland, only half-furnished two-room apartment; their first day at the Agency HQ; their nth day – no more eventful than the first – sitting at the exact same desk in the exact same office and working on the exact same old computer; their colleagues’ looks of pity when their 14th application for a transfer to field work is being denied and their boss tells them, in stern admonishment, that their skill sets just aren’t suited to solo missions. They think about her condescending smile when she finally does assign them the Christmas market job, clearly convinced the worst thing that could possibly happen here is people getting drunk enough on punch to start throwing punches.

They think of their first split-second impression of the villain as just another guy standing by the ice rink with a cup of something steaming in his hands and a mellow, unguarded smile curving his lips.

They hope this montage doesn’t count as their life flashing before their eyes. It’s way too sad a summary of their depressing lack of accomplishments.

They think, with equal parts age-old bitterness and new-found sarcastic vindication, about their colleagues’ infantile, unofficial, end-of-the-year office rankings where flashier heroes with more impressive abilities always receive titles such as most likely to hook up with a hot reporter or most epic battle or best one-liners.

Meanwhile, all the hero has to show for are three consecutive wins of least likely to die on the job.

Which might have been a reassuring sentiment if it weren’t so clearly code for “you’ll never be a real hero”. Real heroes risk their lives on the job all the time.

Well, look at them now!

Will their colleagues manage to come up with a new title for them in time, they wonder, if the villain kills them now, just a week before this year’s poll results will be released?

Most unexpected death has a nice ring to it.

They should be trembling in terror. Might have, if the villain’s magic weren’t encasing them so – tight but soft and deceptively warm, lulling them in. The sticky heat of it leaves them squirming, stuck in a confusing limbo between gooey not-quite-discomfort and hot-bath sluggishness.

They’re drifting. Until they’re not.

It’s impossible to discern how much time has passed or when exactly the villain has released them; but their thoughts are beginning to clear and their brain catches up to the fact that there is air in their lungs again, and that the breathless, hiccuping gasps uncontrollably tumbling out of their mouth aren’t sobs. It’s laughter.

“Are you enjoying this?” The villain sounds incredulous.

They shake their head. “I don’t know,” they manage, between hysterical giggles. “Maybe. Yes?”

“How did you know I wouldn’t kill you?”

“I didn’t.”

That startles a short laugh out of him.

“I’ve never” – they pant, still struggling for air – “felt this alive before.”

“That sounds ... unhealthy.”

There is a long pause in which the villain silently stares at them while they are more or less regaining control over their breathing.

“You wouldn’t get it,” they say then, perfectly aware they must seem most unhinged. “Bet you don't even know what boredom is. Because your life is fun. Mine is not. I practically live at my stupid job, and my stupid job doesn't even pay well. No one there gives a fuck about me. And nothing exciting ever happens. So can I please just have this one damn moment without being judged?”

The villain hums, low. “And here I thought we were ruining each other’s days.” He presses a hand to their forehead. “Did the heat fry your synapses?” he asks, sounding more amused than concerned. His other hand comes up to cup the nape of their neck, as if he can’t help but reach out. Just as they can’t help but lean into the cooling touch. His gaze drops, as if drawn, to their lips. “Or, are you just naturally this unusual?”

They can smell gingerbread and mulled wine on his breath.

“Are you going to kiss me?” they ask, because yes their synapses are definitely fried and they do not care about consequences, awkwardness, or sanity anymore.

“Would you like me to kiss you?”

“I’d certainly much rather be kissed than killed. Obviously.”

“Obviously,” he repeats, smirking. “But we've established I’m not about to kill you. And that wasn’t a yes.”

“It’s not a no either.”

“Not how consent works, darling.”

They scoff. “You didn’t ask for consent first when you strangled me five minutes ago.”

The villain laughs again, in genuine delight judging by how his magic ripples and purrs.

“Okay, fair enough,” he whispers, shifting so his lips almost brush theirs.

The kiss that follows is sweet, surprisingly chaste, and initiated by the hero.

“So, since you mentioned earlier you have nowhere else to be today,” the villain says, afterwards, mischief gleaming in his eyes. “Have you ever had the pleasure of being kidnapped?”

Pleasure, as it turns out over the course of the next few hours, is an understatement.

If anyone at the office were to find out what the hero has been up to during their first (and best) and possibly only solo field mission, not only are they guaranteed to get fired, their colleagues will also surely create an entirely new office ranking category in their honour:

First to be seduced by a supervillain.

[the-cypress-grove]

Prompt: 220

"You've been stabbed, you're going to medical!"

"It's fine. I've been stabbed loads of times. I know what a serious stab wound feels like, this is more of a scratch."

"..."

"Ah."

"You've been stabbed 'loads of times.' "

"That sounded more reassuring in my head."

"You're going to medical."

[wiingdings]

cat people

[thewriteadviceforwriters]

Villains vs. Antagonists (Guide For Writers)

Hey there, fellow writers and wonderful members of the writeblr community! 📚✍️ It's Rin here and...

Today, we're diving into a topic that's close to many writers' hearts: villains and antagonists. These characters often steal the show, driving our plots forward and giving our heroes something to push against. But here's the thing – while these terms are often used interchangeably, they're not quite the same. So, let's unpack this, shall we?

First things first, let's break down the difference between a villain and an antagonist. It's a distinction that can really elevate your storytelling game!

An antagonist is simply a character (or force) that opposes your protagonist. They're the obstacle, the challenge, the thing standing in the way of your main character achieving their goal. Here's the kicker: an antagonist doesn't have to be evil. They could be a rival love interest, a stern parent, or even nature itself.

A villain, on the other hand, is a specific type of antagonist. They're the bad guy, the evildoer, the character with malicious intent. All villains are antagonists, but not all antagonists are villains. Mind-blowing, right?

Let's look at some examples to make this clearer:

In "Romeo and Juliet," the feuding families are antagonists, but they're not villains. They oppose the protagonists' desire to be together, but they're not evil.

In "Harry Potter," Voldemort is both an antagonist and a villain. He opposes Harry (making him an antagonist) and he's also evil (making him a villain).

In "Cast Away," the island and the challenges of survival are the antagonists. There's no villain in sight!

Now that we've got that sorted, let's dive deeper into how to create these characters and use them effectively in your writing.

Creating Antagonists:

Define their opposition: What specifically does your antagonist do to oppose your protagonist? This could be physical, emotional, or ideological opposition.

Give them a reason: Why are they standing in your protagonist's way? Even if it's not justified, there should be a reason that makes sense to the antagonist.

Make them strong: Your antagonist should be a worthy opponent. They need to pose a real challenge to your protagonist to keep things interesting.

Consider their perspective: Remember, your antagonist is the hero of their own story. Try writing a scene from their point of view to understand them better.

Create contrast: Your antagonist should in some way contrast with your protagonist. This could be in values, methods, or personality.

Creating Villains:

Establish their evil: What makes your villain "bad"? Is it their actions, their beliefs, or both?

Develop their backstory: How did they become evil? A compelling villain often has a tragic or twisted history.

Give them dimensions: Pure evil can be boring. Give your villain some complexity – maybe they love their cat or have a soft spot for classical music.

Create a strong motivation: What drives your villain? Greed? Revenge? A twisted sense of justice? The stronger and more relatable the motivation, the more compelling your villain will be.

Make them smart: Your villain should be clever enough to pose a real threat. They should be able to anticipate and counter your protagonist's moves.

Now, let's talk about how to use these characters in different genres. Because let's face it, a villain in a romance novel is going to look very different from one in a fantasy epic!

In Romance: Antagonists in romance are often rivals for the affection of the love interest, or perhaps societal norms or family expectations standing in the way of true love. Villains are less common, but when they appear, they might be abusive exes or manipulative friends trying to sabotage the relationship.

Tip: In romance, make sure your antagonist's motivations are clear and relatable. We should understand why they're opposing the main relationship, even if we don't agree with their methods.

In Fantasy: Fantasy is ripe for both antagonists and villains. You might have a Dark Lord seeking to conquer the world (classic villain) or a rival magic user competing for the same goal as your protagonist (antagonist).

Tip: In fantasy, world-building is key. Make sure your antagonist or villain fits logically into the world you've created. Their powers, motivations, and methods should all make sense within the rules of your fantasy realm.

In Mystery/Thriller: In these genres, your antagonist is often the perpetrator of the crime your protagonist is trying to solve. They might not be evil (maybe they committed a crime of passion), or they could be a full-fledged villain if their crimes are particularly heinous.

Tip: In mysteries, your antagonist needs to be clever enough to challenge your detective protagonist. Leave subtle clues about their identity or motives, but make sure they're smart enough to almost get away with it.

In Literary Fiction: Here, antagonists are often more abstract. They might be societal expectations, personal flaws, or even time itself. Villains in the traditional sense are less common, but morally grey characters who oppose the protagonist are frequent.

Tip: In literary fiction, focus on the nuances of your antagonist. They should be as complex and flawed as your protagonist, with their own rich inner life.

In Sci-Fi: Science fiction offers a wide range of possibilities for antagonists and villains. You might have alien invaders, oppressive governments, or even well-meaning scientists whose creations have gone awry.

Tip: In sci-fi, make sure your antagonist or villain is consistent with the technological and social aspects of your imagined world. Their methods and motivations should make sense within the context of your sci-fi setting.

Now, let's dive into some tips to make your antagonists and villains the best they can be in your novel:

Make them believable: Whether you're writing a mustache-twirling villain or a morally grey antagonist, their actions and motivations should make sense within the context of your story and their character.

Give them a personal connection to the protagonist: The conflict becomes much more engaging when it's personal. Maybe your antagonist and protagonist used to be friends, or they're fighting over the same goal.

Show their impact: Don't just tell us your antagonist is a threat – show us the consequences of their actions. Let us see how they affect your protagonist and the world of your story.

Give them wins: Your antagonist or villain should have some successes along the way. If they're always failing, they won't seem like a credible threat.

Humanize them: Even if you're writing a truly evil villain, give them some humanizing traits. Maybe they have a pet they dote on, or a tragic backstory that explains (but doesn't excuse) their actions.

Make them adaptable: A good antagonist doesn't stick to one plan. When the protagonist foils them, they should be able to come up with new strategies.

Give them their own character arc: Your antagonist or villain should grow and change throughout the story, just like your protagonist does.

Use them to highlight your protagonist's strengths and weaknesses: Your antagonist should challenge your protagonist in ways that force them to grow and change.

Consider their presentation: How do other characters react to your antagonist? How do they present themselves to the world versus who they really are?

Don't forget about henchmen: If you're writing a villain, consider giving them some underlings. This can add depth to their character and provide more challenges for your protagonist.

Remember, whether you're crafting a dastardly villain or a complex antagonist, these characters are crucial to your story. They're the ones who push your protagonist to grow, who raise the stakes, and who often drive the plot forward.

But here's a gentle reminder: while it's important to make your antagonists and villains compelling, be mindful of the impact your writing might have. If you're dealing with heavy themes or traumatic events, handle them with care and sensitivity.

Now, I know we've covered a lot of ground here, and you might be feeling a bit overwhelmed. That's okay! Writing complex characters is a skill that develops over time. Don't be afraid to experiment, to try different approaches, and to revise and refine your antagonists and villains as you go.

One exercise I find helpful is to write a short story from your antagonist's or villain's point of view. This can help you understand their motivations better and ensure they feel like real, three-dimensional characters.

Another tip: watch movies or read books in your genre and pay special attention to how they handle antagonists and villains. What works well? What doesn't? How can you apply these lessons to your own writing?

Remember, there's no one "right" way to create these characters. What matters is that they serve your story and engage your readers. Trust your instincts, and don't be afraid to push boundaries or subvert expectations.

As you work on your antagonists and villains, keep in mind that they're not just there to make life difficult for your protagonist. They're an integral part of your story's ecosystem. They shape the plot, influence character development, and often reflect themes or ideas you're exploring in your work.

And remember, writing is a journey. Your first draft of an antagonist or villain might not be perfect, and that's okay. The beauty of writing is in the revision, in the gradual sculpting of characters until they leap off the page.

Lastly, don't forget to have fun with it! Creating antagonists and villains can be some of the most enjoyable parts of writing. Let your imagination run wild, explore the darker sides of human nature, and see where your characters take you.

I hope this deep dive into antagonists and villains has been helpful and inspiring. Remember, you've got this! Your unique voice and perspective will bring these characters to life in ways no one else can.

Happy writing! 📝💖 - Rin. T

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[save-the-villainous-cat]

“I’ll admit,” the villain whispered, their hand slowly sliding along the hero’s leg - from their knee to their thigh to be precise - “I’m a bit rusty.”

“You?” the hero asked.

“We haven’t seen each other in six months,” the villain said. “That’s enough time to rust.”

“I thought you would have gotten your fun elsewhere.”

“Well, I didn’t.” Softly, the villain pressed a kiss to the hero’s throat and the hero (stupidly so) forgot their responsibilities very quickly again.

The hero didn’t consider themselves particularly greedy in bed. They took what partners threw at them and usually, that was enough. With the villain, it felt different. They felt more confident, they felt terribly secure. The hero wasn’t a passive party anymore.

“Six months are enough to move on,” the hero whispered.

Their stomach dropped when they realised that the villain was giving them a hickey. Instinctively, the hero grabbed their enemy’s clothes but only got a hold of one of the bullet proof vest’s straps. Though the hero tried to pull them closer, the villain didn’t move until they were done on the hero’s throat.

With a wet sound, they parted.

“You’ll understand how desperate I am right now, then.”

“Is it smart to continue this?” the hero asked. Six months. Six. Often, their thoughts would circle around the villain. As if they were an addict.

“…do you want to continue this?”

“Well, yes…”

“Then what’s the problem?” Again, they leaned in and this time, they left a trail of kisses on the hero’s neck.

Within milliseconds, shivers ran down the hero’s spine and their brain fried. Their heart was loud enough for both to hear.

“I don’t know…maybe something changed, maybe you changed.” The villain looked at them, their usually focused and serious eyes suddenly soft.

“Love, what are you talking about?”

“Maybe there is someone else you…” The hero took in a deep breath. Six months were a long, long time and if the villain had found someone else during that time…someone who was simply more fitting, the hero didn’t want to stand between them. The villain was charismatic, chatty, nice when they had to be. Surely there had been someone who had shown interest while the villain was in hiding.

“You’re aware I am extremely picky when it comes to my partner.”

“Yes, I know. But—”

“And stupidly loyal.”

The hero didn’t know what to say to that. They knew what loyalty meant to the villain. It wasn’t a term they used carelessly.

“Don’t worry,” the villain murmured. They pressed an innocent kiss to the hero’s lips and continued with another one that was a little more daring.

The hero had almost forgotten what it felt like to be kissed. What it felt like to have the villain’s tongue in their mouth.

Even as the villain pulled away, the hero couldn’t form a single coherent thought.

“You’re my nemesis,” the villain reminded them. Two of their fingers traced an invisible path down the hero’s chest. “You’re irreplaceable.”

The villain was methodical. They were gentle. Their hand stopped on the hero’s lower stomach.

“And now, be a darling and spread your legs. I’ve been craving the sounds you make for half a year.”

[error-404-code9]

You know what I love…

When people’s superpowers get worse when they’re scared.

Like sympathetic nervous system is a-going, heart is racing, and your whole body thinks you’re in danger. So it tries to kick in your powers to protect itself. I’m taking:

People with electric powers shocking themselves when touching a door knob.

Water powers unconsciously forming a water bubble and spilling it on themselves.

Fire powers smelling smoke suddenly, only to look down at their hands and realize their hands are heating up and burning the sweat off their hands.

Super genius’ drawing a blank and stuttering when someone asks them a question.

People with super speed bouncing their leg up and down or fiddling with their fingers so fast, it looks like one massive blob

(And of course the famous example) Miles, and his spider powers, sticking to everything.

Superhumans and their powers need to be one. I think often we forget about the ‘human’ part. Superpowers being inconvenient is comedic, cool to see, and shows that their powers aren’t just a cool feature they can just turn on and off. It’s a part of them. Just… people’s powers messing up when they’re scared. Give it a thought

[thepenultimateword]

Prompt #269

Hero:

Your profile says you like stargazing. Would you wanna fly around some time? I can get us an extra good view 😉

Villain:

This is Villain.

Hero:

Dang it!! Stop being on every powered people dating app I use!

Villain:

I think the real question is how you keep matching with me on every dating app you use.

Hero:

I’m not doing it on purpose!!! I’m just not used to seeing you in civilian clothes and keep getting confused!!

And you have to match with me too you know! So I could say the same about you!! Why are you swiping up when you know it’s me?!

Villain:

Honestly? Because it’s hilarious 😆🫰

Hero:

I’m blocking you. AGAIN.

Villain:

Awww, but that stargazing date sounded fun.

[avvail]

prompt #103

“How was I supposed to know you loved me?”

The villain raised an arched brow at them in disbelief. “It was obvious.”

“You threw me off a fifteen story building the other week alone.”

“In the name of love.”

[assortedcriminality]

prompt #2

“Shit, you’re way more tired than I thought,” Villain said, easily dodging a poorly-aimed kick and ducking to avoid a malformed punch.

“Not tired,” Hero grunted, pausing the fight to half-fall into a wall, using an elbow to support themself. “Mmfine.”

Villain raised an eyebrow. “I see. Then you’ll be able to easily escape when I do this.”

Blindingly fast, they grabbed Hero’s shoulder and shoved them hard to the ground. The crime-fighter let out a sharp cry, pain radiating through their back. Their nemesis was on top of them before they could even think to move, straddling their hips and pinning their wrists to the floor.

“Go on,” Villain said, eyes gleaming as they locked gazes with their enemy. “Get up.”

[ownlittleuniverse]

scenario #1 - the hero’s lover

—

“Love, why don’t you come to bed?”

The hero had been up for hours, way into the night racking their brain and trying desperately to find the villains identity. Their lover was becoming a bit worried with this obsession taking over their sleep.

“No, not until I figure out who the hell they are,” they snapped, their voice breaking.

Their lover could only sigh at their hero’s determination. It was their best trait and worst flaw.

“It’s not worth your health, my love,” their lover soothed.

Their lover walked over to the hero slumped over their desk, their whole body exuding exhaustion. They crouched down and took the hero’s face between their hands, caressing their cheeks. Their eyes were bloodshot, and their lover didn’t know if it was from their lack of sleep or from their tears. Their hero looked so tired.

“The villain is still out there, you’ll find them, okay?”

The hero only nodded, sniffing a bit. They wrapped their arms around their lovers neck. Their lover chuckled into their hero’s neck.

“Let’s get you to bed.”

Their lover carried their exhausted hero with care, keeping them close to their body and listening to the hero’s even breathing. They were already out.

Their lover walked them over and placed them gently in their bed, kissing them on the forehead and wrapping them up in warm wool blankets. They climbed into the covers as the hero subconsciously pulled their lover close.

“Goodnight, love you,” the hero murmured into their lover's skin.

“Love you.”

They turned off the bedside light, pulled the blanket over both their bodies, wrapping their own over their dear hero’s exhausted one. The hero clung to them, and the villain could only smile into their hair.

They couldn’t help but admire their hero’s determination, and chuckle at their clear obliviousness. If they simply looked past the obvious, they would see that the person they cling to every night was the one they were after.

[the-modern-typewriter]

The villain, who doesn't typically celebrate much anything gets invited to an event (holiday, gala, birthday, etc) by hero with no strings attached.

This is a Secret Santa snippet gift @snowshowerwriting 😊 Have a great one! I hope you enjoy.

---

“…And I was just wondering if, maybe, if you’re not too busy, you’d want to go with me?”

The villain stared at the hero for a long moment, watching the colour slowly creep up the hero’s cheeks and all the way up to the tips of their ears.

Snow begin to drift and eddy lazily on the empty rooftop around them.

“Only if you want to,” the hero said. “Sorry. You’re probably too busy, what with being…you. Forget I asked! It’s not a big deal or anything I just—”

“—You want me to go to the peace ball with you.”

“Only if you want to!”

“Why?”

The villain could think of a dozen reasons why, but none of them exactly fitted with their impression of the hero in front of them.

The annual peace ball was a tinsel-strewn, glittering festive affair designed to promote good will across the city by forcing all heroes and villains to join together in a night of absolute truce. No fighting. So help anyone who tried scheming, though of course everyone still did. Good will to all super-powered men, women and others on earth!

The villain had been invited before, in the first few years that the ball was hosted, by a few of the boldest players on either side of the roster. They’d always said no. Never mind that they’d never been much one for making a big deal out of arbitrary times of year. The hero in front of them was not a particularly bold creature, though, heroics aside. Nor were they the sort to want to make some kind of statement.

The hero was bafflingly genuine. Too true to themselves to be of much use in politics, and too powerful for most to want to risk taking a run at them. Powerful enough, certainly, that they didn’t need the villain’s protection or the implication of an alliance between them. Good enough, surely, that the villain struggled to envision a scenario where the hero tried to enlist them over mince pies.

Indeed, as far as the villain could tell, the hero had absolutely nothing to gain by having the villain on their arm.

The hero’s head tilted at the question. “Because I think it would be nice?”

“I’m not nice.”

“Well, no. But it would be nice to spend more time with you. But only—”

“—Only if I want to,” the villain finished.

The hero’s blush deepened. It was possibly one of the most adorable things that the villain had ever seen. Still, the hero stood their ground and waited for an answer, arms folded grumpily against their own overly expressive face.

“Yeah,” the villain said, smothering a smile. “Okay. Sounds…nice.” They kept their voice light. Casual. Their heart hammered in their chest, giving an almost painful squeeze at the bright grin that shamelessly crossed the hero’s face.

“Yeah?” The hero raised their eyebrows. “Nice.”

The villain snorted.

The hero’s grin grew, delighted. “I’ll pick you up at seven? Unless you’d rather meet there?”

“Seven is fine, but I’ll come get you. What address works?”

They made the arrangements, the hero practically fizzing, like they really were looking forward to a night with the villain at their side. No strings attached. It was…well. It was really was so damn nice. There was a rare, warm feeling buzzing in the villain’s chest.

Still.

“You do know you’re going to get hell for turning up with me, don’t you?” the villain asked. “Whatever your reasons.”

“Mm.” The hero made a show of thinking. “I fought a literal mutated snowman last week, but you know what really scares me? Other people’s dumb opinions at the Christmas party.”

The villain found themselves laughing.

“Honestly,” the hero said. “I don’t know how we’ll survive.”

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“You could get hell for turning up with me. Whatever your reasons.”

“It’s cute that you think anyone other than you dares to give me hell about anything.”

“I could be a terrible, hellish date.”

“Oh yeah?” The villain took a step forward, before they could stop themselves. A belated lightbulb flicked on inside their head. “Is that what you are then? My date?”

“I mean—" The hero’s eyes widened. They floundered. They bit their lip, drawing the villain’s attention immediately, and parties were lame but that mouth was absolutely not. “Only if you want me to be!” the hero said. “We can just go as friends. Long suffering colleagues. I’m not trying to—”

“Oh, no. You’re my date, darling. No taking that back.”

“Oh, thank god.”

That time, the villain utterly failed at smothering a smile.

“Oh, crap. I mean—” The hero scrambled for a more eloquent, less relieved, cooler response. They came up endearingly blank.

“Nice?” the villain offered.

The hero narrowed their eyes, playful. “You’re mocking me. Rude.”

“I would never dream of mocking my date.”

“No?”

“It wouldn’t be very festive of me.”

“Oh, yes. Because you’re such a big fan of festivity and seasonal celebrations.”

The villain blinked, mostly out of surprise that the hero had been paying enough attention to even notice that. Maybe they shouldn’t have been surprised all things considered. The hero was smarter than they let on. “And yet,” they said, “you invited me to a seasonal celebration.”

“Well.” The hero shrugged, mostly managing careless that time. “Limited opportunities to take you out anywhere else. I think people might panic if I just turned up with you for a dinner.”

“We’d be served very quickly. I do tend to clear our restaurants with my presence.”

The hero snorted.

“So what does one do at a peace ball?” the villain asked, voice a murmur.

“There’s food. Drink.” The hero recovered themselves, reaching out and taking the villain’s hand, drawing them a few steps closer, leaving footprints in the snow beginning to coat the roof. Their voice softened too. Liquid caramel. “Dancing.”

“Dancing?”

“You done much of that before?”

“You might have to teach me.”

“Well, we start by you wrapping your arms around me like this…”

The villain might have shivered. The hero might have grinned, humming a made-up tune beneath their breath as they swayed together.

The weeks until the ball flew by.

***

People did stare when the two of them walked in. The villain chose to believe it was because the hero looked absolutely gorgeous, despite their dubious choice of wearing a festive jumper to what was clearly supposed to be a black tie event. The jumper was red and said ‘yule can do it friend’.

Maybe the hero was bold, in their way. The villain definitely thought, in the last few weeks, that they’d underestimated their sometimes-enemy.

There were a lot of people crowded into the city hall venue. Pretty much everyone. The villain abruptly missed their usual peaceful night of strolling around the city, relishing the way that the streets emptied as everyone bundled away to wherever their festivities were.

No panic. No screaming or nervous looks. No chance of some would-be-hero showing up demanding what the hell they were doing.

The hero set a steadying hand on the small of their back, studying their face, and their easy read of the villain’s emotions should have been alarming. It was alarming. It was also…

“You good? Do you want to go and grab a drink?” the hero asked. “What can I get you?”

“I don’t drink in public.”

“They have hot apple juice and hot cocoa too. Some fancy mocktails.”

“You don’t mind that I’m not joining you on the champagne?”

“Why would I?”

Some people, the villain thought privately, minded. They had specific ideas on what a party was supposed to be like and felt judged should the villain deviate from that pre-determined idea. The hero led them through the party, expertly weaving people.

“So?” the hero waggled their eyebrows. “What will it be?”

The villain retreated from the stand with an alcohol-free glass of sparkling. Easy to blend in, even if the taste was nothing special. The two of them watched the room for a while, trying out the various different canapes in the buffet, chatting.

It felt better with the hero at their side. They so obviously knew what they were doing at a party, smoothly carrying conversation with anyone who came over, but not in a way that made it seem like they were schmoozing. It didn’t make the villain’s skin crawl. The hero mainly got excited about and asked for pictures of everyone’s pets. Whenever anyone tried to comment on the fact that the two of them were there together, the hero said cheerily that it was “nice, wasn’t it?”

They’d catch each other’s eyes as whoever it was left. An inside joke. It had been a long time since the villain had been in on an inside joke. With the hero, it was a little thrilling.

Of course, as the evening wore on, there was dancing.

The movements were familiar, after all of the hero’s ‘lessons’ in the lead up to the ball. It made it easy to ignore the rest of the room, and the gaudy tree, and the awkward feeling that they might destroy their reputation for the sake of a party. The hero didn’t care about their reputation, did they? They just did what they wanted to.

“So,” the villain said. “What else does one do on a date?”

The hero’s eyes lit up, better than any fairy-light or candle. They stroked their fingers along the nape of the villain’s neck. The music took the opportunity to change to something slow and intimate, inviting everyone to press a little closer. It should have annoyed the villain, but with the hero in their arms, grinning at them, it couldn’t possibly.

“Well,” the hero made a show of considering. “There’s hand-holding.”

“Indeed.” Their fingers wrapped around each other as they moved.

“And kissing.”

“Ah, kissing,” the villain said. Their gaze dipped, inevitably, to that mouth worth going to parties for. “You might have to teach me.”

“I’m pretty sure you’ve kissed before,” the hero said, amused. “But I’m always happy to provide a refresher.”

“Part of being a good, heroic citizen I imagine. Helping out the needy.”

“Needy, are you?”

The villain opened their mouth. They registered what they said.

“You’re blushing,” the hero said.

“It’s rude to point it out and mock your date.”

“I would never dream of mocking my date,” the hero said. Then, finally, the hero leaned in to kiss them. Sweet, honeyed, and the warm thing in the villain's chest glowed. They dragged the hero closer, wanting more, more, more. The hero laughed with breathless pleasure and nipped at their lips.

The next year, the villain vowed right then, they were taking their hero somewhere private.

[gingerly-writing]

Prompt #3526

“I’m sorry that you found out this way,” Supervillain murmured. “I have tried to keep it from you. I know my affections will be unwanted, and as such-”

“Wait. Unwanted?”