#VillainArc
Boomers: barefoot prophets of peace but sold out faster than a Beatles reunion. Suburbs, pensions, HOA meetings. Their villain arc is hypocrisy with a mortgage.
Gen X were ironists to the bone. Our betrayal was meta. We commodified selling out itself. We didn't just cave; we made caving the culture. Ruined rebellion for everyone after.
Millennials preached passion & authenticity till rent & debt snapped the halo. Their villain arc is disillusion: branding burnout as content.
What if Doctor Strange isn’t the hero but the villain in Avengers: Doomsday? A multiverse twist that could change everything.
👉 Read full article here: movieinsiderz.com/doctor-strange-turns-villain-in-avengers-doomsday/
#DoctorStrange #MCUTwist #AvengersDoomsday #VillainArc #MarvelTheory
"And here I was, thinking this'd be a boring retrieval! How about I break out the old tricks then, just for y'all~"
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"Holy shiiiiit dude when did we get on a roller coaster?"
Arcana couldn't keep herself from snickering as she turned to look at Tank in the back seat. "Nah, we still in the Nebuchadnezzar."
The opossum's expression was so nonplussed, the fox thought his eyebrows might just fly off his head. "They turned my girl into a roller coaster!? Yoooooo..."
If not for her seat belt, Arcana would have doubled over herself. She converted a jovial giggle into a sigh as she shifted her gaze to the driver's seat. Mojo was keeping a straight face as she drove, but just barely.
"Girl, how much did you give him? You know it's his first time!" the fox inquired, with a tone the equivalent of a punch on the shoulder.
"2 milligrams," the coyote answered. "Perfect for a smooth first trip."
With cosmic timing, the road dipped into yet another valley. Immediately following it, a sharp incline, forcing everyone in the car to sway forward and backward rapidly. Mojo was silently unphased, while Arcana yelped, and Tank hollered his little head off.
"Not a smooth road, apparently. Arc, where the hell you takin' us?"
The fox shook her head to regain her barrings before grinning. "You'll see~! You're gonna take this next right."
Contrary to her teasing, the back road made it hard to see much of anything. Every few seconds was a hill, or a turn, or a bramble that obstructed a good chunk of the view on one side. Mojo navigated it flawlessly -- a little too flawlessly for Arcana's taste, the coyote flying just fast enough for her to feel those slopes in her stomach. Admittedly, if she had remembered how turbulent she was, she might have suggested they go to some other location. But the die was cast, the hype was built, and now the trio was off to parts two-thirds unknown.
"Knowing foxy, it's probably somethin' sick..." Tank said, into the back of the headrest as much as to his friends. "Like a... secret fox club... where foxes go to smoke and drink the good shit...."
Arc let her eyes playfully roll. "Oh come on Tank, obviously we're not going somewhere like that."
She let the bit brew before serving. "Because it's foxes only! How would yall get in?"
"Well I don't look THAT different from y'all," Mojo offered. "We the same Chromotype n' shit. You tell 'em I'm your long lost sister? Boom, we in."
"And possum boy?" Arcana pointed out, jabbing her thumb back at Tank (who looked like he was just about ready to suck on it).
"He's your lil' boytoy! Pets get in free," she retorted, not missing a beat.
Arcana was happy she had decided to just play navigator tonight instead of driving. Not because of what Mojo said, but because Tank's immediate reaction was to start barking.
The car erupted; one part unhinged cackling, one part dog impression, and one part coyote who finally found her own chortle.
The eventual cut off for their revelry was quick, sharp, and barely-anticipated: the forewarned right turn, a 110 degree affair that made them all quite happy Tank took good care of his vehicle. Mojo barely slowed down before hitting it, drifting on the worn asphalt and sliding them on track.
"Gods, I fuckin' hate Carolina roads," the fox cursed, turning towards her open window to refresh herself in the night air.
"God, I fuckin' hate Carolina," Mojo amended.
"God, I fuckin'," Tank even further revised.
After further untold time, flying faster than a speeding 2009 Chevy Malibu, Arcana finally indicated for Mojo to turn off onto a gravel road. They took that for a few moments, through a thick brush of green, till the road ended in a wide pavilion. At the end of an empty parking lot sat a modern-enough building, and in the distance, over acres and acres and still more acres of land, an antiquated-enough barn.
"... Nigga, did you take us to a farm?" Mojo asked, slowing the car down seemingly just enough to responsibly glare at Arcana.
"I took us to THE AMCC Research Farm!" the fox corrected, masking a bit of her nerve behind her devil-may-care veneer.
"Aye-mack," Tank dazedly, faithfully called in the traditional cadence of the school chant.
As the car fully coasted to a stop, Arcana let some of her earnest feelings creep through. "I know it's kind of a weird suggestion, but like... inner city Raleigh gets so loud sometimes, especially on campus, and I just figured this would be a good, chill place for Tank's first time, y'know? Ain't nobody gonna bother us out here, no cops, the most we got to worry about is mosquitos."
It was only after she'd made her case that the fox recognized the look that'd been in Mojo's eyes the entire time. Not incredulous but... appreciatory.
"Alright, alright," the coyote responded with an appreciative nod. She wheeled the car up to one of the parking spots off to the side, overlooking one of the pastures.
"Tank, you fuck with this?" She asked, keeping her handpaw tentatively on the gear shift.
The opossum was too busy staring up at the sunroof, and far, far past it. "Holy shit, they got like every star out here..."
Mojo snorted before letting the car park. "Sounds like a yes."
She let her seat recline, lazing back as she looked up and out the windshield. Her arms went up, handpaws resting behind her head. "I fuck with it too, nice change of scenery."
Arcana finally let herself relax hearing... close enough to both of her friends' approval. She sunk into her own seat, releasing her seatbelt so she could melt into it as much as possible. Vulpine eyes shut a moment, before wandering. First at the brilliant night, then at the serene pastoral scene below it, and finally...
She didn't know what spurned her to try laying her head in the coyote's armpit and snuggle up as close as she could. But it happened. And miraculously, Mojo was happy to have her there.
And so they were, staring at everything and nothing, separate and together, watching an earth that stood still and a sky that spun around them. They were, after all, the only two creatures in the world.
And also, there was a blazed opossum in the back seat.
"Y'all I swear to God if I see a UFO or somethin' that shit's going on my youtube."
Mojo snickered, her arm absently coming down. "Nah, if we see somethin' we gotta keep it to ourselves. This is our special spot now."
Arcana couldn't help but nod. Perhaps it was what was said. Or perhaps it was the coyote paw brushing between her ears, playing in her braids, telling her in all ways that she'd done well.
"Mhm! Our little secret."
Bury Tomorrow Name the Metalcore Trends That Aged Poorly
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#BuryTomorrow #Metalcore #Crabcore #FashionTrends #Breakdowns #VillainArc #Southampton #UKMusic #Portraits #WillYouHauntMe
"Oh my god, I forgot about these!"
The opossum's quick handpaws dropped the old cardboard box on a nearby table, narrowly avoiding a wave of dust and nerddom falling upon him. What they couldn't stop, however, was the cascade of memories. Scrawled in black marker, in a script barely legible, was the term "JUNKYARD". Directly below it, the phrase: "THE SUPERHERO".
From across the garage, an older opossum chuckled as she peered over. "You lucky you added that 2nd part, otherwise I woulda been thrown that away."
Tank was a bit too lost in nostalgia to respond to his mother. Only now that he saw the box again did he remember compiling all its contents and leaving it in here before he went off to college. He couldn't help himself but open it - what if something had gotten damage while he was gone? - and inside was...
A little bit of everything. Comics. TV show boxed sets. A video game. Even an autographed picture... gotten 2nd hand.
"Motherfucker..." Tank trailed off as he picked up one of the titles facing upward: "Junkyard Jeopardy Issue #27 - Rumble in the Rust Belt"
His mom came up beside him, apparently interested in the contents herself. "What got you cursin' like that?"
The opossum's first instinct was to hide the graphic novel in his handpaws; he managed to get as far as shoving it under his elbow. But then his mom gave him The Look -- the one that reminded him she'd seen it all before.
"Just... you remember when I used to be big into Junkyard?"
She nodded, a smile growing on her face. "I couldn't forget if I wanted to. He's the one who was bending steel with his bare paws, right?"
Well, Junkyard's powers extended FAR beyond just bending some steel. The chocolate lab had INCREDIBLE control over any metal, from being able to bend it into new shapes, to magnetizing it, to making weapons or tools. It was like if you put a pipe in his hands, there was nothing he COULDN'T do-
"...yeah. O-other stuff too, but yeah," Tank admitted, only after he'd noticed how long he'd been quiet.
"Yep, yep, you used to love him! I thought you had a crush!" his mom recalled with a snap, as if it helped her recollection.
The younger opossum snickered, cheeks only warming a bit with embarrassment. "Hold up, I wasn't *that* into him."
His mom tilted her head, earrings jangling slightly. "You would always go up to the comic book store and ask them if they had any new issues with him. You'd sit in front of the living room TV every Saturday morning and watch that show he was on. I remember you even got me to drive you up to that little event in Raleigh cause you was tryin' to see him!"
Every memory forced Tank back, giving him small shots of his childhood. The man who ran the comic store starting to call him "Junkgirl". His sisters fighting him for control of the remote weekly. His first ever Capecon, which was in retrospect an ABYSMAL experience, but one he couldn't help but cherish.
"Yeah, we uh... we got there too late for him to give me an autograph. So you ended up buying one off of some collector," he added on to the story.
His mom nodded. "I could *feel* the sweat drippin' off that mofo," she said, shivering both in the past and present.
"But you still got it," the younger opossum pointed out, looking at that picture in the corner. It'd been addressed to someone who just went by "T". Odd in the moment. Perfect in retrospect.
"Honestly, I'm surprised you didn't take this with you on camp!" his mom verbally prodded, running a finger against the top of the comics. "Surprised you fell offa Junkyard at all."
Well, much like all of Tank's memories revolving around him, the situation was bittersweet.
Junkyard had sounded so cool and relatable growing up. A broke AM kid from Milwaukee learns he has superpowers, and uses them to fight crime and help his community. Grows up to have comic books, TV shows, even a movie made about him. Using both a tactical mind and a good heart to impress heroes and villains alike. He was probably one of the most successful AM heroes to ever do it. It was impossible for Tank to not look up to someone like that.
And then he got further down the rabbit hole, and he learned what sorts of things heroes had to do to become that successful. The corporate sponsorships. The deals with local law enforcement. The selling of his likeness, ignorant of how accurate or tasteful it was. The apathy to the needs of the very people he used to swear to protect. Junkyard never had any big controversy or scandal. Tank just... woke up one day. And he realized that not all heroes were really heroes.
He managed to summarize that by saying: "I just found other heroes I fucked with more."
Junkyard had been his first hyperfixation, but certainly not his last. And he couldn't be absolutely sure the labrador had been where his gender envy started, but... well, he wouldn't have been surprised.
"Well if you don't want it, I can give the box away. It ain't doin' anyone any good sittin' in here getting dusty," his mom pointed out, arms outstretched.
Tank was defensively positioned in front of it again before he even realized what he was doing. "No!"
And then, after a fidget with one of his bracelets: "I just... I don't want to regret getting rid of it. A-ask me again... after college."
His mom shrugged, making a show of backing off. "Alright, alright. But if your dad asks about it, you're gonna explain why it's still in here."
The younger opossum knew that wasn't meant to be any sort of threat, and yet... his dad was, well...
"Bet," he managed to get out, more stable than he honestly thought it would be.
Before sealing the box back, Tank filed Issue #27 back inside... before taking the autographed portrait out. There Junkyard was, smiling just as decadently as ever, in that costume that he supposedly spilled a little motor oil on before every mission (until 2010, when he began wearing the uniform that was stylized to emulate that but never quite hit the same).
The opossum couldn't help but smile back and read the quote on the bottom that still rang true to this day.
"Hey T - Be your own hero."
One jab, one weave. One push forward, one step back. A basic rhythm, but with enough intricacies to keep everyone on their toes.
Sandbag's feathers on her left wing straightened as her muscles tensed. A sure sign that she was going for a wing strike next. Arcana had only been sparring with the avian for a few days at this point, but that wasn't a hard pattern to pick up on. Levying something just a step beyond intuition, the fox dodged to her right and ducked slightly, avoiding what otherwise would have been a fierce uppercut.
"Nice!" the trainer complimented, immediately rising her other limb to block the expected counterattack. Instead of that, though, Arcana took a quick step backward, giving herself a bit more space. A conjured pillar erupted from the ground where she had just been standing, as if to repel any attempt to close the space.
A beat passed with no sign of any activity from Sandbag. The fox's brow quirked - wasn't her trainer going to round the obstacle? She gave it another moment before dispelling the construct... and quickly realized her error. A flying talon kick was waiting for her the moment she dropped her barrier, and had she not thought to conjure a chestplate, it would have sent her flying. Instead it only sent her sliding back on the mat, barely keeping her balance.
The assault wasn't quite over yet, though. Sandbag sprang off the armor, flipping in midair and using her wings to reverse her trajectory. A somersault turned into a drop kick with her other leg. Arcana might have been able to create something to block it, or knock her off balance, but the only thing that came to mind at such an unfamiliar maneuver was to not get hit.
Unfortunately, she couldn't backstep forever. Especially not when the training room was only so long.
The wall at her back was the harbinger of her defeat. Before she could get herself out of the corner, Sandbag leaped forward and slammed home a driving punch... that collided with the perpendicular mat. Her other fist struck the other side of the fox, pinning her in place. The avian shot her one last confident -- and oddly sultry? -- look before a round end bell rung out through the room.
~Point to Sandbag!~ ROSE announced via intercom.
Arcana groaned as her instructor pushed back, striding over towards the bench where her jug of water sat. "Iiiii'm taking a break after that one."
"Take your time, hon," Sandbag replied, shaking out her fists. "You were doing pretty good that round! I might need to mix it up a bit more, huh?"
"I mean, not if you keep winning..." the fox sardonically commented before taking a swig.
Sandbag shrugged. "It ain't about winning. It's about getting you ready for the field. And you are making progress, even if it's not the most obvious."
Those words were enough to get Arcana to at least think about the next thing to leave her maw. "I guess? I'm still missing something though, otherwise we'd've moved on by now."
Sandbag took a moment to consider before snapping her talons. "You know what it is? You're dodge-happy. When someone's pressuring you, you just want to get out the way. And that's fair -- not everyone can take hits like me."
She smiled before adopting her sparring stance. "Here, throw a conjured punch at me."
The fox hesitated before nodding. It wasn't like throwing out some basic constructs would be too draining. She snapped her fingers, and a purple fist appeared in front of the avian before striking forward. Sandbag jumped back, avoiding it as it whiffed and disintegrated into nothing.
"Again. Keep 'em coming!"
Arcana did as told, throwing one attack after another Sandbag's way. The strikes were all expertly dodged, even as she started varying up where they were coming from. But all those movements were definitely adding up, pushing the avian further and further to the far side of the room. Picking up almost automatically on this, Arcana's next conjuration wasn't a fist, but a wall. It blocked her instructor off from behind, locking her down. She put just a bit more juice into the next fist, assured by the pin she'd managed, and watched as the construct flew true into Sandbag.
And sending her flying through the conjured wall behind her.
In a few flourishes, Arcana was right beside Sandbag, curses and apologies tumbling from her maw. "Shit! Fuck! Gods fucking- oh my gods, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to-"
But the avian wasn't bothered in the slightest. In fact, she was beaming, and seemingly unharmed as she picked herself up off the ground. "Damn girl, nice! That's the sort of power I'm talking about! And it's okay, I'm fine! In fact, that's exactly what I'm talking about!"
The avian gestured to the broken wall, just as Arcana finally dismissed it. "If you get into some fights in tight spaces -- and trust me, you will -- you can't just keep running away. Because eventually, whoever it is will catch up to you. And then they'll do that."
Eyes still wide with surprise, all the fox could do was blink and nod. She didn't know how it seemed like her instructor had MORE energy after getting hit, but... she couldn't say it wasn't getting her pumped up, too.
"You'd think after years of playing fighting games, I'd know to stay out he corner," Arcana finally found it in her to joke.
Sandbag chucked before walking back to the center of the mat. "Just means we gotta train it out of you. You ready for another round?"
The fox nodded, putting on the confidence she could only hope she'd really earned.
"Now," her trainer began, mashing her fists together. "You already know how to avoid a hit pretty well. How about I show you how to bash back~?"
🇪🇷Götterdämmerung
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