The hand that hovered so dangerously close to Tord's bionic almost pulled a growl from the Red Leader's chest. He stiffened visibly and eyed it with distrust, nostrils flaring with each breath he took. Don't touch me, Tord wanted to snap. When frightened he tended to react with anger; Arvo was no exception to the rule. If anything, he was part of the reason the unspoken rule was ever put in place. He made Tord constantly stay on his toes; the fact that one of his own soldiers could do something so unspeakable to him made Tord furious and terrified. Thankfully, he had some things – money and safety – that Arvo needed in order to be comfortable. It was unlikely the man would kill him any time soon.

      It was a temptation Tord hung over his subordinates like ropes from the gallows. They needed him for one reason or another; his money, the safety of the Red Army, the victims he provided them that kept them from officially becoming serial murderers, the free food and drink they would not get on the streets as urchins. You name it, Tord probably had it and used it to manipulate damn near everyone to the beat of his drum. When that was not enough, violence and the threat of death usually carried the answers Tord sought out.

      No one joined the Red Army and left with complete freedom and benefit. They were watched constantly and sworn to secrecy, lest they be sent to an early, unmarked grave in some forgotten corner of Norway...and that was if they were especially lucky. Tord had lost count of how many deserters he had to take care of since he took the title of Red Leader and formed this terrible military.

      Alas, none of that was important. Just background noise to combat the bullshit Arvo spouted. Tord gave Arvo's shoulder one final squeeze, then leaned in to whisper against his ear while undoubtable pain shot through refreshed muscles and bones. "In the future, do make sure your face is presentable before I walk into the room," he said threateningly. "Cheeks so red and eyes so bloodshot do not look suitable in my army, in spite of what the name might suggest. You understand, don't you, Arvo?" Tord smiled wide, released Arvo's shoulder, and stood to full height behind him. He was clearly pleased with himself, not to mention hunting for reasons to cause Arvo even more pain.

      It was not like the bastard did not deserve it.

    You could cut the tension in the air with a goddamn knife. It was incredible how quickly the atmosphere turned from relaxed to nerve wracklingly intense, and Arvo hated it with every fiber of his being.. He wasn’t quite sure if the Red Leader was one to chose favorites among his soldiers, but he was quite certain that if he did, he was at the very bottom of the list.. He couldn’t complain though, after all, it was his fault he was there, he wasn’t necessarily fond of the man himself, he simply tries to avoid him as much as possible while at the same time earning his paycheck. Simply put, Arvo was a difficult man, growing up with little to no discipline, what do you expect from someone who’s actions consequently led up to him having no parents? That probably contributed to the reasons why he joined the army in the first place, and at such a young age.

Flinching violently at the final squeeze the other man gave his shoulder, he nearly missed everything Tord said, and when he was finally released, he nearly sighed. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, sir.” Voice laced with the slightest bit of venom as he spoke.. Arvo was just being prideful, there was no way he was going to admit defeat.. No doubt the relief the other man granted him was soon to be ephemeral.. 

Sunset Blvd., 1950

rp pet peeve; when writing with a villain, one continues to poke the bear but once said villain retaliates, other’s grow upset or perturbed.

always remember; if you choose to poke the bear, you will get bitten. 

VILLAINS are not punching bags, they are opposition that pose a TRUE & REAL THREAT. antagonize one & you incur the wrath. do not smite the writer for their chosen direction as they are simply reacting as their muse commands. ( & believe me, if you’re writing a villain, the muse is in control ). villains are not teddy bears. villains are complex, multi-faceted. perhaps they react in one way to one & differently to another. bonds are formed different. villains can sometimes be unhinged mentally where reasoning is skewed or twisted. they are not to be underwritten as little puppies with attitude issues. they are a rabid dog most tend to shy away from. they don’t need a little love or a sprinkle of fairy dust to feel better, to be good. some villains don’t want to be redeemed. some villains don’t want emotional connection. many are selfish & if an emotional connection is sought after the villain will usually ( ALWAYS ) put themselves first. always talk to the mun, get a feel for the muse, get to know the limits - what lines to cross, what lines to avoid like the plague. 

“Bugging me should be the last thing on your mind,” came her slightly less annoyed answer. “But I guess Red Leader doesn’t give you enough work. Lucky.”

She turned her attention to the patch of dirt on the floor, mopping with enthusiasm. “I don’t understand how you lot can get so messy.”

“Oh he gives me plenty of work, I just don’t do half of it out of spite--” 

    He offered a shrug, sure he would try and get away with doing none of it, but he didn’t want to get his ass kicked out of the army.. Not only that but he needed the cover of the army to get away with certain.. Activities..

“Well, people don’t like to wipe their feet when they come in, they’re filthy really..”

He’s a cannibal and a gourmet cook

“No reason in particular.” Abbadon really should be more discreet, but it was down right amusing to be so suspicious, especially when no one questioned it like Arvo had. There was so many odd people in the army most just accepted his suspicious behavior.

“Why? Is there a problem, darling?”

Furrowing his brows in what seemed to be mock thought, he hesitated before saying a word, "Nooope.. No problem here, Satan." A smirk pulled at the edges of his lips as he spoke, ultimately finding some sort of amusement in the fact Xan asked to be called the lord of Hell, not to mention despite the doctor's nonchalant exterior, he looked as though he was fishing for a reaction (which he managed to obtain). Arvo wasn't too fond of the idea he could actually be Satan (or a demon) considering all the less than humane things he's done.

send a symbol to give my muse...

○: a hug ●: a kiss (feel free to specify where) □: a flower crown ■: a nudge in the side ♤: an uncomfortably long stare ♡: a hair ruffling ♢: a push from behind ♧: a backhand slap ☆: a fronthand slap ¤: a book to read 》: a pat on the back ¡: an apology ¿: a gift

Géza Vastagh (1866-1919) - Chickens and turkeys on a dunghill, oil on canvas, 100 x 115 cm.