The A.J. Tipton duo of Annie and Jess (“AJ”) are an effective team writing team because we bring different perspectives to plots, characters, setting, and description which–when combined–create a richer story than either of us writing alone. Fitting with the theme of “Lion and Lambs,” we took our own interpretation of the classic villain/hero/predator/prey dynamic between the two classic symbols: a debate over the best Disney villain. This leap in logic makes sense, trust us. Let’s fight about it!*
Annie: Perhaps not my “favorite” villain in all Disney history, but the absolutely most EFFICIENT and EFFECTIVE villains of all (not to mention, goddamn terrifying), are the hunters from Bambi. They achieve all of their goals with no consequences to their actions. They live happily ever after leaving utter devastation in their wake for the heroes. They not only shoot Bambi’s mother and mount her head on their wall, they BURN the FOREST to the GROUND.
Annie: And since we never see their faces, we–the unfortunate children who have these hunters’ actions haunting our dreams–never get to rationalize or humanize them. They’re creeping threats that can’t be fought or avoided. They are the lurking menace that is NEVER defeated, only somewhat mitigated.
Jess: They DO haunt my every nightmare.
Annie: For the other Disney villains, we get to learn to like, even love them, but the Bambi hunters…they are the only villain who WINS.
Jess: It’s been a bit since I’ve seen Bambi, but I gotta say I can’t think of a single consequence these guys have.
Jess: Do they take momma Bambi’s corpse?
Jess: Maybe they miss out on a lovely venison meal.
Annie: Bambi flees, we don’t see what happened to the body.
Jess: Oh dang, they totally ate her.
Annie: Yep. Hunters won the day.
Jess: I can’t find a picture of them on the internets, but if I was a gamblin’ man, I’d say they probably all had big greasy mustaches they twirled menacingly.
Annie: They never have faces – we never actually see them. It’s what makes them impossible to rationalize away.
Jess: Gahh faceless evil **shudder**
Jess: My pick is DEFINED by his face (obvious transition is obvious) – Scar.
Annie: Scar was an incredibly effective murderer. I’ll give him that.
Annie: A lot of villains go to a lot of time and trouble to kill their nemesis that never actually goes anywhere *cough* Maleficent *cough*.
Jess: Scar broke the souls of so many children with the most heartbreaking cartoon murder of all time **pours one out for Mufasa**.
Jess: He’s sassy and has minions – SO MANY minions.
Annie: But scar also gets killed by his minions – so, arguably, he has too many minions.
Jess: Well, what’s the expression? Be nice to people on your way up because you’ll meet them on your way down.
Jess: But Mufasa exiled an entire species because…
Jess: Do we ever get why he hates on the hyenas so hard?
Annie: Nope, there’s no reason. Mufasa just didn’t like them.
Jess: So he’s like ‘those mofos go starve over there’.
Annie: Hyenas are absolutely part of that circle of life he kept talking about, they’re SCAVENGERS, and he still banished them. Mufasa = arguably the more badass between the brothers.
Jess: Scar feeds them – he brings them food.
Jess: “Stick with me, and you’ll never go hungry again”.
Jess: Scar’s trying to save an disenfranchised people.
Jess: He’s charismatic, he can rally the fuck out of troops.
Jess: Of course once he’s in charge he somehow affects precipitation.
Jess: Which, I feel like that would have happened even if Mufasa was in charge although the movie indicates otherwise.
Annie: I have to give Scar all of the points for effectively taking power and convincing the actual heir to the throne to give up his birthright for a few years. He 100% reaches his goal: become king by killing his brother. But he sucks at keeping power: he doesn’t actually take care of his minions, disrespects the ruling nobility (the lionesses). And, let’s not forget…
Annie: Domestic abuse.
Jess: That is not okay.
Jess: But for a while there, he’s winning. For years and years he is the man in charge and gets everything he wants. He has a solid ‘no starving any species’ rule which is way better than Mufasa and who’s to say that Simba is going to be a better ruler? If Scar didn’t go around smacking lionesses there’s an argument that he’s the best man for the job (the best woman for the job clearly being Nala).
Jess: Scar arranged for an “accident” and then made a dumb kid take the fall.
Annie: His emotional manipulation of Simba was absolutely excellent; even the wicked stepmother in cinderella doesn’t do that much psychological damage.
Jess: So much mind-fuckery.
Jess: Everything’s comin up Scar.
Jess: And there’s one male and hella females – is he getting laid daily and nightly and ever so rightly?
Annie: Probably, although–to be fair–we have to HOPE he’s actually been getting laid for a lot of years and not just after he took power. Since, if he hasn’t and the only other male in the pride is Mufasa, then Nala’s father is the same as Simba’s…better cousin than sister is all I’m saying.
Jess: Still just ENTIRELY too related for my taste.
Annie: All of the disney villains (except, ahem, the Bambi hunters) all get at least a moment of glory when everything is coming up before the hero shows up and ruins everything.
Annie: And then they all die.
Annie: Like Scar, eaten by the people he had tried to help/manipulated into his agenda to be his muscle.
Jess: Yeah it does NOT end well.
Jess: But y’know.
Jess: Such is the Circle of Life.
*Let’s fight about it! is a regular feature on the A.J. Tipton website Check it out for more of Annie and Jess’s nerdy debates.
Her Fiery Viking Synopsis:
Mikkel just might be too hot to handle. He’s an ancient Viking, cursed with immortality and the compulsion to burst into an uncontrollable ball of fire when enraged. After centuries of tragedy, Mikkel fears the fury within him and the danger he poses to anyone he lets too close.
But when Joanna, a smart, sexy engineer angry at the world, explodes into his life, Mikkel can’t resist her smoldering allure. Has the time finally come to let someone in and embrace the fire? Or will their fiery passion scorch these lovers?
This mature romance includes incendiary bar room shenanigans, harrowing kidnapping, high speed car escapades, and a love strong enough to heal even the most damaged of hearts.
Purchase Her Fiery Viking:
Her Elemental Viking Books:
Her Fiery Viking Excerpt:
God, what a day. Mikkel’s guys at the demo site were hard enough to wrangle on a good day, and today this smokin’ hot chick – Joanna apparently, according to Ben – walked in and his grown-ass demolition specialists became drooling apes. Mikkel was grateful it was Wednesday, the day of his weekly Anger Management meeting, and he could take some time to calm the fury rising up in him.
He shifted in the hard metal chair and wrung his hands, frustrated at his coworkers’ inability to just be human beings for a moment and see something other than that woman’s insane body. And it was certainly an insane body. Stop thinking about her legs, Mikkel, stop thinking about them wrapping around your hips. He just wanted to unwrap her overly businesslike suit like a birthday present and enjoy the smooth silky center found inside. Stop thinking about her eyes. He hadn’t seen such fierce strength and fiery determination in a woman in years. Joanna had none of that doe-eyed submissive crap women had been imitating since the Puritans. This was a woman who would orgasm screaming and clawing, and he could barely wait to see it. He clenched his hands tight across his knees to derail that train of thought, but staring at the floor between his knees just made him picture her there, looking up at him with that fierce determination as she took him in her mouth.
He let go of his knees and gripped the cold bottom of the metal chair. Not thinking about her was proving to be impossible. Joanna burst into his professional life out of nowhere and now she had permanent residence inside his head.
A smattering of applause burst out around him and Mikkel forced himself to concentrate. He nodded at a young guy wearing too much gold jewelry who sat down next to him. He hoped his expression looked like he’d been inspired by whatever the guy shared. Shit, Mikkel gripped the chair tight enough he heard it crack. I’m here for a reason; I can daydream about some broad on my own time.
“Thank you, Petey. That was so brave, so wonderful you felt you could share something so personal with all of us,” Tabitha, the meeting leader, said. Her chins wobbled a little as she spoke. “I know we are all here at Anger Management for different reasons, but bless you all for coming, and sharing, and showing us that we’re all the same inside.” She stifled a sniffle into a floral patterned handkerchief. “It just makes me so proud to stand here and see all of you brave and dear souls trying to improve yourselves and your relationships through sharing.”
Mikkel took pity on the group. Tabitha was sweet as pie, but weepier than a villain at the gallows and she would half-cry, half-talk this meeting into oblivion. He stood and walked towards the stack of empty crates they used as a makeshift podium. The group met below a hardware store owned by one of the members, and the room always smelled faintly of caulking and dried glue. It didn’t compare well to all the Buddhist temples and Catholic cloisters he’d visited over the millennia to achieve peace, but there was something almost comforting in its DIY sincerity.
“I’d like to share,” he boomed, his deep voice echoing around the small basement.
Tabitha lit up like a Christmas tree at the prospect of hearing about the feelings, trials and suffering of a fellow human being. “Thank you, Mike! Everyone, this is Mike. Let’s all make him feel supported and heard!” she trilled, starting a small round of lackluster applause.
As Mikkel slid behind the makeshift podium, he ducked to fit his frame under a low-hanging pipe. As he drew a breath, he absentmindedly glanced around. The room was filled with some regulars, some newbies, and a woman in business wear attempting to hide her face with a flyer Tabitha handed out earlier. The cartoonesque attempt at anonymity was more hilarious than effective, as Mikkel would have known that spiky haircut anywhere.
His heart leapt in his chest, the strong physical reaction to her presence surprising him. She had removed her jacket and Mikkel drank in her slender, strong arms, delicate neck and the outline of ample breasts.
“Hi everybody, I’m Mike and I have anger issues.”
“Hi Mike,” the group robotically intoned.
Mikkel launched into his story. He had to adjust it every few decades to make sure the references made sense within the current time period, but aside from small chronological edits, it was always the same. “I used to be a normal family man – wife, kids, the whole enchilada.” This much was true.
“One day I was out of town on business and a burglar broke into our home, murdering my family in cold blood.” This much was not true. As he spoke his well-practiced speech, he couldn’t help but recall the real story. The flames reached for the sky, burning his small village to the ground. The battle cries of the Skomer tribe echoed across the hills. His hands gripped the edge of the podium. That day was one of the worst memories of his long life and one of the few not dulled by time. He had never felt so powerless, so vulnerable as that moment. He’d never felt so angry.
“After I laid my family to rest, I became completely engulfed by rage – getting into fistfights, destroying everything I touched and completely unable to interact at a basic human level.”
He watched, trying unsuccessfully not to stare, as Joanna gave up trying to hide behind the paper and leaned forward, seemingly drawn closer by his words. What Mikkel always neglected to mention were the series of murderous rampages he went on shortly after his reasons for living were turned to char. He had been born a Viking, after all, and most of his peers and brothers never thought twice about his exceptionally violent behavior. His father even used it to his advantage, sending Mikkel first into battle to pave the way for his more even-tempered brothers.
He felt a dull ache inside his chest whenever he remembered the horrible, bloodthirsty person he had become. Had his family not gone up against that witch in Scotland, his rampage would probably have been cut short with his death and Mikkel would have been freed from the pain. Her curse left him invulnerable and unable to age, seemingly good things, but he was forced to see all his lovers and compatriots age and die, over and over again.
“One woman I met by chance, she tried to teach me to stop, but I wouldn’t listen.” The morning of the curse was another scene forever branded on his memory. It was supposed to be just another raid, just another island to conquer and settle. His father had ignored the warnings that a powerful witch protected the island, said it was all wild rumor spread by people who were unable to protect themselves.
But everything had gone wrong from the moment Mikkel first stepped onto the island. Battle rage took over, as it always did in those early days following his family’s slaughter. He dimly remembered his middle-brother, Erik, heading over to the far side of the island while his youngest brother, Bram, went down to the beach. But a crucial hour was missing: his memory of going up against the crone gone.
All he could remember was after, standing weak-kneed on that beach, desperately searching and calling out for Bram’s body in the sea. His other brothers lay still and cold on the ground. The witch cried out something at him and Mikkel did the only thing he could think of: he ran. He thought losing his family was enough of a punishment for the harm they caused to the witch’s island, but he learned the extent of the witch’s revenge the next time he got mad…
“Whenever I got into a rage, I would find myself in a state completely out of my control. This escalated, year after year, until I noticed a pattern of unintentionally hurting those around me, again and again. I was so blinded by my rage that I irreparably destroyed people’s lives. I ruined friendships, alienated girlfriends, and got on the wrong side of the law once or twice.”
Understatement of the millennium, Mikkel thought. Within a week of leaving the witch’s cursed island, Mikkel got into a fight at a tavern when one of the other patrons tried to force himself on one of the barmaids. Since his wife and children died, he’d been quick to anger, but this felt different. This was beyond rage, it was a hot crackling inferno that built up in his chest, tingled down his spine and then exploded along his skin as literal flames. He couldn’t stop it and the fireball destroyed the bar and everyone in it, friend and foe alike charred beyond recognition. He’d lost countless friends and lovers over the years to his rage. He had learned methods to quell his anger, but the curse still took him over when he was sufficiently riled–and those around him always paid the price.
He noticed a shift in the back of the room as Joanna leaned back, crossing her long, slender legs. Her face carried an expression, not of judgment or concern, but of complete understanding. Her perfect breasts strained against her shirt, rising as she sighed, and Mikkel nearly groaned out loud. He wanted to kick over the podium, push his way through the others present and devour this woman with the fiery eyes. It was a good thing lust had never been one of his triggers, or the whole room would be on fire right now.
Mikkel realized he had stopped speaking mid-story and cleared his throat. He hoped the group assumed he was overcome with emotion rather than distracted by thoughts of thoroughly pillaging the structural engineer in the back row.
“I don’t like to think about all the lives I destroyed in those days. When I was angry, it seemed nothing could stand in my way. I was like a walking conflagration.” The truest words of the whole story. “Eventually I realized this way of life only caused pain, so I traveled the world, searching for a religion or philosophy that could help me find some way to control myself.”
For centuries he’d sought answers from mystics, witches, sorcerers, and scientists to try and lessen his rage, counter the spell, or just mitigate the damage. Not a single one could help him. Logically, Mikkel knew he should leave civilization and go live in an isolated cave far from anyone he might hurt, but hope dragged him back to society whenever he tried. He had to believe that the witch’s curse had some cure, or that–at the very least–someday someone would find a way to reunite him with his family.
The unfruitful search around the world had its own rewards, though.
“In my travels, I met a lot of very interesting people who touched me deeply and really changed how I saw the world.” If the support group was mostly men, he’d admit these ‘deep touches’ came from beautiful women. With Joanna in the audience, however, he held back his vivid descriptions of the women he’d sampled across the globe. What couldn’t cure the curse could distract from it. He delighted in their scent, their sensuality, their screams of satisfaction.
His gaze was once again drawn to Joanna listening hungrily to his tale. He wished he had a more inspiring conclusion for her, something to give her hope in her own struggles.
“After a long while, I realized the answer to my problems wasn’t something a monk or shaman could conjure up for me, so I stopped wandering the earth looking for some magical solution. I’m here, dealing with my anger day by day, working the program. It certainly does help that I blow stuff up for a living.” This inspired a few chuckles, “But I am grateful to Tabitha and you all here for supporting me.”
The room burst into applause and Tabitha moved towards the podium, sobbing happily. She grabbed Mikkel by the shoulders and gave him a wet, sloppy kiss on the cheek, leaving a comically large lipstick mark. It always surprised him, but he did feel better.
Meet A.J. Tipton:
A.J. Tipton is the pseudonym of a writing team: Annie and Jessica (Get it? “A.J.” You get it). Blessed with imaginations too big for our corporate day jobs, we spend our evenings co-writing erotic stories that amuse us and hope will also amuse others. Our running document of ideas for future series-everything from sex-robots to ghost brothels-will keep us busy for many years to come, so follow us on your preferred social media platform and let us know what series you like best. We love to hear from readers.
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