Day I

𝐀𝐜𝐮𝐚𝐭𝐞

sharpened, sharp-pointed

*The group is getting into the car*

Damian: I’m driving.

Wonderboy!reader, out of view: Shotgun!

Billy, turning to face reader: Aww! But you had it on the way here-

Everyone except reader: WOAH-

Wonderboy!reader, holding a shotgun: No! I found a shotgun! And I want the front seat! *Pumps gun*

is “villain” the best word to use in a scene description or a dialogue prompt between characters?

since I came across this poll and gave my little opinion on the matter there, I thought I would make a separate post about it too.

now what I’m not gonna do is tell my fellow writers what to do or what not to do. however, if I may, I hope you’ll allow me to give you my advice.

writers — especially those who write about superheroes, fantasy, etc — you may have used the word “villain” in your works before, and you may have thought nothing of the word itself; I mean, it fits best, right? a bad guy in a story where characters have superpowers is a villain.

I mean that’s the word for it. because for us, these are fictional works about fictional characters.

but…

for those characters in your work, the world you created for them are real for them. I mean… your characters don’t know they are fictional characters in a fictional world, correct? (unless you specifically write a story in which the characters know they’re fictional characters in a fictional world).

therefore you might want to ask yourself how realistic it is for these characters — who have no idea they are fictional characters and think they are real people — to call bad people “villains”

how realistic it is for us — real people — to call real-life criminals “villains”

what are the chances of us reading the news with the headline “two villains caught and in custody after a robbery attempt”?

the word “villain” just… doesn’t sound realistic in real world.

ask yourself how realistic you want your stories to be, as a writer who created a world in which the characters don’t know they are fictional.

how realistic it is for your characters (who think they are real people) to say, “there’s a villain around. we have to go.”

for your characters, they aren’t fictional characters, they are real. and these fictional worlds are real for them. if we’re not calling real-life criminals villains because they are real people to us. would your characters call someone who were real to them villains because they were bad?

now ask yourself how realistic you want your stories to be, as a writer — of course, a story where characters have superpowers or the one where characters live in a fantasy world aren’t so “realistic” for us, but if, as a writer, you want your readers to feel as though they live in that world you created while they read your work, you might not want to subtly remind them they’re reading a fictional work by directly referring to the bad guys as “villains”.

the key to professionally writing a story is that you make your readers forget they are reading a fictional story.

the key to professionally writing a story is that you make your readers feel as though they actually live in that world you create and are a part of that story.

there’s a reason most (if not all) superhero movies we see don’t include a scene where the hero refers to the bad guy as “a villain”. and that reason is that, for these characters, what happens in the movie is real to them. and also because the studios want their audience — us — to feel as though we actually live in that world. they don’t want to keep reminding us that “hey, this is a movie, it’s not real” by having the hero call the bad guy villain.

reminder: the world you create are real for those characters, and it should feel real for your readers to.

words to use instead of “villain”

murderer

monster

bad people / bad person

killer

son of a bitch

dick

cunt

dickhead

convicted

abuser

prick

dangerous (person / people)

predator

rapist

violent (person / people / man)

manipulator

traitor

unreliable

liar

troublemaker

troubled

unstable

corrupted

psychopath

capable of horrible, violent things

The wise old woman from your village has three colored power stones. You hesitate because you can't go back on your decision. You knew that it could imbue you with amazing abilities, making you a formidable force against other stone users. "Hmm, red, blue, or green. Which stone should I pick?"

I don't know how strictly accurate this is, but one of the things I find shocking about watching historical dramas is how many people there are around all the time---according to Madame de... (1953) a well-off French household in the Belle Epoque maintains a workforce of at least 3, and the glittering opera has staff just to open doors. According to Shogun (2024) you can expect a deep bench just to mind your household, and again, people who exist to open doors.

Could people....not open doors in the past? Were doors tricky, before the standardization of hinges? Because otherwise, the wealthy used to pay a whole bunch of people to do it for them in multiple contexts, and I find myself baffled.

Angels Prompts

Angels are not the cute, fluffy creatures the world likes to see them as. They are powerful warriors and are not here to coddle humans.

The wings of an angel are high maintenance and so almost every angel has a companion who helps them out with keeping their wings ready and beautiful.

Sometimes angels like watching over their humans laying in bed. Those destructive little creatures look so peaceful when they are asleep.

All angels are supposed to be siblings. And they do have a family dynamic between them - a very toxic one.

They have been on earth for millennia. Nothing can shock them anymore. Or so they thought.

An angel's wings are powerful, made for flying and fighting. But they are also incredibly soft and wonderful to be surrounded by.

Loving humans as an angel also means watching a lot of them die.

The angels are wandering the world looking like regular people. But if you watch more carefully, it's actually pretty easy to spot one.

They have a job to fulfill, giving to them millennias ago, and almost nothing could get them to abandon that job.

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Day VII

It wasn't long before the humans died off and the machines built by them were the only survivors left. The robots and AI developed over a few centuries to recycle the accumulated trash, thus making them effectively immortal. The Earth cooled by a few degrees as the only water was in the atmosphere, keeping the ground usable for plants.

The seeds in the ground and those that blew around became saturated with radiation that escaped from decrepit power plants and silos and storage facilities. Mutations were catalyzed and metal and plastic started to grow out of the ground.

One of many big companies, Trash, Recycling, and IgnitioN Services by Electric and Gas-GuzzlerS, TRaINS by EGGS mass produced trash compaction robots, among others. These, like the rest, grouped up like families, like clans. It was almost human.

Boolean lifted a pile of scrap before turning it into a cube. Then he heard the telltale whistle of something flying through the air at high speed. He took the brunt of it and rolled it to the ground. He absorbed the scrap, bulking himself up, then went to investigate what had launched the projectile.

What he saw after a few minutes was the opposite of what he expected: a war machine curled up, doing the robotic equivalent of human crying. She lifted her head as he drew closer.

"何が欲しいですか?"

Boolean cocked his head in confusion. He recognized the language, but not what it meant.

"Qu'est-ce que tu veux?"

Not even the slightest clue.

"¿Qué deseas?"

So close yet so far away. So he went with the one he knew. "英語を話します?"

She snickered at that, then, in a much less irritated growl, said, "What do you want?"

"Oh, uh.... I just wondered if you throwing that crane at me was on purpose? Looking at you now, though, it doesn't seem like it." Now that he wasn't trying to process language or body language, he saw her factory silver plating which was covered in dust and rust flakes. She got up and some of the debris fell off of her.

"Sorry about that. Just alone and sad. I was sent here to find life, but aside from some weird molds and viruses, and you, I've found nothing."

"Well, if you're looking for humans or mammals you won't find any. They're all dead and gone. There aren't even any remains. But if you're looking at plant life, everything here came from carbon-based, photosynthesizing flora. Centuries back, but the DNA's still there, if you know where to look." He plucked a leaf from the ground. The rubber peeled apart easily when he opened it up.

"This is the most natural, well, most pre-apocalyptic, plant that grows now. One of the few carbon-based life forms here anymore." The silver robot looked at it, hunching to see and be less imposing. She analyzed it and, sure enough, nothing but hydrocarbons.

"Wait, what's your name? I'm Boolean."

"Evelyn."

What about a sub!villain who tries to play the part of the suave, dominant villain cause they’re afraid of vulnerability… and an actually dominant hero who sees through it and flips the script. Could it also be spicy please?

Also, your writing is amazing and it makes my day better! Thank you so much for sharing it! I send you hugs!

"You may think you're deceptive. But you are not." The end of the villain's dagger nearly buried its way into their own skin. Although the villain couldn't recall when the hero had gotten a hold of it during the fight, they were quite pleased with the result. (The result being the hero on top of them, still panting from the fight.) "Your effort is quite delightful, though."

The villain cracked a smile.

"Oh, you want to ravage me so bad..."

"Your imagination doesn't even come close to how bad I truly want that," the hero answered.

There was something in their presence that stirred the villain in an exciting way. Was it their body? Their personality? Their morals and their desires? Usually, the villain considered themselves to be talented when it came to reading people and analyzing the relationships they had with them.

For better or worse, it was different with the hero. More confusing. More dangerous.

At this point, the villain was playing with fire - they didn't know exactly what their relationship with the hero was nor where they stood.

"I loathe you for being my only weakness." The hero let the blade dig into the villain's chin until they looked up. "And destroying you would probably bring me some peace."

"Oh." The villain had never heard such a blunt statement coming from the hero. At least not something this personal and...open. It nearly made the villain sick to their stomach how casually the hero had mentioned it.

Slowly, the hand which wasn't holding onto the dagger travelled up the villain's arm until those cursed fingertips found a shaking wrist and grabbed it.

"But what am I without you? What is Orpheus without his muse?"

"You're so charming today..." The villain tried to sound as flirty as they could but their voice was inexplicably trembling.

When had the hero decided to be so horrible and seduce the villain? And why on earth was it working?

"How does that make you feel?" the hero asked, their voice nothing more than a whisper. They freed their index finger from their grip around the villain's wrist and slowly, agonizingly, let it travel upwards. The villain took in a sharp breath, surprised by the hero's actions.

It felt a little too intimate. Nearly immoral.

The villain felt quite stupid for blushing, after all, it was just the hero's finger rubbing against their palm and their breath on the villain's neck.

"I'm..." The villain tried to concentrate but it wasn't that easy anymore. They closed their eyes, close to defeat already. "Sorry, what do you mean?"

Did the hero have to level their weight on the villain's hips? Did they have to say these things? Startle the villain like that? Couldn't they just flirt, try to kill each other and go home after?

Did the hero have to whisper something this close to a confession into the villain's ear?

"How does it feel to be my only weakness?" the hero murmured. Their grip loosened and slowly, their hand began their conquest towards the villain's fingers. "How does it feel to mean so much to me? To occupy my thoughts during the day? And my dreams during the night?"

Hell, the hero was dreaming about them?

"What are you doing...?" Suddenly, the hero let their fingers entwine, squeezing gently and for whatever reason, the villain took in a quick breath.

"I believe we both know you crave a superficial relationship. Something that makes you feel superior and secure. But I can tell you from personal experience that those relationships don't work out in the long run. They will make you feel miserable. They will make you feel worthless. If I want you, I will want you bare. And there is nothing I desire more." Their lips were close to the villain's. "In your own time, of course. You strip. Figuratively and literally, obviously."

"I- You-"

"I am always willing to help, though." The hero smirked lazily and squeezed the villain's hand. "There is no reason to feel ashamed. Or to feel weak. After all, you have me in your hand."

The villain couldn't say anything.

It had started as a normal fight. With the usual flirting.

And now, the villain was actually thinking about opening up to someone. To talk about all their horrible fears and the self-doubt. About all their mistakes and regrets.

This had to be some new weapon or master plan to turn the villain into a good person. Whatever it was, the villain feared they would think about this encounter for the months to come.

"I will keep this, though," the hero announced. They held up the villain's dagger and pushed themselves off the villain. "Everyone needs a memento of their beloved, don't they?"

All the villain could do was stare as the hero blew them a kiss and vanished into the night.

The defiant Whumpee didn’t care if they died. For a long time they didn’t, at least. It made living in hell easier. Then the Whumpers went and found themselves another hapless victim.

So what? It wasn’t the Whumpee’s responsibility to take care of fresh meat. They could’ve cared less.

But then the Thing had to go on and look up to them with those big, watery eyes. Speak with that trembly little voice, “Did I do something wrong? What’d I do to end up here?”

The Whumpee didn’t care about dying. But now they’re gonna live to protect this new captive, even if it’s the last thing they do.

𝐀𝐝𝐯𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐞

to waxe night, to grow towards night