Botanical Names Part I

Day 31: Bonus Day

Cape

“Your suit must include a cape,” cut the Designer dryly. “If you’re a Hero, you have to wear a cape.”

Hero squirmed uncomfortably:

“But- didn’t the Edna Mode School of Thought say-”

The end of this sentence died on their lips as Designer glared at them, waving dangerously with their scissors gliding in their hand:

“I know what they say. Do you fly?”

“N-no?”

“Then most of the risks are averted. All clothes have dangers, if you put it like that. You can trip on a scarf or on new shoes too.”

“But capes do nothing.”

“Excuse me? The propaganda has come too far!”

Designer rubbed their forehead:

“Look, if you’re cut from help and backup, trust me, you’ll be grateful for the extra fabric. You can carry things or a person with it. You can rip it apart for bandages. It can be used as a shock blanket or a way to protect anonymity. ”

“I-I didn’t think about that-”

“Exactly.”

Designer stepped forward and poked at their forehead:

“So you’re gonna walk out to the world with your shiny new suit, you’re going to heroically cover a citizen in need with your crazy useful cape, and you’re going to look damn good doing it. Understood?”

“Y-Yes, Designer.”

"Don't be ungrateful to the Cape and its wonders. Or it will end you."

*

Aaand that makes 10 snippets. Thanks for the event @augusnippets, it's been fun !

Back to the Hero x Villain Masterlist

Whump/Horror Masterlist

Day V

My take on this:

"I'll be your waitress tonight. My name is Dorian. So, what can I start you two off with?"

Zené held his tongue as Marie ordered water and a glass of chardonnay. Zené just ordered a water, wanting Dorian to leave as quickly as possible. Dorian was Spike, a villain who liked to make his life miserable, coming up with some plan or another or just stealing something from the Embassy. He wasn't supposed to know her secret identity. It wasn't in her file. But he did. She wasn't supposed to know his. He was a hero. But she did.

"It looked like you knew that waitress. Who is she?"

"Just, uh, somebody I see sometimes. I come here, she waits my tables, she comes to the junkyard, says hi as she drops off some scraps or something."

"Oh, what do you do?"

"Um... Crusher operator at the junkyard. Half the time I'm rescuing perfectly good cars from people who think a dent's worth trashing 30+ thousand dollars of first car material. I'm also the unofficial salesman. Cheapskate parents'll come to the junkyard to buy some clunker, I sell a beauty of a '97 Camaro for $2,000. Half the time when it comes back, it's totaled. Fun times."

"Oh, that's nice."

"Yeah."

Dorian came back with menus and the drinks, then promptly left. Zené looked at the menu, so it wouldn't seem so awkward for Marie even though he already knew what he wanted.

"What do you recommend, Zené? I've never really been to a fancy restaurant."

"Oh. Well my go to is alfredo, either chicken or shrimp, or a well-done t-bone or sirloin. Expensive, but worth the convenience."

"Hmm." Marie flipped through the menu, locating the items he mentioned, rocking her head back and forth trying to decide. "I think I'll go sirloin with the special on the side"

"That's a great choice. Their specials are always amazing." About 15 minutes later, Dorian came back.

"Y'all know whatcha want?"

"Yeah. What's the special today?" Marie asked.

"We have chili soup and we have Naomi's Concoction, basically an alfredo casserole."

"Oooh. I'll have a side of, what was it, Naomi's Concoction? with a sirloin medium-well."

"Alright, medium-well. And for you, sir?"

"Chicken and shrimp alfredo, all in one, with a side of the chili special."

"Alright! Comin' right up."

Dorian walked off with a mischievous pep in her step. Zené noticed and sighed. Yet another date to-be-crashed. Just great. The only thing to do now was wait. Dorian never crashed his dates the same way twice. The first one was a simple case of bullying. Dorian came to the cafe as a "friend", making fun of everything the girl did. Another was an assassination as he walked the girl home. There were a few others, but each time Dorian was behind it and each time she made sure Zené knew.

Innocently, she brought the food to the table after about 20 minutes, the average time it took any amount of food to be made at The Golden Goose.

Zené dug in. He refused to stress out over what could be when he had no proof. Instead, he wanted to get it over with and he wanted to enjoy himself.

Dorian came by a couple times, as any good waitress should, not carrying any poisons or venoms on her. Marie commented on how good the food was and Dixie smiled politely.

Zené and Marie finished eating and sat back, full. Before long, Marie excused herself to go to the bathroom and that's when Dorian's plan sprang into action. She has planned it thoroughly, and was able to get her shift ended then. She changed into her normal clothes and sat where Marie was sitting, across from Zené.

"What're you doing? Aren't you on the clock?" Zené hissed.

"Nope, just got off. Works when you own the company."

"What-? You own this?"

"Yeah. How do you think I fund my villainy?"

Zené opened his mouth to respond, then closed it, nodding in acceptance.

"That girl. Marie. You'd really choose her over me?"

"Uh, yeah. You're a villain. I'm a hero. There's a big difference between us. I'm not gonna get with somebody who I'm gonna have to fight in the morning."

"Y'know, you wouldn't have to if we were married."

"No. And you know why."

"Let me guess: morality?"

"Precisely."

"Well, then it would be a shame if I stole you from your date, wouldn't it?"

Zené's brow furrowed. "What do you mean by that?"

"You know what I mean. So don't try to deny it. I know your nature. And I will use it to my advantage every time."

Marie came out of the bathroom and took stock of what she saw before launching into a tirade.

"Get out of my seat. That boy is mine. And if I see you with him again, I just might do something you'll regret."

"Oh really?" Dorian hummed, chuckling, "You'll do something I'll regret? I would love to see that." She slinked around the table and latched onto Zené's arm, who, with a miserable attempt, tried to get her off. Tried to get away. But she held fast and kept him anchored to the spot.

Marie threw a punch and Zené sighed. No civilian had the prowess to be a villain of Dorian's caliber.

Dorian caught Marie's arm and pressed her to the table calmly, yet firmly. She handed the half-empty bottle of chardonnay to Dixie, who took a swig, then said, "I get what I want no matter what, so I recommend you don't make this any bigger of a scene than it already is and leave. Let me have my man, and you can take whoever else you want." She let Marie go, who sulked out of there, and the rest of the patrons clapped at how decisively and quietly it was handled. Dorian bowed, then took Zené by the hand and left.

The next day, Zené went about his day like nothing had happened. Until he was summoned, privately of course, by Dorian. Well, by Spike. So he went in as Generator.

"What do you want?"

"Nothing, really. I've just noticed that your dates have looked more and more like me lately. Is that on purpose?" Generator thought about it. It hadn't been on purpose. But when your type is tall chubby hourglass goth, you look for that more than anything else. Generator set his jaw, annoyed by her accuracy.

"You can't just keep crashing my dates!" Generator blurted.

"Well, I mean, I keep doing it, so "can't" I don't think, is the operative word here." Generator scoffed.

"Stop crashing my dates."

"Oh, you don't go on them looking for a version of me that'll fit your moral code? Someone who looks like me and acts like me and who's similar enough that you can mold to be me without it being me?"

"...No."

"You don't want me to just claim you right then and there, pinning you to the table so we get removed and I take you to my place and we continue where we left off?"

"N-No."

"Oh. Then I'll stop."

"Wh-What?"

"I'll stop crashing your dates and flirting with you and we can go back to our hero/villain relationship while you find someone to marry. That's what you want, right? Of course, you could always say please."

"Say please?"

"Yeah. Say please and I'll pin you to the wall, kiss you breathless, and screw your pretty little brains into oblivion." Spike closed the gap, pouring two glasses of strawberry wine on her way. She offered one glass and Generator took it, taking a sip. It was good. Spike downed her glass, then set it on a nearby table. She advanced and Generator found his back hit a wall abnormally quickly. He took another sip of the wine.

"Just say you don't want this. It's that simple."

"No," Generator whispered. His nature made lying nearly impossible. It caused him to shake, like he was high or something. All that fixed it was the truth. Now, he could fool a lie detector and he could worm his way around the shaking, but he preferred not to lie.

The wine glass started to shudder, threatening to spill. He took another sip. Spike took the drink from him and set it on the table before settling her hand on the wall by his left shoulder. Generator knew one way to fix the shaking that was threatening to erupt out of him.

"Please~" he gasped, eyes unfocused as a wicked grin grew on Spike's face. She kissed him and he melted into it, supporting himself with her shoulder. She pressed him into the wall and got started on a hickey while he moaned and shuddered as the need overwhelmed him.

From then on, the only dates were with her in her office or her house.

Hi! Absolutely love your writing :) Would you be willing to do a enemies to lovers but with hero x villain? Maybe with like a controlling villain and the hero secretly likes it but is defiant externally? Sorry idk if that made sense lol

Thank you in advance though if you're able to!

"You can't just keep crashing my dates."

The villain glanced over their shoulder, raising an eyebrow in a mimicry of an emotion that didn't quite reach their eyes. "No?"

"No." The hero stalked closer, stopping in front of the villain, in time for them to turn. "I'm not yours."

"No?"

"No!" The hero's heart gave a little skip, at the possibility that the villain would then look at them and then say (in a growl, or devastatingly matter-of-fact, or in a teasing purr) 'yes, you are' or 'you're most certainly mine'. The villain had done it before.

The villain tilted their head, offering the hero one of the two glasses of wine they had just poured.

The hero took it, anticipating.

The villain didn't say anything, simply watching them as they took a steady sip.

The hero's face burned but they refused, stubbornly, to look away.

The villain set their glass down on the counter behind them. No rush.

The hero imagined the villain grabbing them, kissing them, as they had done before too. Twirling them, glass flying and wine sloshing, and pressing them up against the nearest flat surface. They would change every no to yes and please and more.

They both knew the routine, the dance of it. It didn't need saying.

"Your dates look increasingly like me," the villain murmured. "Have you noticed?" Their hands stayed, agonisingly, at their sides, as they leaned lazy against the counter.

The hero blinked, not expecting the comment. They took a sip of the wine instead of replying, hoping that perhaps an equally steady silence might come across as cool and mysterious instead of flabbergasted.

The villain smiled. "Say please."

"W-what?"

"Say please if you want me to screw your pretty brains out until you can't think straight."

The hero spluttered. "That's not - I'm not - that's not why I'm here." They undoubtedly would say please, but it had never been so close to the start, so when there wasn't any excuse they could possibly give for the desperate needing of it.

"No?"

"No." The hero swallowed.

"So you don't go on your little dates just to wind me up?" The villain finally straightened, taking a step closer.

The hero stepped back, but didn't run, didn't want to. Mesmerised. Their mouth felt very dry. "No." Such a lie.

The villain's smile grew. "You don't secretly wish I'd kiss you, claim you, in front of all of them?"

"No." The hero jutted their chin up. "I'm not a thing to be claimed."

The villain advanced; the hero back-tracked.

"You don't," the villain continued, a honeyed murmur, "say no, because you love all the ways I can persuade you. Because then you can pretend you don't want this. Because you like watching me take control of you."

The hero's back hit the wall. Miraculously, the wine didn't spill, still clutched uselessly in one hand.

"No."

"Mm." The villain set their palms on either side of the hero's shoulders, and the hero felt the very air between them might start vibrating with the urge to close the gap. "Perhaps I'll never crash one of your dates again then."

The thought was unbearable. The villain was bluffing, right? They had to be bluffing.

The hero wet their lips. The villain's gaze dropped to follow the movement, then flicked back up to the hero's eyes.

"You're a bastard," the hero whispered, because it was true and it wasn't no.

"Why yes," the villain's eyes gleamed, "I am." They waited.

The hero's stomach squirmed. "Are you actually going to make me say it?"

"I thought I didn't control you. I thought you weren't mine."

The hero shivered.

"So how could I," the villain leaned in to the hero's ear, still not quite touching, "possibly make you do anything?"

"...please."

"What was that, love?"

"I hate you."

"Do you?" The villain's lips finally pressed against their skin, kissing down their neck.

"Yes. So much." The hero's head fell back, offering more of their throat. The wine glass drooped in their hand.

"Don't spill on my floor."

The wine glass righted with titan concentration. There was nowhere to put it down.

The villain kissed them; soft, so soft, a promise of so much more to come.

"Would you like me to stop?" the villain asked against their lips.

"...no."

"No?"

"No."

The villain hummed and kissed them again, a little harder. The wine glass wobbled treacherously in the hero's hand once more. The hero's other hand clutched the villain's shoulder.

"I think we're done with the stage in our relationship where you pretend to date other people," the villain said, when they pulled back, breathless. They caught the hero's chin, and their stare was, for a moment, serious.

The hero scrambled past the kiss-drunk haze, brow furrowing. "It's actually bothering you?"

"No," the villain said, in the same tone that the hero said no, meaning yes.

"Okay." The hero leaned in to kiss them, just once, reassuring.

Tension eased out of the villain's shoulders. The wicked playfulness returned, and they shoved the hero back against the wall again. The next kiss was a consuming, hungry thing, and the hero could only chase after more than they were given, gasping.

The villain nipped the hero's neck, before giving a chiding click of their tongue. It once again sent an anticipatory shiver of delight down the hero's spine.

"Oh, would you look at that," the villain said, with soft and bewitching menace. "You spilled my wine. However shall I make you pay me back for that?"

"Make me?" The hero bit their lip. "You think you can make me do anything? Please."

The villain grinned.

There were no more dates with other people after that.

𝐀𝐝𝐲𝐭𝐮𝐦

the innermost part of a temple; the secret shrine whence oracles were delivered; hence fig. a private or inner chamber, a sanctum

Just As Bad

Stinger pointed his gun at Artichoke.

"If you kill me, you'll be just as evil as me."

Stinger smirked.

"And yet no one will think of me like that. You're Public Enemy Number One, not me. And I'm a bounty hunter. The morality of good and evil don't exactly matter." He dropped the gun, pointing his finger at Artichoke and firing between the eyes. Artichoke slumped over, dead.

flower language has always been an intense source of disappointment for me

like, they all mean really generic things like “love” or “forever” or “i’m sorry” 

i thought you could combine flowers

like you could just send someone a bouquet and from the combination of hibiscus and posies and tulips they’d understand “the rebel leader is dead, rendezvous at the docks at 8, bring the dog, you will need lighter fluid and  a large tomato”

Ghost Harem x Exorcist!Reader

I don't know, I just found the idea of an exorcist who keeps attracting the ghosts they're trying to purify very funny. content: gender neutral reader, mildly NSFW

You would argue you're rather good at your job.

Whenever you receive a call from a victim in need, you show up. Additionally, you never leave empty-handed. You're known to always complete your job. If a house is possessed, whatever ghost or devil is tormenting the poor inhabitants will be swiftly removed.

Normally, these spirits and demons would be purged; sent back to their hells, or off into some unknown afterlife. That, of course, was your initial aim.

Except these damned ghouls end up following you instead. Sometimes you don’t even get to perform the proper rituals: it’s enough to step foot into the cursed place, and they will pounce without delay, attaching themselves to you like starved dogs.

You’ve tried everything. The latest priestess you visited erupted in laughter upon hearing your misfortune and suggested the unholy creatures must be in love with you.

Love? A ghost? Nonsense. Most likely they are waiting for a moment of weakness, so they can devour your soul. That's what you tell yourself, pale with repugnance, gawking at the devilish curse standing before you and touching themselves. Their translucent visage is relaxed into a perverted grin.

Suddenly, a foreign weight presses itself into your shoulder. From behind you, a slender creature throws itself at the offender.

"Away! Keep away from my beloved," they bark, waving their long sleeves in disbelief. Its face is covered by a sealing talisman.

"Let the human sleep," another voice croaks from the shadows. "(Y/N) has a long day tomorrow."

You shriek as something slithers out of your shirt. A serpent-like monster speeds across your sheets with a chuckle.

"I just hope it's not another suitor. It's getting kind of cramped here, you know?"

The priestess' laughter rings against your ears, and you sigh, defeated. Maybe you can put them to work, at the very least.

Oh, they'd be more than happy to service you. In any way possible.

[Navigation] | [Ozztober Masterlist]

You felt your wrists begin to slide through the restraints, cheap rope modified to nullify powers. Soon, you'd be able to get up and free Glacier from his restraints, which were little more than a handcuff knot tied to a pole.

"Do you regret coming back to save me?"

"What?"

"If you never came to save me, you wouldn't be in this mess. I wouldn't have gotten us into this much trouble, and you'd be off on your own... I don't know, doing whatever it was before we met, but you'd be doing it free."

You slipped one hand free, enabling the other to do the same.

"Well," you began, standing up, massaging your chafed wrists, "I don't want to miss the chance to help a sidekick out. The whole 'hero' thing is dumb, but the core of it, to keep people safe? There's no reason it shouldn't exist. And if I get eyes on the inside, even better." You grabbed a saw off the rack on the wall and cut the rope binding Glacier's hands before putting it back and grabbing a hammer and taser to arm yourself.

Writing Prompt #2920

"Do you regret coming back to save me?"

He snapped out of his thoughts. "What?"

"If you never came to save me, you wouldn't be in this mess. I wouldn't have gotten us into this much trouble, and you'd be off on your own...I don't know, doing whatever it was before we met, but you'd be doing it free."

"If you use em dash in your works, it makes them look AI generated. No real human uses em dash."

Imaging thinking actual human writers are Not Real because they use... professional writing in their works.

Imagine thinking millions of people who have been using em dash way before AI becomes a thing are all robots.

REBLOG IF YOU'RE A HUMAN AND YOU USE EM DASH

My, my...

365 days...

Sounds about right.

Starting... tomorrow.

YOU— YEAH YOU! DO THIS THING WITH ME!

THIS IS YOUR AGGRESSIVE SIGN TO CREAT EVERY DAY FOR ONE YEAR.

Okokokokok so the goal is essentially what I said above. Write/draw something every day for a year. I know that sounds like A LOT but even if you can spare 2 minutes in your day to quickly scrible something into your notes app that's perfect.

Why should you bother with this?

You will end up at 365 pieces by the end of the year

you will improve your skills

you are bound to find some gold

even if you miss 1/3 of the days you will still have 243 things!!!

helps you be more in tune with your feeling (especially if you treat it like a journal)

you can try out different styles in a judgement free zone

uhhhh you love me

you will learn how to be more creative

you will have content to post on your blog/publish/submit to contests

you will have something to keep you going/motivated

you won't be alone

AND LOTS OF OTHERS I DONT HAVE TIME FOR

So this is your sign to write with me

(don't worry about starting on the same day just start making stuff)

I will be posting the things I write on @rheas-poetry-motivation

JOIN ME 🫵

Tagging people for reach and cause i love my moots:

@mister-dirty-hands, @bamb1fawn, @outromoony, @themortalityofundyingstars, @garden-of-runar

@ancientpokemonrock, @ang3lic-t3ars, @justiceforplutoo, @albatris, @gayafaaryn

@lorelangdon, @imastoryteller, @chaoticcandle, @gildy-locks, @jamespotterbbg

@seekmemystar, @tequilaqueen, @picklerab23, @a-k-oblackhat, @leahnardo-da-veggie