Another List Of "Beautiful" Words

You, a retired villian by choice, have just received new about your grandchild, a hero, being falsely accused of crimes he didn't commit causing you to demonstrate why you retired.

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.

So I just saw a post by a random personal blog that said “don’t follow me if we never even had a conversation before” and?????? Not to be rude but literally what the fuck??????????

I’ve had people (non-pornbots) try to strike conversation out of nowhere in my DMs recently, and now I’m wondering if they were doing that because they wanted to follow me and thought they needed to interact first. I feel compelled to say, just in case, that it’s totally okay to follow this blog (or my side blog, for that matter) even if we’ve never talked before.

Also, I’m legit confused. Is this how follow culture works right now? It was worded like it’s common sense but is that really a thing?

One of these days I'll have a link to the story I write about this. Until then.... This'll sit here for a while.

You are a tavern keeper who’s been in business for 15 years. A local crime lord is trying to extort you, sadly for them you know tons of adventurers who owe you favors, and even have mimics for chairs.

“If I had a flower for every time I thought of you, I could walk through my garden forever.”

— Alfred Lord Tennyson

Hello writer of most beloved snippets! Might I request a little something? I'd love to see Hero get injured by Supervillain and then have Villain go absolutely feral and just destroy Supervillain because that's their Hero and no one is allowed to touch them

Hello, friend! I am so glad you like what I put out there. I can definitely write this for you.

Please enjoy!

Warnings: physical violence, head injury, unconsciousness, blood

Villain's blood ran cold as they stumbled upon the fight. They had every intention of finding Hero and challenging them tonight. They did not think they would be challenging Supervillain instead.

They watched, consumed by rage, as Supervillain flung Hero like a rag doll into the wall. They watched, seeing red, as Hero crumpled to the ground and remained unmoving. And they watched, jaw clenched, as Supervillain flung the clearly unconscious Hero through the air once more.

Villain surged forward, catching Hero quickly. This was not ok. This was not acceptable. Hero lay limply in their arms, nose bleeding heavily. They had a cut along their eyebrow and a cut along their hairline. "Wake up," Villain urged, shaking Hero hard.

But Hero didn't wake.

"Oh, did I break the pathetic, little Hero?" Supervillain sneered as they came to stop just out of Villain's reach.

Villain was going to end them. "They're alive." Hero was theirs to beat. Theirs to hurt. Theirs to destroy. Not Supervillain's.

"Shame," Supervillain said as they stared down their nose at Hero. "I would have thought that last hit fractured their skull. No matter. I can finish them off now."

"Leave them alone," Villain growled as Supervillain walked towards them. Hero was theirs and theirs alone.

Supervillain stopped. "Why? I'm just putting a wounded animal out of its misery." Supervillain cocked their head. "Or would you like the honor?"

"You are not to touch a hair on their head, Supervillain." Villain laid Hero down gently.

"Or what?" Supervillain raised their hand once more.

Villain didn't hesitate. They charged, unleashing the power that they had hidden for so long. "They are mine to fight. Mine to hurt. Mine to destroy."

Supervillain's face paled. Villain had hidden so much power. "I didn't mean--"

But Villain didn't care. They were going to ensure that Supervillain never interfered again. The last thing they saw before the darkness enveloped everything around them was Supervillain's terror filled eyes. "I will destroy you. And then Hero will be all mine once more," Villain hissed into the gathering darkness.

Demons Dialogue

"Have you ever thought about selling your soul? It's beautiful."

"I'm a demon. I'm bad and evil and cunning, and looking oh so good while doing it."

"Don't ask me if it hurt when I feel from heaven. It did and I will never forgive him for that."

"Urgh, your soul is so pure, I want to corrupt it."

"Demonslayer? What a fun little name for a mortal being shaking in their boots right now."

"I don't want what's best for humanity. I want what's best for me, and sometimes those things are the same. Doesn't mean I'm good."

"You know those crosses just work on vampires, right?"

"Ouch! Why the hell would you put holy water in a water gun? That's rude!"

"Seriously, have you ever actually read the bible?"

"The bad side isn't that bad. We are our own boss here."

"I'm your emotional support demon. Having difficulties making decisions? I'm always there to steer you in the wrong direction."

"Of course I still have wings. And I'm taking good care of them, so don't even think about touching them with your dirty little fingers."

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TW: Whump

CW: crying, blood, bruising

It was all behind him now. He was out. He was free. All he had to do was get to his friends and heal up. The bruises on his wrists bled a little, as he stumbled down the dark street. He roughly wiped away tears from his face, hardly able to stand. His very soul shook, the tremors spreading to his bones, his muscles, his tendons.

He leaned against a wall, lightheaded from exhaustion. He wasn't used to walking everywhere. Flying was just so much more convenient. But any qi usage would mean capture as Thomas would no doubt be scanning for any large qi use. In this pitiful state, it wouldn't even be a fight. All Dené could hope right now is that he almost died and got a boost after he healed up.

He fell to his knees and screamed. A gutteral scream that was borne from his heart. A scream, not of pain or anger, but of release. As did his tears, so too did his scream lift a weight from his shoulders. He shuddered before standing up. At least, trying to. His legs gave out and all he could do was kneel as rain began to fall. A calming, cleansing, light rain that romantics danced and proposed in. The moon played across the water dreamily, almost mocking Dené's predicament.

But as quickly as it had come, it was no longer. At least, not on his back. He looked up. It was a woman holding a rather large umbrella, one who looked quite established, that she was not one to be trifled with.

"Hi. Um, you look like you need some help."

"I just need to get to my friends and I'll be alright."

"Well based on the sound of your throat and your posture, I'd say you need a bit more than that, young man." Dené growled and lashed his tail before shoving himself upright and looking at the woman who happened to be considerably taller than him. "Well?" she questioned. She looked like Lady Dimitrescu, but felt more like a mother bear, perfectly willing to kill, but only as a means to protect.

"Fine," Dené muttered and the lady called her chauffeur.

"And we'll need to do something about that... mane you have. At least make it look nice."

After the drive, she showed him to a bedroom and its bathroom. "I trust you know what to do from here." She got him a change of clothes, a cloth, and a towel.

When he looked in the (rather expansive) mirror, he saw someone he didn't recognize. Someone who was weak, helpless, ill-maintained. Not the former general of a military based on strength and order. He ran his fingers through the tangled mop that was his hair and came to an abrupt stop at a wad of knots. He started the shower, stripped, then stood under the hot water.

It was then that tears started to flow. Silent tears of helplessness, weakness, inferiority, and fear. Tears of despair, conflict, and emptiness. He cleaned himself then set to working out the knots, but he didn't quite have the patience, so got out of the shower, dried off, put on the clothes he was given, and went to find the woman.

But then, his nose caught the strong scent of food, the strongest of which was the smell of chicken noodle soup, with celery, carrots, onion, garlic, and basil. It was this smell which led him to a dining room where the woman sat, as if she was waiting for him. Now she wore a silk nightgown, making her look more like a rich MILF from some cheesy anime than an evil, centuries-old vampire dominatrix.

They ate, but before Lady Borea sent him to bed, she had him sit with her in front of the fireplace as she worked out the knots in his hair. Before she was done with the first one, he was asleep.

You are an immortal, having to deal with the rather troublesome rumour that your blood grants immortal life. However, what those after your blood don’t know is that since you can’t die, you are an excellent host to several deadly bacteria and viruses-all existing peacefully in your blood.

Love when someone new finds my blog and goes through like thirty of my posts, liking them all and then follows me. Like hell yeah, that wasn’t a spur of the moment decision, it was after seeing enough of my stuff to make an actual judgement about me.