List Of Names

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.

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

What is... Whump?

Whump is a genre in fanfiction that involves placing your character into a traumatic, physically or psychologically tormenting scenario.

It is a darker form of hurt/comfort that focuses heavily on the hurt and puts the character in jeopardy, tortures the character and tries to break them. Sometimes even without any comfort at the end.

The characters in these stories can be called:

whumpee - the character being hurt

whumper - the character causing the harm

caretaker - the character comforting

hi, a lot of you need a perspective reset

the average human lifespan globally is 70+ years

taking the threshold of adulthood as 18, you are likely to spend at least 52 years as a fully grown adult

at the age of 30 you have lived less than one quarter of your adult life (12/52 years)

'middle age' is typically considered to be between 45-65

it is extremely common to switch careers, start new relationships, emigrate, go to college for the first or second time, or make other life-changing decisions in middle age

it's wild that I even have to spell it out, but older adults (60+) still have social lives and hobbies and interests.

you can still date when you get old. you can still fuck. you can still learn new skills, be fashionable, be competitive. you can still gossip, you can still travel, you can still read. you can still transition. you can still come out.

young doesn't mean peaked. you're inexperienced in your 20s! you're still learning and practicing! you're developing social skills and muscle memory that will last decades!

there are a million things to do in the world, and they don't vanish overnight because an imaginary number gets too big

I just reada really good fic but halfway through I realized "oh shit this is really familiar.... didn't I write something like this once?" And as I kept reading I kept predicting what happened next and the further I went the more convinced I was that they'd ripped off my story-

like, copied the ENTIRE plot and re-written it, just better than I had? The characters were more fleshed-out than mine were, and the POV was more interesting, and the pace made more sense- but it was MY STORY?

So close to the end I was like "holy shit.. do I message them? Ask if my story inspired theirs? Should I be angry? Flattered?" Cause their tags and description didn't mention me AT ALL, which, sure, it's fanfiction to begin with, but if you're using my work than at least credit me as inspo, right? Just to be courteous?

But I get to the end of the final chapter, and it's not finished, and I'm kind of disappointed cause I never finished my story and I was really immersed in their version now and had been looking forwards to seeing how they tied up my loose ends- so I scroll to the bottom to leave a comment, and.

It's MY URL.

IT WAS MY STORY THE WHOLE TIME.

THE ONE *I WROTE*.

In *2013*.

And FORGOT ABOUT

BECAUSE I WAS SO INSECURE ABOUT MY SLOPPY, SHALLOW, AMETEUR WRITING

And I'm just sitting here now staring into space thinking about every shitty story I've ever written now like

IT WAS ALL GOOD?

IT WAS GOOD THIS WHOLE DAMN TIME??

I'M A GOOD WRITER?????

Writing Prompt #3027

"Go on. Chew me out and tell me I'm a failure."

"I was actually planning on saying that I'm proud of you."

List of Interesting Latin Phrases

A list I made just to satisfy my vain cravings for resonating mottos for a secret society I'm working on. Enjoy!

abi in malam crucem: to the devil with you!

ad astra per ardua: to the star by steep paths

ad augusta per angusta: to honors through difficulties

aegis fortissima virtus: virue is the strongest shield

amor vincit amnia: love conquers all things

animo et fide: by courage and faith

arbitrium est judicium: an award is a judgement

aut mors aut victoria: either death or victory

aut vincere aut mori: either victory or death

bello ac pace paratus: prepared in war and peace

bibamus, moriendum est: let us drink, death is certain (Seneca and Elder)

bonis omnia bona: all things are good to the good

cede nullis: yield to no one

cito maturum, cito putridum: soon ripe, soon rotten

consensus facit legem: consent makes law

data fata secutus: following what is decreed by fate (Virgil)

durum telum necessitas: necessity is a hrad weapson

dux vitae ratio: reason is the guide of life

e fungis nati homines: men born of mushrooms

ego sum, ergo omnia sunt: I am, therefore all things are

pulvis et umbra sumus: we are but dust and shadow

quae amissa salva: things lost are safe

timor mortis morte pejor: the fear of death is worse than death

triumpho morte tam vita: I triumph in death as in life

tu vincula frange: break your chains

vel prece vel pretio: for either love or for money

verbera, sed audi: whip me, but hear me

veritas temporis filia: truth is the daughter of time

vero nihil verius: nothing is truer than the truth

vestigia nulla restrorsum: foosteps do not go backward

victus vincimus: conquered, we conquer (Plautus)

sica inimicis: a gger to his enemies

sic vita humana: thus is human life

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* . ───

💎If you like my blog, buy me a coffee☕ and find me on instagram! Also, join my Tumblr writing community for some more fun.

💎Before you ask, check out my masterpost part 1 and part 2 

Reference: <Latin for the Illiterati: a modern guide to an ancient language> by Jon R. Stone, second edition, 2009

how do you write a liar?

How to Write Liars Believably

Language

The motive of every goal is the make the lie seem plausible while taking blame off the speaker, so liars will often project what they say to a third party: "Katie said that..."

Referring to third parties as "they" rather than he or she

In the case of a deliberate lie prepped beforehand, there will be an overuse of specific names (rather than pronouns) as the speaker tries to get the details right.

Overuse of non-committal words like "something may have happened"

Masking or obscuring facts like "to the best of my knowledge" and “it is extremely unlikely," etc.

Avoiding answers to specific, pressing questions

Voice

There's isn't a set tone/speed/style of speaking, but your character's speech patten will differ from his normal one.

People tend to speak faster when they're nervous and are not used to lying.

Body Language

Covering their mouth

Constantly touching their nose

fidgeting, squirming or breaking eye contact

turning away, blinking faster, or clutching a comfort object like a cushion as they speak

nostril flaring, rapid shallow breathing or slow deep breaths, lip biting, contracting, sitting on your hands, or drumming your fingers. 

Highly-trained liars have mastered the art of compensation by freezing their bodies and looking at you straight in the eye.

Trained liars can also be experts in the art of looking relaxed. They sit back, put their feet up on the table and hands behind their head.

For deliberate lies, the character may even carefully control his body language, as though his is actually putting on a show

The Four Types of Liars

Deceitful: those who lie to others about facts

2. Delusional: those who lie to themselves about facts

3. Duplicitious: those who lie to others about their values

Lying about values can be even more corrosive to relationships than lying about facts. 

4. Demoralized: those who lie to themselves about their values

Additional Notes

Genuine smiles or laughs are hard to fake

Exaggerations of words (that would normally not be emphasized) or exaggerated body language

Many savvy detectives ask suspects to tell the story in reverse or non-linear fashion to expose a lie. They often ask unexpected, or seemingly irrelevant questions to throw suspects off track. 

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."

𝐀𝐝𝐯𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐞

to waxe night, to grow towards night