#30-day writing challenge

[hel-phoenyx]

1) All the reasons why

"Did you hear ? One of the noble families gave birth to a child blessed by the ocean."

"No, I didn't... Who had that chance ?"

"Don't be that happy, Styr, Kefer, that's not a benediction. I heard about it too, but the baby was just born with scales. People say it's more of a malediction of Harkyr."

"Ah, fuck, that was too good. Who are the parents ?"

"That's Harald's son. That shouldn't be a surprise..."

"Harald... The Blood Warrior ?"

"Yep ! The man himself."

"HA ! Yeah, that isn't a surprise. Did you see who he married ? Of course that bitch is bound to be cursed."

"Odin II should have executed her with the others."

"Why did a man like Harald marry a woman like her is a mystery."

"Heh. I hope for the Kraken Coast Ocean took pity of that poor man and gave him at least one descendant worth it. We'll see."

***

So many looks, coming from everyone in the castle, looks that the child can't see, but can feel, everywhere on his skin his ragged clothes his body so thin he looks like he's sick every passing day.

Looks of hate, from people that push him out of the way for the simple crime of being there. Some, afraid, afraid of the day a childish laugh almost started a seastorm right above the castle. Most of them are expectative.

Will it be a benediction or a malediction ? Will that child be the most powerful weapon under the chains of the queen or the one that will break the lineage of the Liberator ? Gift of ocean or poison of Harkyr ?

No one knows. Not even the child himself, just running in the palace to try and see his friend.

***

"You've got to be shitting me."

"THAT sword ? Is this a fucking provocation ?"

"Fucking Hrogni spawn, man, always parading the bane of our existences right in front of our fucking eyes."

"Litteraly. Isn't that sword called the Bane of Life ?"

"Yep. That was the Good King's sword. Pah. How many of our people did he kill with that cursed thing ?"

"And he dares bring that into the castle, near the prince. That lineage's arrogance really has no limits."

"We should have killed them long ago.

"Can't. Brynhild protected her and now it's Harald. Who know what would happen if we tried now."

"Fucking Harald man... What was he thinking ? Now the dishonor is his too."

"Don't know how he even lets the bastard parade around with that cursed thing."

***

Growing up the looks didn't fade, didn't soften, didn't get away. The powers were those of Ocean, the scales were those of Harkyr, and the sword was Hrogni's.

Now he knows, and he sees the eyes, all waiting for something. The moment he proves useful, or the moment he cracks. He knows it. The nobility, the soldiers, they're all waiting for him to show what he's made of.

There's so little people that don't care. The low classes, focused on survival rather than rumors, a handful of teenagers always chirping around the prince, and a boat full of the exact same kind of pariahs.

Only in those people the blessed curse finds solace.

***

"Why did his Highness get the doctors in such a hurry ? Wasn't he supposed to be at sea on..."

"The boat sank. A fucking seastorm. Guess who was in it ?"

"No fucking way. Don't tell me he sent one of our best ships to the bottom."

"Yep. And apparently he lost his right hand in whatever happened. Good riddance, if you ask me. A mutilated curse is better than a full one."

"And his Majesty still got him healed ? He's too good-hearted."

"People say he almost got killed on that boat. That the captain attempted against his life."

"I'm sure he got out without a scratch. That's our prodigy prince after all."

"Obviously. That's the difference between our righteous king and a fucking spawn of tyrant."

***

The eyes stopped waiting. They got what they wanted. Fed on pain, relished on disgrace, while he lost everything. Family, friends, honor, pride, and his ability to fight.

Now they are only full of hate.

Kicked out of his place, only at sea he found his answer. The sea he can't see as a safe place anymore because the foam now tastes like blood.

Still, he looks at it everyday, feeds on the sight of a graveyard he still can't bring himself to build. Rather not get looked at at all than feel all the resentment.

It's ironic the only one that didn't give him this hate is the one that should hate him.

***

"I haven't seen him in weeks now. I know losing a hand is something you should take a long time to recover from, but still, I don't even know where he is !"

"Yeah, and he heals like a monster, you know ? That shouldn't take long."

"... Kaizarz told me where he lives now yesterday, you know. I tried to see him, but he didn't even open the door. Still, I know he was here. there was a smell of blood and burned candles."

"... Can I try too, you think, Dom ?"

"Well I'm not gonna give up that easily, that's for sure ! Next time you come with me and we will get him out of his cave !"

".... We should let him be."

"How can you say that, Meili ! That's our friend we're talking about !"

"Were we his ?"

"..."

"..."

"Drop it. If he really cares about us, he will come back himself."

***

He didn't come back. His heart ached like a thousand thorns, but everytime they came, they found his door closed and a complete silence. Knocling, shouting, pleading, crying sometimes, nothing could ever open anything.

Worst was not the joy around the castle, so happy to have gotten rid of the menace. Or the weather, now too calm for anyone's tastes but the people. Worst was the silence they found everytime. The days pass without a reappearance, or even a word, and with the days the certainty those harsh words may be right gripped at their skin like the stench of decay.

He knew they were coming, that people did not give up on him. But he did not want to get them close. They were the only people he still hadn't hurt. And he couldn't be sure that wasn't a ploy to drag him even further down.

After all, if his closest friend could hide his most profound hatred, so could they, right ?

***

"Who does he think he's fooling, showing his face like this ?"

"A hood and some makeup can't hide a damn curse."

"And the first time he shows his damn face since the attempt is at the coronation ? The nerve of that fucker !"

"His Majesty looked happy. I don't understand."

"He's quick to trust. I thought he would get more wary after what they did."

"We don't even know what happened on that boat... Maybe there's a good reason ?"

"Good reason or not, that tyrant spawn should get the Abyss out of here. he's not welcome."

"At least he didn't bring his sword. That would be injury added to insult."

"For sure. But that's like, basic decency. Sad that basic decency is the maximum we can expect. He should have died long ago. With that boat."

***

He's here, but he still doesn't talk, and he can see averyone looking at him. He hates that. He hates that for every person in this crowd is a person that once spew hatred and deception. He betrayed everyone's expectations, and now he dares try to act like everything is good, like he's too good for them ?

Except everything is not good, and he's nothing but good. That's why he doesn't talk. That's why he answers the hatred with snubbing and their attempts to reconnect with silence. He can see them trying, and he can see the hurt in their eyes when every try is sold by a failure.

He can see the wound reopening in his kings eyes when he shakes his hand without a smile. The same wound is buried behind his empty eyes.

[jerzwriter]

Off the Beaten Path

Book:                   Open Heart

Pairing:                Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Kaycee)

Rating:                 Teen

Category:            Fluff

Summary:   Getting stuck in traffic on the way back to Boston teaches Ethan that sometimes detours are the best things of all.

Words: 813

A/N: Day 7 of @creativepromptsforwriting 's 30-Day Writing Challenge: Use the words: small town, bar, jukebox. Also participating in @choicesjanuarychallenge Day 13 - It's sort of Sunny and Grump :)

Ethan x Kaycee Masterlist 30-Day Writing Challenge Masterlist

It was a late August afternoon, and Ethan and Kaycee found themselves driving on a country road somewhere in Pennsylvania. Ethan decided to get off the highway to avoid traffic some time ago, even though Kaycee told him they were bound to lose their GPS signal. But why should he listen to the Pennsylvania native? Now, she was doing all she could to suppress her giggling as she watched him coming undone.

“Siri! Get us back to I-95!!!!”

His exasperation was compounding as he yelled at the robotic device for the umpteenth time.

“One second….”

His hands clenched around the leather of the steering wheel, his knuckles almost white.

“Still searching….”

“Oh, this thing is….” a trail of barely intelligible curses followed.

“I’m sorry, nothing was found; please try again later.”

Kaycee turned away from him as he palmed the wheel, unable to contain herself anymore.

“And what, exactly, do you find so amusing?” He growled, attempting to prove something (though no one knew what); he tried to stay angry. But it wasn’t an easy task when she was so adorable.  

“There’s no GPS signal. I told you it would happen, and Siri’s told you four times. So, who is the foolish one here?” She grinned.

“Is it wrong that I expect things to work as they’re meant to?”

“No, but things aren’t always within our control,” she shrugged. “Besides, it’s nice to get off the beaten path sometimes. You never know what you find.”

“Really? What exactly should I be looking for.”

“A place to eat! I’m starving!”

“There are granola bars in the glove compartment.”

Kaycee rolled her eyes so hard she thought he might hear them. “I also have to pee. So granola bars aren’t going to help me.”

 “You’re impossible,” he chuckled through a good-natured sigh.

“Yes. I’m so sorry you have an eating, peeing girlfriend, Ethan,” she teased. “Clearly, you settled. Now, why don’t we go there?” She pointed to a little ramshackle building in the distance. “that place looks good.”

“Good?” He questioned. “Besides, it’s a bar.”

“Bar and GRILL, Ethan. You’re not in Boston anymore. Now pull over; I’m sure it will do fine.”

~~~~

The dimly lit, one-room dive looked like something out of a honky tonk movie, and while Kaycee looked intrigued, Ethan was aghast.

“Stop acting like you’re from the Brahmin, Ramsey,” she laughed, taking his arm. “I know where you grew up.”

“Fine,” he said, slipping into the wooden booth. “But it’s been a long time since I’ve been in a place like this.”

“It’s not so bad,” she shrugged. “Kind of takes me back to my childhood.”

“Kaycee… you grew up in Philadelphia.”

“Yes, but you forget, I spent summers with my grandparents on their farm, and they lived in a small town just like this.”

“I forget you’re so diversified,” he smiled.

“The best way to be!”

Fifteen minutes later, Ethan groaned with delight as he bit into a juicy cheeseburger.

“Still wish you were back on I-95?” Kaycee mocked.

“This is the best burger I’ve ever had!”

“Hmmm… and at a fraction of the price we’d pay in Boston. Sometimes we have to be happy that life takes us to unexpected places.”

His face softened as he reached over to wipe a bit of ketchup from her chin.

“You think I would have learned that lesson by now. I mean, look at us.”

“Exactly,” she beamed. “Look at us.”

When the meal was over, Ethan was no longer in a hurry to get back on the road, and Kaycee had the perfect solution.

“Let’s drop some dimes in the jukebox, and we can dance a little to work off the burgers.”

“Dance?” he asked, looking at her as if she had two heads.

“Yes, that thing we do with our feet….”

“I know what dancing is, Rookie! I just don’t know if I know how to do the kind of dancing one does here.”

Once again, she rolled her eyes as she grabbed her wallet from her purse. “It’s a two-step, love. If you managed to graduate med school, I think you can pick this up relatively easily.”

“Totally different skillset required.”

He startled when Kaycee fell into his lap, throwing her hands around his neck and lavishing him with kisses. 

“Dr. Ramsey, haven’t I proven the point already? Live a little. God, you’re so lucky you found me. I hate to think of what a boring old man you would have grown to be.”

“Hmm… and now you’re just aging me rapidly instead.”

“And that’s why we’re going to two-step,” she winked, taking his hand and leading him to the dance floor. “Keeping those joint limber… for other things.”

He let out a snort with an impish grin adorning his face. “You know what, I’ll agree with you on one thing. I sure am lucky I met you.”

Permatags: @a-crepusculo @animesuck3r @annoyingmillenialnewbie @crazy-loca-blog @differenttyphoonwerewolf @doriopenheart @fayeswiftie @genevievemd @gryffindordaughterofathena @inlocusmads @jamespotterthefirst @jennieausten @kingliam2019 @liaromancewriter @lucy-268 @onikalover @openheartforeverinmyheart @potionsprefect @quixoticdreamer16 @rookiemartin @secretaryunpaid @socalwriterbee @tessa-liam @trappedinfanfiction @jerzwriter-reblogs-asks @choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics

30-Day Challenge: @mydemonsdrivealimo

Tagging others seperately

[alchemiasart]

30-day writing challenges?

Now that March is almost here, it's time to think about my 30-day writing challenges because April is coming up fast. Back in November of 2023, I managed to crank out 30 short stories in 30 days. (Okay, it was actually 28 stories, and then the 29th on December 1st, and now I'm still finishing up the last one, but it's a happy tear-jerker, don't judge, those are really hard to write.)

Point is, the 30-day thing really got my creative juices flowing, my test readers loved them, and I think I could pump out a lot of excellent work if I only let myself write fiction... *whispers, "thirty days hath September, April, June, and November..."* FOUR TIMES A YEAR.

(I'm also in grad school, so I write a lot anyway, but not on these topics, obvs.)

But, of course, I also want people to read my work, and it'd be nice to be able to afford food on occasion.

I know there aren't a lot of you out there right now reading this, but what's your input? Does anyone else (good) do challenges like this? Is it worth it to share the stories as I go along, knowing they'll be disqualified from traditional publishing? Should I just go with "fuck traditional publishing" anyway?

FYI, the November 2023 story was a cycle of short stories about cryptids in daily life, but they're kind of a palidrome cycle: the first fifteen introduce characters, and sixteen through thirty resolve those stories in reverse order (#15 gets resolved in #16, #14 gets resolved in #17, and so forth). Does anyone wanna read those? What are your favorite platforms for reading short stories and supporting your favorite authors?

[jerzwriter]

I've decided I'm going to do this, starting tomorrow.

My goal is to write a drabble each day and attempt to keep it under 600 words. Y'all who know me are laughing. My friends are laughing even harder because they'll notice I already added 100 words from the first time I discussed it with them. lol But I'm going to try

But I was wondering if anyone else would like to join in.

Even if they're just quick scenes, snippets even, it's just an exercise to get the creativity flowing.

Most will be related to OH or WTD, and I'll tag those accordingly. If they're not fandom related, I won't tag them unless you ask to be.

So, is anyone in?

30 Days Writing Challenge

Write about a first kiss

Write a scene without any dialogue

Use the words: kitchen, date, music

Write about your MCs personal style

Write 100 words today

Write about a blackout

Use the words: small town, bar, jukebox

Write about finding a new hobby

Write about a heated debate

Use the title: Promises made, promises kept

Write about two characters dancing together

Explain your MCs motivation

Write 10 sentences about the last item you bought

Write about regret

Write about a girl's night

Write about a "thank you"

Write about a car ride

Use the title of the last song you've listened to

Write a summary for a book you would love to read

Write a new piece of lore for your WIP

Write something angsty

Write for 15 minutes without deleting anything

Write about dreaming

Use the woords: crown, dance, smile

Write a scene that describes your MC well

Use the title: Like waves in the ocean

Write an ending without a beginning

Write only the dialogue for a scene

Write about your MCs nicknames

Write about a concert

[adreamingskin]

Poetry Competitions, Submissions & Opportunities – MARCH 2023

Over 150 #poetry competitions, literary journal submissions and writing opportunities, open or with deadlines in March 2023. Best of luck and please share! #amwriting

Spring is on the way and with it over 160 poetry competitions, writing submissions and opportunities open or with deadlines in March 2023! Looking forward to April — National Poetry Writing Month — I’ll be bringing the drama with a brand new 30-day writing challenge, drawing inspiration from the heroes, villains, beasts and beauties of the Ancient Greek myths and legends. These tales of power,…

[bakuliwrites]

Day One- Gale of Waterdeep

500 Follower Event, 30 Day Writing Prompts Prompt: Relic, Tender, Petrichor, Gale (BG3) Pairing: Gale x Reader Tags: Fluff, Kisses, Cuddling, Slightly Suggestive, Gale Route Spoilers, BG3 Spoilers Word Count: 741

Gale’s dark eyes sweep languidly across the page, no doubt committing to memory the poetic verses written within. You watch from the doorway, comfortably warm in the threshold between cozy library and chilly balcony, a mug of tea slowly cooling in your hands. It brings joy to your heart to see Gale this relaxed. He’s reclined in a loveseat, dressed in his usual soft sleeping clothes and donning a pair of new slippers. The book he’s absorbed in is tome-like in appearance: leather-bound, some sort of ancient relic etched in gold leaf on the cover, a hefty clasp hanging loosely on the edges. You smile to yourself as Gale cautiously turns an onion-skin page, brows furrowed in concentration as he scans the next verse. 

With a small sigh, you lean against the doorframe, looking out to the churning sea beyond. There is something deeply nourishing about your days in Waterdeep. Perhaps it’s the way light rushes across the surface of the sea on clear days, sun glinting brilliantly in the sky, seagulls calling out to one another on the drifting ocean breeze. Maybe it’s the twinkling stars mirrored on the water at night, waves crashing gently to shore and the world silent as can be. It could be the hustle and bustle of the town around you, the familiar sounds of a peaceful life you’d almost forgotten in your adventuring days. Or perhaps it’s the unwavering gentility, the steadfast adoration of the wizard before you. 

Gale catches you staring, the corners of his eyes crinkling with delight at the sight of you. 

“Care to join me?” his voice breaks through your silent musing, eyes softening when you meet his gaze, “Books are always better with company.” 

“Of course,” you return, for how could you refuse such an invitation? You abandon your mug on the coffee table, shivering when a gust of wind brushes through the balcony. With it comes a pleasant whiff of petrichor and brine, a scent you’ll probably forever associate this tranquil afternoon with. 

“Darling, you’re freezing,” Gale worries, shifting in his spot to give you room to lay next to him. The loveseat is hardly big enough for two, but all the more reason to cuddle, you think to yourself. And that was most certainly Gale’s plan, for as soon as you sit down, he draws you into his warm embrace. He���s quick to take one of your freezing hands in his, drawing it to his lips and pressing a tender kiss to your knuckles. He warms it with his breath before sneaking in another kiss to your palm.

“Better?” he ventures, a gentle beam breaking through the gloomy grey of the afternoon. 

“Much,” you softly chuckle, letting your forehead rest against his. This moment is suspended in time, the balcony suddenly a realm of its own. Beyond the soft sound of Gale’s exhales, you can hear a drizzle of rain pitter-pattering on the rooftop, droplets bouncing off the railing and landing in tiny ripples on the water’s surface below. Gale holds your hand to his chest, his other arm drawing you close. Beneath your fingertips is the velvety texture of his shirt, the gentle thrum of his heart. This is nourishment in its purest form: Gale Dekarios, his love silently enveloping you, body and soul. 

You angle yourself to better reach his lips, pressing a tender kiss to them, lingering for a long while. Gale’s tongue softly traces the part in your lips as your fingers tangle in his hair. He moves to press tiny kiss after kiss against your cheeks, eyelids, and jawline. 

“Hmmm,” you hum, when he dips to give some much needed attention to your neck, “You can keep reading if you’d like. I don’t want to interrupt you.”

Gale’s book is long abandoned somewhere on the loveseat. You suspect he might be sitting on it, far too engrossed in you to pay attention to the tome digging into his leg. 

A small chuckle reverberates through Gale’s chest when you inadvertently gasp, his lips ghosting down to your collarbone.

“You’ve well and thoroughly distracted me, my darling,” he admits, “I’d much rather you be the subject of my studies this dreary afternoon.”

“Then you are easily distractible,” you return with an impish smirk. Gale quirks an eyebrow at you.

“Or is it that you and your irresistible charm are incredibly distracting?” he teasingly returns, laughing as he pulls you closer and lays his lips to yours once again.

A/N: I adore Gale. Honestly, I adore all of the companions in BG3. And many of the NPC's haha. I want to write more for him, so maybe a fic in the future? Time permitting, of course. Thank you for reading! Up next in this event will be Portia Devorak from The Arcana!

[serickswrites]

I'm Just Not Well

Warnings: rescue, captivity, torture, broken bones, blood, bruises, hurt/aftermath, hurt/recovery, hospital

"Whumpee, you gotta talk to me, please," Caretaker said as they sat in the back of the ambulance with Whumpee.

Whumpee's skin was mottled with bruises in various stages of healing--some deep purple almost black, some red and swollen, while others had taken an almost blue green tint as they healed. Their collar bone was clearly broken. Blood had dried in their matted hair, clotted on their split eyebrow, and had dried on other parts of their body that was visible.

They sat quietly on the gurney, responding only to a few questions asked by the EMT. Their voice was low and hoarse. Clearly they had been screaming from days. They stared out with a hollow look in their one not swollen shut eye.

"Whumpee?" Caretaker tried again.

"I'm alive," they croaked, "I'm just not well."

Caretaker's heart sunk. They had hoped Whumpee would open up a little bit more to them. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Whumpee closed their one good eye and leaned back on the gurney. "There's nothing else to tell you, Caretaker. I'm alive."

Caretaker opened their mouth and closed it. Clearly Whumpee wasn't ready to talk about whatever horrors they had endured at Whumper's hands. "Well, I'm here if you ever want or need to talk, Whumpee."

Whumpee nodded, but didn't say anything. They kept their eye closed, their body swaying with the motion of the ambulance speeding down the city streets.

"We'll be at the hospital soon, Whumpee. You're going to be ok," Caretaker said, hoping that their words were true and Whumpee would be ok.

Tags: @mousepaw @jumpywhumpywriter @knightinbatteredarmor @hufflepuffwritingstuff2 @anightmarishwhump

@steh-lar-uh-nuhs @celestialsoyeon @st0rmm @ay5ksal @pedro-pedro-pedro-pedro-pe

@artisticdemon

[jerzwriter]

I am so team Jackie on this one! lmao

I'm so proud of you MJ! I have fallen behind, but I'm hoping to catch up a bit tomorrow! I'm looking down the pike and some are like "WTF am I going to be writing! lol

Writing Challenge Day 9

word count: 655

Prompt: "Write about a heated debate." (list here)

A/N: i really didnt think this was going to be as long as it was. i could barely think of an idea but then i got one that im apparently a little too passionate about. anyway i wanted to give elijah and jensen their time to shine

~~~

Jackie scrolled through the list of topics, phone in one hand and drink in the other. The whole group was piled into the booth, Sienna on one side of her and Raf on the other. They were well into the night, plenty of empty glass around them with half-empty ones on their way. She stopped halfway down the list, looking up to the table and asking, “Okay, if you could pick one superpower, what would it be?”

Before she could even hear any respondes, a few groans went around the table as Bryce gave her a look. 

“Why would you do that?” he asked, half in a whine. She didn’t realize until Elijah and Jensen answered at the same time.

“Power mimicry,” Elijah said.

“Telepathy.”

The two of them whipped around to look at one another.

“I’m sorry, what?” Jensen asked, Elijah giving a look that said the exact same thing. “Power mimicry?”

“Oh, please,” Elijah responded, “As if blabbing into somebody’s head is going to do anything.”

Jackie couldn’t remember a time where Jensen looked more offended. “Telepathy is way fucking more than that and you know it. Besides, what the hell is power mimicry going to do for you?”

Elijah scoffed. “If you can mimic your opponents powers there’s no way for them to beat you, obviously.”

Jensen rolled his eyes. “Yeah, but then there’s no way for you to beat them. If your powers are exactly the same, then you inevitably match in ability, and that’s only if you have the practice with them! If you have no experience wielding your power, then they’re just going to beat your ass at their own game.”

“Not always!” Elijah quickly countered. “They’ve never been up against their own power, they have no idea how to take it out because, with most powers, using more of it just enhances the effects rather than cancels it out.”

“Yes, but they know their weaknesses better than anyone, so obviously they’re going to target that because you don’t have enough experience to know shit.”

Jackie could tell they weren’t getting out of this one anytime soon, offering a, “Sorry,” to everyone else as they continued.

“But that’s why you have backup! While you hold them off because you're matched in power then everyone else has a chance to take them out!”

Jensen gave him another unimpressed look. “You know damn well you can’t always count on backup.”

Elijah rolled his eyes with a half-sigh. “Okay, then how is telepathy so much better?”

“In literally every way!” he responded. Jackie glanced over to see Bryce giving her that “I told you so” look, taking a sip of his drink as Jensen continued on. “You can fuck them up mentally, especially if you know anything about them. I mean, think about Scarecrow for fucks sake! If you know their fears, you can project just about any vision or hallucination onto them!”

“Yeah, but most telepaths can’t do visions.” Jensen looked like he was going to interrupt with another argument, but Elijah continued on fast enough that he didn’t have the chance. “And even if they can, that takes too much time to communicate! By the time you even get a whole vision conjured, they could kill you!”

“That’s the whole point! You don’t even have to be by them to get in their head, then afterwards, when they’re writhing on the ground sobbing, that’s when you take them out.”

Before Elijah could argue again, Jackie cut in by loudly clearing her throat. She had heard them argue about who was the best Batman before, and she was pretty sure they still hadn't come to a conclusion after four years of living together. “You two are whole-ass adults. Just agree to disagree and continue when the rest of us aren’t here.”

Neither of them looked satisfied with that, but relented with matching sighs and let the night carry on peacefully.

~~~ Tagging: @jerzwriter @cariantha

[destinytober]

2023 prompt list is here! Take a trip through Destiny history starting Oct. 1 with a daily piece of art, writing or other creative expressions. Use #destinytober or #destinytober23 to have your work shared here.

Don't have time or ability to do a full 30 Day challenge? Use this list a chose one prompt for each five-day period instead.

✅ All skill levels welcome! ✅ Digital, traditional, 3D & crafts ✅ Writing ✅ Screenshot photography

Please don't: 🚫 A/I genned art 🚫 Gameplay S/treams 🚫 Fashion (Use #Driptober)

Previous years lists. Feel free to use one of these instead or mix and match between them all!

[cinderswrites]

S A C R I F I C E :: 30 Fics in 30 Days

8560 / 30000 words. 29% done!

───⊱✿⊰𖡼𖥧𖤣❀❀𖤣𖥧𖡼⊱✿⊰𖡼𖥧𖤣❀❀𖤣𖥧𖡼⊱✿⊰𖡼𖥧𖤣❀❀𖤣𖥧𖡼⊱✿⊰───

This challenge is something I made based off the 30k November challenge. I plan on writing one short story per day every day of November, and since I know I'll probably blow past the 30k mark, I changed the name.

───⊱✿⊰𖡼𖥧𖤣❀❀𖤣𖥧𖡼⊱✿⊰𖡼𖥧𖤣❀❀𖤣𖥧𖡼⊱✿⊰𖡼𖥧𖤣❀❀𖤣𖥧𖡼⊱✿⊰───

"Sacrifice" is a story about sisterly love, and the lengths one sister will do for the others. It's also a story about needing to recognize your boundaries.

It is also, in part, a small fanfic since it features the character Viktor from @yga-vn, an upcoming dark/horror romance visual novel by @kuruchyo.

───⊱✿⊰𖡼𖥧𖤣❀❀𖤣𖥧𖡼⊱✿⊰𖡼𖥧𖤣❀❀𖤣𖥧𖡼⊱✿⊰𖡼𖥧𖤣❀❀𖤣𖥧𖡼⊱✿⊰───

WC: 2,286 :: CW: I don't think there are any, but there's a demon, so lmao.

───⊱✿⊰𖡼𖥧𖤣❀❀𖤣𖥧𖡼⊱✿⊰𖡼𖥧𖤣❀❀𖤣𖥧𖡼⊱✿⊰𖡼𖥧𖤣❀❀𖤣𖥧𖡼⊱✿⊰───

“Ugh, Nova, you always take everything from me!”

Verity’s shrill voice carried through the corridor, ringing in the ears of the housemaids as she shouted at her older sister. Ariadne flinched and sighed softly from the sitting room just a few feet away from the main hall where her sisters were arguing. She was the middle one of the three of them, the beautiful and sought after Greywind sisters from House Greywind. A family name as old as time itself and the very definition of “old money family”.

The short woman stood up, pulling the velvet purple cloak tight around her shoulders again and setting down her book. Just one evening of quiet is all I asked for… her thoughts were bitter as she went to find her sisters.

Nova was standing with her hand on her hip, her other hand holding a bag high out of Verity’s reach. Nova’s impressive height was something she used to her advantage often. Verity’s face was flushed red in anger and she looked like a petulant child throwing a tantrum, the way she was stomping her foot and crossing her arms.

When her gray eyes spotted Ariadne’s form, she stomped over and grabbed her older sister’s wrist and tugged on it, pointing at Nova. “Ariii,” Verity whined, using her doe-like eyes to plead with the short woman. “Nova stole my new clutch.”

“I did not!” Nova said fiercely. “I just bought this one, today.”

“Since when have you ever had a lick of fashion sense?!” Verity shot back.

Ariadne wanted to smack both of them upside the head for being so loud and disruptive. They knew better. It was quiet hours in the manor, for their father suffered chronic migraines in the evening. “Both of you knock it off, now!” she snapped quietly.

Both sisters straightened up and looked at her with apologetic expressions. “Sorry,” Nova mumbled, looking down and fidgeting with the zipper on the bag.

“Yeah, me too,” Verity said, letting go of her arm and sighing.

Ariadne ushered them both to sit on the couch, herself taking a seat between them. “Verity, when was the last time you saw your purse?” she asked.

“A week ago when I went out with that Scarsbee man,” Verity said, brushing back her short pale blue hair. “I came home and went to my room and left it on my vanity table and haven’t been able to find it ever since.”

Ariadne turned to Nova then, whose long indigo waves were drawn like a curtain around her features. “Nova, do you have the receipt for the bag you bought today?”

“Of course I do,” she snorted, opening the bag and pulling out a slip of white paper. She handed it to the middle sister, who looked it over.

“Mm, yeah, Verity,” she showed the receipt to her. “The date of sale is listed as today. This bag isn’t yours.”

Verity’s gray eyes squinted at the receipt, as if trying to find hints of forgery or tampering. Then she let out a long-suffering groan and fell back against the couch. “Okay, fine! But that still doesn’t solve my issue.”

“Your issue is that you’re a lawless spoiled brat,” Nova muttered, earning herself a painful nudge in the ribs by Ariadne.

“Enough, both of you. Nova, why don’t you go find something to do? I’ll help Ver find her purse.”

“Fine by me. Oh, and when you have the time, could you call the Dorsby house and let him know I’m not attending his banquet tonight?” Nova stood, pulling her own black cloak around herself and walking away without another word.

Ariadne reached up and rubbed her temple for a few seconds before turning to her younger sister. “Come on, let’s go to your room.”

…

“I’ve looked everywhere, Ari, it’s just not here!” Verity was whining again a few minutes later as she threw herself on her bed.

Ariadne ignored the younger woman’s whining and searched the area where her vanity table sat. “If you let the maids come in here, you’d be more organized and could find things better,” she chided. “Look at this mess on the table. You’re wasting makeup by letting it spill out everywhere!”

Verity just hugged a cylindrical pillow and pouted.

The middle sister’s keen yellow eyes swept over the surface, her hands picking through the items, checking behind and underneath things. When it was clear that the bag wasn’t in the heaping pile of feminine products, she checked the drawer. She thought it was ironic how clean and spotless the empty drawer was compared to the surface of the vanity.

She stood back a moment, planting her hands on her hips and glancing around the area. Her eye caught the glint of a gold chain slung over the mirror and disappeared behind it. As she walked up to it, she thought she’d caught a glimpse of a pair of glowing purple eyes in the mirror, hiding in the shadows of Verity’s bed canopy. The corner of her mouth twitched upwards and when she blinked, the eyes were gone.

Ariadne grabbed the thick gold chain, pulling it off the mirror. Lo and behold, on the other end of it was the exact bag the woman had been looking for. With one hand remaining on her hip, she turned and gave her sister a look. “It’s been here the whole time, Ver,” she said.

Verity’s face flushed in embarrassment, her pout lingering as her gray eyes flicked away. “Guess I forgot I changed the strap…” she mumbled.

Ari sighed and rolled her eyes, slinging the bag forward and tossing it onto the bed. “Use your brain next time. You know you’re not supposed to get Nova all worked up like that,” she chastised. “Come to me if you need help.”

Verity finally sat up on the bed and held the purse in her hands, fiddling with the zipper. Despite how often her sisters were at each other’s throats, the resemblance between them was plain as day to anyone else but them. It still shocked Ariadne when Verity would display the same little quirks Nova often had.

“Yeah, okay,” she said. “I’m sorry I made a scene.”

Ariadne’s expression softened. She walked over to the young woman and reached out with slender fingers, preening her hair and brushing it to the side. Something she always did out of habit, ever since they were young. She was the middle sister, the one that had to look after her younger sister since Nova made it very clear she wasn’t going to. But Nova had always been that way, and not in a selfish sense. She just couldn’t care for other people as well as Ariadne did.

And that was fine with Ari. She loved taking care of and helping her sisters, even if it was mentally and sometimes physically exhausting, always having to be the middle woman, the messenger, the one that smoothed things over. “Don’t worry about it,” she pulled her hand away. “I need to go take care of Nova’s thing now.”

“You’re always so helpful, you know?” Verity’s fond tone carried out the door after Ariadne had left.

───⊱✿⊰𖡼𖥧𖤣❀❀𖤣𖥧𖡼⊱✿⊰𖡼𖥧𖤣❀❀𖤣𖥧𖡼⊱✿⊰𖡼𖥧𖤣❀❀𖤣𖥧𖡼⊱✿⊰───

“Yes… Mr. Dorsby? Good evening,” Ariadne stood at the manor’s house phone, twirling her finger around the chord. Her parents were always fond of vintage aesthetics and this rotary phone that still worked even now, in 2024, was a favorite item of theirs. “It’s Ariadne Greywind from House Greywind calling.”

“Ah, Miss Greywind. To what do I owe the pleasure of your call?” Mr. Dorsby was a middle-aged man with average looks and a wealth that almost rivaled theirs.

“I regret to inform you that Nova will not be attending your banquet this evening,” she said. “She’s down with an illness tonight.”

There was a heavy sigh that breathed in her ear, and she knew what was coming next. “What a shame… I was looking forward to having one of the prestigious Greywind daughters. I even bragged about it to my friends, you know. I planned a wonderful evening for her.”

Ariadne’s lower eyelid twitched, and she pursed her lips. “I do sincerely apologize, Mr. Dorsby. Perhaps-“

“Say, are you doing anything tonight?” he asked suddenly.

She slumped against the wall, “… I am not.”

“Why don’t you come in her place? You said you’re Ariadne, right? The middle daughter?”

“Yes, that’s correct, Mr. Dorsby.”

“Join me. I’ll have my driver come pick you up in, oh, say… Two hours? Is that plenty of time for you to get ready, Miss Greywind?” Dorsby’s voice sounded delighted.

Ariadne pinched the bridge of her nose, “That’s plenty of time. Thank you, Mr. Dorsby. I’ll see you in two hours’ time, then.”

“See you soon, dear.”

───⊱✿⊰𖡼𖥧𖤣❀❀𖤣𖥧𖡼⊱✿⊰𖡼𖥧𖤣❀❀𖤣𖥧𖡼⊱✿⊰𖡼𖥧𖤣❀❀𖤣𖥧𖡼⊱✿⊰───

It was almost midnight by the time Ariadne was walking back up to House Greywind, her feet throbbing with pain and smelling like expensive colognes and cigar smoke. The banquet had been… alright, if not a bit stuffy. Many influential men and women were in attendance, and Ariadne herself was seated next to Mr. Dorsby the entire night. He had gotten loose-lipped and flattering with every scotch he drank as the night went on, but he was thirty years her senior.

She did her duties as best as she could, avoiding casual touches and questions with hidden implications. Not just from Mr. Dorsby, but from a whole slew of “eligible” bachelors that were in attendance. At the end of the night, when Dorsby had bid her farewell, he had expressed his appreciation for her attendance and apologized if anyone had made her uncomfortable, including himself.

Overall, it had been a good time, she thought. Not that she wanted to repeat the experience anytime soon, but she was glad she went in Nova’s place now. Nova wouldn’t have been able to stand so many people sitting shoulder-to-shoulder at a long table. At least with Ariadne there, she could continue to keep House Greywind’s reputation to high standards with her maturity and grace.

Once she was in her bedroom, she kicked off the heels that had been pinching her feet all night. She undressed completely and pulled on a pair of soft cotton pajamas. Ariadne sat at her vanity and removed the makeup she had applied earlier. Staring at herself in the mirror, with every swipe of the makeup wipe, she revealed pale patches that starkly contrasted her otherwise warm brown tone.

It’s not that she was ashamed of them, no. She only covered them up with makeup to avoid being stared at and being asked question after question of what afflicted her. It was Dorsby’s banquet, after all. Not Ariadne’s.

“You’re a terrible liar,” she told herself as she continued cleaning her face, frowning.

A little while later, she had turned out the lights and settled into her large plush bed, her yellow eyes glancing out her window. She could see a strip of night sky just barely, and she focused on that as her eyelids became heavier and heavier.

───⊱✿⊰𖡼𖥧𖤣❀❀𖤣𖥧𖡼⊱✿⊰𖡼𖥧𖤣❀❀𖤣𖥧𖡼⊱✿⊰𖡼𖥧𖤣❀❀𖤣𖥧𖡼⊱✿⊰───

Some few minutes after she’d fallen asleep, she was woken up abruptly by feeling a presence plop onto her side and stomach, covering her legs as well. “Ari,” a voice whispered like smoke, wrapping around her and pulling her out of sleep. “Wake up, I’m lonely.”

Ariadne groaned and reached up to rub her eyes, shifting to lay on her back. The presence on top of her practically purred and laid its head on her soft stomach area. “Viktor?” she mumbled, blinking several times.

Those glowing purple eyes gazed up at her in an almost innocent manner, before flashing a set of pearly pointed teeth. “Mornin’, starshine,” he said.

She could see his tail lazily flicking back and forth beyond the purple horns on his head. Her hand went up to stroke through his dark tresses at the top of his head, being careful to not touch his horns. The action was instinctual at this point, since she’d done it so many nights before. “You couldn’t let me sleep a little longer?” she huffed quietly.

The demon pouted a little, “I was bored.”

She rolled her eyes, but there was a small smile on her lips, “You’re so troublesome, you know that?”

“Mm, I could be more troublesome if it’ll make you feel better,” he teased, lifting his head off her stomach and resting his cheek against one of his fists. He watched her expressions with those striking violet eyes of his.

“Don’t you dare,” she scolded lightly, a soft laugh escaping her.

He grinned again before speaking, “So, where’d you go tonight? I tried to follow but I lost the car you were in.”

His tail whipped through the air, smacking against the bed with a thump, indicating his frustration. Viktor had gotten… quite attached to her in the months after she’d finally caught him trying to torment her like a pest. He didn’t like not knowing where she was, or when she left her house.

Ariadne tugged on a strand of his hair lightly, making him pout again. “I went to a banquet in Nova’s place,” she explained. “I didn’t get home until a little while ago.”

He wrinkled his nose in distaste, folding his hands over her stomach and resting his chin on them. His eyes looked away. “No wonder you smell funny,” he grumbled, still clearly displeased.

“I smell fine,” she protested, “I was too tired to bathe tonight.”

“Why couldn’t Nova go? Or that little brat of yours,” he huffed.

“Because Nova can’t handle large crowds, and that little brat—“ she tugged on his hair again, “—would probably embarrass us.”

“You’re always doing something to help out your sisters,” he looked at her then, his expression rather serious. “When do you ever do anything for yourself?”

Ariadne hummed softly. Her eyes traced over the similar light patches on his own skin. He had been the only one she’d ever seen like herself before. Maybe that was part of the reason she put up with his presence. After all, not many people would welcome a demon to come back every night. “I don’t know,” she admitted after a few beats.

Viktor’s tail lashed again, angrier this time. “You’re going to burn out one of these days, you know? And who’s going to help you, then?”

She opened her mouth to speak but no words came. Instead, she sighed and looked away. “I’m fine…” she didn’t even sound convincing.

Her hand was still playing with his hair, and his tail came up to wrap around her wrist, pulling her hand away. He pinned it to the bed as he suddenly lifted himself up onto his hands, hovering over her now, his face just above hers. “You’re not fine,” he murmured. “I can see it in your face. You’re tired and wearing thin.”

She clenched her jaw for a moment, before relaxing and meeting his eyes once more. “I’ll… try to not be…” she trailed off again, struggling to find a suitable word.

“A pushover? A doormat?”

Her eyes narrowed before she rolled them, “Compliant.”

Viktor hummed thoughtfully in response, settling his taller frame on top of hers. His clawed hand came up to brush through her hair as he looked down at her, only inches away from her. “I can find other ways for you to fill that… need to ‘comply’, as you put it,” he teased, his other hand stroking her cheek with his thumb.

Ariadne laughed softly, her face heating up with his implication, “You’re too much sometimes.”

He placed a soft kiss on her chin, trailing them along her jawline. She let out a relaxed sigh this time, a soft hum of her own emitting from her lips. “On the contrary,” he whispered, nuzzling his nose against her cheek, taking in her sweet scent of jasmine and shea butter. “I like to think I’m just what you need, my little lamb.”

“Little lamb?”

“Mm. Because you can’t stop sacrificing yourself for those ungrateful sisters of yours.”

“… and here I thought you were just being cute.”

Another wicked grin from him as he lifted his head and nuzzled his nose against hers. “I’m also being that,” he added.

His tail had let her wrist go finally, and Ariadne drew her arms up, wrapping them around his neck. She pulled him closer in an embrace, hiding her face against his shoulder. “I promise I’ll try harder to be less of a pushover,” she whispered, her tone almost vulnerable.

“Sweet lamb,” he crooned softly, and suddenly he had her pulled against his side, laying on his back with her nestled into him. “I’ll take care of you since you can’t be bothered to do it yourself.”

“How do you make that sound so sweet and infuriating at the same time?” she huffed as she snuggled up to him more, almost clinging onto him at this point.

“It’s just one of my charms, darling,” he pressed his lips to her forehead. “Sleep now.”

“Mm,” she hummed, resting her head on his warm chest and letting herself be lulled to sleep by the soft touches of his hand stroking through her hair.

[faewulv]

"Welcome to Thedas!"

Introducing a 30 day art challenge where drawings, photos, screenshots, cosplay, writing, and whatever else you feel like creating is a-okay!

A simple prompt list for Dragon Age fans of all kinds. There is no pressure to do every day, in the "proper" order, or even in the same medium! I just wanted to give fans a fun little thing to pass the time while we all wait for the Veilguard drop this Autumn <3

Each prompt is up to personal interpretation- there is no right or wrong way to go about this. If you think a piece about Hawke fighting the Arishok is fitting for "Sticks and Stones" and then Sera goin' apeshit throwing jars of questionable substances for "Bees?", then absolutely go for it!

I just hope you have fun!

There's no hashtag or tagging needed or made for this, but I do enjoy seeing what you create if you DO follow any prompts from here! <3

List of prompts:

An Oath

Dragon’s Fire

Sticks and Stones

Brush with Death

Midnight Rendezvous

Healing Gift

Sharp Smiles

Dull Blades

Gentleness

Wild Spirit

Smoke and Song

One More Wish

Veins of Ice

Elfroot Supremacy

Blood and Gold

Broken Whispers

Heartache

Date Night

Starlight Waltz

Bees?

Scent of Pine

A Hoarse Voice

Clipped Wings

Ancient Vow

Into the Fire

Potionmaker

Hidden Corners

Spying Eyes

Found Family

Well… shit.

[jerzwriter]

What Happened in Vegas: An Interlude

Book:                   Open Heart (Book 2 - AU)

Pairing:                Ethan Ramsey x F!MC

Rating:                 General

Category:            Fluff

Summary:   Ethan and Casey are in shock after watching the recording - for now, they know it's true. Too much to drink + Vegas + a wedding chapel they stumbled into on their path = only one thing. They were married. This is Ethan's POV as the news settles in.

Words: 456

A/N: Day 2 of @creativepromptsforwriting 's 30-Day Writing Challenge: Write a scene without any dialogue. And, boy, was this a challenge for me because I think dialogue is my strong suit. I decided to tackle a little scene that took place "off camera" at the end of Chapter 4 of my mini-series, What Happened in Vegas. It's not a full chapter, I stayed true to my promise of under 600 words today, but I hope those reading the series will enjoy a peek at Ethan's state of mind.

@choicesjanuarychallenge Day 5 - Love

Vegas Masterlist 30-Day Challenge Masterlist

Casey tapped his hand. Though no words were exchanged, he knew exactly what she wanted him to do. He stopped the recording at once. An audible thud was heard when his phone fell from his hand, crashing on the mattress between them. But, frozen, neither moved an inch.

The ceiling wasn’t that interesting, and he had already memorized every crack. But the pale grey plaster was the perfect backdrop as shock drifted away and reality began crashing in. There was no longer any question. They were married. It may have been a rash decision, and certainly nothing they would have done sober, but that didn’t matter. It was done. And now that they had seen it with their own eyes, he knew:  not only done but, despite the circumstances, it was done with love. As the shock drifted, a strange sensation overtook him, and he felt a smile forming, even if it never appeared on his lips.

He wasn’t sure how long they lay there. How long does it take for something like this to register? But he knew it would have laid there longer if it had been up to him. Casey sat up, she was speaking, but he couldn’t hear a word. They couldn’t compete with the words already replaying in his mind. The vows he had spoken to her and those she had gifted him. 

They hadn’t been engaged. There were no previous plans. No long nights attempting to pen the perfect vows for the person you hoped to spend eternity with. There was nothing that may have been stored in their subconscious that could be recalled, even when drunk. And, oh, were they drunk. So, how did they arrive at those words? He wondered. Then another revelation washed over him. There was only one way they could have uttered such beautiful words in such a condition: because they were true.

Breaking free from his trance, he lifted his head and stared at her, his beautiful… wife… the annulment pamphlet tapping nervously in her hands. Her words were still inaudible. He was sober now, but in a way, more intoxicated than ever before… and it was solely because of her. But he heard her now, and his heart started to race. A quickie marriage fueled by overpriced bourbon and wine, the solution seemed simple… an equally quick annulment to put it in the past. That’s what she seemed to say.

But there was one problem, he didn’t want that, and he couldn’t let it happen. Grasping her hand, he began to tackle the most important task in his lifetime. The one thing in his heart he knew to be true… he had to convince her… this wasn’t a mistake; this was their destiny.

Permatags: @a-crepusculo @animesuck3r @annoyingmillenialnewbie @crazy-loca-blog @differenttyphoonwerewolf @doriopenheart @fayeswiftie @genevievemd @gryffindordaughterofathena @inlocusmads @jamespotterthefirst @jennieausten @liaromancewriter @lucy-268 @kingliam2019 @onikalover @openheartforeverinmyheart @potionsprefect @quixoticdreamer16 @rookiemartin @secretaryunpaid @socalwriterbee @tessa-liam @trappedinfanfiction @jerzwriter-reblogs-asks @choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics

Tagging others in reblog

[alchemiasart]

30-day writing challenges?

I know it's a little after the fact, but for the first time ever, I got all the badges for NaNoWriMo in 2023. AND, it was a complete cycle of 30 related short stories, set in a cryptid universe.

So, here's where it might get interesting.

I wrote between 2100 and 7000 words every single day for all of November, and I loved every second of it. More than that, all my test readers adored it and I'm being pressured to figure out how to publish it. Not sure if I'm going the self-publishing route or if I'm going to try to get some in magazines or whatever.

The exciting part was the 30-day challenge, I think. And I might want to do it again during every month that has 30 days, which means April, June, September, and November. Maybe I'll write more cryptid stories, maybe I'll work in one of my other universes.

My big question is (and I know this is a super-low-traffic blog right now), who wants to watch that journey? And how do you support your writer/author friends when they're doing a challenge?

[fairyniceyeah]

💎🤘🏼Day 30: "Breathe, damn you."

Shock/Asphyxiation/Emergency Room

@juneofdoom

Part One: Day 18: "I'm fine."

Day 29: "I'm so cold."

Summary: Vernon’s allergic reaction scares the Hip Hop Team.

CW: mentions of emeto, CPR

Whumpee: HipHop Unit

Caretaker: HipHop Unit

Mingyu clutched Wonwoo’s hand as he watched the paramedics lift their youngest rapper on the stretcher. They had arrived with flashes and sirens and an air of hurry and worry about them that had Mingyu crying. Wonwoo barely seemed to be faring better - he had ducked away to throw up when the male paramedic had stuck a huge needle into their dongsaeng’s elbow.

“One of you can come with us”, the female paramedic called. Wonwoo let go of Mingyu and pushed him into her direction. No, Mingyu did not want to go with them, watch Vernon struggle more. It was hard to watch and, while he felt horrible about it, he would prefer to run away.

“You go with him”, Wonwoo called shakily, “I’ll take Coups-hyung’s car. I’ll call him too.”

Mingyu as if on autopilot followed the paramedic out of the door, throwing one last glance at his hyung whose t-shirt even was stained with their dongsaeng’s vomit after he had taken his hoodie off. The door of the ambulance fell shut and they drove off.

The male paramedic had already connected various devices to Vernon and there was the beeping sound of a heart-monitor. The numbers dancing across the screen made no sense to Mingyu but the paramedic seemed unhappy. Vernon was still unconscious, had been since they had realized that he was not throwing up because of his headache but because of a severe allergic reaction. Watching Vernon's lips and nail turn blue while a rash was developing all over his face and neck had been terrifying.

The awful sounds Vernon had made while vomiting and struggling to breathe would forever be ingrained into Mingyu’s brain. 

Mingyu was pulled from his thoughts as the paramedic cursed and started fiddling with some equipment. A loud ringing sound came from a machine.

“Shit”, the paramedic said forcefully and jumped up, professionally not caring that he was in a fast moving vehicle. That was when Mingyu saw a sight he never wanted to see again. Vernon was still, so awfully still. His chest didn’t move up and down and he didn’t make the wheezing sound anymore. 

The paramedic pushed some buttons on a machine, connected things to the IV in a matter of seconds. Then he leaned over Vernon and forcefully started pressing onto his chest - CPR. Vernon was … 

“Breathe, damn you”, Mingyu whispered, curling into himself and bringing his hands together in silent prayer. Please, just breathe.

The ambulance pulled into a stop and the doors were opened forcefully. Mingyu pressed himself to the inside of the ambulance and watched as they wheeled Vernon away, nurses and doctors rushing about. Only one nurse stayed behind, smiling encouragingly at Mingyu.

“Come on, honey”, she said, “they’ll take good care of your friend.”

Fifteen minutes later Wonwoo and Seungcheol rushed into the emergency room where Mingyu was about to pace a hole into the floor. Two managers trailed behind them, short of running themselves. Mingyu did not care at all that he was nearly ten centimeters taller than his leader - he threw himself into his arms so hard that Seungcheol stumbled a few steps back before regaining his balance.

“Hey, baby”, he whispered, holding onto Mingyu as tightly as Mingyu grasped at him. “How is he?”

“I don’t know, hyung”, Mingyu answered quietly, suppressing his tears, “they took him in as soon as we arrived. He … he wasn’t breathing.”

Saying the words suddenly made it much more real. Mingyu’s knees buckled under him and only Seungcheol’s hold on him prevented him from crashing onto the floor. With Seungcheol guiding him down it was more of a controlled fall.

Wonwoo knelt down beside them then too, silent tears trailing down his cheeks and staining his glasses. Seungcheol tucked him close so that both younger rappers were cradled against his chest - all on the floor in the middle of a random ER while fearing for their HipHop baby.

It took over two hours until a doctor entered the VIP waiting room. After a request from the managers they had been allowed to wait there out of the public’s eye. Seungcheol had been texting back and forth in their 95liner’s group chat, his hand shaking. Mingyu had been leaning his head on his shoulder, feeling mostly numb. Wonwoo, still his salt on his cheeks and lips, had fallen asleep from exhaustion on Mingyu’s lap, stretched out over the couch the three of them had fit themselves onto. They were too scared, too shocked by the sudden events to want space. 

How had a simple headache turned into a member nearly asphyxiating on their living room floor?

“Family of Chwe Hansol?”, the woman called and Mingyu’s and Seungcheol’s heads jerked upright. Wonwoo was still asleep so Mingyu gently shook his shoulder to wake him. Wonwoo blinked blearily but sat up quickly as soon as he saw the doctor. 

“Hansol-ssi is going to be just fine”, she said to them soothingly, seeing their worry. “He had an allergic reaction which turned into anaphylactic shock. We treated him with antihistamines and epinephrine and he’ll be just fine. We want to keep him overnight just in case but he should be fine to go home tomorrow. However, you should probably invest into at least one, if not multiple epi-pens in case of further reactions.”

“Thank you, seonsaeng-nim”, Seungcheol said hesitantly. “But … what is Hansol-ah allergic to? He never had a reaction before.”

“We did some tests and found out he is allergic to a variety of pollen and peanuts. Only the peanuts would have caused the anaphylaxis though. Did he ingest some today?”

Wonwoo blanched. “Maybe the cereal bar?”, he asked quietly, already blaming himself. 

Mingyu patted his pockets and indeed, he still had the wrapper of the cereal in his pocket. He held it out to the doctor who read it, nodding. “Yeah, that would do it.”

“It’s my fault?”, Wonwoo asked, looking faintly nauseous. Mingyu squeezed his hand.

“You didn’t know”, Seungcheol and the doctor said at the same time. 

“Nobody knew”, Seungcheol added. 

“Not even Hansol-ssi himself”, the doctor continued.

“Scary, I think we met a female version of you, hyung”, Mingyu whispered, acting a bit overdramatic. Bingo. Wonwoo managed a small smile as Seungcheol scoffed. The doctor just giggled.

“Hansol-ssi is asleep for now but I think I can sneak you three into his room for ten minutes. After that you’ll have to go home”, she said.

In their haste to get up, the three oldest rappers nearly tripped over themselves.

And seeing Vernon peacefully asleep, chest moving up and down and snoring a bit, made them all smile.

Masterlist link: Fairy's Full Masterlist Fairy's June of Doom 2024

Notes: And that’s a wrap for June of Doom 2024! Thank you to everybody who stuck with me and read the fics! Thanks for every like, every comment and every reblog! You people are amazing 🩷

[blackwolfstabs]

30 Day Writing Challenge: Day 26

SLEEPING IN

It's that time of the month again.

The clock passed 7:45 AM, and there was still no sign of Tara. Her class started at 8:35 AM, and it took her about 15 minutes to get there. Normally, she never got up past 7:30.

Today was different.

Sam gulped down the last of her medication and left the bathroom to make way to her sister’s room. The door was shut, no sound or any sign of activity coming from inside. So, instead of knocking, she went straight to turning the knob as quietly as she could and letting herself in. 

Tara was still under the covers, having them pulled all the way over her shoulders as she lay curled up. However, the notorious creak of the door opening made her peer up.

Her eyes were still heavy with sleep, not even open all the way as Sam observed them. “Hey,” she greeted softly, “You’re gonna be late, it’s past 7:45.” She approached the bedside.

But her little sister just shut her eyes again and buried half of her face into her pillow. “I don’t feel good, Sammy…” 

She sat down on the edge of the mattress and reached over to rub her back, softening her voice as she asked, “What’s going on?” She then moved her hand to tuck away the other’s messy, feathered bangs out of her face. “Do you feel sick?”

The younger Carpenter shook her head, still not opening her eyes. “My period…” she mumbled. “Cramps…”

“Mm.” She must’ve started it last night. Usually, they let each other know when the time-of-the-month starts, so they won’t accidentally snap and then erupt into a meaningless fight. “Did you start it last night?”

“Mm-hmm.”

Her older sister nodded and brushed her warm cheek with the back of her hand, before pulling the covers down a little. “I’ll go get you some medicine, and—”

She was cut off by a long, high-pitched whine that came from Tara, who yanked the blanket back up while stretching in a frustrated way. “Noooooo, I don’t wanna go to class, Sam!”

Sam had to bite back a laugh at how childish she looked turning over onto her stomach and twisting her face away—like if she was facing the other direction, then she wouldn’t be forced to go to school. “I didn’t say you had to go, Tara,” she chuckled, unable to hold it back. “I was just going to get you some medicine and the heating pad.”

Her sister huffed but seemed to drop the tantrum at this response. Her eyes opened a little to glance out of the corners. “You’re not going to make me go, even if I take medicine?” When they were kids, their mother would encourage them to take some medicine and push themselves to quote-unquote “get through the day,” when they didn’t feel well but didn’t have fever. She’d always hated that, and she knew Sam still lived by that, even though she had hated it too as a kid.

“Are you kidding? Even with medicine, period cramps suck,” the older replied. “I’m not gonna do you like Mom.” Her train-of-thought drew her to the same memories of when they were in their school-days. 

Tara actually managed a small smile at this, which made Sam return one before she stood up. “I’ll be right back. Do you need anything else?” 

A head-shake answered her and she dismissed herself to retrieve some Tylenol, a glass of water, and the heating pad. When she retreated to the bedroom, Tara had moved onto her back with one hand limp over her eyes and the other tucked beneath the covers, rubbing her lower abdomen. “Okay, Tara…” She set the cup and heating pad down on the bedside table, then brushed her little sister’s forehead softly. “Can you sit up for me to take this?”

Tara slid her hand off of her eyes and propped herself up on her forearms. She balanced her weight long enough to take the two pills, one at a time, and swallow them with a few gulps.

“Good girl,” Sam praised, before letting her lay down again. As she did so, she went to plug the cord of the heating pad into the wall, beneath the phone charger currently in place.

Tara was already grabbing the dark green pad to slip it beneath her blanket. Now, a little more awake from taking the medicine and navigating the topical remedy to her liking, she kept an eye on her big sister as she came around to situate the controlling section next to her. “Sam?”

She didn’t look up as she proceeded to set the temperature, “Mm-hmm?”

“Can you stay home with me?”

Sam’s dark eyes raised before her face did, a spark of concern flooding them faster than she could blink. But when the younger just blinked at her innocently, she decided it was her unstable hormones making her clingy side come out. “I’ve gotta go to work, baby,” she told her. When she saw her face drop into that small pout no one else could pull off, she caressed the side of her face, “I’ll call to check on you, okay? And you can text me whenever you want.” She brushed her thumb over her cheek, noting the disappointed sigh that came in response.

“‘Kay…”

Sam gave her a small smile and leaned down to place a loving kiss to her head. “Go back to sleep,” she whispered.

Tara nodded and closed her eyes, nuzzling herself into the comfort of her bed, while hugging the heating pad to her aching abdomen. Her sister’s footsteps then faded out of the room, which left her sighing again. It wasn’t that she needed Sam to be there with her. She was 21, she didn’t need a babysitter or someone to coddle her. It was just that she liked Sam’s attention, whenever she was sick or wasn’t feeling 100%. She liked to be held or hugged, or just to be near her. Call it a security or little-sister thing. That was just the way she was. Especially since they had mended what had been broken for so long back in Woodsboro. Here in New York, after defeating the last pair of Ghostfaces together, they had grown closer than ever and rarely, if ever, looked back on where they had been. 

Tara still remembered what it felt like when she realized Sam wasn’t coming home on her big sister’s 18th birthday, just like Sam remembered what it felt like to have her baby sister shout “Get the fuck out!” at her in that hospital room.

They never forgot any of it, but they did build a wall between then and now. And that’s what Tara relied on. Even in times like these, which were small and insignificant, considering she got her period every month. 

It was safe to say that there was a small crack in the wall they built that let the river that connected before-estranged, estranged, and never-again-estranged flow through, because their relationship tended to mirror what they had as kids more than it mirrored their growing-up-and-apart fate.

However, Tara’s hopes were unexpectedly lifted when she felt the bed shift behind her and a familiar, loving embrace wrap around her torso, overlaying the heating pad to hold it in place. She hadn’t heard Sam come back in the room, but she knew that touch better than anything. She felt her sister nuzzle the back of her head as she shifted closer with a content sigh. “Sam?”

“Hmm?”

For someone who was already up and about, Sam was warm against Tara, as if she’d been laying with her all along. “I thought you said you were going to work.”

Her big sister shrugged with a small scoff. “Fuck work,” she replied, “They don’t like me anyway…”

This made her chuckle and shuffle further under the covers. “What if they fire you?” 

“They won’t.” The smile that came across the other’s face was heard in her voice. “They may not like me, but they need me.”

The younger smiled too. “Well, look who’s so confident in herself,” she teased. 

Sam teased her back, “What? I mean, I can still go, if you’ve change your mind.” She began to pull her securing arm away. “Would you rather me leave?”

But her sister pinned it before it could leave her side. “No, no, stay,” she giggled, tugging her arm back to where it was. “I was just playing.”

“I know,” Samantha’s smile stuck around as she picked her head up to kiss her sibling’s and then settled back down again. “So was I.” She let her eyes close as Tara sighed happily and traced her small fingers over her hand that guarded the pad beneath the blankets. “Now, get some rest, my love. I may not be going to work, but I can’t stay here all day.”

Tara nodded. “Okay. But you go to sleep, too.”

“You first.”

She let her hand go limp over her older sister’s and sank into her pillow. “Thank you, Sammy. I love you.”

Sam brushed her nose into her hair, taking in her thick, calming scent that had already crowded her olfactory senses from being in her bed. “I love you too, Tara.”

happy thanksgiving everyone! i hope you all had a great time with your family, friends, or whoever you spent it with. i'm very thankful for all the things i have and are able to do, in these fearful times. thank you all for your support and love. i'm very thankful to have you and be apart of this community.

All my best! ♡ - parker

[topsyturvy-turtely]

an almost whisper

prompt "whisper" by @onesmallfamily

highly inspired by this gif by @phoenix27884:

a/n: hey! i wanted to at least do ONE prompt of the 30 day sherlock september challenge. here is my ficlet of yesterday, because seriously- i fell asleep while writing it 😅

ps: so sorry bout the no uppercase letters, as said i was very tired for half of this (and lazy for the second)

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sherlock was sitting across from him. from john watson. what a gorgeous man he was. gray silky hair - combed back, a dark blue jumper that looked ridiculously endearing on him... his doctor hadn't had time to shave this morning and sherlock was currently trying to gauge how many colour shades you could see in john's beard. one, two, three...

the beard moved. well not the beard itself but the lips that sat between the beard.

what would it feel like to-

"sherlock, did you hear me?"

the asked man raised his eyebrows. had he heard him? "still caught up on the case, i fear."

"you solved it. what's there to think about?"

his john. asking just the right questions. unfortunately they were rather uncomfortable right this moment, considering sherlock had been thinking about and staring at john's facial hair...

topic change. "how was dinner?"

"delicious. pity you didn't have any."

"eating..."

"... slows you down, i know, i know.", john said, but there was an amused grin on his lips. for some reason sherlock had to look away to catch himself. john smiling at him like that, it did something to him. something that hits way further inside than just into his heart.

he sensed john leaning back and stretching his face up to the sun. sherlock simply had to turn his gaze back onto him. the sun highlighted the few blond strands left and the red undertone in john's beard... it accentuated the wrinkles, that sherlock loved, because they reflect just how real john is. the detective then realized he was staring again and looked away. pretending to focus on the people around him, maybe deducing them. in reality every sense was directed at john. he heard him move, sensed his body being closer to his, smelt a hint of the coffee john had drunk, saw him putting his chin into his hand out of the corner of his eye.

he felt john staring now. sherlock decided it was safe to glare back at him. and was swept off his feet, well he was sitting, but he was still overwhelmed by john's expression. there was so much adoration, fascination and out of a lack of better words - love in his eyes.

sherlock had to smile back at him. he felt his face getting hotter. john - without saying a word - made him feel special.

john's gaze never left his and then exclaimed, barely above a whisper, "i'd like to kiss you." it was out of the blue, but it felt like the perfect timing.

what happened next felt natural, like they were actors who were acting according to a script: sherlock stood up leaned over the small table and placed his lips on john's.

the kiss was over soon, but they both knew it was just the first of uncountables.

a smile, a hand sneaking into his, looks speaking more than words.

on that day just like that, with that tiny almost-whisper and their promising first kiss they stopped being augend and addend and began being a sum.

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