#or is that a recipe for inciting hate?

[reclaiming-antiradinclus-memes]

CW Sui bait

This is Cameron, and their pronouns are they/kit/meow. Kit is nonbinary and catgender, as well as being agefluid. Meow struggles to pinpoint exactly what meows age fluctuates between, so meow just uses agefluid as an umbrella term. Cameron has had a lot of struggles with suicidiality in the past, both from their dysphoria and from the mockery they experience for trying to be authentically themself. Meow still struggles with those urges now, as well as sh urges. But kits online support system is there for kit, and kit is reminded that being yourself is not a crime.

[witheredoffherwitch]

hello there! just wanted to send an encouraging ask as I very rarely look at any hotd-related content on here (due to the lack of critical thinking that can be found and the pure vitriol spewed through anonymous messages - many lovely mutuals have also received horrendous anons telling them they should be physically harmed since they do not enjoy an incestuous crackship and that’s absolutely unhinged!) and you’ve handled these absurdly obnoxious, transparent anons in your inbox with grace and eloquence. it’s been a year and many moots on twitter have learned to keep to themselves regarding opinions related to alys/aemond and how it could possibly be interpreted as a gothic tale/romance (as they keep tabs over there too) but it’s truly pathetic and unsettling to see how a certain part of this fanbase CONTINUES to spew their hate and try to incite a reaction. rooting for a female character to be sexually assaulted simply because one is bitter over an incestuous crackship not happening is the definition of childish and frankly very odd. there’s already more than enough of that in this whole franchise and aemond taking a woman by force is simply not in-keeping with how they’ve characterized him in the show (as you’ve aptly acknowledged) and is very unlikely to happen (much to their displeasure). their relationship is not a fairytale but that doesn’t mean it has to include that at all.

anyhow this ended up being way too long but wanted to commend you for dealing with this pure nonsense from Those shippers! I’ve turned my anon option off to avoid this sort of behavior and moots who think alys has alot to offer as a character have received tons of hate while minding their own business. it’s been a year and they are STILL insufferable. seems they cannot cope with the fact that she will be in the show and that their ship is not happening. very sad. in any case, gayle seems like a very dedicated actress and she and ewan are surely to have an interesting screen presence together. can’t wait to see what they bring as a duo chemistry-wise and their performances! 🥰

Ahhh Cecilia!! I'm so sorry for getting around to your message so late, but I am all the more grateful to you for reaching out at the time. Aside from those two anons (to whom I so eloquently requested to throat my cock), I think I did a pretty good job at handling this ongoing dissent. Thank you so much once again!

I am so sorry that you guys had to deal with this kind of nonsense before, BUT I seriously hope that these anons have not deterred your enthusiasm for any Alysmond content. We barely make for a moderately-sized Kpop girl group -- and I hope the few remaining girlies are still active to keep this small hive humming and buzzing. Alysmond is a ship that will sustain irrespective of what the show follows - i mean, we have other crackships that are still going strong after all. We should grant ourselves a bit of freedom to express our creative interpretations of the narrative.

Coming to what you said about Aemond's depiction in the show, I 100% stand by that take. He's not shown to be an unreasonable brute who will take someone by force. Moreover from whatever leaks we've got till now (though I would take them with a grain of salt), Gayle's Alys is also made to come off as a very kooky character. Regardless of what they show on-screen, I am already drowning ten-feet deep into these headcanons -- IMAGINE the first interaction between Alys 'a barn owl cursed to live in human form' Rivers and Aemond 'tis I who studies philosophy' Targaryen. I don't care what anyone says because that's a recipe for deliciously dark and romantically gothic meet-cute. That's our quirky cursed witch and menacingly tortured kinslayer! If Condal messes it up, then we have enough material to draft multiple fucking AUs for ourselves. LOL I've even suggested earlier how we only need Gayle in Alys' costume -- because rest assured, we'll do the rest with moodboards and countless video edits.

I am extremely tight on schedule since I am doing my Masters while working a full-time job -- and because of that, I am short on producing the kind of content I'd like BUT hopefully, I can get something out by the end of this month. To be very honest, I actually don't really mind crackships (I read them all the time and have shared links to some of my favorites) but what really annoys me is this constant need to put down other ships to justify your own little delulu headcanons.

Anyway thanks for reaching out once again, and you are welcome to take a nice cushy spot in our coven.

Love, Kalki. 🤗

[syrupwit]

Convoluted Scenarios Prompt List

Writing prompts in the style of AO3 freeform tags. Some were inspired by nominated tags for exchanges, but none have been taken directly from any tagset.

Characters Who Dislike Each Other Must Cooperate - To Bake A Cake

Characters Who Dislike Each Other Must Cooperate - To Break A Curse

Characters Who Dislike Each Other Must Cooperate - To Catalog A Book

Characters Who Dislike Each Other Must Cooperate - To Find A Fence For A Dangerous Stolen Item

Characters Who Dislike Each Other Must Cooperate - To Get A Form Signed

Fake Relationship - Character's Relative Will Only Reveal Important Secret After Marriage/Engagement

Fake Relationship - Didn't Care Until Your Shitty Ex Showed Up and Wow I Hate Them So Much But Not Because I Have Feelings For You Nope

Fake Relationship - Game of Chicken Gone Too Far; Married/Engaged For Real, Send Help

Fake Relationship - Unexpected Character Outside the Fake Couple is Obviously Jealous

Hanahaki - But It's Funny

Interlude - Community Theater

Interlude - Drag Show

Interlude - Learning New Recipe

Interlude - Serenade (Desired)

Interlude - Serenade (Undesired)

Misc - Departmental Reorganization Incites Chaos

Misc - Pining Character Projects (Unrequited?) Feelings Onto Love Interest; Misunderstandings and Hijinks Ensue

Misc - This small town sports team NEEDS OUR HELP to win the big game!

Misc - You'll have to fight my (seven) evil exes

Narrative - Crux of the plot/joke rests on a misunderstood idiom

Narrative - Unfolds As (Reverse) Rube Goldberg Machine, Each Unexpected Twist Further-Fetched Than The Last

Secret Identity - Gossip Columnist

Secret Identity - Love Interest's Favorite Author

Secret Identity - Love Interest's Most Hated Author

Secret Identity - Master Chef Who Only Knows One Recipe

Secret Identity - Master Swordsperson Who Can Only Fight With One Type of Sword

Secret Identity - Phantom Thief with a Heart of Gold

Secret Identity - Self-Help Expert

[bewitchingbaker]

By contrast, what would their haters dislike about your character? Is it a petty complaint? A mischaracterization of the character or their intentions? Are they just a woman in a largely male-centric series?What controversies/drama would your character incite in fandom?What fan-material would exist for your character in fandom?

I feel like Chris's kindness and the fact he cries during stressful moments would be the main reasons his haters would dislike him. Kind of the way people hate Tanjiro and Luffy when they show emotions during very much stressful and sad moments. I could see a certain group of dudes hating Chris cause he doesn't subscribe to a lot of Black male character archetypes which leads to my next answer.

I could see maybe two controversies. One controversy I could see is maybe whether or not Chris fits into the 'artsy awkward black guy' trope. Is Chris awkward and artsy? Yeah. But he's still written as a young Black man with flaws and virtues ala Insecure. The second would be his setting? Like sometimes I wonder if I provide a good balance of supernatural slice of life and the more fantastical Hellboy inspired stories he deals with. So if Chris's story was on tv I could see people being irritated by the change of pace in some stories.

Fan materal? I could see fans making cookbooks for Chris with recipes inspired by him and music he likes. Alooooot of playlists and fan-lead table reads of his adventures. I could see someone making his necklace and bucket hat for cosplays.

[headspace-hotel]

I hate this country's rabid, paranoid, war-mongering attitude. I hate how the American way is to depend on no one and to be afraid of everyone, I hate how every suburban house is its own fortified castle against neighborliness and mutual dependence. I hate how my friends in college all believed that an Asian restaurant downtown was a "front" for a human trafficking ring and that this was too unremarkable to act upon, I hate how police departments offer to X-ray Halloween candy in case someone put razor blades in it. I hate how middle-class white Facebook moms think they're being followed in the grocery store by men who will kidnap their children into sex slavery in broad daylight. I hate that I'm out shopping and I see people with guns holstered on their hips.

I hate the endless manufacture of the machines of war, the limitless money the government has for bombs and guns while disabled people die because they can't afford their medicine and old men freeze to death because they don't have a home and little kids can't afford lunch at school. I hate the Youtube ads that tell me the military will be just like a video game. I hate that my high school best friend's brother joined the military at 18. I hate that when I was 18, all I knew about why we were at war in the Middle East was what my classmates said about watching videos of ISIS sawing people's heads off.

Do you know why the American ideal is to have those huge, sterile, empty green lawns? Yes, it's emulating an aesthetic ideal of the European aristocracy, but it's worse than that.

The thing is, after World War 2, we had a bunch of wartime nitrogen plants that had been used to manufacture bombs, but were no longer needed. The companies that owned the plants weren't happy about the bombs no longer being needed, so they sold the nitrogen as fertilizer instead. There was too much for farmers to use, so there was a marketing campaign to brand lawn grass as a "crop" that needed to be fertilized to keep it "healthy."

There were also chemical companies that made a killing off of chemical weapons around the same time, and they were facing the same problem. So what did they do? They tweaked their chemical weapons recipes and marketed them as insect killers.

And these exact same chemical companies, they also made the defoliants that were used in the Vietnam War to kill off plants in the forest, which as it turns out, make splendid weed killers.

Lawn care is what the military-industrial complex gets up to when it's not killing human beings. Lawn chemicals are, literally, mostly off-label weapons of war, reformulated and marketed so you can wage your very own war on the ecosystem you are part of. And in many places, it's illegal to grow anything but a grass lawn.

We are sick. I know everyone outside the USA knows that already. But I have to say this because of my own helplessness: we are sick, we are sick, we are sick, there is something terribly wrong in the marrow of our bones and the doctors will not believe us.

Bullying is unavoidable and natural in our schools. High school bullies injure and kill other kids. A kid got stabbed and hospitalized at the school in my town. There's a book that was recommended among Evangelicals that advises parents to beat their kids with a PVC pipe so it doesn't leave bruises. In Florida, ten-year-old girls have legally been married to men in their 20's. Parents here believe in "parents' rights," which means the parent's right to violence, the parent's right to repeat the violence that was done to them.

I hate our belief in the inevitability of violence. I hate the news headlines that speculate about the "looming threat" of China, the "possibility of conflict" with Iran, the fact that these headlines and others like them have been repeated every few months throughout my entire life with no incitement, no escalation, no trajectory, just announcement after announcement that the U.S. military has developed a new bomb or gun or drone that does something even more ghastly to the human body, but we shouldn't feel safe, because maybe China also developed a new drone???? Here's an interview with a top government official about some hypothetical Chinese drone that you should be paranoid about. Don't download TikTok, the Chinese government will access your data like that! Here's cute stickers to put over your webcam, here's how to get your wrists free from zip ties, here's how to hide a handgun in aquarium gravel at the bottom of a fish tank, here's how to build a stockpile of food in your basement that will last six months, here's what to do if someone locks you in the trunk of a car, don't go in that abandoned building, you could get murdered, don't go for a walk alone, you could get kidnapped! If cops didn't have guns, who would keep us safe?? (I have been shot at, and the cops did nothing.) Don't disrespect the military, they fought for our FREEDOMS. Don't give cash to that homeless veteran, he could be on drugs.

Tell your daughters not to go on walks alone so a strange man doesn't rape them, but encourage them to get married right out of high school to a boy who threatens them and makes fun of their clothes and interests. Spank your kids so they don't grow up into brats, throw away their toys to teach them that life isn't fair, kick them out of the house at 18, have a depressive episode because your house is so goddamn lonely with no family in it.

What is the USA but a miserable pile of guns. Everyone is so goddamn terrified of the rest of the world and random people they see on the street, so convinced that the constant foaming, rabid, paranoid state of being prepared for war and prepared for kidnapping and murder is better than some imagined worse thing that happens when your society isn't just a billion nesting tiers of violence and the power to commit it.

usa politics

[heyhoneyybunn]

This is for the latest event. First of all: hella excited! Angst to fluff is my jam, who doesn't love a reconciliation filled with struggles! I was hoping if you could write on the prompt "Don't lie to me" with Iwa-chan. I love him the most out of all the characters and really want to see reader and Iwa-chan work past all the problems to be together.

Thank you in advance, and good luck!

Prompt: “Don’t lie to me.”

Character: Iwaizumi Hajime (the hottest man to not exist)

A/n: Angst to fluff is also my favourite, it’s so satisfying to read! I hope you enjoy this as much I did writing it, happy reading!

Enough was enough. Everyone had a limit and you had just reached yours, in fact you had surpassed this limit causing you to turn into a raging mess of tangled emotions. Each one mixing with each other to form an unfathomable concoction you had never experienced before. Overall, a recipe for disaster.

The house was cold and empty, reflecting your inner turmoil. Jumping to conclusions wasn’t your forte, in fact you and Iwaizumi were mature enough to solve conflicts and work through things together but this felt… different. You could feel him pulling away.

The door creaked open, revealing the cause of your distress, hands bunching tightly as you turned your back to him.

“Baby, I’m home,” he announced, blissfully unaware of the cloud over your head.

Silence hung in the air as he was met with a cold silence, the only sound the stirring of the crickets.

His presence approached closer, hands trying to grab yours as you evaded his grip, hugging yourself tightly.

“What’s wrong?” He asked worriedly, trying at the very least to get you to face him.

The fear of announcing the problem, inciting it into the world and have him confirm what had been racing around in your head, had you dazed. Every minute you were silent, his anxiety grew tenfold, leg shaking as he tried to get you to speak.

“I saw you with her.”

Eyes peeking up from the ground to gauge his reaction, the way he froze under the weight of the statement was confirmation enough. Your heart slowed as you accepted the truth. This man was no longer yours, he had found someone else.

“I – uh –!”

“Longer nights at work, alone with her. I never would have believed it until today.” you explained, silent tears drenching your face as you gave him a watery smile, “And then you lied to me about where you were going today, I saw you at the café.”

When Iwaizumi went out he always made it a habit to tell you where he was going, not so you could control him, but out of his respect for you. He hated secrets and the trouble they brought about yet here he was.

“It’s not what it looks like,” he tried to assure you, slightly panicked.

“Don’t lie to me Iwaizumi.”

“I never wanted you to find out like this,” he sighed heavily, a frown creasing his forehead as he disappeared through the house.

So it was true, and now that you found out, he was going to leave.

The sounds of the hangers being relocated caused you to bite your lip to hold in the vivid cry that threatened to escape. He was rearranging your heart, breaking off chunks and making sure the pieces no longer fit together, ruining you for anyone else.

Uncomfortably perched on the couch, head in hands you were too involved in trying to remain calm that you didn’t notice his return.

He called out your name and you clutched your face tighter, hoping this was a bad dream, that it would be over soon.

“Y/n, please look at me,” he tried again, desperation escaping into his usually controlled voice.

The pathetic tone had you peering up at him, the waterworks threatening to explode as he smiled. Smiled at your snot nosed and teary face.

“This isn’t how I wanted to do this,” he mumbled, “but circumstances change.”

All of a sudden, he was before you – down on one knee as he presented you with a small velvet box. His ruddy cheeks and vulnerability in the moment made him even more beautiful.

“But, I don’t understand,” you said through a hiccup as he gently swiped a finger across your cheek, drying the remaining tears.

“I told the boys I was going to propose to you and she demanded to help. We’ve been planning this for the past few months, your friends even helped too.”

Hands flying to your mouth, you expressed apology after apology, berating yourself for accusing him of doing something so hurtful.

“I’m sorry Haji.”

“And I’m sorry, I know I pulled away from you during those months, I can see how you came to your conclusion.”

“You’re just so amazing. Always scared someone’s gonna steal you away from me.”

“You have nothing to worry about baby, you’re the only one I’ll ever want.”

And just like that, with his warm smile and kind eyes only reserved for you, he melted your troubles away. With a single touch, you were healed, he fixed you so many times he’d give Asclepius a run for his money.

His affirmation watered your growing smile.He shifted a bit on the floor, pouting at the uncomfortable position, but for you, he would endure it without complaint. His eyes drifted over your face memorising every detail of the moment.

“So Y/n, will you marry me?”

[dragon-kazansky]

Recipe for love | Helmut Zemo

Chef Zemo AU! 👨‍🍳

Gender neutral reader

Dedicated to @rumblelibrary

[Previous chapter] - [Next chapter]

Part 10

Zemo's eyes, over the next few weeks, were always searching for you. He was annoyed with himself because he couldn't seem to stop. Every so often he would glance up in your direction and see what you were doing.

Always baking. Of course you were, that's why he was paying you to do.

Everything you made was a work of art. He knew you were talented. He could see, taste it. You were incredible at your art.

His customers knew that too.

Sometimes the waiters would come in and call out to you, telling you someone had complimented their dessert. You would smile and become a little bashful.

It was cute. Sometimes you were cute.

Other times, you were blatantly annoying. You still did things that pissed him off, but the one thing that pissed him off the most, was Thor.

You kept inciting Thor over to your work station to help you. Apparently, some nights after work, Thor would go to your place and you would teach him to bake.

That made him angry.

No matter how much scolded the pair of you for leaving your work stations, you continued to do so. It was becoming obvious there was nothing he could actually do to stop you both, as much as it annoyed him.

Still, things were running smoothly. His restaurant was becoming a huge success and, even though it hadn't been open long, it was gaining the attention he wanted.

Zemo even involved himself in the cooking a lot more. Not that he was doing it in the hope you would notice him.

He felt like a schoolboy trying to gain his crushes attention. He had come to admit to himself that, even though you pissed him off to no end, he liked you.

He liked your attitude. He liked when you talked back. He liked how you glared at him.

He just hated that you were this way in the kitchen. You needed to learn to behave when working, especially with him.

Zemo served up another plate to the waiters.

"Is that chicken ready to go?" He yelled.

"Yes, chef!" Thor replied, bringing it over.

You looked up from your apple pie to watch them up front. Zemo had been... much the same with you, always finding something to yell at you for, but at time he seemed a little different.

You could feel his gaze on you often. You never looked up to see, but you could just feel those eyes know you. It had been happening a lot more since he taught you to cook in this very kitchen.

He hadn't spoken to you much outside of the kitchen since.

You turned back to your pie.

Pietro, a waiter here, came rushing into the kitchen.

"Zemo, sir, there's a food critic here in the restaurant. This is their order."

Zemo takes the ticket.

"How do you know?" He asks, eyeing Pietro.

"I recognise them, chef. I, uh, I follow food reviews online. I recognise them from knew of the blogs."

Zemo's expression seems to harden. He looks down at the ticket and then back at Pietro. He nods.

Pietro nods back and leaves.

Zemo turns on his heel and faces the kitchen. In a loud and clear voice, he calls put the order.

"Make sure it's perfect. No mistakes!"

You look at him. This Zemo seems colder than usual. His expression is set in stone, his glare seems harsher, his voice more sharp.

He catches you looking.

"Get back to work!"

You cast your gaze down. Now is not the time to bite back.

Food critics needed to be impressed. The review needs to be outstanding.

That's when a thought crosses your mind.

You glance up at Zemo.

False hope. Let him get what he wants now and ruin it all later.

Teach him a lesson.

He yells across the kitchen again. Everyone seems on edge.

He can't keep treating people like shit.

You smile at you put the pie in the oven.

You just had a wickedly cruel idea... and you wanted to pull it off.

Silence falls over the kitchen as Zemo plates up the meal. Pietro takes it in careful hands and nods at Zemo.

No one dares to breath as the plate exists the kitchen.

"GET BACK TO WORK!" He shouts.

Zemo is tense. His breathing is uneven and theres a sweat glistening across his forehead. He glares around the kitchen, but you have already ducked your head down as he scans across the room.

Time seems to pass so much slower now.

The waiting for Pietro's return drags on and on. Everyone casts glances at the kitchen door often, hoping he will just come back.

Zemo begins to pace. He's impatient, anxious.

When the door finally does open with the soft sound it makes, everyone looks up and holds their breath.

Pietro stands across the hot plate table. Zemo standard on the other side.

"Well?"

"They want dessert," Pietro says.

"What do they want?" Zemo asks, trying to remain patient.

"One of everything."

Zemo's face furrows into confusion.

You blank.

"One of everything?"

Pietro nods.

Everyone turns and looks at you. Zemo's gaze locks onto yours. He step away from the hot plate table and walks over to you slowly. Not once does he look away or blink. When he reaches your work station, he plants both hands down and leans forward.

"One of everything."

You tilt your head up higher and cross your arms.

"I'll need help."

He glares harder at you.

"You'll do it yourself. You're my dessert chef. Make one of everything. Now."

You lean forward, much like he did.

"I'll. Need. Help."

He clenched his jaw.

"No."

"Then no desserts."

"YOU WILL MAKE ONE OF EVERYTHING!"

Thor steps up and comes to your side.

"I'll help. Tell me what to do."

You glare at Zemo.

"You can fuck off now Zemo. I'll bring you your stupid desserts."

Zemo goes to say something else, but stops himself. You were being a brat again. He should do something about that.

He would do something about that.

He pushed away from the station and glares at everyone else.

"Stop fucking around and work!"

You give Thor instructions and he Carrie's them through. Luckily you had some desserts already to go, you just needed to make a few others. Thor did everything you asked. No yelling, not fighting. You were working as a team. Thor looked really proud of himself.

In not much time at all you and Thor had one of everything ready to go. Loki, Sylvie and Pietro came to grab them, taking them out.

Zemo stood with his arms crossed, looking at you.

"I wouldn't have been able to do it without help," you tell him.

"Useless," he hisses.

"What?"

"Useless. You should have done it yourself. You are unprepared for these situations. Critics can show up whenever, you need to be ready. You were not."

"How dare you!" You glare at him.

"How dare I?"

"Yes, how dare you. You have no right to speak to me like that. It's no wonder you're alone all the time. How could anyone possibly like you when you speak to people like that? You're an asshole."

"I may be an asshole, but I'm successful. I know my place, my value."

"And I know mine. My place isn't this. It isn't here where I get treated like shit by the likes of you."

"No? Then why are you here?" He asks.

"BECAUSE I HAVE NO CHOICE. Not yet, anyway. When the opportunity to arises, I'm out of here. In the meantime, SHOW ME SOME RESPECT."

"SHOW ME SOME."

"YOU DON'T DESERVE RESPECT UNTIL YOU SHOW SOME. Did you know everyone is afraid of you? No one here likes you."

"I'm not here to be liked."

"You should be! What a sad lonely world you live in."

"Get out," he hisses.

"Gladly."

You leave. You don't look back, you don't say anything else. You just leave.

"BACK TO WORK, ALL OF YOU!" He yells.

Zemo takes over your station once again.

When the last customer leaves, all other than one, Pietro comes in.

"The critic would like to meet you and the dessert chef."

Zemo sighs.

"I'll be out in a minute."

Pietro nods and leaves. Zemo turns to the others and requested them to clean up and then leave.

He heads out into the restaurant.

The only person sitting is the critic.

Zemo approaches the table and stands with his head held high.

"Ah, you're the head chef? Helmut Zemo, yes?" They ask.

"Yes."

"I must say, I'm impressed. Everything was splendid. I, uh, I wanted to meet who ever made those wonderful desserts, or did you do those too?"

"I'm afraid they went home for the night," Zemo states.

"Ah, pity. Do tell them they did wonderfully. I wouldn't be surprised if Michelin were to drop by. I assume you would want to aim for a 3 star rating?"

"Of course."

The critic smiled and nods.

"Then keep up the good work. Keep going like this, and I have no doubt you'll achieve it."

"Thank you," Zemo wears a polite smile.

The critic packs up their things, shakes his hand, and leaves. Once they were gone, Zemo relaxes a little, but only a little.

You could have screwed up everything.

You still could. Zemo just didn't know it yet.

He would have to lecture you tomorrow. He needed to change your attitude, and fast.

Despite his confusing feelings toward you, he can't help but think you're his biggest threat.

Zemo had to deal with you, and soon.

@lieutenantn @rumblelibrary @bigtiddythanos @timmvrphy @vverliebt @thatoneartgalsstuff @apparrio @mischief-siriusly-managed @hb8301 @zemosimp05 @madhatter2727 @aarielsea @genderfluid-demon-alex @thesuitkovian @handmaiden-of-mischief @malkaviangirl @charistory @killeromanoff @latenightartist-author @belle82devart @alindeluce @anteroom-of-death @mssennimatilda @unbeatablecurlgirl @bruhidaniel @nonamec0s @fablesrose @lemairepstuff @marchingicenotes7 @scuttle-buttle @fictionlandslanddreams @awhorewithissues @secretly-a-weeb @thehuiabird

[bettsfic]

hello! do you have any writing exercises you would recommend to someone who is trying to get back into the habit of writing fiction after not doing it for years? I've wanted to write for a really long time but was always held back by insecurity and fear

sure! 

1. beliefs & techniques

read kerouac’s “belief and technique for modern prose.” as you can see, it’s kinda nuts, but the gist is, it’s a list of 30 “rules” or really just vague thoughts kerouac values about writing. try writing your own list of 30 rules/thoughts/ideals you have about writing. 

this exercise is important because it begins the practice of metacognition. what will help you grow most as a writer is to write about writing. i recommend handwriting this list and sticking it in an envelope to open in a few months or a year, and see if any of your perspectives have changed.

2. the imperative (choose one, or try both!)

option 1: read jamaica kincaid’s “girl.” consider a way in which you feel you’ve been led astray, someone has failed you, or you’ve felt stifled or constrained in some way. then, try to write your own version of “girl,” by writing a list of commands you’ve been told in the form of a story. 

option 2: read lorrie moore’s “how to become a writer.” then, think of something you’re very good at, something that you’ve developed an expertise in. a la “how to become a writer,” write a story in the form of a tutorial. you could also try this as fiction, and do something like “how to get a restraining order from elon musk.” or at least, i hope that would be fictional.

both of these stories use the imperative to build a narrative. by constraining the structure into a list of commands, you’re immediately freed of a lot of creative decision-making you’d otherwise have to do if you were to write, say, third person literary past chronological order. you’re also writing about things you know. i don’t necessarily believe in the “write what you know” adage, but i do think sticking with what you know can be a good place to start.

3. make your own writing exercise toolkit

here’s how you can set up an ongoing writing exercise practice. 

first, write a list of 20 things you love. i don’t mean material things, or things you like. i mean things you care about. things you’d die for. things that, when you think about them too long, you start crying or feel like you’re going to explode. they can be concrete, like “a cup of tea on a cold afternoon and a good book” or they can be abstract, like, “courage.” the point is, they all have to be things that excite you or fulfill you. things you can think about or talk about or do for hours. number them 1 through 20.

then, do a bit of searching and find a list of stories, essays, or poems that you haven’t read before (or ones you haven’t read in a long time). they should be short. if you don’t know where to start, check out matt bell’s thread of 365 short stories he read this year. by the way, he also has a monthly writing exercise newsletter! i’m also very fond of the longreads weekly newsletter.

once a week (or however often you want to do this), pick one of the stories/essays/poems and read it. while reading, consider how it’s constructed. what voice is it written in? how does it move through time? what is the inciting incident and rising action? how does it resolve? who are the characters, and how do they grow? find something you admire about it, that you want to “take” for your own writing. maybe you want to try out the structure, like the kerouac exercise, or maybe the narration, like the kincaid/moore exercise. maybe you like the way images are described, or how the scenes fit together. or maybe there’s something you hate about it, and you want to try to do the opposite. or maybe you want to try the thing you hate, to see if you can better understand it. pick something about the piece, and think of it as a prompt, the way i’ve written the prompts above. 

then, roll a d20 (you can google “virtual d20″ and it brings up one automatically). correspond the result of the d20 with the list of the 20 things you love most. that will be what you write about. the idea is, it should be easy, since it’s something you love. 

for example, let’s say i want to read kiese laymon’s “how to slowly kill yourself and others in america,” which is one of my favorite essays. what i admire most about this essay is its structure. while i read, i would take notes about the way it’s put together, and i would summarize the basic beats and movements. i’d note that the essay focuses on four moments that have a common theme. obviously, i do not want to steal from mr. laymon. i want to learn from him, in the same way as when you eat a good meal, you might ask for the recipe. so, i’d roll my d20, and let’s say i get “courage.” i would then write an essay or short story in which i focus on four scenes or moments of courage. 

i’ll do one more example. let’s try “afterglow” by allegra hyde. i think this one is trickier because it’s a fabulist piece, but after reading it, i noticed that it’s a sort of braid with three main elements: the gatorade, the donor show, and the divorce. the gatorade is an unreal element of the story tying together the present conflict (the donor show) and the past conflict (the divorce). so maybe i’d pick 3 things off my list instead of just one, and write a story about my favorite stuffed animal coming to life, with a present conflict involving my best friend (or a character much like him), and a past conflict involving loyalty. or, i could broaden the prompt and simply take the fabulist element of turning into the thing you consume, while writing a story about loyalty. 

if you run out of your first list of 20 things, you can make another list of 20 things that make you angry, or 20 things you’re afraid of, or 20 questions you have about yourself and your life. you could even make a list of a hundred things all together, and roll a percentile die.

i hope this helps. please don’t be afraid or insecure. everyone has to start somewhere, and the best place to start is just to play around writing about things that bring you joy. 

[mossadspypigeon]

@bliss-bliss-bliss-bliss the sites you just pulled out of your ass.

amnesty international? really?

a turkish website? really???

a turkish official also keeled over after cursing israel publicly but nope turkish sites wouldn’t be biased AT ALLLLLL

THE UN??? LMFAO

I’m not surprised by the sources you chose or the shit you’re spewing, but you can’t argue on one hand that Gaza is a concentration camp and then argue on another that all of this history is being erased. THAT WAS MY FUCKING POINT. You don’t get to change the narrative whenever you want to even though Hamas really loves doing this. And I am using the “general you.” Your entire side loves jumping from disconnected narrative to disconnected narrative because you’re all so desperate to hate the one Jewish country in the world. It’s almost a subconscious urge.

Gaza btw was a Jewish site for hundreds of years.

One of its names was Gush Katif before 2005, when Israel REMOVED ALL THE JEWISH ISRAELIS TO GIVE PALESTINIANS LAND. SO YES, ARCHAEOLOGICAL SITES AND EVEN JEWISH CEMETERIES ARE IN GAZA. Jfc.

Also the archaeologist writing that OP works for a Hamas run university. His job is to take JEWISH ARCHAEOLOGICAL SITES and erase the Jewish claim on them. Al Quds U? an east jerusalem terror cell university? lmao

if we’re using wikipedia:

The IDF has orders to destroy PALESTINIAN ARCHAEOLOGY? LMFAO IT IS THE OPPOSITE AND HAS BEEN FOR DECADES:

Because Hamas cannot handle people learning ACTUAL ancient history. That would wreck its entire narrative. So of course they are arguing Israel has “orders” to “wreck Palestinian history” when that’s exactly what THEY DO.

Also lol AP hates israel and yet ^

OH OH WAIT A MINUTE WHO’S ACTUALLY CLAIMING THIS? HAMAS. makes sense.

Let’s break down that wiki article you gave as a source:

The source it lists is by

Looking this dude up brings you to a SURGEON who worked at Al shifa hospital. “Palestinian groups” in this article claim he “died in Israeli custody.” Hmm which groups?

Hmm. smelly.

Btw do you know why Palestinians are being arrested? FOR PARTICIPATION IN OCTOBER 7. Because SUPPOSED CIVILIANS PARTICIPATED. Want the video footage?

Honest Reporting and CAMERA all come with actual receipts, not drivel.

Plus hostages were brought INTO Al Shifa, tunnel entrances were found there, AND a corpse of a hostgae was found nearby, z”l:

Hmm innocent surgeon working in innocent hospital huh? Please.

Somehow this doesn’t strike you as odd? But then you seem to believe everything you read about Israel lmao. Your entire side just throws out sources you never even looked into.

So yes, these sources are bullshit and so are your accusations. Dig into them and they immediately fall apart.

Spelling Israel “Isreal” is a pejorative used to dehumanize and delegitimize the state, so don’t play ignorant with me. It goes along with the innovative “Isnotreal” and also “Israhell” and “Shitrael.” :)

You over there acting like you care about Israelis while posting vile accusations. Manipulation tactics galore.

Also asshole, if you know nothing about Israel and believe all the propaganda created by genocidal terrorist groups who want Israel annihilated GUESS WHAT THAT FUCKING IS? ANTISEMITISM. So essentially: if you argue what you just argued with the sources you just used, that is antisemitism. Good job.

In addition: BURNING EFFIGIES OF A JEW AND HOLDING POSTERS DEPICTING HIM DRINKING BLOOD IS ANTISEMITISM 101, and all of that nonsense happened at the protests. If you don’t know the history of antisemitic imagery, you have no opinion here.

Also maybe look up who is writing these articles, even on museum association sites, and dig into them before you spread Hamas propaganda.

horrifying.

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Mutualistic Parasitism.

Word Count: 2.0k.

Written for @rockin-renegade​.

Synopsis: You’d really like to think your relationship has moved past the need for Izuku’s more... questionable habits. You’d really like to think so, but you’d like to think a lot of things. That rarely makes any of them true. 

TW: Infantilization, M. Reader-Insert, Stockholm Syndrome, Kidnapping, Mentions of Physical Abuse, Mentions of Burns, and Delusional Mindsets. 

To be fair, you didn’t think Izuku would solve all your problems.

He might’ve been crazy, but you weren’t. When the Number One Hero started pursuing you with no clear motive and a bit too much passion to be trusted, you knew things probably wouldn’t end as cleanly as they’d begun. Hell, towards the end, you thought you’d be lucky if you didn’t end up in chains, but it wasn’t difficult to satisfy Izuku’s desire for a picture-perfect, stressless relationship, one easier to maintain than the city he was responsible for protecting or his spotless image in the public’s eye. He wanted someone that would make his happy, someone who’d do anything to make his happy, and who he could make happy, in return. You could do that. You could smile when he looked at you, frown when he came home in bandages, kiss him goodbye whenever he left, you could do that. And in return, he was supposed to take care of you. You made him forget about the world outside, and in return, he made sure it stayed outside. You didn’t care if that meant you had to keep to yourself, you didn’t care if that meant he’d get so angry when you didn’t. You had a part to play, and so did Izuku. You couldn’t risk upsetting that balance, much less doing so when Izuku’s wrath was still such a real threat.

You could do what you had to. You were great at doing what you had to.

You just hadn’t thought chores would be one of the things you had to do.

Cooking, to be more specific. Most days, your only responsibility was to stay put and make sure Izuku thought of you as a ‘stay-at-home boyfriend’ rather than a particularly passive captive, but occasionally, he’d come home tired or injured and you’d be permitted to leave his side for just long enough to make dinner or make a very, very monitored call to someplace that’d be willing to do it for you. 

Unfortunately, you’d chosen to do the former, today, and you were paying the price for it now in the form of oil burns and the small, deep cuts they agitated. It’d been more than an hour since the inciting incident, something as minor as a toppled-over pan and a reflexive attempt to catch it, but you could still feel the lingering heat thrumming beneath your skin, that constant throb along the edges of your injuries, the memories of a flash of shock and then blinding, excruciating pain. You don’t remember screaming, but you must’ve. Izuku’d come running in less than a second and in the same minute, you’d been relegated to the counter beside the kitchen sink, left to keep to yourself and not make things worse until he was done fretting.

It might’ve been less painful if he was a quieter medic. You’d gotten hurt before, with cleaning products and early on, his own able hands, and while you were used to the constricting layers of bandages and the balms that made your skin feel so cold it burnt, the way he spoke to you was another matter entirely. You didn’t like the way he muttered under his breath, how he seemed more inclined to speak to himself than to you. Regardless of how often you were subjected to it, you couldn’t get used to the way his tone always bordered on patronizing, how he seemed so determined to assure you that this wasn’t your fault, that this couldn’t be your fault, but if it was, you shouldn’t try so hard to make his happy, he knows that things get hard for you, sometimes. Most of the time, he was merciful enough to let you believe you were capable, but dependant.

Tonight, you were just dependant.

“I’ve told you not to be so thoughtless, haven’t I?” Subconsciously, you tapped a blunt nail against the marble countertop underneath you, silently keeping count of how many times he’d asked the same question, how many times he’d done it without expecting a real answer. He’d moved on from your injuries, by now, and taken to cleaning up the mess you made, his forearms submerged in a sink of soapy water and a concentrated scowl pulling at the edges of his lips. You’d lost track of whether he was mad at you, or the remnants of once-edible food you’d managed to scald to the pan in your short time playing-chef. “I know you’re trying your best, baby, but you can’t handle that much responsibility. We’ve been through this before.”

“I just wanted to help…” It was a weak retort, unaided by how soft your voice came out, but you couldn’t bring yourself to start an argument in earnest. It’d been months since you’d managed to maintain that level of aggression, since you’d felt angry enough to consider it, and you were sure that kind of rage escaped you, now. “I took your advice, too. I tried to make something simple, and I really, really did my best to stick to the recipe, I just--”

He shot a sharp glance over his shoulder, and that was enough to shut you up, your teeth latching onto the side of your tongue with the slightest hint of a warning. “The problem isn’t that you’re careless, it’s that you’re reckless,” He explained, nearly hissing the words. Alright, he was definitely mad at you, now. Not the dishes. He’d never been mad at the dishes. “You know why I had to take you home, don’t you? I’ve told you before, I’ve told you a thousand times, but you never seem to understand how dangerous the world can be, when I’m not around to protect you. Just because I’m a room away doesn’t make it any less of a hazard.” There was a pause, a slow breath. He took longer to switch off the faucet than he needed to. “I need you to understand that everything comes with a risk. You have to let me handle whatever I can, that’s the only way we’re going to avoid things like this.”

You didn’t have to practice your next reaction. Pushing your shoulders forward was instinctive, and bowing your head was practically second-nature, when Izuku already thought he was so far above you. “I didn’t think I’d--”

“You didn’t think.” A hollow thud this time, the sound of metal on metal. You flinched before you could stop yourself, but fortunately, Izuku was too preoccupied to notice. “You never think. I don’t know how I’m supposed to take care of you when you can’t even get that through your head.”

When he finished, you didn’t respond. You didn’t think you could respond, and even if you tried to, you doubted it’d be loud enough.

You doubted he’d be able to hear you, over the sound of your heart shattering in your chest.

A second passed in silence - tense, frigid silence - but just as you started to notice how uncomfortable your current perch really was, Izuku let out a slow, heavy sigh, taking a long moment to dry off his hands before he approached you, settling in the space between your open legs. It was a familiar position, one he took up every morning as he stole sleepy kisses or explained in his favorite condescending tone why it was so, so important that you didn’t try to keep yourself busy while he was away, but his posture was more tense, right now, that domestic tenderness vacant from his expression. Instead, a concerned weariness took its place. Exhausted, but not feed-up. Tired, but of your actions, not of you.

You’d be lying if you said you weren’t beginning to worry about the source of his irritation.”

“I’m really trying,” You admitted, leaning forward, letting your forehead rest against his. “I want to help. I’m trying to. I just keep getting things wrong, and I don’t know what to do.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” He whispered, the petname barely audible, even from such a close proximity. “You don’t have to do anything.”

It was the kind of thing that might be comforting from someone else, from anyone else, anywhere else, in any scenario that wasn’t the one you currently couldn’t seem to get out of. Involuntarily, you curled into yourself, but Izuku was quick to catch you by your chin, cupping your face with both hands and tilting your head back, not forcing you to meet his eyes, but encouraging you to. No, Izuku would never force you to do anything. He always gave you a choice between giving into his demands or facing whatever blow or cut or broken bone he felt fit your crime. You could only be thankful your incentive came in the form of a gentle squeeze, this time, rather than a bruised jaw. “You’re useless,” He said, the declaration muttered under his breath. Like it was something private, a secret between the two of you. Something the world outside his apartment didn’t already know. “It’s not a bad thing. You’ve got me to take care of you, so it’s not a bad thing. But…” He trailed off, taking in a ragged inhale. When he went on, his voice was more stern. More genuine. “You are. I need you to say that back to me, alright? Can you do that?”

You nodded, opening your mouth, but for whatever reason, your voice caught in your throat, refusing to make itself known without a struggle. You knew what he was doing, it wasn’t a clever trick and it certainly wasn’t a new one, not in the boundaries of your relationship. He wasn’t delusional enough to think you’d believe it, no one was, but he wanted you to think about it. He wanted you to linger on the topic until the sentiment tasted like ash on your tongue, until you thought you might believe it, if one more thing went wrong, if you fucked-up something so simple one more time, if Izuku pursed his lips and kissed your forehead and made you feel like you were some bumbling, tottering infant, still learning to walk in their parent’s shoes. You’d hate yourself for breaking another one of Izuku’s toys and that hate would turn to desperation, the need to give Izuku a reason to keep you around, even if you doubted he’d be able to get rid of you, so far in. Maybe you’d help the process along. Maybe you’d cut to the chase and break into tears tomorrow morning, finishing this ugly, clumsy cycle sooner rather than later. That’s what both of you wanted, wasn’t it? Izuku would have his victory, and you’d have yours. He’d be the hero, but you’d be the strategist, the winner, the one who came out on top, even if a bystander might think otherwise. You’d be…

You’d be lying to yourself again.

When did you start trying to convince yourself you were so good at this? You weren’t a manipulator, you weren’t a villain, you weren’t a genius, you hardly even had a role in your own kidnapping. You were a captive, a hostage, a victim that didn’t have enough to lose to care that he’d be locked in his room like a child throwing a tantrum if he started crying more violently than his captor deemed ‘appropriate’. It didn’t matter if you appeased him to protect yourself, not when you were still appeasing him.  Not when he was the only one who ever got what he wanted. Not when you were the only one who had to make sacrifices.

Izuku got what he wanted. You got to smile and tell yourself he was only happy because you let him be happy. He didn’t even have to pretend to be nice, not when you were so quick to tell yourself his hostility was only because of one of your many, many mistakes.

This time, you didn’t bow your head. You let yourself fall into Izuku, your body going slack as soon as he caught you, one arm wrapping around your waist and the other rising, his fingers soon entangled in your hair as he pressed a soft, doting kiss into the top of your head, so loving and so caring, you could almost believe it really was. You tried not to think about it.

You weren’t sure if wanted to know what it meant, anymore.

”I’m useless.” 

[dizzydancingdreamer]

Hiii 🥺 if i could ask, how do you outline your works in general? books, short stories, one shots? What are the differences? 🥺🥺

Hey I love this-- here's a little walk through of what I do. Bear in mind I do really heavy outlines-- lets go through it all, okay? It's not as daunting as it may seem

Click keep reading to see an extensive guide to outlining stories!

Books!

So I'm going to use the Maze Runner re-write I'm working on (no one steal my shit I will be sad)

First off, I get all my templates from Evernote they have some really great templates and they range from when you want to plan a little bit and when you want to plan a lot, here is the link !!!! I recomend highly!

I start with the basics. Title, genre, series (yes or no), premise, setting. I add a box to keep my dates (if you see, I'm not good at filling them in, thank god docs keeps a history so I can later. This isn't necessary I just think its fun-- like a scrapbook of my progress!)

I then add a story premise template-- this one's important!!! It's like the shortest summary for when you need to go back while writing and remember things quickly. I add details like slang (ex: the maze runner uses terms that are made up so I need to remember to use them when writing), the main events (inciting and conflict will do), and my main goal!

After this you can choose to add which template will work best for planning the story. Some people choose to do the characters first but I, in this case, chose story because I am drawing off a series that already exists and plan to stick relatively close to that. In any other case I might have planned characters first but it's up to you!

The templates for planning your story range from very in depth to not at all-- I'll lay them out for you and you can choose the best for you!

The least in depth (derived from screenwriting, this method offers just a brief outline of what you want to write, leaves a lot of room for movement as you write) : Story Beats

More in depth but not crazy (goes through all the main parts of your book, lets you focus closer to the details singularly as opposed to part of a whole, a happy middle) : 3-Act Structure

The most in depth, full crazy (plan every chapter, the exact way you want things to plan, note: you may do this and then get thrown a curve ball while writing but that is OK!) : Chapter Outline

Here is an example of my chapter outlines (again, people, don't steal my shit please I beg do not)

As you can see-- I do all the outlines LOL but this is the only one worth showing and it's the only one I focus on when I write. These are about as detailed as I get-- it's important to leave room for your characters to breathe. This is as much their story as it is yours-- if they're trying to do something you should let them do it. Natural flow is always best.

Next I dive into characters (again, you can do this first-- this is like cooking, there's a recipe but season things how you prefer to make it your own!)

First I start with a simple breakdown : The Character Master List

This includes main characters, antagonists, additional characters

An example below :)

After this I get wild-- I only do this with my protagonist(s) (in this case Ellie and Gally) and I go as in depth as I can. Every little thing I can think of about my characters gets written down. To write a book is to know your characters better than you know yourself. Their likes, dislikes, motivations, nervous habits, sleep schedules, every freckle and mole-- all of it. If you know your characters, you know your story. If you love your characters, you love your story.

Here is the template I use, again I strongly recommend : Character Profile / things I added

(On the templates (it's a dousy): full name, age, occupation, situation, motivation, height, build, skin tone, hair, eyes, facial description, prominent features / distinguishing marks, style of dress, mannerisms / gestures, how they perceive themself, one word used to describe themself, one paragraph, self perceived best personality trait / worst trait, self perceived best physical trait / worst trait, how they think others see them, something they would change about themself, one of voice, language / accent, fave phrases, personality, habits, ambition, greatest fear, biggest secret, how does this character get along with other characters, where they were born / grew up, important past events, family, current home, finances, occupation, education, health, religion, interests / hobbies, opinion of people in general, does the character hide their emotions from others?, person they hate most, best friends, love interests, person they go to for advice, person they feel responsible for, person character feels awkward around, person character openly admires, person character secretly admires, most important to character at the beginning / end)

See example, do not steal example (I know, redundant, but necessary)

Finally after characters I move on to world building. This is important! You need to understand the location and time so that you can write an accurate (or not) story!

Again, here is the template : Worldbuilding Basics

(On the templates: story location, time period, climate, geography, borders / what's beyond, architecture style, how do people get around, distinctive sights / sounds / smells, how many people live there, where do they live, how do they make a living, is the economy healthy, what is family life like, history of the place, the political situation, who are the leaders, the languages spoken, how do the people dress, what role does religion / superstition play, what holidays are important, what's the food like, what are the forms of entertainment, how do the younger generations differ from the old)

From here the rest is up to you, these are the things I recommend. As you can see from my screenshots, I do a lot for my planning.

Some other things you can think to incorporate are:

- General ideas (a place to keep things you need to remember while writing: themes, reoccurring motifs and metaphors, notes, scene ideas)

- Things to remember while writing (like general ideas but also not, a place to add notes about your characters, I like to write their habits here and keep it open while writing so that my characters remain somewhat consistent)

- Movie Script (For fanfiction books; I usually write my own dialogue but sometimes the movie does a good job of summing the basics, Ex: Alby goes over the basics of the glade and it made more sense to give him those lines again, can save you heartache)

Annnnnd that's all I do for books-- the outline I shared is about forty pages LOL so it's a lot but in my experience it's worth it!! Again, do what suits you always but this is what I find works.

Short Stories!

Usually my short stories are a very summed up version of the books. I do the chapter outlines and a very basic outline of the characters. In this case what I usually do is put it all in one doc-- outline and work as one.

This is the best example I can use without outing important story details. On the left you can see the headings of each chapter-- I recommend using these so you aren't stuck scrolling helplessly through long fics (trust me, after 25k words it gets insane).

Each of these, as noted above, I flesh out the basic scene set up of the chapter. It helps me keep the goal of what I want to convey so I don't trail off (I have a habit of doing that).

The final thing I recommend is SideNote-- it's a life saver.

Once enabled it allows you to write notes that you can see while writing in order to keep your story consistent. It has and will continue to come in handy!

One Shots!

I don't plan these at all LMFAO

Okay, kidding a little bit? It isn't worth showing because all it is is the basic outline of what I want to write and then I just attack it head on. One shots I usually just write and write and write and let it flow. They serve a purpose at the moment and thus are best written in the moment. My best advice here is to just let go-- you'll thank yourself for it!

I hope this helps, nonnie, and I hope whatever you write is as wonderful as you are! Thanks for trusting me enough to come for advice!!

[shortfictionweeklychallenge]

Short Fiction Weekly Challenge

Time for a new prompt from the Short Fiction Weekly Challenge, tumblr edition.  Let it spark your imagination.  Any character, any fandom, any original world.   Reblogs welcome!

Post your story to your blog and send the link to Short Fiction Weekly Challenge!  The link will appear in our feed and the site index, and your blog will be listed on the Participating Blogs page.

This week’s SFWC prompt:

Week of August 6, 2021

Thanks, I Hate It: Humans seem to have a need to share not just pleasant experiences with their friends, but truly awful ones too. Has your character ever done the same? Did they find a terrible recipe or restaurant? Discover a show they can only hate-watch or heckle, and need a friend to hate-watch and heckle it  with them? Have they bought a gift they know the recipient will hate--but also know it was intended as silly? There’s plenty of overlap here with trolling and practical joking, but without any malice. Write about a time when your character had a bad experience, and then shared it with dear friends.

Feel free to continue submitting stories for any prompt.  A masterpiece missed the deadline?  Don’t let it gather electronic dust.  Submit it anyway and Short Fiction Weekly Challenge will publish it.  

This week’s prompt not for you?  Look for something more to your taste in the Prompt Archive.  Consider all the prompts active and waiting to inspire you.  

This week’s featured previous prompts are:

Wrong side of the Bed: Every character can have an incident that ruins an otherwise decent day. As an author, that's fun to write. What about those times when they just wake up in a bad mood? No reason, no inciting incident, They're annoyed from the get-go. Those are usually the days that go from bad to worse. Does someone try to get them out of their funk? Are they usually bright and sunny and this is a noticeable change in disposition? Maybe it's only a matter of degree and their companions are walking on thinner eggshells. This week, write about a time when your character got up on the wrong side of the bed and what the rest of their day was like.

Evil Twin: A subset of mistaken identity. Suppose there was another character, related or no, who looked so much like your character that everyone assumes they are the same person? Further suppose that this doppelganger has the opposite personality of your character. What happens? Do people trust them when they shouldn't, or get surprised when they're generous? How much trouble do they make for your character? Does your character even know they exist? Do they figure it out? What happens?

Got an idea for a prompt?  Submit it here.

[notringwinner]

[ ... ] — ACCOLADE.

— Any award, honor, or laudatory notice — re:   Fanmail

[ ... ] — AESTHETIC.

— Having a sense of the beautiful; characterized by a love of beauty. — re:   Aesthetic Posts

[ ... ] — BILBO BAGGINS.

— ❝ I come from under the hill, and under hills and over hills my path has led. And through the air, I am he that walks unseen... ❞ — re:   Bilbo's Thoughts

[ ... ] — BERSERKER.

— Violently or destructively frenzied; wild; crazed; deranged. — A warrior who fights with frenzied rage in battle. — re:   Bifur

[ ... ] — CHRONICLE.

— A chronological record of events. — re:   Admin's Life

[ ... ] — CLANDESTINE.

— Characterized by, done in, or executed with secrecy or concealment; private or surreptitious. — re:   Anonymous Messages

[ ... ] — CUTTHROAT.

— A person who cuts throats; murderer. — Ruthless. — re:   Dwalin, son of Fundin

[ ... ] — DISTRACTION.

— That which amuses, entertains, or diverts; amusement; entertainment. — re:   Memes

[ ... ] — ENDORSEMENT.

— Approval or sanction. — The signature, instructions, etc., placed on the reverse of a commercial document, for the purpose of assigning the interest therein to another. — re:   Promotions

[ ... ] — FEAST.

— Any rich or abundant meal. — re:   Recipes & Food

[ ... ] — FESTIVITY.

— Festive character or quality; gaiety; merriment. — re:   Christmas, 2015

[ ... ] — FINANCIER.

— A person skilled or engaged in managing large financial operations. — re:   Gloin, son of Groin

[ ... ] — FRIPPERY.

— Finery in dress, especially when showy, gaudy, or the like. — re:   Wardrobe

[ ... ] — GAME.

— An amusement or pastime. — A competitive activity involving skill, chance, or endurance — re:   Wardrobe

[ ... ] — GLOSSARY.

— A list of terms in a special subject, field, or area of usage, with accompanying definitions. — re:   Dictionary

[ ... ] — GOURMAND.

— A person who is fond of good eating, often to excess. — re:   Bombur

[ ... ] — HAWKEYE.

— One who bears keen eyesight. — re:   Bofur

[ ... ] — HEALER.

— A person or thing that heals; a medical practitioner. — re:   Oin, son of Groin

[ ... ] — HEDONIST.

— A person whose life is devoted to the pursuit of pleasure and self-gratification. — re:   Bilbo Baggins

[ ... ] — IMPULSE.

— The influence of a particular feeling, mental state, etc. — re:   Sexual Urges

[ ... ] — INDOMITABLE.

— One who cannot be subdued or overcome, as persons, will, or courage; unconquerable. — re:   Thorin II Oakenshield

[ ... ] — INGENUITY.

— The quality of being cleverly inventive or resourceful; inventiveness. — An ingenious contrivance or device. — re:   Admin's Creations

[ ... ] — INSTIGATOR.

— One who urges, provokes, or incites to some action or course. — re:   Gandalf Greyhame

[ ... ] — JUDICIOUS.

— Using or showing judgment as to action or practical expediency; discreet, prudent, or politic — re:   Elrond Earendilion

[ ... ] — KIN.

— Someone or something of the same or similar kind. — Of the same kind or nature; having affinity. — re:   The Company of Thorin Oakenshield

[ ... ] — LARCENIST.

— A person who commits larceny, i.e., the wrongful taking and carrying away of the personal goods of another from his or her possession with intent to convert them to the taker's own use. — re:   Nori

[ ... ] — LORD.

— A person who has authority, control, or power over others; a master, chief, or ruler. — re:   Sauron ( filed under 'The Lord of the Rings' )

[ ... ] — MARTINET.

— A strict disciplinarian. — Someone who stubbornly adheres to methods or rules. — re:   Bungo Baggins

[ ... ] — MELODY.

— Musical sounds in agreeable succession or arrangement. — re:   Music

[ ... ] — MEMORABLE.

— Worth remembering; notable. — re:   Good Times

[ ... ] — MINUTIAE.

— Precise details; small or trifling matters. — re:   Small Headcanons

[ ... ] — PATRICIAN.

— Befitting or characteristic of persons of very good background, education, and refinement: — re:   Dori

[ ... ] — PERSIFLAGE.

— Light, bantering talk or writing. — re:   Skype / Friend conversations

[ ... ] — PORTRAIT.

— A likeness of a person, especially of the face, as a painting, drawing, or photograph — re:   Admin Photos

[ ... ] — PRECIOUS.

— Of high price or great value; very valuable or costly — Highly esteemed for some spiritual, nonmaterial, or moral quality. — re:   The One Ring

[ ... ] — PROPOSAL.

— The suggestion of something for acceptance, adoption, or performance. — A plan or scheme proposed. — re:   Wishlist

[ ... ] — PROSE.

— The ordinary form of spoken or written language, without metrical structure, as distinguished from poetry or verse. — re:   Saved Writing

[ ... ] — RECOGNITION.

— The acknowledgment of achievement, service, merit, etc; the expression of this in the form of some token of appreciation. — re:   Bias Lists

[ ... ] — RENOVATE.

— To restore to good condition; make new or as if new again. — To reimagine; refresh. — re:   Blog Work

[ ... ] — RIDDLER.

— One who speaks in riddles. — re:   Gollum

[ ... ] — RIDDLING.

— Any enigmatic saying or speech. — re:   Admin's OOC Posts

[ ... ] — SAVANT.

— A person of profound or extensive learning; learned scholar. — re:   Ori

[ ... ] — SANCTUARY.

— A sacred place. Any place of refuge; asylum. — re:   honorwinning

[ ... ] — SCION.

— A descendant. — re:   Frodo Baggins

[ ... ] — sempiternal.

— Everlasting; eternal. — re:   Thorin II Oakenshield & Bilbo Baggins

[ ... ] — sentiment.

— An attitude toward something; regard; opinion. — re:   PSAs

[ ... ] — SLANDER.

— A malicious, false, and defamatory statement or report. — re:   Hate Mail

[ ... ] — tête à tête.

— A private conversation or interview, usually between two people. — re:   Messages

[ ... ] — usurper.

— One who seizes and holds (a position, office, power, etc.) by force or without legal right — One who uses without authority or right — re:   Smaug the Golden

[ ... ] — valorous.

— Courageous; valiant; brave. — re:   Fili, son of Vili

[ ... ] — venturous.

— Having or showing a disposition to undertake risky or dangerous activities; daring. — re:   Kili, son of Vili

[ ... ] — verdure.

— Greenness, especially of fresh, flourishing vegetation. — re:   Nature

[ ... ] — vindictive.

— Disposed or inclined to revenge; vengeful. — re:   Thranduil Oropherion

[ ... ] — wanderlust.

— A Merriweather, innate desire to rove or travel about. — re:   Places

[ ... ] — wayfarer.

— A traveler, especially on foot. — re:   Belladonna Baggins

[ ... ] — wise.

— Having the power of discerning and judging properly as to what is true or right; possessing discernment, judgment, or discretion. — Possessed of or characterized by scholarly knowledge or learning; learned; erudite. — re:   Balin, son of Fundin

THE RINGWINNER MAIN VERSE

ALIAS: Bilbo Baggins AGE: 51 LOCATION: Erebor

An open-ended verse in which Bilbo returns to the Shire after his journey. Whether he stays or goes is up to the thread's discretion.

THE WILD CHILD THE CHILDHOOD VERSE

ALIAS: Bilbo Baggins AGE: From 1-33 LOCATION: The Shire

The lost years, in which Bilbo serves as the local black sheep of Hobbiton. Curious, naive, and somewhat invasive, he wishes to learn all he can about the land beyond his homestead's borders.

THE BAGGINS THE PRE-QUEST VERSE

ALIAS: Bilbo Baggins AGE: From 33-50 LOCATION: The Shire

Properly tamed, Bilbo Baggins lauds the title of one of the most respectable Hobbits in the Shire. He has little to no interest in associating himself with anything to do with adventures, thank you, and would especially rather not deal with troublesome wizards or barbarous Dwarves.

THE TOOK THE QUEST VERSE

ALIAS: Bilbo Baggins AGE: 50 LOCATION: Variable

Baggins or Took? Bilbo struggles with compensating his two warring mindsets as he acquaints himself with the world outside of the Shire -- and the Dwarves who have led him straight into it.

THE DEBAUCHER THE MODERN VERSE

ALIAS: BARNABAS Beckett Baggins AGE: 33 LOCATION: London // Variable

Beck is a boarding school baby and is set to inherit his father's investments. He's savvy and bears formidable intelligence -- but lacks direction in his life. He fills the void by seeking thrills and letting his imagination run wild, and co-heads Durin Corporation, a security conglomerate, with his partner Thorin Oakes.

THE RENEWAL THE GOD VERSE

ALIAS: Bilbo, God of Renewal AGE: Variable LOCATION: Variable

Charming, spirited and not the least bit cunning, the God of Renewal spends half the year tending to the livelihood of fields and forests. The other half, however, sees his life spiral into welcome darkness, where Bilbo is known as Consort and formidable lord of the dead.

THE RAVENCLAW THE HARRY POTTER VERSE

ALIAS: BARNABAS Beckett Baggins AGE: Variable LOCATION: Often, Hogwarts

A clever Ravenclaw who tends toward Herbology and Care of Magical Creatures, but has a strange affinity for the Dark Arts in later years. He's also got a knack for Charms.

THE SUNCHASER THE STAR TREK VERSE

ALIAS: Beckett Baggins AGE: 33 LOCATION: Variable

Wherein Beckett holds a career in Starfleet as second in command under his captain, Thorin.

THE CORSAIR THE PIRATE VERSE

ALIAS: Beckett Baggins AGE: 33 LOCATION: Variable

Beckett seeks his cousin, Dominick Baggins, formerly under the employ of the King's Navy and now missing for several months. He will do anything, include stow away on pirate ships, in order to find him. Swords and bar fights haven't stopped him yet.

THE 411 THE UNDERGROUND VERSE

ALIAS: [REDACTED] AGE: [REDACTED] LOCATION: London / Variable

He is cunning, shrewd, and greatly enjoys his ability to run people in circles. His loyalties are hard to pinpoint and his services come at a high price. If one wants information from him, they've got to intrigue him first -- be it a solved riddle or an exceedingly lavish gift. secrets are his trade, and he is not willing to part with them easily. Often he can be found working as an informant for the highest bidder -- unless they win him over completely, that is.

THE KNIGHT THE KINGSMAN VERSE

ALIAS: Percival AGE: 33 LOCATION: London / Variable

❝ After the death of his father, Percival's mother takes him to the forests where she raises him ignorant to the ways of men until the age of fifteen. Eventually, however, a group of knights passes through his wood, and Percival is struck by their heroic bearing. Wanting to be a knight himself, the boy leaves home to travel to King Arthur's court. After proving his worthiness as a warrior, he is knighted and invited to join the Knights of the Round Table." ----LE CONTE DU GRAAL

In which Beckett Baggins takes up the mantle of Sir Percival, rectifying the wrongs of the world with panache and aplomb.

THE SURVIVOR THE WALKING DEAD VERSE

ALIAS: Beckett Baggins AGE: 33 LOCATION: Variable

He used to co-own the most profitable business in the world, but it's all gone to shit and they operate on a new kind of currency. Separated from the man he loves, Beck's ongoing mission is to locate Thorin Oakes. His weapon of choice? One reliable dagger and all the cunning a multi-millionaire can still afford.

THE INSPECTOR THE GARGOYLES VERSE

ALIAS: Beckett Baggins AGE: 33 LOCATION: London

Detective Inspector Beckett Baggins isn't really surprised to be thrown off of the Eyrie Building on an investigation. What does surprise him is the winged, beclawed creature who snatches him right out of the sky -- and proceeds to offer him a story his inner novelist could never resist.

THE INSPECTOR THE GARGOYLES VERSE

ALIAS: BARNABAS Beckett Baggins AGE: 33 LOCATION: Variable

Beckett is The Ghostwriter, who can bring ideas to life with the flourish of a pen and turn invisible at will. He uses his powers as he sees fit and tends not to be persuaded into teamwork, preferring to set forth his own sense of justice.

THE DUALITY THE BBC SHERLOCK VERSE

ALIAS: John H. Watson AGE: early 30s LOCATION: London

In which Bilbo Baggins is John Watson, and John Watson is Bilbo Baggins. ...Wait. That can't be right, can it?

Too bad he can't remember.

( Based on this plot. )

THEY LOOK SO SHARP, THEY LOOK LIKE ONE THE QUINTUPLET VERSE

ALIAS: Bilbo Baggins AGE: Variable LOCATION: The Shire

One Bilbo Baggins is quite more than enough for Middle Earth to handle. Four is just overkill.

[builder051]

Jonestown 'verse if you're up for it.

Drugs of your choice adding up to two very high girls and whatever factor inciting a flashback appeals.

Thanks!

Not sure this is what you were going for, as it's very tame and slow moving. No big action or emeto, though both are mentioned. There is also an ED mention, and obviously mentions of drugs and alcohol.

___________________________________

"I thought this was supposed to be, you know, a date..?" Jess looks down her nose at the bottle of white pills Nat is currently crushing to powder with the handheld pill grinder. "Aren't hallucinogens more... I don't know..."

"Private?" Nat finishes, a sly smile on her face. She opens the grinder and tips the contents into the bottom of a glass, to which she quickly adds cranberry juice and a swizzle stick.

"And since when is cold medicine for grown-ups?" Jess's forehead wrinkles as Nat slides the cocktail across the table to her before she sees to making another one.

"Since it started coming in white powder." Nat laughs. "Still best to ingest, but feels a little fancier than drinking the red stuff straight."

"Ok, ok." Jess puts up her hands, then begins swirling her cocktail before the powder can form unpleasant lumps. "But, seriously. Poor man's ecstasy. For date night." Jess shakes her head. "How's this gonna work?"

"You're the one who told me to cut things off with my dealer," Nat reminds her, a little crossly.

"Yeah. But you didn't answer my question."

"See some pretty lights. Cuddle a lot. Maybe fuck around a little. Then lie back and enjoy the show." Nat grins as if all of this is obvious.

Jess shrugs. "If you say so."

Truth is, the whole thing doesn't sound all that bad. If Jess was still surly and hateful, she'd probably find the proposition not bad at all. But Nat's turned her soft a little. Whipped her flesh so what's underneath depresses under tender pressure. She might want to talk. She might want a little closeness she'll remember in the morning. But she might not want to tell Nat any of that.

"I do," Nat says, tossing crushed pills into another glass and quickly stirring in the powder.

"Ok, then." Jess throws back her beverage, focusing on the bitter cranberry and not on the chemical flavor of the squashed white tablets. They form a film on her tongue, though, and she has to use her teeth to scrape it away.

Nat's empty glass hits the table before Jess's. She's taken it as a slammer instead of a sipper, not that Jess has spent much time savoring it. Jess glances up at Nat's face to find her licking her lips and beckoning her to stand up and follow her toward the bedroom.

Jess is affronted, but she doesn't show it. It's her apartment, so she's the one who ought to be doing the inviting. Right now she's the more conservative presence, though, so maybe her inclination to take them to the sofa to watch television first would be too modest. From what she knows of the drug, Jess isn't sure how much time there is to "fuck around" before the hardcore hallucinations hit.

Once they're on either side of Jess's bed, Nat strips to her t-shirt and underwear. Jess copies her, mostly because it's uncomfortable to sleep in jeans, and putting on pajamas seems too modest in comparison.

"C'mere," Nat says, slipping under the covers and holding them open for Jess.

"Yeah..." Jess slowly wriggles in, moving quickly when she meets Nat's arms and moving into the space left for her. Nat's body is warm, and they fit together well, hips interlocking and knees passing one atop the other.

Nat presses her forehead to Jess's and kisses the end of her nose. Jess can barely keep from screwing up her eyes, for the contact is... not unwanted, exactly. Just a bit much. But at least it's not a kiss on the lips. Jess isn't convinced she won't bite. And not in the sensual way.

"We've got, oh, I don't know. Twenty minutes?" Nat brings her face into Jess's neck, placing her chin on Jess's collarbone. "What do you wanna do?"

Nat's knee finds Jess's crotch and moves back and forth a few times, but Jess uses her hand to gently stop the motion. The presence is fine. The warmth, the comfort of her girlfriend; not just a fling or a casual friend who's weaseled their way into a benefit.

"Mm," Jess muses. "Talk, I guess."

"Ok." Nat goes a little limp. "How are you?"

"Eh."

"I mean, what've you been up to?"

Jess shrugs, raising Nat's chin a little. "Work. Missions. Whiskey." Then she smiles a little. "My girl."

"You've been up your girl?" Nat giggles.

Jess wonders if the white powder is already affecting her.

"Sometimes," she answers, grinning. Then she wonders if she herself is getting emboldened by its ingestion.

Nat keeps laughing. She's gotten bony again lately, and Jess wonders if the dose is weight affected. She's starting to feel fuzzy around the edges, but Nat's bordering on hysterical.

"Chill out a little, would you?" Jess says, wrapping her arms around Nat's body and lifting her easily a couple inches away from her body.

"Whoa." Nat's eyes cross, then float back to normal.

"Twenty minutes?" Jess cocks her head. "How about... fiveish?

"Maybe I should've 'fessed up." Nat puts her hand loosely over her mouth. "I usually take the kid route and drink the red stuff. Or the not-red stuff..."

"Huh?"

"Ever heard of robocough?"

"For fuck's sake, Nat..."

"What? It's better than actual E."

"Yeah, I know, the dealer thing..." Jess shakes her head. "But do you want kidneys?"

Nat shrugs. "Body..."

"'S a good body." Jess strokes Nat shoulder to tit to hipbone, then wraps her arm around her waist. There's definitely less meat than the last time they laid together. It's not her place to say something, though. That's Nat's business, until she gets to the hospitalization point.

"Anyway," Nat goes on, a little slurred. "Powder. That's the way to go."

Jess thinks of the first time she dipped her finger into a little plastic baggie of cocaine and set alight her nostril. She'd been, what, sixteen? Too young and too fed up with her foster care situation to give the cons of her choice much thought. "Yeah..."

She knows Nat started much of the same way, as an orphaned teen, either just out of the red room or during some tenured mission while she was still in their custody. The story changes sometimes. But the progression was much the same for both of them. Uppers. Then downers. Then, well, what they're playing with now. Only the grown-up type. Ecstasy and LSD were fun to use every once in a while, as an escape from the dreaded ordinary that was their lives.

They've discussed it. As much as either of them wants to discuss anything. Similar drug habits are a funny bond. One, a few months ago, they'd once smoked crack together before a mission, then been so thrilled no one had noticed that they stopped at the drugstore for a bottle of cheap champagne.

Champagne. She hasn't had any, so that's not the taste lingering on Jess's tongue. It's the cranberry, since she's scraped away all the white powder already. Jess forgets for a moment that she's had cranberry, though, and swallows hard, wondering if she's experiencing the dregs of vomit. She gulps a couple of times, and, unfortunately, Nat notices.

"Are you gonna puke?" she asks, slipping mostly off Jess and cuddling her from the side. "Are you seriously that high already?"

"No," Jess immediately protests. "I just... Cranberry." She tries to smile. She doesn't want to go through her train of thought to get to the champagne, so she just says, "I'm used to Jack, you know."

"And coke?" Nat grins.

"Ugh, no." Jess hasn't had that either since a bad night that ended with a bad trip. When some days include killing people, including one day long ago where her actions killed her parents, her occasional forays into hallucinogens can come out with some fairly awful results. That one, where the E had been downed with her favorite Jack Daniels and...someone else's... favorite diet coke, had resulted in images of dripping blood that turned out to be very real, as she'd bashed her nose into the edge of the toilet seat and busted a few vessels.

She knows Nat's teasing just a little, but Jess feels bad. She feels burdensome and heavy, which she knows is the recipe for a night of visions she'll regret. It's probably too late now to puke up the drug; Jess can feel it penetrating her system, arranging her settings to vibrate at the ultimate sensitivity.

"You sure this is a good idea?" Jess asks, but it's pointless. Nat's already under, and there's no way to tell if she's heard the question. Her eyes are closed, and her chin rests on Jess's shoulder as her face burrows into the space between the bed's two pillows.

"Fuck..." Jess mumbles. Lights begin to flicker around the edges of her visual field. She resigns herself for whatever's about to come next and closes her eyes. She scoots so her hip is in the sideways V between Nat's torso and thighs. Her warmth is comforting, even as the vision begins to up her anxiety.

Jess feels as though she's one with the bed, one with Nat, and her body is rushing forward to some unknown location in the dark. She slips her arm between Nat's tangled ones and holds on. Nat moans a little, and Jess wonders what she's seeing. Something pleasurable, she hopes.

Jess lets out her breath and wonders what she'll see. She has a stomach full of nerves, but she fights to ignore them as she shrugs and forces herself to answer her own question. Something pleasurable, she hopes.

[murasaki-rose]

Oof, scent-based triggers are particularly awful (mine’s Axe body spray- not as bad as it used to be but another one that’s encountered fairly frequently)! Since you were open to being asked about it- what was the inciting breakfast sausage incident?

So this goes all the way back to when I was in grade school: I attended Girl Scout camp several summers when I was younger and they had a rule about food. If you said you didn't like something, you still had to take a "Brownie Bite". This was because of picky eaters, but really sucked if it was something you honestly disliked.

So one morning they inevitably served breakfast sausage and eggs. The entire lodge reeked of it, so I knew what I was in for the moment we walked in. I absolutely hated breakfast sausage, but still had to take a "brownie bite".

The day goes on, but I start getting sick. Shaky, nauseous, feverish, mildly delirious. Fun stuff.

I don't remember a whole lot from the rest of the day, just being in the medical cabin, then sitting on a counselor's shoulders in the swimming pool while they desperately tried to get my temperature down.

Next thing I know, I'm in the hospital and my parents are there. My tonsils had basically tried to kill me.

Tonsils get removed, life goes on...

So some months later, my aunts are visiting and they're cooking that variety of sausage for a recipe. (We never cooked the stuff so I hadn't been exposed to the smell since camp.) The moment I smelled it, I got incredibly nauseous, close to vomiting, and it was getting worse the longer I was breathing it in. It took a while for my family to believe that I was serious, but until the house was aired out, I had to hide in my room and cover my face with a cloth to filter out the smell or risk getting violently ill.

And it happened every time I smelled it. Didn't matter where or when, my body/brain now associated the smell with being sick.

Thankfully the reaction has gotten less severe in the last few years, but the smell still makes me somewhat ill.

I don't ask people to tag it because images and text don't bother me.

As for other triggers that I won't talk about here: I use tumblr savior to build my own custom blacklist. I highly recommend that, xkit, or the customizing program of your choice to anyone that has triggers. They're more effective as they can check the text and tags. And won't announce they've blocked the tag like tumblr's built in system does.

[valkyrisffvii]

Secrets

Setting: Mithra’s apartment in the Shinra Building, Midgar

POV: 3rd person

Summary: Mithra invites Sephiroth over to her home so the new couple can spend time together, and she reveals some of her deepest secrets.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mithra sat on one of the barstools in her kitchen area, mindlessly staring at her phone. She finished cleaning up her apartment earlier to make it look presentable, as Sephiroth was going to be spending the night with her. Apparently, her apartment was nicer than even the 1st class SOLDIER’s, as it was originally a suite for Shinra’s guests. 

The two of them had been together for about a week now. Mithra still felt somewhat overwhelmed and in disbelief at the fact, but Sephiroth had reassured her that he loved her and wanted the relationship. Also, thankfully, there were no rules in SOLDIER that forbade dating among members. Additionally, the two of them had agreed that their relationship could become public, as doing such would prevent fangirls from causing problems. 

There was a knock at her door, and Mithra quickly hurried over. She peered through the peephole and saw the tall, silver-haired First standing on the other side. Heart racing, she opened the door to let him in.

“Hello, my dear,” his smooth voice did nothing to calm her down. He placed his duffel bag down and pulled Mithra in for a hug. Normally, Sephiroth would never perform such a physical act, but Mithra somehow brought out this side in him. Mithra hugged him back, burying her face into his shoulder.

“Hello, love,” she mumbled into his coat. She leaned up to kiss him, which he gladly accepted. Mithra then led him into her living area.

“Your home is very nice,” he said. “I now understand why Zack and Cloud like to hang out here so much.”

“I do my best to accommodate. I made Zack his own jar of puppy food.” 

Sephiroth could not help but crack a small grin; Mithra knew her friends too well. The living area had a television as well as a large couch and a coffee table. The kitchen was in the same room, with a nicely-sized kitchen island that sported several bar stools. Sephiroth spotted several of Angeal’s cookbooks perched on the countertop, showing that Mithra had been borrowing them and experimenting with new recipes. 

Mithra opened one of the doors that led out of the living area to reveal the bedroom. Maroon sheets and pillowcases adorned the king-sized bed, and a matching comforter was draped over the foot. Each side had a nightstand with a pink salt lamp, and the nightstand on the left had a caddy with several small items. Opposite of the bed was a full-length window whose curtains were currently drawn. 

“You can leave your bag there.” Mithra gestured to the dresser against the wall next to the door. “The left side of the bed is my side. I hope you don’t mind sleeping on the right side.” She paused, getting nervous again. “Unless you don’t feel comfortable sleeping next to me, then you could sleep-”

Sephiroth shushed her.

“Relax, love. I’ll be more than comfortable sharing a bed with you. I’m sure your bed will be much warmer with me in it.” He winked at her, inciting a giggle from the now-relaxed Second. As she helped him get settled, Mithra could not help but adore the way Sephiroth could both fluster her to the point of blushing and instantly relax her all in the same breath. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The evening had consisted of the two talking about their lives and gossiping about their friends. Mithra cooked them dinner with the help of Angeal’s cookbooks, and, unlike the times she cooked with Zack, the kitchen stayed relatively clean. They also played chess, which Sephiroth won every single time. Mithra and Sephiroth only grew closer during that time. She had always known that they were more similar than she originally thought, having no clue who their parents were and being mostly solitary in their youth. It almost seemed like they were meant to be together.

It was 9 PM when they both decided to get ready for bed. Mithra showed Sephiroth to her luxurious bathroom, which sported separate shower, whirlpool spa, and toilet rooms that both connected to a vanity and sink area. Not even the prestigious 1st Class SOLDIERs had this amenity.

“I know that you’ll be taking a while with that hair of yours, so I’ll go and shower first.” Mithra gathered her clothes and went into the shower room, finishing her shower within five minutes. She changed into her preferred sleepwear which consisted of a sports bra and shorts, and she went back into the bedroom where Sephiroth was sitting on the bed. 

“You look quite adorable,” he said playfully, which resulted in an equally playful punch in the arm. He pretended to be hurt and chuckled as he went into the bathroom to shower.

Ten minutes had passed, and knowing that her boyfriend would be taking a while, Mithra went to the bathroom and opened up the small skincare refrigerator that sat safely on a vanity away from the sinks. She applied her toner and creams, considering asking Sephiroth if he was interested in trying out one of her mud masks sometime. As she walked back to her bedroom, she failed to notice the large, slippery puddle that a certain someone had dripped in the middle of the floor.

“Fuuuck!” she cried as her feet slid up from underneath her. Luckily, before she could collapse on the floor, a strong pair of hands saved her by catching her under her arms. Instead of laying flat on her back on the floor, Mithra’s body was now propped up by her heels and her rescuer. 

Mithra opened her eyes and looked up to see her silver-haired lover who currently sported the most smug face she’d ever seen. To add to her embarrassment, the only thing covering him was a white towel wrapped securely around his hips. She could feel the heat rising in her face as she gained her footing and looked away. Sephiroth stepped in front of her, smiling at how cute she looked. She looked up and was met face to face with a broad, naked chest, which she could not take her eyes off of. She was snapped out of her trance when she felt his velvety lips press against her forehead.

“Sephy! Why are you walking around and leaving puddles everywhere?” she cried. “Go dry yourself off and put on some clothes while I clean up the mess you made!”

“You know, I could use my towel to wipe the floor...”

“No!” Mithra practically shoved him back into the shower room and went to mop up the puddles, all while fighting the urge to peek in on him getting dressed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After she had wrung out her mop and left it out to dry, Mithra headed back to her bedroom and sat on her side of the bed. She laid back against the pillows as she doodled on her tablet with her prized stylus. Drawing proved itself to be a favorite pastime of hers. It helped her relax and unwind in between missions and long training sessions with Angeal. She had drawn portraits for all her friends, which they appreciated immensely. 

Mithra was currently working on yet another sketch of Sephiroth. She knew that she was falling for him when she found herself drawing him over and over, constantly trying to get more and more accurate with her portrayal of the famous SOLDIER. Having spent plenty of time with him lately, she basically had his entire face memorized.

The bathroom door opened, and Mithra turned her head to see Sephiroth standing there. His hair still laid flat on his head with dampness, and he had slipped on a pair of black sweatpants, leaving his bare chest exposed. Mithra could not help but crack a small smile at him. He came over to sit next to her, peering at her tablet and the drawing she worked on.

“Drawing me again, aren’t you?” He asked teasingly. He looked more closely at Mithra’s work, his eyes sparkling.

“I’ll probably be drawing you a lot more, my dear,” Mithra responded, looking up at him and getting lost in his minty-green eyes. She noticed that his usual slit pupils had dilated slightly, now resembling ellipses. Before he had confessed his feelings towards her, Mithra had rarely seen him look at anything with the amount of love and adoration he currently exhibited. He was always so serious and dedicated to his work. He chuckled in response to her statement. 

“If you ever want me to model for you, I’d be honored.”

“Remind me to bring my pen and tablet when we go to Costa Del Sol,” she laughed, placing her items down and scooting herself in between his legs with her back resting on his chest. Sephiroth wrapped his arms around her in a tight embrace, burying his face in her hair. He then leaned back against the headboard and began to mindlessly fiddle with Mithra’s short brown locks, a stark contrast to his long silver mane. 

As she shifted her head, he noticed something peculiar under her hair right behind her right ear. He pushed the hair aside to reveal a long, raised scar that marred her skin from right behind the tip of her ear to about halfway down her neck. He could not stop staring at it as his finger went to trace along it, causing Mithra to cease her movements.

“How did you get this scar?” He asked curiously. Mithra did not respond, as thoughts of how she’d explain its story swam in her head. Even though it had been so many years since that event, the memory was still fresh in her mind. It was one of the things that made her hate her life in the slums, and how glad she was to have been able to find a new life at Shinra. 

“Mithra?” She turned slightly so she could look at Sephiroth from the corner of her eye, and her scar was still fully visible to him. 

“I got it when I was sixteen. I was in the slums and I was leaving a bar because I had to return a stolen item to a client,” she explained. Sephiroth only stared at the mutilated skin, running his thumb along the length of the healed scar. “I was just outside the entrance when a man reeking of booze grabbed my arm and told me I looked pretty. He asked me if I was interested in having some fun with him; he was obviously trying to get me to sleep with him. I refused and tried to pull away, and he eventually got so mad that he slammed his half-empty bottle into my head. He aimed for the right side of my face, but I was quick, so it ended up hitting me behind the ear.” Her hand came up to meet his. “It still hurt like a bitch though. If I didn’t jerk my head I probably would’ve gotten glass in my eye and gone blind on that side.”

Sephiroth only looked at her in horror. How could someone do that, and to a sixteen year old no less? He concealed the anger and hatred he felt towards that man; Mithra was most likely safe from him for good now, but that wouldn’t stop Sephiroth from killing the offender if he dared to show his face. By now, Mithra had turned around to face him, her hands on his shoulders.

“I know what you’re thinking. I give you full permission to impale him with Masamune if you see him. I still vaguely remember what he looks like.” She paused to reach behind her ear and touch her scar. 

“Experiences like that one are what taught me all the skills I’ve needed to survive. After I staggered from the pain, I ran for my life. It wasn’t until a year later that I had the courage to leave when I knew that I had had enough,” she sighed, looking down. “I had to hide from several people who were angered by my refusal to submit to them. That’s how I became so good at staying in the shadows and being undetectable. Well, my job as a thief helped me also.”

By now, she felt like she had said too much. Mithra hung her head, afraid to see her lover’s facial expression. His hand came under her chin and gently forced her to look at him, just like how it did when he kissed her a week ago. She stared into his eyes and swallowed thickly.

“Mithra,” he began, “I am so sorry that you had to experience that. I did not know that your skills were the results of such traumatic events.” He pulled her in for a tight hug, her head buried in his neck and his hand stroking her hair. 

“You are such a strong person. I have seen the compassion you exhibit and the hard work you put into everything you do. You have overcome so much adversity, yet you still have a kind heart.” He pulled away slightly to caress her cheek, looking into her eyes yet again.

“I love you so much, Mithra, and I promise that I will do everything within my ability to protect you. If anyone tries to hurt you, they will have to go through me first.” By now, Mithra was blinking back tears of love and adoration. She slammed her lips against his in a long, passionate kiss, her arms wrapped around his neck and his arms around her waist. She knew he was the one for her, and he knew it too. They separated for air, resting their foreheads together. 

“Sephy, you were the first man to catch my eye and the first man I fell in love with. I will always be by your side,” she said, her voice full of raw emotions. By now, there was an evident sleepiness in her voice, and, despite trying her best to look at him, her eyes were drooping. Sephiroth chuckled and kissed her nose in thanks.

“Someone is falling asleep. Why don’t we call it a night?” Mithra nodded eagerly, turning off the lamps. Sephiroth laid on his back, extending an arm to her. She happily nestled against him, her head on his bare chest. She could hear the calming rhythm of his heart beating. His arm came to wrap around her waist, and she tangled her legs with his. Peaceful slumber overcame her almost immediately, and her mouth was frozen in a small smile.

“Good night, my love,” he whispered, kissing the top of her head. He soon drifted off as well, looking forward to what the future held for the both of them.