#writers write prompt s

[aelfgiure]

It shouldn't have been such a surprise to me, really. We had the actual lived experience of the covid pandemic to inform us, less than 20 years ago - but goddamn, people were stupid. Willfully, arrogantly, belligerently stupid. Proud of staying ignorant, blatting away about conspiracy and libtards, right up to the moment they had their guts ripped out by former friends, former family.

When I first saw the news, I tried to stay calm. I did my research - yes, actual research with the Public Health community - then spent a day indulging myself in a hideous drunken panic attack. Then the day to recover, because goddamn, I'm not in my 20s anymore and can't just do that shit like I used to.

Anyways.

My friends were up to speed as fast as I was, and we pooled our resources in a hurry. We had our location picked out beforehand, and that was what saved us. Our location, our resources, our skill sets, all of those would've meant nothing if we hadn't jumped when we did. We're still dealing with guilt, you know. The people that laughed us off, told us we were overreacting to something that was going to get contained and eliminated quickly, they're all dead now. Worse than dead, unless we saw them in a herd and dropped them ourselves, which only added to the grief and pain.

You want to know how long it took for civilization to utterly wreck itself? Three months. THREE MOTHERFUCKING MONTHS. All over the damn globe, that's all it took. Ninety-goddamn-days for the whole thing to collapse. I'm still shaken by the whole thing, how fucking fast it all went downhill. The only plus side to the speed of the collapse? The assorted nations didn't have time to start a fucking nuclear war over this, and for small mercies like that I am honestly, truly grateful. No nuclear war, no attempt at making things worse because we all know how people functioned back then, no time to do anything but scramble to survive and salvage what they could, if they even had time for that.

It's been hard. Not going to lie, there are days when I'm lying in my bed, here in our compound, and I'm tempted to suck-start my .9mil, because it's so, so hard. Yeah, I'm safe, our compound is safe and functional, we have electricity and all the comforts of modern living. My husband is dead, I haven't heard from my daughter in three years, most of the people I knew are gone, except for this crazy ass lot of us, here in this repurposed event center. I could list off the things I miss, the people I miss, but that would take days and only add to my depression, so we'll skip that.

The stupid part of it all? I have hope. Still, even now, I have hope that we can make it through this and come out of this as better people than we were Before. Here in the Redoubt, for example, couple of my friends who couldn't stand each other, they work together now. Not the grudging, barely holding in the snarl, sort of work together, either, but they're allies and brothers in arms, respecting each other. It's not just them, either, it's been across the whole thing, the whole area that we've managed to enclose and protect. If you have a pulse, we can be friends, seems to be the current motto of the human race and yeah, that's something I dreamed about Before. Seeing it in action is beautiful. Maybe we can learn from this and grow the fuck up as a planet, right?

It's going to be a long time before we can clean this mess up enough to start rebuilding, though. One day at a time, one breath. One pulse. I have hope. That's what keeps me waking up, holstering the pistol, and going to whatever work I need to do. Stupid, goddamn, persistent hope.

When the zombie apocalypse came, you were prepared. What you weren’t prepared for was how quickly it ended.

[parasiticstars]

Hey whumpblr I know you love and worship writing-prompt-s but they joined the bandwagon on mass reporting Palestinian accounts

Get 90s-ghost’s name out of your mouth; he’s human, he might make mistakes, but from what’s been shared on @ el-shab-hussein’s account, the vetting process is intense and leaves little room for deception.

I feel like most of y’all only care about Palestine when the people suffering are faceless, perfect victims, so poor and stupid and in need of a white savior they can’t possibly have their own thoughts and inner world and technology. All they should be to you is like those inspiration porn Starving Kids In Africa™.

As if them using a website they don’t know about in a language they have to machine translate and whole ass begging for donations isn’t bad enough.

Yes, there are scammers profiting off of a real time tragedy, but guess what? Guess fucking what? It’s pretty easy to check for yourself if a fundraiser is legit.

Anyways! A PSA!

You can easily check asks and fundraisers in your inbox by checking for their social media accs, which should definitely be older than their tumblr, searching their usernames on here and seeing if others have called them out, checking for their names on Strawberry Seed Collective, Operation Olive Branch, and this document, and going through their tumblr account and looking for stuff like frequent updates and news that’s not just a couple of super popular Palestinian news posts to pad out the blog length, reverse searching any pics they send, and copy pasting some of their story to see if other accounts have used their script.

Or you could also just ignore the asks either way since nobody’s can force you to donate anyways.

But don’t go out and accuse every single Palestinian on tumblr of being part of some massive fucking scam circle a lá “The Jews Are Controlling The Rich” conspiracy.

frankly, the biggest scammer is this one woman from Belgium (her first name is Laura) so I’d be wary of any based in Belgium unless you can find any other way to prove its validity.

[dobaara]

A FIVE-STEP PLAN TO PREPARE YOURSELF (WITH ZERO CASUALTIES) BY S.R.

[geraskierfanficprompts]

Prompt 4

Geralt is the captain of a pirate ship, named "Kaer Morhen." Perhaps he's still a witcher, perhaps he's just a regular old human (with white hair and golden eyes? Lol) His brothers (and "cousins" from other witcher schools) are his crew Now I can see this going two different ways, so choose a favorite (or make up your own, I am only the beginning, I hold no affront of being anything more) Jaskier is a nobleman's son, aboard his family's ship, possibly on his way to be forced into a marriage to a woman he doesn't love. And either he falls overboard or he's shoved off as a murder attempt, but he's lost in the ocean. Lambert (or someone else, but I love to imagine how Lambert would attempt to call this out to his captain who he doesn't take seriously 90% of the time, #brothers) calls that he spots a man bobbing in the sea, and they haul him up. The majority of the crew sees sight of his jewels and finery and insists on holding him ransom. But when the prisoner wakes up and isn't afraid of death, Geralt looks into this a little more. Apparently their prisoner won't get a ransom because his entire family despise him and his want to run away and become a bard. Funny. Most pirate ships have entertainers aboard to help the pirates deal with months of nothing but ocean. Perhaps they'll have use of this dumb twink after all. OR, option number two Jaskier is a nobleman's son, chained and starved for the crime of wanting to become a bard and not wanting to marry some prissy noblewoman. He hears a lot of loud noises and screams and then a bunch of burly men in fur cloaks stomp down and start rifling through their supplies. One catches eye of him and immediately yells to the captain. The captain is a very handsome man with silver locks and bright eyes, and the dreaded pirate captain is treating Jaskier with more kindness and gentleness than his family or their workers ever have. The pirate hauls Jaskier up into his arms and carries him to their own ship, laying him down in his own bed, and looking over his injuries and sending one of his crewmembers to make hm a fine meal. Jaskier begins telling the captain of his abusive life beforehand and mentions that all he's ever wanted is to spread music and love, and shockingly enough, this big scary (gorgeous) man doesn't even laugh at him for it.. Oh fuck he's falling in love-

♡!Optional addons!♡ • Geralt gayly teaching his bard how to swordfight!!!

• Perhaps Jaskier's family is crueler and has done more than beat him, perhaps they've stabbed him or something, and the very last thing he sees before he passes out from bloodloss is Geralt (Maybe he even thinks he's an angel! Lmfao)

• Geralt getting lovingly bullied by his brothers for taking care of his songbird so well

• Geralt's crew revenge-robbing or revenge-killing Jaskier's family if we do Option one for the story (attempted-murder route), since it's implied it happens in Option Two while they ransack the ship-

• Perhaps I'll do a sequel for this prompt one day for Mermaid Jaskier, I do LOVE mermaids, take this as a much smaller and much less detailed prompt for if you want that idea, too! Perhaps the Pankratz ship has a captured mer aboard, parched and dehydrated (I just mostly think it'd be funny if Geralt was checking his pulse and if he has any injuries while random other witches dump buckets of sea water on him-)

[decisions-at-3am]

I'll know you're gone when flowers die, The landscape beginning to dull. When the sky slowly greys, All colour fading away.

When your books and diaries, All carefully crafted. Painstakingly handbound. Lie there waiting, gathering dust.

I can't bring myself to shift them. To see your handwriting stop, Such finality would shatter me. In my mind, you're still here.

When I stop turning to look, Expecting you nearby. That's when I'll know you're truly gone, When even shadows don't linger.

[destructive-critic1sm]

STORY IDEA

200K words, enemies to lovers, morally grey MMC, ✨dark romance✨

Boeing x the astronauts they’re leaving in space until 2025 🥰

[tyguy275]

FORUMS

<yo check out these pictures. wacky shit, can someone verify this is shopped?>

<img ID: A brightly lit kitchen with marble countertops and a white tile backsplash. A bowl of fruit sits on the island, and a cutting board with half-cut vegetables sits on the counter.>

<img ID: A well furnished and tidied room, with bright blue painted walls and a matching blue crocheted blanket. Several pictures of a family sit on the nightstand to the left of the bed.>

<img ID: A living room with open windows, letting in lots of natural lighting. A young adult, dressed in casual wear, sits on the couch to the left side of the picture reading a book, seemingly unaware of the photo being taken.>

<img ID: A dining room with a large wooden table stained dark brown, set for a meal. A white table runner sits along the length of the piece, with a vase of flowers in the middle.>

date: 7/19/2018

user: anon295720174

<re: anon295720174 dude this shit is insane. i’m a graphic design major and i can’t tell if anything was messed with, there’s a lot to unpack here. look at that kitchen dude, the place is a mess. that’s freaky 100% lmk if you find any more pictures>

date: 7/26/2018

user: anon482947389

<re: anon482947389 i found these on a usb drive under my dresser while i was packing to move out. haunted? been looking through zillow at old houses but i haven’t found anything that matches this floor plan. i’ll keep looking but no i haven’t found any more pictures. if anyone bumps make sure to tag both of us>

date: 8/2/2018

user: anon295720174

<re: anon295720174, anon482947389 yooo yo yo yo i was messing with the exposure and i found some wackyyyy shittttt. look, i jumped up the brightness of the bedroom and noticed something on the nightstand. not sure if edited but looks raw as hell>

<img ID: A pixelated and highly exposed picture of the nightstand from the bedroom, zoomed in on the family pictures. The leftmost picture reveals what looks to be a three person portrait, with two larger figures, presumably parents, on either side. The middle picture shows a baby, smiling happily while crawling toward the camera. The background of the picture shows it was part of a photo shoot. The rightmost picture is one of two people embracing each other in what may be a kiss.>

date: 8/3/2018

user: anon028482593

<re: anon028482593, anon295720174 that’s freaky as hell dude. what the fuck is that in the middle picture? i can’t really tell because it’s too pixelated, but that’s definitely what i see when i enhance the exposure. that’s fuckin insaneeeeee

who the fuck would be brave enough to go in there to take these? definitely not me, i get the creeps looking at them through my computer.>

date: 8/6/2018

user: anon482947389

<re: anon295720174, anon028482593, anon482947389 This thread will lock in 48 hours if no further messages are sent.>

date: 8/4/2019

user: System

<re: anon028482593, anon295720174 holy shit i forgot about this thread. dude these are spooky as hell. i don’t remember them being this bad. look at the fucking dining table it’s warped to shit. and those flowers are obviously gonna be wilted but there’s something eerie about them. thoughts?>

date: 8/4/2019

user: anon482947389

<re: anon482947389, anon028482593 nah i didn’t forget. i had some nightmares about it for a couple nights but i just chalked it up to whatever the fuck was happening in those pictures and moved on. looking at it again though, what the fuck happened here?>

date: 8/7/2019

user: anon295720174

<re: anon295720174, anon482947389, anon028482593 uh, guys? where did you get these pictures? that’s ME in the living room. that’s fucking terrifying. please dm me and let’s figure this out because i’m legit scared>

date: 8/12/2019

user: anon394828152 (You)

<re: anon394828152 (You), anon028482593, anon482947389 bro are you buggin? your text got fucked up looks like some ascii shit. i ran it through google translate and got jack>

date: 8/14/2019

user: anon295720174

<re: anon295720174, anon394828152 (You), anon482947389 yo anyone see that in the corner of the living room??? that’s FREAKY dude. no way this isn’t photoshopped, you sure? what the fuck is that even supposed to be? between this and the fucked up message, this thread is a horror heritage post>

<img ID: A zoomed in and pixelated picture of a young adult in casual wear, reading a book. He is looking down and seems to be unaware of the picture being taken.>

date: 8/15/2019

user: anon028482593

<re: anon028482593, anon295720174, anon482947389 what the fuck? are my messages fucking up? they look fine for me. i don’t know what the fuck is going on with you guys but that’s my house and THAT’S ME. i’m not fucking with you here’s a picture of me for proof. i’m that desperate. please delete this thread asap>

<img ID: A young man looking into the camera. His expression seems to be of concern, and he has short brown hair and wears a buttoned flannel. The profile of the person very closely matches that of the person in the living room.>

date: 8/15/2019

user: anon394828152 (You)

<anon394828152 (You), anon028482593, anon295720174 WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT THING HOLY SHIT i’m never coming back to this fucking thread dude what the fuuuuck was in that picture. that’s viscerally terrifying. holy fuuuuck>

date: 8/15/2019

user: anon482947389

<anon295720174, anon394828152 (You), anon028482593, anon482947389 This thread has been locked by the Original Poster.>

date: 8/15/2019

user: System

[arobinsfeatherinthewind]

There Are Days Every Now And Again, I Pretend I'm Okay - Whumpuary D01

There Are Days Every Now And Again, I Pretend I'm Okay

Chapters: 1/1

Word Count: 1,452

Summary

Sodapop knew that this was his fault, he supposed he should have known that ignoring the pressure that had been building in his neck and shoulders would result in the near blinding headache that he had tried to work through. He'd nearly made it, with only three hours left of his shift at the DX before Steve had figured out that anything was wrong to the severity that it was and had done something about it.

Or, or, Sodapop gets a migraine and, originally, tries to hide it. Fortunately, Steve knows his best friend better than his brothers do. Title from | What Hurts the Most | by | Rascal Flatts |

Day 01 of Whumpuary2025 (@whumpuary) || Sacrifice | Headache | "This will hurt."

You can also read | There Are Days Every Now And Again, I Pretend I'm Okay | on Ao3!

Warnings Include: depictions of migraines that may not be entirely accurate. Fic is Hurt/Comfort (to my understanding that does count as Whump) and is leaning a little more on the comfort side.

……… ……… ……… ……… ……… ……… ……… ……… ………

"Hey, Soda, can you grab me another jug of oil?" Steve had called out, scowling at what he thought was the issue with the car he was currently working on. There was a non-committal hum coming from somewhere nearby that had Steve pausing for a moment.

Sodapop had been quieter than usual today, which Steve had initially chalked up to Ponyboy's nightmares the night before that he heard about. But then the silence persisted.

Steve pushed himself away from the car, turning and finding that Sodapop's eyes were squeezed close, a hadn't was pressed against his mouth as if he was trying not to throw up.

"Soda? You okay?" Steve asked, reaching blindly for the rag he'd set nearby. He cursed when he knocked over the last little bit of oil that he had, but he left the container tipped over on the ground as he grabbed his rag to wipe his hands clean.

Normally, Steve knocking something over like that would have gotten a sarcastic comment and a laugh from his best friend, however, today it seemed to only make whatever the problem was worse.

"Come on, Pepsi, talk to me." Steve's voice was quiet as he walked over to where Sodapop was standing. He still had a hand over his mouth, but now there was a hand in his hair; as if he was applying pressure to a place that hurt.

Sodapop managed to shake his head, a near pitiful sob escaping him. Steve realized with a hard jolt that Sodapop was crying. Not the kind of crying that meant that he was red faced and hyperventilating, but the kind where it was just tears calling down his face as he tried to keep his breathing even and push through whatever it was that was bothering him.

Steve had seen that type of crying from Sodapop only a few times; When their parents died and Sodapop had finally processed it, when Ponyboy and Johnny had run away and Sodapop learned that they were on the run for murder, and when Sodapop was suffering from his migraines that usually left him immobile.

"Come on, let's get you clocked out, okay?" Steve had concluded that there was only one reason that Sodapop was acting like this; he was having an episode.

"No!" Sodapop's eyes snapped open and his hands shot out to grab at Steve. Steve had to steady his friend when Sodapop swayed from the sudden burst of movement and sound, and concern was the only thing he felt when Sodapop rested his forehead against Steve's shoulder.

"We gotta get you home, Soda, Darry would kill me if he knew I let you work in this condition." Steve sighed, mentally debating on the matter of picking Sodapop up, would it be worth the inevitable fight that it would later cause?

A quiet whine came from Sodapop, making Steve's mind up for him.

"This will hurt." Steve gave only the verbal warning, not waiting for a response from his friend, before picking Sodapop up into a bridal carry. Sodapop yelped, and Steve faintly heard a light smack as Sodapop no doubt rushed to cover his mouth again. He got particularly nauseous whenever he had an extremely severe migraine.

He grimaced when he felt Sodapop move and teeth sink into his shoulder. There was no doubt that Sodapop was going to draw blood this time, he had threatened Steve with it last time and Sodapop always follows through.

Steve caught a glimpse of their boss doing something in the backroom, sighing as he realized he was going to have to explain this with more words than 'he just can't work the rest of his shift, and if I don't go with him, he's not gonna rest'.

"Come on, cooperate a little with me here," Steve huffed. Sodapop only bit harder.

Sodapop knew that this was his fault, he supposed he should have known that ignoring the pressure that had been building in his neck and shoulders would result in the near blinding headache that he had tried to work through.

He'd nearly made it, with only three hours left of his shift at the DX before Steve had figured out that anything was wrong to the severity that it was and had done something about it.

He'd kept his smile in place, even if it had felt a little tight, because if he didn't then customers got scared away. Sodapop had never quite believed that he had a scary resting face, though he supposed it only got worse if he was in pain.

Now, Sodapop would have told Steve about the headache, except when Steve showed up after school for his shift, they'd immediately been swamped with customer's and four cars had showen up to be worked on, which left the both of them incredibly busy for at least another hour, if not two. Sodapop wasn't sure how long.

And out of the habit that Sodapop had created by dealing with customers, he had continued to hide it. A mantra of 'just get to the end of your shift, just get to the end of your shift, only three more hours, just three more hours' had begun to play through his mind…

Which is when Steve had figured out that something was particularly wrong.

Sodapop couldn't recall what Steve had asked for, having been trying to fight off a wave of nausea that had swept through him. He also coudln't recall the events leading to Sodapop being headed into the house past the fact that Sodapop knew that their shifts hadn't been over yet… and there was a faint taste of blood in his mouth.

And Steve was moving about the kitchen, a determination that Sodapop didn't see often when in the Curtis house, never mind while in the kitchen. Sodapop was pretty sure that he was trying to make soup.

"Stevie," Sodapop huffed, holding tight to the pillow that was supposed to be under his head. He had refused to go to his and Ponyboy's room, he knew how much of a mess it was in there and if Steve tripped even once, they were both going down and Sodapop was going to hurt way more than he already was, so Steve had agreed that curling up on the couch would be okay so long as Sodapop attempted to rest.

Sodapop wasn't the best at following directions, especially when he was bored.

"Sodapop Curtis you put that pillow back under your head or so help me I'm calling Darry." Sodapop's eyes widened, a huff of annoyance escaping him as he slowly pushed himself up to put the pillow back under his head. He balled up the blanket to wrap his arms around instead, a pout on his face as he shut his eyes.

There was going to be no winning against Steve when he entered some version of a mother hen mode. Sodapop was sure that Steve didn't even realize that he did that from time to time… Though most of the time was because of Sodapop, so maybe Steve just saw it as taking care of his friend.

"Thank you, 'cola." Sodapop hid his face against the blanket as he smiled.

Sodapop sighed as he settled a little more, his eyes resting more gentle than the squeezing he'd initially been doing. He didn't want to sleep, but he wanted the throbbing in his head to stop.

"Okay, come on, let's get you something to eat and some aspirin, yeah?" Sodapop blinked his eyes open, moving his face from where he'd hidden it in the blanket to find Steve crouching down beside him. The smell of soup, chicken, filled Sodapop's nose. He grimaced, hiding back in the blanket. "Come on, Soda, you gotta eat somethin', yeah?"

"I'll get sick." Sodapop whined, his eyes squeezing shut again. Just the smell was making him so incredibly nauseous. Steve sighed, and Sodapop felt gentle hands rest on his side, though one was also placed in his hair as Steve leaned a little forward.

"Do you want to try in a little bit, maybe?" Sodapop found amusement in how uncertain Steve sounded. Taking care of someone was not Steve's strong suit, even if he'd gotten some practice with Sodapop because of his headaches.

Sodapop shrugged in response to Steve question, whining when that jostled his resting head. All of his movement caused everything to hurt, which didn't make much sense to Sodapop. It was his head that was the problem, there should have been no reason for his legs or arms to hurt too.

"We'll try again in a little bit. See if you can't fall asleep for a while, alright Pepsi?" Sodapop hummed in response.

[dreamsfullofwoe]

masterlist

dc masterlist

[dudical111]

Writing-prompt-s Submission

Reposting because Tumblr treats reblogs weird and not as individual posts ;-;

@writing-prompt-s

You and your father are nobles,every week you go in the woods to hunt the white rabbit that always gets away,mostly because you miss on purpouse out of pity for such a weak creature. One night the rabbit is in your bed,but its eyes are red. ,,Why did you not sin?" You cannot move but can speak.

My response:

I am stunned, shocked, and afeared. I've known about the existence of supernatural forces since I was a child, and have felt their influences upon me in everyday life. But never have I seen a physical manifestation of one. Perhaps it is a possession? I do not know, but I know that it must be powerful.

"I- I didn't- What are-", I stammer, unable to speak. I realize that answering this... thing quickly is very likely paramount to my survival. "I don't want to kill for killings' sake. It seems cruel. I understand that those like my father find it fun because of the battle of wits, skill, and instinct, and because killing the creature provides a sense of power. But killing for sport, I feel, is incredibly wasteful, and even cruel. I never wanted to harm you, and my father seems content with the fact that I seem to try to hit you, though I often wonder if he suspects. I... never wanted to kill you. But why did you say that killing you would be a sin?"

The rabbit, still staring, ignored my question. "Why do you tolerate this from your father? Why do you allow him to take you on these murdering sprees? Why not end it all? Why not spare those creatures' lives whom your father would take from them? Why do you not end him yourself, sparing dozens of others?" This question shakes me to my core. Not because I believe that the rabbit's rationale is correct, but rather because I know now that the stakes are much greater. The "rabbit" is attempting to get me to murder my own father. "No, that's not right. That's not sound logic. The tragic truth is that humans' lives are worth more than other animals. We have... souls, while you do not. Well, most animals, at least. I do not believe you to be, in truth, an animal. At least, the being I am speaking to."

The rabbit states, "You are only partially correct to believe that I am not an animal. But only partially. Your belief that animals do not have souls is wrong. Many have died. Helpless at the hands of man. None to defend them. Man's hands are bloodied. Massacres occur daily, and you, one of sound conscience, do nothing to stop them. You now know the truth. Ignorance is no longer an excuse. You must end this." I stare into the rabbit's eyes. "What are you?"

There is silence for a few long seconds until the rabbit replies cryptically, "You may never know. Yet you may someday. Ignorance is bliss. You have a task to do. Do it with efficiency. Save us." Then, I closed my eyes for a second, and when they were opened again, the rabbit was gone. I had regained my ability to move. I knew what I had to do.

I used the very murder weapon he had used on so many innocent souls. The blood felt warm beneath my hands. Justice.

-------

Historical record: C-Y7B Type: Journal Entry Significance, if any: First recorded instance of communications with visions during sleep paralysis.

[mossyoakswriting]

I kind of fell in love with the whole “sleep paralysis demon” prompt made by @writing-prompt-s so I’m indulging myself:

For context:

Gaven is a 21 year old human who cusses like a sailor, but deep down he will cave for people, or demons, he cares about

Reese is Gaven’s sleep paralysis demon who radiates golden retriever vibes, but can also be absolutely terrifying when needed. He’s also obsessed with cats. Sleep paralysis demons only stay out from dusk to dawn, often disappearing under beds when the sun starts to rise(this is just fiction that my brain came up with).

Without further ado, here are some scenarios I think would happen between the two:

Gaven: (looking for bag) “Where the fuck did it go?!”

Reese: (putting paper keychains on the zippers) “…”

Reese: (pushes the bag out from under the bed)

Gaven: “I’m not even going to ask.”

——————————————————

Gaven’s Roommate: “Dude, why are there horns under your bed?”

Gaven: (nervously laughs) “Uhm…I cosplay.”

Reese: (under the bed) (thinking) “Oh my gods. Does he actually cosplay demons-“

————————————————————————

Gaven: “Reese?”

Reese: “Yes?”

Gaven: “Is that my sweater?”

Reese: (cutting a sleeve off) “It just looks similar-“

Later:

Reese: (feels bad)

Reese: (starts crocheting a new sleeve for Gaven’s sweater with bright red yarn)

[rather-ace-writing]

PROMPT/IDEA- Enjoy!

“You’ll call me tomorrow, right?” She laughed.

“Yeah, ‘course I will. I always do.” They waved, turning the key in their car’s ignition.

They were, of course, lying.

[writersbeware]

Fantasy Worlds

Some writers find it easy to create worlds from the ground up. They design mountains, valleys, forest, rivers and lakes, cities and villages. They populate their worlds with people who are like us, as well as with those having superpowers. There are languages and clothing and foods that suite that world, perhaps even as identifiers of their position in society. Just like in our world, some in…

[s-creations]

27?

(Link to Post)

27. Did you do anything special to celebrate finishing a fic?

No. XD

In all honesty, I just move onto the next story I have in mind. I think the closest thing to 'celebrating' is reading and gushing over the reviews/comments that appear.

[swiftfootedachilles]

where is the anon who likes my writing i need motivation to finish other kinktober stuff. also i did make edits/visuals for one of my fav fics for kinktober but i haven't gotten a reply from the author is okay with me sharing them... should i post them anyway (with credit ofc)?? i know on a03 theres a way to link works inspired by other works, should i just do that?? if i don't get a response should i not post them? this person is not really active on social media so idk exactly what to do............

[thewritingbuff]

Original prompt by @writing-prompt-s

Original fill by me here

“Listen, you’re fine, I’m- stop screaming- I’m not going to hurt you. Yes, opening the Dark Book summons The One Who Ends, but that whole thing where I kill the reader is hogwash. Now, would you kindly direct me to the one who tricked you into opening my book? *Intent* is important, after all.”

The little girl stopped in her shivering, if only for a moment, to glance up at the eldritch being towering over her. Their eyes burned with the flames of a thousand infernos, and yet they shone with the warmth of the fire her grandmother lovingly stoked in the hearth to keep their house warm.

"I am Meserpes," the being said, lowering themselves to their knees and yet keeping a respectful distance from the girl. "Might I have the honour of knowing my Summoner's name?"

"Moira," she answered meekly.

"Moira," Meserpes continued, nodding their head as they rolled the name of their tongue. "I truly wish to know the name of the person who instructed you to summon me."

Honestly, Meserpes could simply force themselves into little Moira's defenseless mind and pry for the information themselves. A child her age barely had the mental constitution to resist an Impression from such a powerful being. But Meserpes was Eldritch, not an animal. They had principles and lines even they would not cross.

Just as they were thinking that Moira would never answer, a whisper from a small voice carried over to them.

"Mother."

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