#writing challege

[asclexe]

OLD MAN DOCTOR YAOI SUMMER 2024

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

welcome to the offical old man doctor yaoi prompt list for the month of june! this list contains thirty ideas, which can either be drawn or written or some others art form of your choosing!

there are no restrictions for what day you’re doing, you can obviously do just one day or a week, or all of them! who cares! also how you interpret the prompt, however i would prefer nsfw to be labeled correctly as i want to read these and i am a minor, so leave a heads up!

tag any works of any media type you create under #old man doctor yaoi summer 2024 so we can all see it!!

prompts below the cut!

⭐️here’s our lineup:

day 1: outside the hospital (basically anything outside ppth, a concert, to a restaurant, a conference, a pride parade, the beach, get creative!)

day 2: wedding (self-explanatory, can be the ceremony, the reception, honeymoon etc, as long as it’s wedding-themed!)

day 3: coming out

day 4: ducklings (stuff with their children (house’s fellows))

day 5: domestic (little domestic tidbits, eg cooking, getting a pet, falling asleep, etc, just fluff)

day 6: top surgery recovery

day 7: summer

⭐️(AU WEEK)⭐️

day 8: modern day/2024 au

day 9: fandom fusion/crossover au

day 10: not doctors au (in a universe where they took a different career, perhaps in a diner or casino, camp counselors, field nurses, drug dealers, cops, flower shop/tattoo artist, cowboys, royalty, etc!)

day 11: fem hilson/genderbend au!!!

day 12: different decade au (so like ppth in the 70’s, or maybe 40’s, etc. get creative!)

day 13: soulmates au

day 14: supernatural au (as ghosts, angels/devils, vampires, mermaids, etc)

⭐️(PRE-INFARCTION WEEK)⭐️

day 15: wilson’s first divorce

day 16: first date

day 17: after bailing wilson out of jail (could include awkward diner conversation, road trips, etc)

day 18: young & dumb shenanigans

day 19: college roommates

day 20: doing things house couldn’t do post-infarction (eg skateboarding, yoga, walking long distances, golf, etc)

day 21: wilson in the place of stacy during infarction

⭐️(back to canon/whump week)⭐️

day 22: detox (could be either house or wilson whump!!)

day 23: trembling

day 24: after mayfield

day 25: euthanasia (also could be either house or wilson)

day 26: prodigal daughter (thirteen)

day 27: suicide attempt (if this is triggering to you, please have a free day or a break day!)

day 28: service animal

day 29: on vacation

day 30 (good job!!!): free day/break day

happy pride month and good luck!!

[in-the-gutter-looking-up]

force me to write please i'm begging

i have come to the realization that part of the reason that i have been having so much trouble getting anything done on any of my wips is that i have been keeping them so under lock and key and not letting myself have any fun in the process of writing. to combat this, i'm letting the good citizens of tumblr dot gov hold a gun to my head for a bit.

i'm putting super brief descriptions of my wips down below with an emoji. drop an emoji (or multiple) in my asks and i will write a few sentences for each one and share part of it in the reply*.

thee wips:

🕶 Wanted For Vandalism - graffiti artist x architecture student sukka au (2 chapters published on ao3)

💨 Cycle of Fate - long form zuko is the avatar au (currently gen, likely going to lean zutara in the far future) ft lots of angst and hurt/comfort

🔥 Untitled HG:CF - catching fire au where instead of reaping existing victors they reap the family members of the victors. prim and gale go in the arena.

if i start anymore wips i will add them to this list, but i really want to make actual progress on these and get to the point where i can share them.

*it might take me a few days to reply. the joys of being in college ig

[rainandsentences]

Replays

teen!art donaldson x f!reader

synopsis: She was a college volleyball star with her future mapped out — until a sudden injury ended everything and there is Art Donaldson, who feels like the only piece of her old life that hasn’t slipped away.

rating: 16+

warning: hurt/comfort, college AU, no smut

word count: 1k

a/n: now i'm exploring another character, i hope y'all like this! xo

any reposts and comments are highly appreciated :)

——————————————————————————

I used to dream in soundtracks.

Warm-up playlists. The sharp squeak of rubber soles on the court. The hollow thump of the ball being passed between hands. My own heartbeat, always a little too fast.

Now it’s just the hum of a heating unit and Art Donaldson asking if I want a second mug of cocoa.

I nod without looking up. He moves quietly around the kitchen like he always does, like someone taught him young how not to take up too much space. Or maybe he just learned it himself — there’s something in him that folds inward, even when he smiles.

My knee hurts. It’s been two months since the tear, a month since the surgery, and two weeks since the team moved on without me.

“Extra marshmallows?” he asks.

I smile at that. “Like you even have to ask.”

He grins and spoons in the sugar like he’s conducting a ritual. Carefully. Lovingly. If Tashi were here, she’d say something sarcastic, roll her eyes. He’d take it in stride, like he always does with her.

But Tashi’s not here.

So it’s just the two of us. Like it used to be.

He brings over the mugs and I shift on the couch, adjusting the pillow under my knee. It’s strange how this apartment — his, not mine — has started to feel more like home than my own dorm room. I think it’s because no one here talks about volleyball. No one here tiptoes around the subject of me not being who I used to be.

Art just... sees me.

Sort of.

We sip cocoa in silence for a while, watching something neither of us is paying attention to. The lights are off except for the warm glow of the lamp next to the couch. He smells like cinnamon and clean laundry, and I feel stupid for noticing.

“How’s the pain today?” he asks, like he means it.

“It’s fine.” “Liar.” I smirk. “It’s fine-ish.”

He raises an eyebrow but doesn’t push. That’s the thing with Art. He listens without prying, sits in silence without trying to fix anything.

And God, that’s dangerous.

Because sometimes I think if I turned just slightly, said something — if I reached for his hand — maybe he’d let me. Maybe he’d even squeeze it back.

But I know better.

He loves Tashi.

Not in the obvious way, not in fireworks or declarations. But in the way he talks about her. The way his voice changes — softer, steadier — like just saying her name puts something right inside him.

She’s a storm and he’s always been the boy who’d chase after lightning.

I sip my cocoa again. It burns a little, but I don’t mind. The ache is familiar.

“Remember the game last fall?” he asks suddenly. I glance at him. “The one where I nearly broke my wrist and still scored the winning point?” He laughs. “That one. Yeah. You were insane.” “I was desperate.” “You were brilliant.”

I look away. That version of me doesn’t feel real anymore. I don’t know what to do with all the pieces left behind.

He must see something shift in my face because he leans a little closer, voice gentler. “You still are, you know.”

“What?”

“Brilliant.”

I swallow hard. That word doesn’t fit me anymore. Not when I can’t run, can’t play, can’t even walk up stairs without wincing.

He’s quiet for a moment, then adds, “You don’t have to keep proving it to be it.”

I don’t know what to say to that.

So I don’t.

Instead, I ask, “Do you miss her?”

Art blinks. It’s not a question we usually ask out loud.

He doesn’t pretend not to know who I mean.

“Yeah,” he says, and his voice is raw in a way I rarely hear. “But I think she’s doing what she needs to do. For her.”

I nod.

He looks at me. Really looks. “What about you?”

“What about me?”

“You’re allowed to miss things too.”

“I miss... who I thought I was going to be,” I admit, fingers tightening around the mug. “I miss the version of my life that didn’t fall apart.”

He doesn’t offer clichés. Just shifts closer and rests his hand gently on mine. Not a move. Not a promise. Just presence.

And for now, it’s enough.

We don’t talk much after that. The cocoa gets cold. The TV keeps playing. The silence becomes something safe instead of heavy.

He walks me home with his usual quiet care, and when we reach the steps to my building, I hesitate.

“Art?”

“Yeah?”

“If I—if I never play again... will you still think I’m... me?”

His eyes go soft. He tugs the edge of my sleeve like he always does when he’s trying to keep me grounded.

“I never thought you were just that,” he says. “You’re you. And I... I like you just like this.”

Not love. Not in the way I want. But still.

Like this.

I hold onto that.

[eddieblrs]

actually no i can't be normal and stop thinking about this post and this post and hurting my own feelings because like

here's eddie diaz who's not very good at making friends he doesn't work with and who's so repressed even the pope thinks it's a tad bit much and he's meeting this older firefighter pilot who's so fucking cool and he's got so much in common with and he actually wants to be friends with him. and eddie's never had a friend he can actually talk sports and martial arts with, someone who actually understands the trauma of being in the army, and maybe tommy also comes from a family like his that's not without love and it wasn't exactly bad but his parents never truly understood him or supported him in anything. maybe tommy is also an older brother who had to take the mantle of "man of the house" because his dad was too detached from it, had to take too many responsibilities at an early age.

and eddie just connects with this dude in a way that he's never connected with anyone besides buck and even then, there's things buck can't never understand but tommy does. so he starts hanging out with this guy, starts texting him and talking with him basically anytime he's not on call or with his son

and one day he brings up this fight he's excited for and asks tommy if he'd want to watch it with him and tommy's like "actually, i've got a mate who got me two ringside tickets for it and i've been looking for someone to go with, you'd be interested?" and eddie is over the moon about it. he's nearly giggling and kicking his feet up as he calls carla to ask if she can look after chris overnight because he's going to fucking vegas with a friend. when he arrives at harbour to get on the chopper tommy is flying them to vegas in he's just a bit disappointed to see buck is there too but it's also great because buck is his best friend and he loves him and he's the only person who ever made eddie feel this way once upon a time (and he's trying so hard not to think too much about that) so it's great they're friends too but actually, no, buck's not coming and eddie feels only a little bit bad that he's relieved about it.

so they go to the fight and it's fucking great and tommy gets into it just as much as eddie is. after the fight they go out for drinks with tommy's promoter friend and they get a little drunk and in that drunken haze he lets himself think about the things he usually tries to keep at bay. he thinks about how cool and impressive tommy is but also about how fucking hot he is, he's 300lb of muscle and the strength he's got, how easily he'd manhandled eddie when they were practicing muay thai the other day, how when he looked on top of eddie when he pinned him to the floor and how eddie had wanted to taste the sweat on his muscles, lick the vein in his neck, get those hands that were holding him touching way below. but he gets a hold of himself and when they get to their hotel room with the two queen size beds he makes himself stop thinking about they way he wants to touch him everywhere, find out if he can make him make some of the noises from their sparring session in a different context. tries not to think about how his cock would feel on his hand, how tommy would look as he came.

so anyway, they get back to LA the next morning and eddie tries his best to pretend he never thought any of that and then the basketball game from hell happens and tommy tells him he's gonna talk to buck, try and make peace and eddie doesn't think twice about it, they're both his friends and they would get along well. when he sees them hanging out at the restaurant he pretends that what he feels at the pit of his stomach isn't jealousy, and later that week he only wonders a little bit if marisol being a nun before truly is the only reason why he can't have sex with her anymore, if the fact that sometimes when he sinks into her deep in his brain in a corner he never goes to he thinks about a different person, one with broader shoulders and strong pecs instead of breasts isn't part of it too.

and then he's in buck's kitchen and buck's telling him "it was a date" and when eddie asks "wait, tommy's gay?" it has nothing to do with buck and all to do with him knowing in an instant that if he'd known that back in vegas he might have risked it, might have followed his deepest desires and touch tommy like he wanted to. but now his best friend is talking about him with that doe eyed look in his eyes and eddie knows that means he really likes him and eddie does his best to push his own feelings aside because that's what he's good at and buck needs him to be supportive, that he's being vulnerable and confessing something scary to him and eddie wishes he could be like that, too, so he tells him to call tommy even though eddie wants him to do the opposite, wants to be the one tommy kissed in the kitchen and took on a date

he's not lying, exactly, when he tells buck he also likes tommy but not in that way, because whatever buck feels for tommy can't compare to what eddie's going through. he doesn't know if his desire outweighs the shame, doesn't know if he'd be able to be like buck and jump straight into it with blind hope, he knows he'd never be able to talk about it tho. not for a long while. and when he goes home that night and he's laying on his marisol-free bed staring at the ceiling he gives himself permission to be fucking angry that buck gets to have what he wants so bad, lets himself be a shitty friend and wish tommy maybe also wants eddie the way he wants him, want him more than he wants buck.

in the morning he'll feel guilty about it, in the morning he will be the supportive friend buck needs. but tonight he wallows in his jealousy and his anger and his shame and if he comes from jerking off a little too hard with tommy's name in his mouth no one has to fucking know about it.

[artemiseamoon]

Ebony & Mahogany: July Prompt Challenge

A casual prompt challenge with OCs and some reader characters. ALL my f! Readers in this challenge are intended to be over 30 and woc (Black, Caribbean, Bipoc, Poc etc).

All the visuals will have representation for us brown gals. Anyone can read, and you can choose to read the RCs as OCs if you like. This, like the other challenges is multi-fandom. No requests. Teasers on here, full posting only on A03.

July prompts here

Alternative prompts used here

My masterlist

A03 link for this challenge

.

Previous prompt challenges related to this (plus where the existing multi chapters started)

➡️ Melanin May

➡️ Black, Brown & Beautiful June

.

✨✨✨ JULY PROMPTS & MASTERLIST✨✨✨

* tumblr preview | **A03 link

1-2: summer kiss, cocktail* | Summer Love 1 ** | Manny (Mayans)

3-4: pineapple, vacation* | Strawberries & Cream 3 ** | Max Phillips (story masterpost)

5 -12: Multiple prompts, pt 4 , finale | Strawberries & Cream pt 4 & finale ** | Fic complete, mastetpost here! | Max Phillips

13 - 14: Close your eyes, falling asleep on shoulder* | Tba ** | Lily x Stack (Iwtv x Sinners)

lifeguard

childhood

ice tea

sun screen

treasure hunt

pool party

fireflies

concert

succulents

pink skies

underwater

bubbles

flower field

hurricane

cherries

dancing in the rain

sun burn

rooftop

camping

[celestiallyruined]

Day 1 of @10daysto1k | Prompt: Departure

Fandom: IWTV (2022)

Relationships: Louis & Claudia, Claudia/Madeleine

Rating: Gen | Words: 100

Summary: Claudia didn’t regret staying, and she wouldn’t regret leaving. As she held Louis one last time, she whispered a silent thank-you.

Read Here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/65805484

[lire-casander]

not a surprise that my minibang is currently halfway through, sitting at a word count way over what i initially thought it'd be.

[call-me-medusa]

Unnamed November Writing Challenge 2024

I just reached 50k words for The Unnamed November Writing challenge!!! I am so happy that I have managed to reach my work count while being incredibly busy with work and personal/family stuff all month!

This year I didn't write a brand new novel, I continued working on The Silena Fic which I took a pause on in April when I was around halfway finished with it. I also wrote about 7.5k of other things (usually buddie fics) but I wanted to focus the majority of my efforts on The Silena Fic so that I can hopefully finish faster and be editing it next year to be posted sometime in February (I can hope!).

Here's my statistics for 2024:

The first column of words ("Silena Doc") is the main document for The Silena Fic. This is where I write in chronological order.

The second column ("Other Silena Stuff") is the place where I write things that will be included later that I haven't gotten to chronologically yet. You can see on November 17th & 18th I was able to transfer the words to the main document because I reached that point in the story in the main document. And then continued writing some parts that I haven't reached in the story yet.

The third column ("Other") is other words, mostly from buddie fics. I did write and post a fic on veterans day (eddie diaz and the amazing, awesome, very good day) and I've been working on another fic which I do not know if I will end up finishing/posting.

The fourth column ("Daily Totals") is my daily total words for each day between the three columns/documents. They are highlighted green if I met the daily word goal of 1,667 words or more.

The fifth column ("Sum of Daily Totals") is the daily totals added up each day to see the total word count for the month. When I reached 50,000 it would be highlighted dark green!

The sixth column ("Daily Par") is the amount of words per day I would need to reach to be on time to reach 50,000 words by November 30th.

The seventh column is the total word count for just The Silena Fic. I started the month with 70,572 words in the main document and 3,065 in the other document, for a total of 73,637 words starting out total for The Silena Fic. When I reached 50k for November I was at 116,400 words for The Silena Fic.

I have managed and kept all these statistics myself. I love making the excel sheets and managing them every year. Based on the data in this sheet, I have two graphs for 2024:

Here's the daily word count written in a small bar graph. Ideally, these would all be similar sizes for consistency during the month, but work (November 7th) and family commitments (November 21st) make it hard to get words. But, just to see the data visually is nice!

But this graph makes me feel a little bit better about my inconsistency. I have maybe not been consistent in my daily word counts, but I have been (mostly) consistently ahead of the daily par for total word counts. This shows how much I've been writing over the month to reach the 50k words!

Either way, I'm proud! I'm not done with the Silena fic by any means (I'm projecting anywhere from 25k-50k more words until I'm finished) but I'm so glad I could use this month to make a dent in finishing it!

[cryptidjeepers]

saying that being anti ai (ai as in generative ai art or writing) is being classist and ableist is so fucking insulting lmao i cannot get over it

[scriptwriters-network]

Creative Writing Challenge – April

This MONTHLY challenge is for those who want to work on writing new ideas and who would like to maintain a continuous creativity flow with your writing.

More Info.

[prokopetz]

Tumblr 200-Word RPGs 2023

Last November, we did an informal game jam for folks who wanted to write something for Writing Month, but would prefer to write fewer than fifty thousand words of it. You can find the complete list of participants for that event in this post here. There's also an off-Tumblr archive of entries whose authors gave permission for them to be preserved here, if any of those links turn out to be broken.

Last year's collaboration went over well enough that I thought we might dust it off again this year. To be clear, this is just for fun – it's not a curated jam, and nobody's judging winners or handing out prizes..

If you'd like to throw your hat in, just follow these steps:

Step 1: If you're unfamiliar with 200-word RPGs, read a bunch of last year's entries (linked above) or browse the 200 Word RPG Challege archives at https://200wordrpg.github.io/ to get your brain-meats properly configured.

Step 2: Write your own 200-word RPG. If you're not sure whether you have 200 words or not (and with RPGs it can genuinely be difficult to tell!), you can use the word counter at https://200wordrpg.github.io/wordcount to check.

Step 3: Reblog this post and append your 200-word RPG.

Step 4 (optional): Please indicate in your post whether you're okay with having your 200-word RPG archived off-site for posterity – if you don't say anything one way or the other, I'll assume the answer is "no".

(As before, as a courtesy to anyone who's creeping the notes, please restrict non-200-word-RPG commentary to replies and tags until November 2023 is over – let's make the actual games easy to find!)

[rainandsentences]

The Kind of Quiet That Stays

Post-divorce Art Donaldson x fem!reader

synopsis: Years after your last college goodbye, you meet with him again and maybe, just maybe, it’s all the start of something that you had always been waiting.

rating: 16+

warning: none!

word count: 1.4k

a/n: i love older rich man Art, he deserves the world. hope y'all like this! xo

——————————————————————————

You remeber the last day of college, your degree and the clapping that came after the directors called your name. You also remembered your friends and how beautiful those years were... and then you also remembered him.

Tall, blonde and blue eyes. Graceful movements in the tennis court and his calm celebration after winning a game.

A promised future star but also, a kind person. Most of the time you shared a table in the library, sometimes you ate lunch with him or just simply waved at him on the court during his trainings receiving a bad look from Tashi.

And well, everyone knew he was head over heels for her. So it stayed like that. A friend, star of tennis and a distance between them.

So you weren’t supposed to cross paths again.

Not like this — not at a private dinner hosted by a client whose name was etched on every corner office in the city. Not while you stood there in a pressed suit, holding a glass of dry wine you couldn’t pronounce, mentally reviewing quarterly numbers.

And definitely not while he was crouched beside a small girl in a velvet dress, adjusting the sleeves of her cardigan like it was the most important thing in the world.

She knew about his life, mostly because of the news and sport articles. That little child that was physically all like her mother.

"Would he remember me if i approach?" You think. "Screw it." You also think as you walk slowly towards him.

“Art?”

He looks up, startled. Then smiles. Soft. Hesitant. Familiar.

“Hey,” he says, standing. His voice hasn’t changed.

"Do you remember me?"

"How could i not? It was a shame not saying goodbye after graduation."

"It's okay." You answer softly.

You glance between him and the little girl — his daughter, you realize. Maybe six. Maybe seven. and also a quiet kind of observant.

He notices your gaze and clears his throat. “This is Lily.” The girl waves, shy but curious. “Beautiful name,” you say. "Thanks." Lily answered and you smile softly at her.

You don’t talk long. A man in a suit calls him back into conversation, and you have reports to review before the second course. But his eyes linger on you as he walks away. And when you find an excuse to drift near the back of the room later, you catch his glance again.

It’s a thread. A pull. Something unfinished.

He finds you a week later. Through a LinkedIn message, of all things.

Very Art-likely...

Says Lily left her stuffed fox under a table and did you maybe happen to see it?

She didn’t.

But you say you’ll check anyway. And then you ask if he wants to get coffee.

You meet, then again and again.

His life is smaller now, he tells you. Quieter. He lives in a two-bedroom flat in a fancy neighborhood that's close to a practice court. Lily stays with him three days a week. He teaches workshops, freelances, cooks a lot of soup.

“It’s not what I thought life would look like,” he admits once, sipping black tea in your kitchen, “but I think it’s... honest.”

"Let´s just say your one of the most famous tennis players, of course it's not." You chuckle and he looks at you with a soft smile.

"What do you do now? You were always smart, tell me you are rich or something."

"Why? What if I'm not? Would you stop talking to me?" You mock.

"Quite the opposite."

You scoff softly. "I work in a financial company, I check the numbers there. I'm not rich but i earn good money."

He nods.

And you talk like you never stopped, like the years between now and college folded in on themselves.

"Why did you retire?" You sip your drink. " You're still young."

"It just didn't make sense anymore."

"What do you mean?"

He licks his lips before answering. "I had a purpose, then i discovered maybe it wasn't the main course of what i wanted but i was already too deep, too stuck on that it was hard to leave. So when she left, it felt like I had no point on keep playing anymore, there was no one else telling me to keep going so i finally quitted."

You nod in silence.

"Now you can rot in money." You lift your eyebrows and he chuckled.

"Doing that already, my arm hurts." He says exaggerating the pain causing a soft chuckle from you.

And the time flew after that.

You start sharing time in quiet, everyday ways.

Groceries. Errands. Walks through the park. He starts texting you when he sees something funny, or when he finds a poem he thinks you’d like. You send back photos of your breakfast. A picture of the new mug you bought. Nothing special. But it becomes something anyway.

One night, you watch a movie you’d both seen years ago. You fall asleep before the ending. When you wake up, you’re tucked under a blanket. There’s a note on the table:

You looked peaceful. Didn’t want to wake you. Left soup in the fridge.

Now he has the trust to touch your stuff and you didn't mind.

Then, one quiet Wednesday, it happens.

He’s sitting on his balcony, nursing a cup of herbal tea. Lily is asleep inside on the couch, curled under the blanket she now insists on calling hers. The air smells like jasmine and city dust. The moon hangs low.

You lean against the railing next to him, and he says, without looking at you:

“Sometimes I wonder if I ever really knew how to be happy. Or if I just kept chasing the idea of it.”

You turn to him. He looks tired. But honest.

“And now?” you ask.

He hesitates. “Now, I think I just want peace. Something quiet. Something that doesn’t need fixing.”

A beat passes. Then another.

He turns his face to you, his blue deep gaze under the soft moonlight caressing you face with tenderness. His hand hold yours and you feel your heartbeat racing fast, you hear it in your ears.

And he finally shortens the space between kissing you briefly, quickly and tender.

It’s soft. Like a question. Like a memory. Like maybe he’s thought about this more than once.

He pulls back almost instantly, apology already forming in the way he won’t meet your eyes.

“I’m sorry—” he begins.

“Don't” you whisper as you hold his cheek, forcing him to look at you. "Maybe this is what you want... because if it is, then i also want it."

He stares at you with soft gaze as he nodded at every single word before kissing you again, this time was different, this time was fully meaningful.

You don't stay that night so he drives you home, kisses you again at your door and leaves.

And when you go to brush your teeth, you find Lily’s fox tucked behind the couch cushion.

And you know it wasn’t an accident.

[aeromaya]

One of the problems in the games is that the story never explained how Leon and Sonia had a strained relationship, and why Sonia left the gym challege.

Sonia never hated Leon, it's just the pressure of the gyms and the rumors is what took the fun out of battling for Sonia.

Pokespe manages to fix the plot hole of Sonia and Leon's relationship. Pretty realistic of Kusaka to write in how toxic sports fans could be. It adds a lot of stakes on why so many people take the gym challenge so seriously, and why winning is such a big deal for them.

[bilightningwhumper]

“Did you think I would be okay with this?”- Maid

"Finding the Write Time" May 2025 challenge by @did-i-do-this-write

"Bound to Her" Masterlist

Yet another to get away from me, lol. Very different from the last few I've done for this challege, so head the warnings.

TW/CW (mostly for under the cut): implied sexual content, implied dubcon content, choking, overall abuse/controlling and manipulative abuser, mentioned food control

Maid

Maid chewed on her tongue as she stirred the soup. Mistress had asked her to try a new recipe for the dinner she was having soon. Even with Princess helping her learn the basics of letters, she couldn’t help but worry she’d already messed up. It didn’t smell bad, at least. Yet.

Arms slipped around her waist, the smell of roses mixing with the soup’s. “Something smells good.” Princess murmured in her ear.

A blush crept up Maid’s neck and into her face. She glanced quickly from side to side before kissing her Bonded on the cheek. “What are you doing in here? You know Mistress doesn’t like it.”

Princess’ chin was a comforting weight on her shoulder. “Mistress is in the bath. She won’t see.” Her breath tickled against the skin of Maid’s neck. “And I missed you.”

A twinge in her heart made her chest ache. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault. It’s hers.” Princess’ voice had done the thing again. Where it got less sultry, more… soft. Rougher. Her nose nuzzled into Maid’s neck as she mumbled, “She does it on purpose. Keeping you busy. Me with her. We’re always too tired to just be together at night anymore.”

Maid made a face. She didn’t want to talk about this. If Mistress heard them, they’d only be punished. She’d made it very clear to Maid that Princess was hers first, not Maid’s. Not that Maid wanted to own her Bonded. Not like Mistress wanted them. Was that wrong?

Before she could think anymore, she took a clean spoon and scooped some soup out of the pot. She turned around to Princess, holding it up carefully. “Can you try this?”

Princess tilted her head, her eyes twinkling with that sparkle Maid had only ever seen directed at her, never at Mistress. And Princess new it flustered her, she had to, because her smile grew before she leaned forward, opening her mouth towards Maid.

Blushing harder, Maid brought the spoon forward for Princess to close her lips around it. Her breath caught as she saw Princess’ tongue dance over the spoon before she pulled it away.

“Is it good?” she asked, trying not to chew on her own tongue again.

Princess hummed, her eyes bright. “It’s delicious! What’s in it?”

Before she could say a word, a voice came from the doorway.

“What is going on here?”

Both of them jumped, shifting into their positions. Five feet apart. Maid with her posture straight, head bowed, and hands folded on her apron. Princess she knew had sunk into a curtsy, her expression demure.

Mistress stepped into the kitchen, her bare feet making little noise against the floor. “Maid, explain.” Her voice was sharp, a knife that hit Maid in the chest. “Now.”

“I was making the soup, as you requested, and-”

“It was my fault, ma’am.” Princess cut her off. Maid watched through the fringes of her hair as her Bonded stepped forward, taking the cord of Mistress’ robe in her fingers and fiddling with it. “She was worried it wouldn’t please you, so I offered to try it. I should have asked you first. I’m sorry.” She watched as Princess looked up at Mistress with soft, wide eyes. “Can you forgive me?”

Mistress put her hand on Princess’ waist, pulling her forward so their hips were flush. “That depends, my Princess. How will you make it up to me?”

Maid couldn’t look away as Princess’ hand went up to touch Mistress’ face. She heard her Bonded purr, “It’s still on my lips. On my tongue. Would you like to taste it?”

Mistress met Maid’s eyes before she took Princess’ chin, pulling her into a rough kiss that made Princess whine softly.

Her eyes went to the floor as Princess’ moans and pants filled the kitchen. The sound of tearing fabric made her want to flinch, but she remained still. Skin on skin. Gasping, whining. Sounds that shouldn’t bother her. She was used to this. Princess belonged to Mistress. She was meant to please their Mistress. That was her duty. Her purpose.

The soup next to her caught her eye. It was on the verge of boiling over. She should tend to that.

Quickly, she took it off the stove and onto the counter. Turning off the burner, she took out bowls and more spoons. Dinner would be served soon.

As she began to ladle it out, the noises ceased.

“It is acceptable.” Mistress said, her voice silkier than before.

Maid’s shoulders relaxed as she heard Princess sigh.

A hand on her head startled her slightly, but she relaxed again as she felt the familiar feeling of Mistress’ fingers in her hair.

“You always do so well for me, Maid.” she crooned. “So well.”

“Of course, ma’am. I live to please you.” she murmured, reaching for another bowl.

A hand closed around her throat as the other yanked her hair back. She heard Princess cry out as her airways were cut off.

“Did you really think I would be okay with this?” Mistress snarled, the roses in her perfume becoming thorns in Maid’s windpipe. Her grip only tightened when Maid tried to speak. “You’ve been encouraging her bad behavior. Did you really think I wouldn’t know of your disobedience?”

Maid whined as black spots danced in her eyes. “S- s- ry. S- s-”

Someone was crying. Pleading. Hands clutching at her.

Princess. She was upset. But Maid couldn’t comfort her. Could barely hear her as blood rushed through her ears.

Suddenly, she could breathe again. Her body dropped to the floor as she gasped, a hand moving to her throat.

Mistress and Princess were talking. Their voices kept cutting in and out while she tried to get a hold of herself.

When she could breathe again, she stood as Mistress spoke to her.

“Did you hear that, Maid?”

She froze. Should she be honest? That was probably best. “No, ma’am. My apologies.” she croaked, bowing her head.

Mistress sighed. “Typical. Well, now that you’re paying attention, you will be bringing my meals directly to my room until a week from today. Princess’ will be brought there as well, but half portions from her usual. We need to watch her figure. She’s getting fat. Give the extra to Rusty. He’s been a good boy.”

“Y- yes, ma’am.” Maid whispered.

She felt a kiss on the top of her head before fingers lifted her chin up. As Mistress kissed her cheek, she saw Princess by the counter. Her heart clenched.

Her Bonded’s face was red and splotchy. She didn’t even look at Maid, her head down, her hands curled and shaking. Mistress’ robe cord was now threaded through the leash loop of her collar.

Mistress kissed her other cheek, her eyes cold as ice, voice soothing. “That’s a good girl.” Her hand cupped Maid’s cheek. I know you won’t disappoint me, precious.”

Then she stepped away, grasping the cord to lead Princess away as she walked out of the kitchen.

Princess didn’t even look back.

But that was the proper thing to do. What she was trained to do. Princess’ purpose was to please Mistress’. As was Maid’s.

That was their purpose.

Their wants didn’t matter.

Pets don’t have wants.

They-

They didn’t-

---

Rusty found her on the other end of the hall to Mistress’ room an hour later. He didn’t say anything, just hugged her tight.

The two bowls of soup on the tray outside Mistress’ door had grown cold.

They probably hadn’t even heard Maid knocking. After all, Mistress preferred it when Princess screamed.

Back to my "Bound to Her" Masterlist

Hope you liked it! No taglist so far, so let me know if you want to be on one for this

[nejiverse]

ROCK PAPER SCISSORS FOOD!

Gojo Satoru

Currently thinking of if Gojo were to participate in the rock paper scissors food challege..

Omigosh he’s a menace.

Whenever he loses, he claims that he wasn’t ready and that you pulled paper 2 seconds after he pulled rock, which is cheating. (rules only work when he’s losing by the way).

When you finally force him to accept his defeat (which took ten years off your life), he doesn’t even run all the way to the back garden gate, which was the spot you two agreed to run to, he runs like half way and calls it a day. He’s a downright cheater.

When he wins, you might as well wrap it up. He is hoovering up as much food as he can…without even taking a sip of water or anything. You dont know how he does it but you plan on writing a formal apology to the toilet in the evening.

It goes something like this…

“Rock, paper, scissors, shoot!”, you exclaimed.

Gojo gasped and pointed an accusing finger at you. “You dirty cheater!”, he voiced.

“Toru..”, you slapped your forehead. “I’m not a cheater, you just don’t know the rules of rock paper scissors. You go when I say shoot, not scissors”.

He pouted, still fully convinced that you cheated.

You two did it again and you won fair and square.

“On your horse babe!”, you let out a giggle at his defeat and Gojo groaned.

“I wasn’t ready—”.

“Start running or i’ll finish all the food”, you threatened, throwing a fry in your mouth.

Gojo deflated and started running, his legs dragging behind him. Once he did half of the run he was supposed to do, he turned back.

You threw a final nugget in your mouth before facing him to do another round.

“Rock, paper, scissors, shoot!”, this time Gojo won, and best believe he flaunted his victory in your face like a child.

You rolled your eyes and started running. Meanwhile, Gojo started scarfing down all the food, starting with a couple burgers and finishing with two fist fulls of fries among other things.

Once you finished your run, your jaw dropped open.

With his cheeks full like a squirrel with its nuts, he raised a brow.

“Wha??”, his words came out muffled.

“You’re such a fat ass Toru”, you responded, eying the remnants he left (mostly crumbs).

“You’re just saying that cause you lost”, he swallowed his food, noticing your lowkey disappointed face. He kinda felt bad even though you’ve killed him with your insult.

“Alright, i’ll buy you food, whatever you want”, he offered. “Even if it must be that expensive sushi you insist on trying”.

Your eyes brightened as you willingly took him up on his offer, but not before insulting him first.

“Thanks big back, you’re probably gonna eat that too”, you huffed.

“That was NOT needed!”.

a/n: can ya’ll tell I love bullying Gojo?

masterlist :)

[theweeklydiscourse]

Why do you think people like SJM books so much even if their quality... is questionable at best? It's because they are easy to digesty, the narrative gives the ilussion of asking hard question while challeging absolute nothing, or these people are just idiots??

Many things about SJM’s writing are easy to digest. In a world where reading for pleasure is growing increasingly uncommon, the average person is looking for something unchallenging and fundamentally easy to read, both thematically and stylistically.

Themes in SJM’s are often an afterthought and gesture at basic concepts at best. This is appealing to many readers because it’s a step above other YA/New Adult/Romantasy literature that barely have anything substantive to speak of. Her writing is also in alignment with the status quo, despite her attempts at writing feminist messaging. It’s fairly conservative, but it wears a progressive label to make readers feel better about what they’re consuming. You see many people nowadays like to consider themselves as feminists, but they don’t actually care for the effort and self-reflection that comes with actually being one. The label makes them feel good, but questioning years of patriarchal conditioning and internalized misogyny feels not so good. So, they look for literature and other media that lets them feel good. SJM’s feminism asks no hard questions and doesn’t demand any critical thinking on the reader’s part, making it very appealing to a large audience in a patriarchal society.

Though I can’t speak too much on the style of her writing, I can immediately see why so many people read her books so quickly. The books are very easy to read and you could even finish one in a single day. Contrast that with something like Midnight’s Children or 1Q84 which take far longer to read despite matching the length of some of the TOG or ACOTAR books. There’s nothing wrong with that kind of reading of course, but it’s one of the things that make her books so widespread. The accessibility is incredibly important to the popularity of such books. Furthermore, many readers don’t care enough to interrogate the inconsistencies characteristic of SJM’s writing and instead assume that there’s an internal logic to it. This is natural for readers to do, but this ends up creating a situation where readers fight over what to fill in the blanks with.

In short, you hit the nail on the head anon. The illusion is what people truly want. They want something empty and comfortable to enjoy in their leisure time. Because we live in a society that enforces a certain status quo, people are going to gravitate towards media that does not disturb it. They’ll feel happy not just because of the fun wish-fulfillment fantasy and smut, but because their worldview remains unchallenged.