Here's A Prompt For You: Write About A Mask Someone Wears. Can Be Fiction, Nonfiction (about Yourself,

Here's a prompt for you: write about a mask someone wears. Can be fiction, nonfiction (about yourself, an experience, people in general), maybe a poem. What kind of mask is it? What does it look like? Why are they wearing it?

“You can stop, you know.”

The villain froze for a moment, smile almost slipping, and set down their lunch tray. The hero leaned against the table next to them, knuckles white.

“In case you haven’t noticed,” they gestured to themself. “I’m reformed. I already stopped.”

The hero waived a hand. “Not that. I know that, I’m the one who helped you do it.”

The villain kept smiling, even as the edges began to crack like fine china.

“Hero,” they said as gently as they could. “Are you alright?”

The hero stared at them for a moment, as if they weren’t sure what was happening, as if the villain’s very existence confused them. They blew an angry breath out of their nose.

“I’m fine,” the hero said pointedly. “You aren’t.”

The villain ignored them at that, sitting down to stir their lunch. It was half cold and entirely unappetizing, but happy people ate the compound rations and were happy about it. And the villain was reformed, and good, and happy. So they ate.

Their bowl disappeared from in front of them, and they studied the plastic of the table for a moment. When they looked up, the hero’s eyes burned into them.

“Stop. It.”

This time, the villain was the one who sighed. “Can I have my lunch back please?”

The hero threw the bowl an unimpressed look. “What, this crap? Nobody likes this, and I can especially tell that you don’t. Your face is exactly the same as the first time you met me, and you tried to stab me directly after that. So. Stop.”

“I don’t know what you want from me,” the villain grit out. “I’m smiling, I’m contributing, I’m doing good things. No more murder, no more crimes. That’s what you wanted, right?”

“I wanted you to want that. I wanted you to have that. I never wanted this.”

“This what, hero.”

The hero gestured to their face.

“That. That smile.”

The villain gave them a dry look, even as their smile faded. “What, I can’t smile?”

The hero regarded them, fingers laced together under their chin, food abandoned. The villain picked at a hangnail and tried to look calm. This was why they had been avoiding the hero—the villain could read them like a book, but the hero could read them just as well.

Someone clattered down the hall, laughing, and then it was just the two of them again.

“You don’t have to be happy,” the hero said quietly, “to be good.”

The fine china, the mask, shattered.

The hero sighed, but it wasn’t triumphant. Relief, maybe. Or sadness.

“Why couldn’t you have left it alone,” the villain’s voice wobbled traitorously. The hero smiled, just slightly. A smile for a smile.

“Because you were drowning in there. And you don’t deserve that.”

“I’m trying to be good,” they murmured. The hero reached out and stilled their hands before they could pick them bloody.

“You are good. But you’re also hurting. You can do both. It’s okay.”

The villain shoulders loosened, as if the hero had stolen some huge burden from them.

“Okay?”

“Okay,” the villain agreed.

The hero smiled, a soft thing.

“Only smile when it doesn’t feel like a burden to do so,” the hero stood, leaning over the villain for a moment.

They left the villain in the lunch room, staring down at their hands.

Months later, when the hero told an awful joke, the villain laughed. They smiled at the hero, and it was warm. So warm.

And the hero smiled too.

Manuscript Word Search Tag

Thank you for the tag @oh-no-another-idea !

These are from a LOT of different WIP’s of mine, because without fail, all of the words I get are never contained within one novel. Also, I’ve apparently never used the word fuel. Who would have thought?

Feeling:

She felt like a god, and for a second, she understood why the villains did it, just to keep feeling this strong, invincible—

Float:

Instead of going back to her room, she veered through the halls, sliding out one of the few balconies and into the night sky. The air buffeted around her, holding her like she was nothing. It was comforting, almost. Like floating in a pool, but better. Always better.

Fancy:

“Cheap shot,” he remarked. She kicked his leg in as he grabbed her wrist, and her back slammed into the floor as he went down to his knees.

There was a mural up on the ceiling, something ornate and fancy. She only looked at it for a second before Catastrophe was looming over her.

“If you leave now, I might let you live,” he offered, and she glared at him.

Fish:

The brig smelled of fish, sweat, and regret. She had no idea how much of that came from her, and how much of it came from the salt warped walls.

She didn’t know how long it had been, but she did know they delivered food every so often, seemingly without schedule. Either the siren was trying to keep her disoriented, or it simply kept forgetting she needed food.

This is an open tag for anyone who sees it, and I’ll also tag @imaginativemind29new @jay-avian @clairelsonao3 —your words are shimmer, slight, stab, sorry, shadow

manuscript word search tag 🎏

Filling out an old one today from the wonderful @talesofsorrowandofruin -- thank you, friend! These are from my royal taster wip, which I wrote a bit of yesterday :)

Matter:

Anaar’s face was dim in the waning light, but he was frowning. “The emperor is very clever,” Sal told him. “No plan, no matter how clever, survives the first battle,” Anaar intoned dully.

Minute:

“What do you want?” the teenager asked. She was bored, selling on her boat all by herself. Hot too, likely. She wasn’t at all worried about a tiny urchin girl. Sal just smiled and sat down with a plop. She interested herself with some fraying rope pieces; separated into five, carefully coaxed back into union. The teenager lost interest in her within three minutes. Sal tipped over the lobster baskets.

Morning:

Breakfast the next morning was congee with salmon, carried up to their schoolrooms on several heavy trays. Sal ate half her bowl and then remembered Anaar was somewhere down in the kitchen eating happily, having dodged another poisoning to keep her safe. She put her spoon down, got scolded by Master Li, and missed half the questions in her books.

Myth:

The imperial palace was bigger than even the city, Sal was almost sure. She walked through the doors with Master Li and promptly forgot where the doors were. Statues of precious golds and jade adored every room, and the doors were so tall they disappeared into the far-off idea of the ceiling. Wall paintings depicted pieces of story from ancient myths, and Sal studied the lowest parts as she passed, nose to nose with the black ink strokes. Had the artist flicked the brush just so on purpose, or had it been a fortuitous happening?

I'll tag anyone who sees this, and also @writingamongther0ses @avocado-frog @the-stray-storyteller @did-i-do-this-write @starlit-hopes-and-dreams @the-broken-pen @serenanymph @late-to-the-fandom -- your words are fish, fancy, feeling, fuel, and float 🐠

Hi there!

Having whumpee OCs of your own often means having a preferred way of whumping for the each one. Sometimes it's not planned, not deliberate - just a feeling these kinds of suffering fit them right.

If this sounds relatable for you, which whump tropes each one of your OCs usually get? Which ones are just made for them?

Ooooh, this is a good question!

Adelie: exhausted, bloody, and bruised, knowing that no matter what she does, she cannot save someone in a given situation, and blaming herself for it.

Melody: being confined or bound, especially small rooms/fear of her whumper no longer being imprisoned

Cat: having to watch as someone he loves is hurt, helpless to stop it

Travis: the people he loves being hurt mere hours after he left them, but being too far away to do anything

Nora updated her bio on twitter and she listed out her books (TFC, TRK, TKM and Elysium)- i know what they are but what the hell is TSC? Any ideas? 🤨

Any clues?

New book?

At the moment, we don't know what TSC is!!

Some are speculating it could be a fourth AFTG book, some think (due to some tweets Nora made recently about finding songs that fit Jean and Jeremy's characters) that it might be a new spin-off book/series focusing on jerejean. Others think it might be a new, completely unrelated series altogether.

Personally, I am keeping my expectations low! I would LOVE for it to be a new book focusing on Jean's story and/or making jerejean canon, but the evidence for that is mostly just conjecture at this point. I would much rather be delightfully surprised than terribly disappointed if it turns out to be something other than what I had expected.

I also doubt it will be a continuation of Neil's story, and frankly if it is in the aftgverse I doubt it will follow the Foxes much at all. I'm fairly certain (though don't quote me on this bc I haven't read most of the EC myself) Nora had previously talked in her EC about how there were the beginnings of a fourth book at one point, but that she decided to scrap it because she was already happy with the series' existing ending.

At this point, there is a lot we don't know. What we do know is that Rainbow Crate is teasing us with special edition hardcovers of the English versions, planned for release in early 2024. It's possible Nora's breadcrumbs are related to that, and it's possible that they are not. It's too soon to really speculate much yet. Only time will tell!

Oh I am SO late to this.

“She sobbed again—and slipped into the black.”

@imaginativemind29new @jay-avian

Thank you for the tag @regalserpent !!

Post the last sentence you wrote (fanfic / original / anything) and tag as many people as there are words in the sentence

This is from The Sea is in Her Blood:

She felt her dispassionate façade crumble. “What?”

Tagging (with no pressure): @groundhog-day-party , @elrallin , @author-a-holmes , @eriquin , @amewinterswriting , @clairelsonao3 , @sender-paulson

15 Questions (Adelie edition)

Thank you @oh-no-another-idea for the tag! This was so fun! I got like, kind of carried away…

Cat settled across from her on the rooftop, grinning, copying her to sit half crossed legged, one foot dangling off the edge. The city was a hundred stories below, and quiet under the wind.

She ran a hand through her hand. “Get on with it, then.”

He grinned wider.

Are you named after anyone?

“You don’t even know my name, she pointed out.”

He watched, expectant.

“I couldn’t tell you,” she admitted.

Cat squinted slightly. “Your mother?”

Adelie shrugged one shoulder.

“She’s not exactly capable of answering that.”

“Odd way to describe someone who’s dead.”

She shot him a look, and he raised his hands as if backing off. He pantomimed writing something a journal, nodding his head.

She was going to shove him off the roof.

When was the last time you cried?

“I don’t cry.”

Cat scoffed. “Now that’s a lie. You cried last week.”

“You stole a can of tear gas off a riot cop and threw it at me.”

“Right, but there were tears.”

She expected him to move on, but he didn’t, eyeing her expectantly.

She grimaced.

“Two days ago.”

“Training?”

“Yeah.”

He hummed, writing on air once more.

Do you have kids?

“Cat, I’m seventeen.”

“Hey now Sunshine, I don’t judge life choices.”

“I’m pretty sure you judge all of my life choices.”

“Not true. I just find the heroism boring.”

“Thanks, Cat.”

Do you use sarcasm?

“I don’t know, do you?”

Cat grinned.

“I’m asking the questions.”

“Good for you.”

“Sunshine—“

“I love you.”

He blinked at her for a moment.

“For a hero, you’re quite vicious, you know that?”

This time, she grinned. “Why do you think the media wants us to be a couple, hm?”

What's the first thing you notice about people?

“Generally wether or not they’re trying to kill me.”

“How boring.”

“Sorry, next time I’ll focus on their hair so they have a nice opportunity to stab me.”

Cat put a hand to his chest as if wounded.

“I only tried to stab you once.”

“How kind of you,” she said drily.

What's your eye color?

At this, she paused.

“I’m…not sure.”

Cat stilled, too.

“You don’t know what color your eyes are?”

She tipped her head, trying for nonchalance as her mouth went dry.

“Not everyone is as obsessed with themself as you are, Cat.”

He said nothing for a moment.

“Green,” his voice was rough. He pulled out his imaginary paper again, avoiding her face. “Your eyes are green.”

Scary or happy endings?

“I don’t like any endings.”

“Not even the happy ones?”

“Those aren’t real.”

He sighed. “I hate your father.”

“Well yeah, he’s a superhero, you’re a villain. That’s the whole point.”

“That’s not why.”

“Cat,” she said lowly, and once again, he dropped it.

Any special talents?

Her fingertips began to glow slightly, and she had to shake her hand to make them stop. Cat watched, amused.

“Trouble?”

“None, thanks,” she said breezily, and he laughed.

“So, the light…”

“It’s energy.”

“From…”

“My hatred for you.”

He batted his eyes.

“Awww, you’re so sweet”

“You’ve got three seconds before I push you off this roof.”

Where were you born?

“Probably here. Kind of attached to the city.”

“All work no play.”

“I find great joy in throwing you through walls, thank you.”

He winced slightly.

What are your hobbies?

“Saving people.”

“Not a hobby.”

“What are you, the hobby police?”

He shrugged. “I could be. You don’t know.”

She rolled her eyes.

“Punching you.”

“That’s also under the umbrella of saving people. What, do you not knit or something.”

“Do you think I have time for knitting?”

He nodded sagely. “There’s always time for knitting.”

She groaned. “Truce Sundays. That’s my hobby.”

“Your hobby is eating junk food once a week on top of a skyscraper where we are forbidden from murdering one another.”

“Yep.”

Have you any pets?

She looked at him, and he frowned at her.

“I don’t count.”

“Aww, but Cat—“

“I’ll throw you off this roof right now—“

“Well, now who’s the mean one—“

“Literally it’s always been me, I’m the villain—“

“Someone’s throwing a hissy fit—“

“Genuinely go get hit by a rocket launcher or something—“

“I survived the last time that happened so really—“

“I hate you.”

“Ditto,” she said, but they were both smiling.

What sports do you play/have played?

“Volleyball.”

Cat looked like he was prepared to tell her heroism wasn’t a sport, and stopped, mouth half open.

“What?”

“Volleyball,” she said with amusement.

“You play volleyball,” he repeated, slightly stunned.

“Good for the reflexes.”

“Uh huh,” his brow furrowed. “Volleyball.”

“You know, with the net—“

“I know what volleyball is Sunshine.”

How tall are you?

“Why would I know that?”

“I mean, I can tell you right now that you’re short.”

“Oh fuck you—“

“Like 5 feet 4 inches MAX.”

“You’re an asshole.”

“And according to the media, you’re dating me.”

“For fucks sake will you let that go.”

He smirked.

“Have I finally brought the cursing out of you?”

“Fuck you.”

He laughed, delighted.

Favorite subject in school?

“Fighting.”

“Not a subject.”

“English.”

“Good job, you picked a normal people school subject.”

“You say that like you weren’t also raised by a powered person.”

“Well yeah but mine isn’t a douche—“

“Cat.”

“Fine, fine.”

Dream job?

“I’m doing it.”

Cat put down his imaginary paper, face serious.

“Sunshine.”

“Cat,” she mimicked.

“This cannot be your dream job.”

“I help people,” she defended. His brow wrinkled.

“No, you almost die.”

“But I help them,” she repeated, and he shook his head.

“Being a superhero shouldn’t be anyone’s dream.”

“And being a super villain should be?”

He lowered his gaze to the city.

“I didn’t say it was.”

She paused, frowning.

“But you’re—“

“You’re not the interviewer, Sunshine,” he interrupted.

She pursed her lips.

“You can’t just say something like that—“

“I can and I will.”

He looked to her, and that smile was back again.

“How many news articles do you think they’ll publish this week about us dating. Superhero’s daughter and supervillain’s son, star crossed lovers!”

“If I’m lucky, none,” she said.

He stood up, and winked at her.

“The only time you get lucky is when you see my face.”

“Cat—“ she cursed, and he laughed as he vanished in a snap of shadow.

Alrighty, time for tags! (No pressure of course) @jay-avian @imaginativemind29new @clairelsonao3