#150+ words

[snarkspawn]

in case you were wondering, mentally I am still here

[sunshinem0ths]

tamsyn muir putting a bunch of interesting worldbuilding stuff immediately at the end of gideon the ninth to soothe me after irrevocably destroying my life like putting a pacifier in a wailing infant's mouth

[jackmanifold-daily]

how do the jack manifold daily mods all feel about the 2024 c!jack lore

yeah pretty good

[silverskye13]

“Only to a select few people,” Tanguish smiled fondly, giving Tango’s boot a gentle kick. He huffed a breath, and braved meeting Welsknight's eyes. The steely, diamond-blue felt like it gave off its own chill in the icy cavern. “So, knight, do you want help or not?”

It was a long, awkward walk.

These are the kinds of scene transitions I live for.

Chapter Word Count so far: 1533

[novasintheroom]

101. Smile

♡ Pairing - Vash x Reader

♡ Word count - 0.7k

♡ Warnings - none

♡ Description: Vash notices your different smiles.

Part of the 150 Bullets drabble series on AO3

You have different smiles for different people.

Take now, for instance. Your polite smile to the barmaid – it’s subdued, meant to convey pleasantness, and wanting to cause no trouble. The girl gives back the same kind of smile. Business as usual. She takes your order and gives Vash a wink before sauntering off to place it.

Your smile morphs into a cheeky grin. You wiggle your eyebrows. “Oh, I think she likes you,” you say, taking a drink of your water. But he sees the way your lips twitch, wavers at the corners. You do that a lot; you play off what you’re feeling for a sense of nonchalance.

That won’t do. He leans forward, lowering his voice. “You think? Maybe we can get a free dessert out of her if I play my cards right.”

Your smile is fuller now. There’s a spark of playfulness in your eyes. “Just don’t do too much; we need a lava hot cake, not a broken heart.”

He sighs and clucks his tongue. “Well, there go my plans.” He grins, your foot kicking his leg in reprimand.

Vash watches you that evening. He’s always watching you, even when he tries not to. You’re just…you’re something. And watching your lips quirk up or down or to the side is…addicting. More than he’s ever experienced. You give dazzling smiles to the men who wander up and make small talk at the bar (so much for not leaving broken hearts). Sweet smiles to the staff. You give him smiles too, just as wonderful and varied.

But he’s waiting for it. The Smile.

He’s tried figuring out what makes it come out. His jokes aren’t it. Neither are his compliments to your outfit or hair, though he is rewarded with a lovely blush. No, it’s something he hasn’t put his finger on yet. A mystery he desperately wants to solve.

And it comes at the strangest time tonight.

You’re both walking back to your camp outside town, too broke to afford the inn for the night. It’s quiet. The two of you are exhausted, both from your traveling and social hour at the saloon. But you’re happy, and he’s a little tipsy.

“Ninety-eight bottles of beer on the wall, ninety-eight bottles of beer! Take one down, pass it around, ninety-seven bottles of beer on the wall!” He tries to skip along, stumbling this way and that. At one point he circles back to you and nearly bowls you over.

You laugh, curling an arm around his middle and helping him trip along. “You are too much sometimes.”

“I’d say I’m just the right amount, whaddya mean…” He pushes it, leaning into you heavily without making you fall. He grins when you grunt at his weight. “Ooooohhhh, ninety-seven bottles of beer on the wall, ninety-seven bottles of beer! Take one – uhp – “ He twirls too fast and feels his stomach heave.

You pat his back as he gags to the side. “This. This is what I mean.” You laugh. “I don’t know how you ever made it back to camp or an inn room before when you get like this.”

He spits on the ground and rubs his lips. “Well, I’ve got a pretty girl to help me out now, y’know? Can’t do much without you.”

And there it is.

The Smile.

It’s gentle, curling. Like a warm sunray that wakes you up in the morning. Vash suddenly feels very sober under its gaze. He straightens, watching in muted awe of it. What makes him so giddy? It’s only meant for him. He knows. He knows it’s his Smile, and his alone. You’ve never given it to anyone else. A small treasure only he gets to keep.

The Smile fades under his scrutiny. “What?”

He shakes his head and puts an arm around your shoulders, tugging you along back to camp. You fit snugly at his side, like you belong there. Maybe you do. “Nothing. You just have a great smile.”

[mityenka]

it's kind of insane to me how people write things like that. marxism was not invented on tumblr during the last 2 years. like oh you know there's this book actually.... and this other book....

[walkswithmyfather]

Psalm‬ ‭150:1‭-‬6‬ ‭(NIV‬‬). “Praise the Lord. Praise God in his sanctuary; praise him in his mighty heavens. Praise him for his acts of power; praise him for his surpassing greatness. Praise him with the sounding of the trumpet, praise him with the harp and lyre, praise him with timbrel and dancing, praise him with the strings and pipe, praise him with the clash of cymbals, praise him with resounding cymbals. Let everything that has breath praise the Lord. Praise the Lord.”

“Everything That Has Breath Shall Praise”

“Make it your daily habit to look for the good things God gives and does.”

“The desire to give praise is hardwired in the human spirit—it’s an impulse we can’t ignore. And as Christians, we’re called to direct that tendency to the One who made us. The apostle Peter says it like this: “You are a chosen people, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a people for God’s own possession, so that you may proclaim the excellencies of Him who has called you out of darkness into His marvelous light” (1 Peter 2:9).

It’s a beautiful truth that we are God’s own people—created, chosen, and called by Him to live a life of praise, both on our own and with other believers. In Psalm 34, David says, “I will bless the Lord at all times; His praise shall continually be in my mouth” (Psalm 34:1). However, he’s not content to be a solo act. He exhorts other believers to join him: “Exalt the Lord with me, and let’s exalt His name together” (Psalm 34:3).

So let’s praise Him at church on Sunday morning and on our front porches at sunset—when we start the workday and each evening as we lie down to rest. Also, let’s remember to praise Him not only for what He has done but also for the excellency of His character. God truly is worthy of our adoration!”

[polarf0x]

Welcome Home

[badgopher]

"Saturdays by Twin Shadow (feat. HAIM)" is how I've mentally started every post I've made here on a Saturday for the past however many years that song's been out.

I decided I needed bath bombs so I set out to do that and only realized my error when I saw the traffic control person as soon as I turned into the mall. On the Saturday before Christmas. lol

My upstairs neighbor moved out a month ago so I no longer hear about their sex life through my ceiling. My next door neighbor moved out last week so I no longer have to wear my active noise cancelling earplugs to muffle their snoring. It’s quieter around here, but the hot water takes longer to find my tap in the morning.

I deleted a whole chapter about that computer case. You’re welcome.

Never did end up doing Christmas cards this year. I’ve got mixed feelings about that.

I want to do a bunch of dumb end of year data analysis things, but I have to pull a bunch of data to do it, and that’ll take me like a dozen minutes, and that's like a dozen minutes that I could spend not doing that thing. You see my dilemma. Stay tuned, I guess?

I’m the only one on my team not scheduled off on Monday and I think Tuesday next week (and, actually, most of the next 2 weeks). It’s easy enough to keep Teams active and my work email open while I tinker on side quests.

The checkout person at LUSH is always like “oh, are these a gift?” as I unload 9 bath bombs from my basket, as if they don't get many solo middle aged dudes stocking up on bath bombs on Saturday afternoons.

Turns out I miscounted and have 1 too many bath bombs so I’m taking a bath about it.

[becca-alexa]

because who can when eddie's involved

this big boy loves to help you i can't even with this-

this man reads signals like a colorblind dog at a traffic light

and a BONUS STEVE

because you're eddie's princess but you're steve's baby

HUGE MASSIVE THANK YOU TO @munsonmecrazy FOR SUGGESTING THESE i just couldn't resist they were so good i just picked my favorites 💗 I HOPE YOU LIKE THESE 💗💗💗💗

[da-birb-writes-sometimes]

🪿🪿🪿🪿Dove! 🤌👏🫰 ayoooo

I’m here for the followes event —

I’d like to yhhh request prompt #3 with Jade :] 🔪

It can be fluffy/hurt/comfort honestly whichever you’re feeling (I know sometimes the writing does what it wants once you get into it lol)

Backup prompt: #4

Backup characters: Malleus, Riddle

Thankfuho you (I just wokeu p and can’t type to spell but whatever I’m just leaving it ❤️)

Discovering Old Secrets; Jade Leech

Content; Fluff, gender-neutral reader, implied romantic relationship

Word Count; 700+

Author's Note; I originally had something else in mind that used the knife emoji but my brain wasn't braining. But this, this is so much better and fluffier than I had planned /positive.

As a reminder, do not put my work — or others for that matter — into AI as it steals. Link to Masterlist

You were down in the basement, lantern in hand illuminating the way. The power had gone out, and of course, the fuse box was in the basement of all places. Sevens forbid the person who built the cottage you were staying in actually put it in an easy-to-access spot. Nope! They had to put it in the creepy, old, basement. And since Jade was out getting groceries, that left you to fix it yourself. So, lantern in hand, you started fiddling with the fuse box, trying to find the one that had blown. At least you had some prior experience, what, living in Ramshackle and all; you had become well acquainted with getting stubborn fuses to work for you, even jokingly calling it your unique magic. 

“Come on, work for me baby,” you muttered, and all of the lights flickered to life once again. “Ha ha! Me? One! Fuse box? Zero!” You dusted yourself off and looked around the basement, now that you could see everything.

Apparently the people who rented this place out didn’t take out all of the old owners’ boxes, and they were just laying there collecting dust and cobwebs. There couldn’t be any harm in just taking a tiny peak, never know what you could find.

As you were gently looking through the boxes — hey, they’re probably old and you didn’t want to accidentally break anything — you heard the front door open and close. Jade was back which meant you had been digging for a bit. Sighing, you stretched, and made your way to the kitchen with its bright yellow cupboards. 

Jade hummed you a greeting and chuckled a bit at seeing the dust. “What did you get into while I was away, dear,” his voice was teasing, but he was genuinely curious.

“Welllll,” you drawled, “the power went out so I had a little fight with the fuse box, I won by the way, and discovered some old boxes down in the basement and was seeing if they held anything interesting.” A loud sneeze escaped from you, a result of all of the dust. “But all I found was a tonne of dust, way too many spiders for my liking, and,” you fished around in your pocket, “this key.”

Jade set the groceries down and came over to inspect it. “Well that’s rather interesting…” he murmured. “May I?”

You handed him the key, curious about what he seemed so interested in. Sure it was pretty, made from silver and inlaid with abalone and pearls, which were now weathered with time. There must have been a good reason why it peaked his interest.

Jade wandered into the living room, and started running his hand under the shelves of the large bookcase which was built in the wall. And then he stopped, a proud and large smile gracing his face. He placed the key into a divot in the bookcase, and it swung inwards, revealing stone steps leading down. “Looks like you just helped discover an old secret, my dear,” he chuckled, beckoning you to follow him down the stairs.

Slowly, you followed him, the light from the cottage helping to illuminate the way, as well as a pale blue glow from below. And then you stopped, having reached the bottom. In front of you was what looked like an underwater sea cave, with a shallow beach. And light gently filtered from a small hole at the top, causing the blue glow that you saw.

You looked over to Jade, hoping for an explanation, but you found him looking at you instead, expression soft.

“What did you mean by old secrets,” you whispered, not wanting for something louder to break the serene scene.

Jade took your hands in his and led you to the water, just deep enough where the water lapped against your calves. “The key you found, this place,” he briefly broke eye contact so he could observe the cavern before they travelled back to you. “It opens a secret meeting place, where land and sea can live together… it was forged by the love of a human and a merfolk.”

Just like us. 

Jade continued moving deeper until you were chest deep in the water, and he dived under, changing into his merform before coming back up. “And is only discovered by those curious enough to pursue it.”

~~~~~~~

Tags; @aqua-beam @azulashengrottospiano @eynnwwyjth @hisui-dreamer @identity-theft-101 @krenenbaker @officialdaydreamer00 @savanaclaw1996 @silvers-numberonefan @twistwonderlanddevotee @xxoomiii

[luxurybrownbarbie]

People are so annoying about holding grudges. “It drains your energy and slowly poisons you!” No it doesn’t. It costs me absolutely nothing and it actually sustains me.

[so-very-small]

giant who traps me in a shoebox with a very tiny typewriter and does not let me out until i edit and complete that one fic i finished writing a year ago but never revised or posted

[veliseraptor]

ok ok inspired by the recent success of the three sentence meme going to try my regular pre-flight 150 words meme. aka send me a number from the list of fics below and I will write 150 words in that fic

1. Pete sat down on the floor. Porsche, hovering, gave him a worried look. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing,” Pete said, then adjusted, “sitting.” 

“I can see that,” Porsche said. “Are you okay?”

Pete laughed. “No,” he said. He didn’t know when he was going to be okay again.

“Um,” Porsche said. After a couple seconds he sat down on the floor with Pete and put an awkward hand on his shoulder. “Do you, uh, want to talk about it?”

“No,” Pete said again. He didn’t know what he would even say, if there was anything to say. He was so tired and it felt like any minute now Vegas was going to die again, and he was just waiting for it to happen. (reduce, reuse, recycle)

2. “Can I ask you something?” Xiao Xingchen asked. Xue Yang glanced in his direction, fingers pausing on his keyboard.

“Sure,” he said. “Sounds ominous. Hit me.”

“It’s nothing bad,” Xiao Xingchen said. “I was just wondering if you remember what you said when we first met.” Xue Yang had said no before, in the hospital, but it’d clearly been a lie then. He was hoping maybe the answer would be different now. Xue Yang made some kind of face, but it was hard to read. 

That, Xiao Xingchen thought absently, was one of the things he was going to miss most: the ability to see Xue Yang’s face and read his expressions. Not just because he liked looking at him, but because it was going to get even harder to tell what he was thinking. (Redux)

3. Which brought him here, in a room with a dirty, scruffy boy of indeterminate age (a skinny fifteen, maybe), his hands tied behind his back and an expression of casual unconcern on his face. Unconcern, except for the dangerous glint in his eyes that Jin Guangyao was going to be careful not to forget.

“I didn’t say to restrain him,” he said to the disciples who’d brought him back. He hadn’t, to be precise, told them to bring him at all, but there was no point in saying so now.

“He tried to attack me,” said one of them. 

“After you got in my face,” the boy said. “You deserved it.” (jgy teaches xy to read)

4. Oh, no, Pete thought again, but with a little more despair this time.

“Take Pete,” Khun Kinn said.

Vegas’s gaze swept to Pete, flicked slowly over him from head to toe. “Isn’t he one of Tankhun’s?” he said. “He won’t be thrilled that you’re loaning out his bodyguard to me.”

“That’s not your problem.”

“Considering Tankhun,” Vegas said, “it actually might end up being my problem.” (the devil drives)

5. That slight hitch. A correction. The muscles between Fenris’s shoulders tensed and he thought abruptly, disjointedly, of a red-haired woman sitting at a table in the Hanged Man, the sudden realization…

“Anders,” he said. The mage barely glanced at him, seeming distracted.

“That big thing in the sky is scarier,” said the young girl. She, unlike her father, was looking at Fenris. “I heard it’s full of demons that’re trying to come out. What’re those lines on your skin, mister?” 

“They’re tattoos,” Fenris said. His limbs felt heavy. He glanced toward his sword, three paces away. “Meant to imitate Dalish vallaslin.” He hadn’t meant to say that. Something was wrong. “Anders,” he said again.

Anders was looking at his hands and frowning. “Bloody hell,” he said. “Where did you find magebane?” (the best all lack conviction)

6. Malkar meant it when he’d said he was going to demand a lot of me. He said if I wanted to be a hocus - wizard - nobody could know where I came from. “Do you think the Mirador will welcome a whore from Pharoahlight?” he asked me. “No one must ever know where you came from. They’d throw you out on the streets. Now tell me about the Curia again, and for god’s sake, mind your vowels.” 

And when I didn’t do well enough, fast enough, there were always consequences.

“This is how you learn, Felix,” Malkar said while I was shaking on hands and knees at his feet. He bent down and took my chin and tilted my head back so I was looking up at him, but he was gentle about it now. “It is for your own good.” (Pygmalion)

7. “Why are you so eager,” Song Lan asked. Xue Yang laughed, his smile turning sharper, a little less pleased.

“Why wouldn’t I be? A chance to help these poor people. Wouldn’t miss it.” Song Lan waited silently, and Xue Yang’s eyes cut away. “I’m curious, Song-daozhang,” he said. “Is there something wrong with that? Walking around with you and your judgmental glare gets boring. Give me a problem to chew on, a mystery to figure out, something.” (Walking Far From Home)

8. “Tell me...tell me how we met,” Xiao Xingchen said.

A brief pause that made Xiao Xingchen’s stomach swoop with sudden unease. “What,” his friend said lightly, “did you forget that, too?” 

“I’m…” Xiao Xingchen wasn’t sure if he should apologize or not. He tried to remember, even if thinking made his head hurt, searching through his jumbled thoughts. Something about the smell of blood? A fragment of thought: at least I might be able to fix this.  “You were hurt,” he said, half a question.

“Uh huh,” his friend said. “That’s good.”

“And I found you,” Xiao Xingchen said, a little more confidently. “Helped you.” (xiao xingchen + concussion)

[reborrowing]

really tho someone stuff me in a jar with some paper scraps and maybe some kind of encouragement, don’t let me out until I’ve written something because I cannot get myself to focus for more than a minute

[isdalinarhot]

today is day 20 of being sober and in those 20 days I’ve only written about 3k words of wasp cup. As compared to the 8k words I was averaging during the same time span when I was writing drunk. Uuuuuuuuugh