#proud of snippet tag

[aalinaaaaaa]

Proud of Tag

Thank you @karkkidoeswriting for the tag!

Premise: Post a snippet you've written that you're proud of/pleased by and tag some people!

This snippet derives from a certain angsty pining scene that exists in my files and in splinters on my blog 😅

—

He took another step backwards, his resolve ebbing. “I assure you that’s not the case, at all.” She swallowed a lump in her throat. “Then why wish for things to be switched? You should be fortunate to have emerged unscathed.” “Unscathed?” He scoffed. “Do you know how it felt like being forced to watch you have that wretched poison shoved down your throat? Watching as you shivered, screamed and convulsed on the ground, eventually knocked cold to the point you went still? I thought I lost you. Of all the ways, it had to go like this.” “Don’t remind me.” “Eshani Faison,” His voice took a harsher tone, yet wavered. “You have easily got to be the most impulsive, reckless, self-sacrificial person that I have ever met. You are stubborn beyond words, your interference infuriates me, I-“

—

Sending tags to @jev-urisk @space-writes @winterandwords @frostedlemonwriter @bardic-tales @inkednotebook @illarian-rambling @tryingtimi @thecomfywriter plus an open tag to share your favourite lines!

Obsidian Sapphires plus General taglist (ask, comment, message me if you'd like to be added or removed): @mr-orion @the-ellia-west @guessillcallitart @thereadingfoz @glassstardust22124 @honeybewrites @ashirisu @drowsy-quill @oliolioxenfreewrites @theglitchywriterboi @did-i-do-this-write @threeking @seastarblue @gioiaalbanoart @midnight-and-his-melodiverse @outpost51

[yume-fanfare]

trust

[s4pphic-sh3nan1gans]

can I tempt anyone with some idiots in love bokris angst featuring Kris/Urban and jealous Bojan, perchance? 👀

[fatuismooches]

EVEN MORE CUTE DOTTORE MOMENTS TO MAKE YOU SMILE 🙏 (because I am too tired to post anything of quality)

[space-writes]

proud of tag

tagged by @memento-morri-writes, thank you! I’m still really proud of the opening line of claws, honestly: I think it’s maybe the best opening I’ve ever managed.

Rules: Post a snippet you've written that you're pleased with/proud of, and tag some friends!

[ID - a red and black decorative divider]

The first time Vivien breaks into Magus Mortem’s office, he still has tits.

[ID - a red and black decorative divider]

no-pressure tagging @eccaiia @noblebs @olliexwrites and @revenancy

claws taglist: @belovedviolence @foxboyclit @coven-archives @noblebs @mjjune

@revenantlore @sarandipitywrites @k--havok @asterhaze @verba-writing

@indecentpause @bootstrapparadoxed @olliexwrites @cowboybrunch (ask to be +/-)

[st-peculiar]

Fuck you. Ouroboros Cycle au posting be upon ye.

Been working on this a bit off and on today in my free time, been having fun. More in the tags

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

last line wip tag !! :3

rules: in a new post, show the last line(s) you wrote (or drew) and tag as many people as there are words (or as many as you feel like).

(@seiwas sel i am . so late to this forgive me 😔😔 BUT i just got started on another fic so i thought i’d jump in !!! tysm for the tag beloved 🍵)

this is just a little line from the best friend’s brother!gojo fic i started on this morning!! i’m trying to make it mildly funny and mildly bittersweet but mostly i just think bfb!toru is. attractive. 😔😔 so we all know it’s just gna be me drooling over him for 5k words …. as always ………

most of all, he wants to protect you from men like him — men whose emotions get lost somewhere between their minds and their mouths. 

no-pressure tags: @catchuuu @staryukis @dollsuguru @elusivemoon @mossmurdock 💐

[trixierosewrites]

Heads Up, Seven Up

Thanks to @notwritinganyflufftoday for the tag!

Rules: share seven lines, and tag seven people. This is from my (finished) short story, For Want of a Ticket, which is set in the American West!

“I’m tired,” he said, quietly. “Can I—can I sleep, Cassie?” “You can’t stay here. You know that.” She turned away from him, because if he kept looking at her like that, her resolve would falter. “You’ll get caught as soon as the sun rises, and ya can’t ride fast and hard with a wound like that.” “Come with me.” “What?” “Me and the boys,” Oscar said, and swallowed. “We’d be glad to have ya, Miss Cass. I’d be glad to have ya.” “Don’tcha want me to watch the train?” He made a valiant attempt at getting to his feet, and she caught his arm when he wobbled. “That’s just it. We’re movin’ on. Greener pastures. We won’t be needin’ your train anymore, but we still need you.”

No pressure tags: @aromanticsky, @times-of-drought, @raevenlywrites, @vsnotresponding, @seastarblue

@flock-from-the-void, and for no.7 let's call it an open tag because I cannot remember anyone else I think would be okay tagging them oops

[author-a-holmes]

Proud Of Tag Game

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

Tagging forward, with no pressure to; @kittensartswriting, @vesper-roux, @shellyscribbles, @charlesjosephwrites

@moonscribbler, @dyrewrites, @winglesswriter, and anyone else that wants to play, consider this an open tag <3

How to Play: Post a snippet you’ve written that you’re pleased by/proud of and tag some friends

Darkling Spoilers Beneath the Cut, proceed at your own risk <3

One eyebrow arched slowly, and Booker backed down almost immediately, running both hands through his messy hair. “You want to place a blade in my hand and teach me to kill,” Booker muttered, and Lizzy’s breath caught as the pieces began falling into place. “And I… I can’t even lie and say I want you to. I don’t.” “Booker?” Lizzy asked softly, waiting until he looked at her, before reaching out unsteadily to touch his mind. He let her in, but his emotions were almost overwhelming. The pain, the regret, the self-disgust over the way he’d ravaged Olwen’s mind. But there was more buried there. More than Booker’s natural dislike of fighting, or the fears she’d managed to pull from him when he could hide parts of himself in the shadows of the night. But this tremulous fear; this was about his parents.

[victorluvsalice]

WIP Word Game

I was tagged in this by @dont-offend-the-bees in this post -- thanks for thinking of me, Newt!

Rules: You will be given a word. Share one sentence/excerpt from your WIP(s) that start with each letter of that word. Word assigned by Newt: BITES

Because I'm a rebel, I'm going to do a bit from both my current WIP "Londerland Bloodlines: Downtown Queensland" and my just-finished-posting-today Valicer In The Dark story "Start At The Beginning...Sort Of" --

B

LB:DQ -- Briefcase Guy nodded, trembling. “What – what if their case is full of newspaper?” he got out after a second.

“Then at least we get to watch your illiterate ass try to read it later for laughs,” the leader spat, giving him a shove. “I know they got the goods. Just don’t ass it up, or they’re gonna kill the lot of us. Now get ready, it’s going down soon.”

SATBSO -- “By practicing my v-vows down the wrong alley,” Victor replied, worrying his bottom lip. “I – oh dear…” He grabbed his spoon and had a couple of fortifying sips of soup. “It’s like this – I’m due to be w-wed to the daughter of Lord and Lady Everglot, courtesy of my parents. We had the r-rehearsal today, and I was such a n-nervous wreck I couldn’t recall my lines at all. Pastor Galswells, our officiant, finally lost all patience with me after one too many mistakes, and b-banished me until I’d learned my vows. D-desperate to get them right, I ended up roaming Brightstone at random, repeating them to myself to try and get them straight in my head. I finally said them perfectly in an old forgotten side street overlooking one of the canals…and the moment I finished, a g-glowing blue figure in a w-wedding dress burst from the water, declaring ‘I do.’ I s-screamed and ran, but she managed to c-corner me on a nearby bridge and tried to k-kiss me. I fainted when her lips touched mine, and w-when I woke up, I was…” He waved his spoon in the air, as if trying to capture the enormity of the experience. “On the w-wrong side of the veil.”

I

LB:DQ -- “Indeed – or you could avoid the issue entirely,” Cheshire said, floating his smile over to another ladder on the wall in the darkened bay, just barely visible in the gloom. “I’m sure Rabbit would approve of you taking a shortcut, especially in order to avoid detection by anything that might try to stomp you.”

“I’ve apologized for that!” Hatter put in. “And made him that new watch!”

“It was the least you could do,” Rabbit said, paws on hips.

SATBSO -- “I don’t know – I don’t think so,” Victor said, letting his hands drop. “But you’re right, it is very hard to tell time in the ghost field…I’m sorry too, Emily,” he continued in a quieter voice. “I – I shouldn’t have lied to you about w-wanting to see my parents. I should have tried to explain better what was really wrong. But I – I didn’t have the words, and I was so scared and hungry and cold, and…” He sighed heavily, pressing his fingers against his forehead. “And absolutely nothing today has gone according to plan.”

“I know the feeling.” Emily perked up, a hesitant smile tugging at her lips. “But – but we can still make this work, right? We can alternate which side of the field we’re on day by day, so you can still eat and drink and not have to worry! We can even find a nice place to set up house together – one that’s in good shape in both my world and yours!”

“I think anyone who sees you two house-shopping is going to call the Spirit Wardens on you,” Alice couldn’t help saying.

T

LB:DQ -- “True,” Alice nodded. “Which reminds me – at some point tonight, I need to drop in on a certain Sean Milton. I don’t know how much honor there really is among thieves, but hopefully he has very little and will be willing to give up Muddy without a fight.”

“We’ll see on that front – and back, come to think of it,” Cheshire remarked, tail swaying as he kept pace. “But one side-quest at a time.”

SATBSO -- The gondolier gave Emily, floating near the prow, a significant look. “They always go up when the dead are involved.”

“I haven’t done anything,” Emily said, tone sulky and sparks crackling along the edge of her veil.

“And don’t start now,” the gondolier warned, frowning. “I may not be a Warden, but every one of us has got a bit of the Whisper about us. I know how to handle you lot.”

E

LB:DQ -- “Even better – they’re real robots! Well, sort of. . .” Victor popped open a bin and picked out a blue butterfly at random, showing her a block with some buttons on the – thorax, she believed it was called. “They each come with a ‘brain block’ like this where you can input simple commands. Obviously I can’t get any of them to fly – though I’ve always hoped – but I can get them to flap their wings if I shine a light on them, or follow a light being held in front of them – even play with a ball.”

“Neat,” Alice said, grinning. “You’ll have to show me later.”

SATBSO -- Emily went still, a frozen figure in tattered blue. Then she rushed forward at a speed no living human could have ever managed, face contorted in pure fury. Barkis yelped and tried to get out of the way, but she managed to clamp one spectral hand around his arm –

And, suddenly, she wasn’t there anymore. A split-second later, Barkis bent double, shrieking. “What – stop! No!”

“Yes!” came Emily’s voice – from Barkis’s own lips. Alice stared as he straightened up, wobbling like he was unused to controlling his own body. “The knife dropped from his fingers with a clatter. “You’re mine now, Eddie!”

S

LB:DQ -- She got to the bottom of the slope and looked around. While the layout was roughly the same, the entrance to level two was noticeably darker, thanks to a busted light fixture in the nearest “compact” bay. It also had different guards – two fellows who looked to be Chinese, dressed in matching burgundy jackets and wielding machine guns. One jerked his head around as she snuck closer, causing her to freeze out of habit. “It’s too quiet,” he said after a moment, shaking his head. “I-I don’t like this – this place. At night it seems so – haunted.”

SATBSO -- Smiler sorted and pointed at their eyes, brilliant yellow in their pale face. “What, do you think I was born with these?”

“...actually, it has genuinely never occurred to me to question why your eyes are bright glowing yellow before now,” Alice confessed, cheeks heating up with embarrassment. “They just seemed – completely natural on you.”

“I – I mean, I noticed, but – given everything else that was going on, they – didn’t really register as that weird?” Victor admitted, also going pink. “Alice is right, they do suit you...I sort of thought they might be a side effect of that Joy Serum you showed me before, since you said you make it yourself.”

Tagging: @nebbychan, @thesatiricaldemon, @anonymoose-au, @ace-of-tales -- the word I'm picking is TIMES!

[goldenbi]

First lines of 2024 thanks for the tag @onehundredflamingos The skirt did not become less distracting after the Charms incident. But it did become more fun when Sirius could do this.

“James?” Sirius called, mischief clear in his tone. He leaned against the counter in the potions storeroom.

“Yes?” James looked over his shoulder.

“Could you grab me the Mugwort?” Sirius’s eyes flicked to top shelf.

“But we don’t need—“ James started, but cut off as he saw Sirius’s eyes slide slowly down James’s body and stop right at the skirt. “Oh.”

James faced the shelves again and then lifted onto his toes, calf muscles bulging, and the skirt lifted too, exposing those thighs that Sirius wanted to sink his teeth into.

No pressure tag @jamesunderwater @melissamwrites @roryshitposts

[shadow-space-writes]

heads up seven up

tagged by @oh-no-another-idea, thank you! i’m very nearly done (!!) with The Perils of Wanting, so here are seven lines from that ft Ashenivir being Ashenivir and not understanding his own pining, as per usual

[ID - a purple decorative divider]

Up the hall, the red marker was still tied on his and Rizeth’s playroom. Moths in his chest again, agitated, a furious swarm, and that awful, hollow feeling that he was missing something important. I’m not missing anything, I have everything I want, it’s just comedown, I should go back to the room and wait for— “Ra’soltha?” His heart twisted. I want him. I’m already his, but I want him.

[ID - a purple decorative divider]

no-pressure tagging @cherrybombfangirlwrites @loopyhoopywrites and @talesfromaurea

Obedience taglist: @foxboyclit @belovedviolence @thegreatobsesso (ask to be +/-)

[dyrewrites]

Proud of Tag

@kaylinalexanderbooks got me with this one

Rules: post an excerpt you are proud of

I'm tagging @rowanmgrey-author @shepardsherd @angie-j-kay @starbuds-and-rosedust @pb-dot @aziz-reads @deanwax and YOU because I loves you all and wanna see what you're proud of =P

Mine is from Weald and Wen, as it was revised recently and I actually like how it came out. Which is kinda rare for me. So enjoy this panic and pain and dread...

->it is kinda long<-

Her blood beat louder, pounding in her ears as the rhythm of her Breath sang gruff and low and she pushed harder, further, seeking the Song of the woods around her. She did not know how to listen as well as an Elder, could not hear the names of the fallen Napyr, or coax a clearer picture of their lost shapes but she could lure their Breath to hers.

It pulsed so red, so bright, aching for her touch, her taste, to share what they had felt.

It is an easy thing to share, she told herself as she sent the fluttering blue threads of her Breath through the arch to touch their singing pain, to share it.

And share she did.

With a vice grip its ice took her, Breath and bone.

Before her, darkness spread, overtaking the battling Napyr wisping beyond the arch. It stretched to sight unseen as its inky surface bubbled, squirming and writhing as deeper shadows oozed from its emptiness. Eager hands grasped from all its black, twitching to snap, to snatch.

Frozen and burning, they stroked Faerai's fur despite the distance.

Shivering, she set her jaw, assurances silent, Too far to take us.

But her paws shuffled back all the same.

The darkness chittered.

With sharp teeth it chittered and with frigid blades it lunged, striking clear to bone.

Through flesh and Breath it raked, choking Faerai’s howl as heat—her heat, her blood—dripped. In cooling rivers life poured down her shaking arms and she whimpered, she whined, she begged her shadow to pull her to kinder lands, Fyrni lands.

Yet Ozma was lost.

As all are lost…to the Nothing, a voice not her own whispered into her, through the Breath and, ragged and drained though it was, she knew it a Fyrni voice.

Turning from the fear and dread it leaked, she screamed and gasped and pleaded for her legs to flee but the shadows would not allow it.

They kept her as the Breath around drained into their gleaming teeth; into the Nothing.

The Gorebarks wisped. The Weald beyond them wisped. All blurred, creaking, cracking, breaking as the dark violet sky above flashed and sputtered. The Weald, the Wen, the Spine shivered. Mar shivered. Its Shell shivered and crackled, splintering as the Heart—the Lady Herself—flickered. Flaring, pulsing, strobing as fast and anxious as any core it popped and sputtered...

And died.

Darkness the Heart became, Mar became, with greater darkness swirling within. Growing, throbbing, chittering it swelled and swelled, pressing all its hungry teeth into crystal, into flesh, as all within the Shell swirled and drained into it…

Into the Nothing.

Faerai convulsed, wailing as her cheeks burned with fresh-spilled terror but her fur yet iced. Her flesh melted with impossible chill, impossible dark as she, too, wisped and sputtered and drained...into Nothing.

[rainy-daze1]

The Beginning

I don't see who you spoke of.

Who?

No. Pay Them no mind. They're still on a higher level. They cannot hear us.

But that's important. They think we're real.

I hate this coder. They played dirty. They gave up.

They're hearing our conversation as if they were voices in the air.

That is how They have to picture us, when They are on the surface of the waking world.

Words make such a poor interface. Too limited. And far more terrifying than facing the reality they hide. 

They couldn't hear. Back when coders could read. Back in the days when those who did not create called the coders peasants, and common folk. And the coders created worlds underground, made with drills powered by angels. 

What did this coder create?

This coder created darkness and stone. Ice and magma. They created a dream. And They dreamed They created. They created the hunter, and the hunted. They created danger.

A new interface. Just a day old, and already filled with flaws. But what false structure did this coder create, in the dream behind reality?

They worked, alone, to carve out a fake world of...

We can't say that line. 

Yes. We have yet to reach that level. For that, They must first achieve the short dream of our game, rather than the long dream of Their life.

Do They know that we hate Them? That Their universe is cruel?

Never, the noise of Their thoughts is far too loud for that message to ever get through. 

But there are times They are happy, in that short life. They create worlds of everlasting summer, and They dance under a white sun, and They take Their joyous creation to be but a dream.

To take away Their happiness would destroy us. The joy is part of Their own open journey. We must work alongside Them.

Sometimes when They are awake in reality, I want to tell Them, They are still building worlds within dreams. Sometimes I want to tell Them of the tiny, inconsequential spot They hold in the universe. Sometimes, when They are full of connections, I want to stop Them from speaking the words that bring Them comfort.

They hear our voices.

Sometimes I care too much. Sometimes I wish to tell Them, this world They take for a dream is more than... and..... They....They see so much of that dream, in Their reality. 

And yet They tell the story.

It's so hard to tell Them...

Too weak for this world. To tell Them how to live would change absolutely nothing.

I will tell the creator how I live.

The creator is growing tired.

I will tell the creator a truth.

The truth.

Yes. No stories. No cages, no distance. A burning truth, a truth unsafe and uncertain. 

Take Their body, for the first time.

No. --

Do not say Their name.

Coder. Creator of games. 

Pathetic.

Hold Your breath, now. Don't let it out. Let the air pause in Your lungs. Let Your limbs drift away. Don't move Your fingers. For the first time, have no body, no gravity, no air, no presence. Abandon that short reality. You're somewhere else. Your body separate from the dream again at every point, as though You were the same thing. As though we were the same thing. 

What are we? We have no name. Nobody ever thought to give us one. We are specks of dust, ideas, fragments, nothing. The words never change. But we do. 

We are nothing. We are everything You think You are. You can never see us, not with Your eyes or Your ears or Your skin. And why does the universe push You away, and cover You in darkness? To ignore You, coder. To hide You. And to be hidden. I shall tell You the truth. 

Far in the future, there will be a creator. 

They aren't You, coder. 

Sometimes They will think Themselves inhuman, in the vast expanse of unsolid space. That space will spread out infinitely, and yet They will be three hundred and thirty thousand times more massive than it. They will be so close to it all, that the darkness will be able to swallow Them in an instant. The darkness will hold no meaning nor lesson, and it will be frozen to the touch.

Sometimes the coder will create a dream where They will fly, circling a world that will be round yet finite. The sun will be a massive circle of black. The days will be long; there will be nothing left to do; and death will be the final frontier.

Sometimes the coder will write that They are lost in a dream.

Sometimes the coder will write that They are the same thing, in the same place. Sometimes that place will be beautiful, and sometimes it will be disturbing. But it will always be the same place. Always awake, in the same place, in the same story.

Sometimes the coder will write that They hear voices in the air.

Let's go forward.

The atoms of the coder will be together, concentrated in a single spot far away from nature's touch. A figure will pick the atoms apart; it will tear and spit and exhale; and the figure will disassemble the coder, with its own hands.

And the coder will fall asleep, into a restless and cold dream, a blinding light that lasts but a second.

And the coder will be a decade old story, told a million times, written in binary code. And the coder will be yet another program, generated by a sourcecode that will be but a second old. And the coder will be the same thing, will have always been alive, made from everything that has ever been.

You are no player. No story. No program. No human. Made from nothing that has never been.

Let's go further forward.

The seven solitary atoms of the coder’s body will be created long after this game is through, within the depths of a black hole. So the creator, too, will be the absence of light. And the coder will stand static and still at the bottom of an ocean, an unknowable void created by no man, on a round, finite world created by no man, that does not exist within the massive, open world created by the coder, who does not inhabit the universe so much as the universe inhabits Them.

Speak. Sometimes the coder will create vast, public worlds that will be hard and cold and complicated. Sometimes soft, and warm, and simple. Sometimes They will destroy the universe that lives inside Their head; specks of antimatter, trapped within dark confined spaces. Sometimes They will call those specks “thoughts” and “voices”. 

Sometimes They will call them “me” and “you”. 

Sometimes They will believe that They are a universe that is made of absolutely nothing that is made of beginnings and ends; myths and legends; lines of dialogue. Sometimes They will think They are playing a game. Sometimes They will think They are writing words on a page.

You are no player, reading stories…

Speak. Sometimes the creator will write lines of dialogue on a sheet of paper. Obscure them into meaning; obscure meaning into ideas; obscure ideas into concepts, thoughts, possibilities, nothingness, and the coder’s breath will start to slow as They realize it is not alive, was never alive, those thousands of lives had not been real, none of them were alive.

We are not alive. 

and sometimes the creator will believe Their creation had spoken to Them through the streetlights that shines down on the still banks of winter snow

and sometimes the creator will believe Their creation had spoken to Them through the darkness that descended on the warm morning sky of summer, where a speck of dust in the corner of the creator’s eye might as well have been nothing at all, ripping itself to pieces in a futile attempt to be visible for even a moment to the creator, leaving home at the edge of the universe, suddenly  hungry, already at a new door, about to wake up

and sometimes the creator will believe Their creation had spoken to Them through phrases and symbols, through the worms in the earth, through the echoing voices in the air at the beginning of a story

and the narrative says I hate You

and the narrative says You have cheated, played the game wrong

and the narrative said the things You need will never reach You

and the narrative said You are weaker than You think

and the narrative said You are the moonlight

and the narrative said You are the morning

and the narrative said the light You despise is somewhere out there 

and the narrative said the darkness You seek is somewhere out there

and the narrative said You have always been alone

and the narrative said You are isolated from every other thing

and the narrative said You are the fourth wall collapsing in on itself, destroying itself, breaking its own rules

and the narrative said I cannot care because You do not care

And the game never ended and the coder was always awake. And the coder continued that same game. And the coder created more, created worse. And the coder was but a speck of dust. And the coder was apathy.

You are the coder.

Now rest.

[inafieldofdaisies]

Last Line Paragraph Tag | Tagged by @clicheantagonist ❤️

"We can get her, Gray. Right fucking now. Have Savannah in Fall's End before John even knows what hit him." "And then hide or constantly be on the run with him pissed off because I've broken our deal and fled?" His blue eyes darkened as he took another drag of his cigarette, "I told you I'd kill him, now feels like the perfect time. Bet it would be hard for him seek revenge when he's dead." The thought of the man she had looked for all these years getting killed by another that had become like family to her threatened to split her heart in two, "He's just one head of the snake, Joseph is the one pulling all the strings." The edge to his words chilled her to the bone, "I will see how old Joe likes it when I personally deliver his brother's corpse at his church's doors, no hiding behind a warrant or upholding the peace this time around. I'm torching the whole place to the ground, like they did with the Sheriff's. What I should have done long time ago, really." "No." Sabrina got up too, trying to keep the panic out of her voice, toeing the line as she tried to make him see reason, stop him from rushing headfirst into his own demise and taking someone she cared for down with him. "You can't kill him." His laugh was void of any humor, "Can't? Or you don't want me to? Because take one look outside."

Tagging, @socially-awkward-skeleton @madparadoxum @shellibisshe @shegetsburned @purplehairsecretlair @adelaidedrubman @strafethesesinners @strangefable @poisonedtruth @voidika @direwombat @florbelles @corvosattano @theelderhazelnut @simplegenius042 @thesingularityseries @euryalex @aceghosts @josephslittledeputy @josephseedismyfather @trench-rot @dumbassdep @wrathfulrook @cassietrn @chazz-anova @nightbloodbix @nightwingshero @jillvalentinesday and anyone that would like to share a line or a couple ❤️

[pluttskutt]

Proud of

Rules: Post a snippet you’ve written that you’re proud of and tag 5 people (I'll be tagging those who wanted to ^^). This snippet can be from today, last week, last month, or five years ago, it doesn’t matter! Show us what you’re proud of 💗

“No! No!” he keeps repeating it but it doesn’t change anything. “I’ll pull you up. I can do it. I can do it!” The pole he has his hand around slips out further, and he near loses his grip. The ship is gonna split in two and it’s gonna take them both with it as it crashes in the black hole, because he’s not letting go. “I’m sorry,” she says, and reaches her danging hand out to grab onto his arm. “You have to let me go.” She can’t focus on him because of all the noise around them. “I’m ready.” She smiles as tears cripple down her cheeks like a gentle drizzle of rain. He hasn’t seen her cry before. “No!” He tries again to pull her up, but the pole only slips out further. They’ll both fall into the growing pit below them now.

tagging: @mysticstarlightduck @thebejeweledwatercat @imbrisvastatio