#will i write a real snippet from it

[hrokkall]

Mama gave me music lessons,

now I play the saddest songs

[acerikus]

Had some thoughts for a postcanon au kinda thing with loop Becoming A Siffrin again and started writing out a little snippet of some ideas I've had about it. Putting Siffrin in a fresh new torment nexus for this one (cw for siffrin having A Big Breakdown but it's fairly canon typical)

[fruityumbrella]

knock knock i am here to menace you once again with next + marineford (or next + sugarspun... or both 🥺👉👈)

literally the opposite of a menace bc ive been stalled a little on both of these so this ask is a godsend

Luffy was his anchor. Zoro stopped drifting the day they met. Luffy took his hand, held him in place for the first time in almost a decade, and said you're with me, now. And Zoro followed. Would have followed forever. Beyond forever. Luffy is still his anchor. Zoro doesn't know how to move forward. Perhaps he just doesn't want to. It's so much easier to stay, to sink, to cling onto his wayward captain and follow him into the depths. It's not what Luffy would want, he knows that. He knows. The thought doesn't help as much as it ought to.

and sugarspun!

Sanji had no problem with that. He'd been trying to keep as much distance as possible between himself and Zoro since their last…encounter. Between the very finite distance available on the ship, the stress-memory of his time on the rock, and rationing out his remaining cigarettes in an attempt to not chain smoke the lot in two hours then jump overboard, Sanji is somewhat hanging on by a thread. If he has to interact with Zoro for more than a curt line at the dinner table, he's not sure Franky nor Chopper's expertise could salvage the wreck.

writing prompt!!

[number1villainstan]

Chisaki slows to a stop as the wall behind him lights up, four-year-old Eri turning to watch. He knows how this goes--he knows how to behave, how to listen, after years of trying to run and trying to study these strange shadow girls. And there are their shadows now, hush, Eri, the play is starting--

"Extra, extra, extra!"

"There's a dead baby bird on the side of the road! Oh dear poor thing, who could have done this to you?"

"Detective Vulture on the case! It seems that what we have here is a baby cowbird!"

"Cowbirds? Those birds that lay their eggs in other birds' nests?"

"Cor-rect! Which would mean that this little cowbird probably died when the momma of the nest its egg was laid in pushed it out to protect her own babies!"

"What a terrible momma! That poor chick was totally innocent!"

"Not at all! Would you want a parasitic baby in your nest, gobbling up all the food for your babies, pushing your own chicks out of the nest itself? That momma was perfectly justified!"

"Are you saying this is all the baby's fault??"

"Well, it certainly wasn't the momma's!"

"Then whose fault was it, mister detective?"

"The cowbird parents'," Chisaki says, squeezing Eri's hand with his own. "For abandoning their child."

--and the wall behind him loses its spotlight as the play ends.

[shardminds]

long time no see!!! but it is wip weds!!! azris edition!!!

Eris Vanserra’s cigarette hangs between his lips, hands curled around the end as if trying to block the wind, but it does jack shit for the dead lighter he’s trying to spark it with. Seems even riches don’t remind trust fund brats to refill their Zippo’s.

“Nice to see that money hasn’t changed you.”

Azriel holds his own between two fingers, an offering. It’s a half sized thing, so well used the patten’s been half rubbed away, leaving only smears of blue against the white plastic. He can’t bring himself to part with it. It had been a gift once.

Eris takes it and in two short clicks he’s taking his first quick drag, followed by a second, longer pull. It’s in the way his eyes slip shut and his shoulders relax, rounding out as he rolls the tension out of his neck. The performance of it all.

“You’re too old to be wearing leather.” He says. Azriel doesn’t even flinch at it.

“You’re too old to be playing boy toy at your daddy’s yacht parties.”

His laugh is effortless, practiced. Sharp in all the right places. It’s business, and a part of Azriel — a part long thought dead — curls in disgust. It tears up through him like bile in his throat. If he sneers, Eris doesn’t let on. “And here I thought you liked to watch.”

[aria0fgold]

Omori was created for the sole purpose of protecting the dreamer, Sunny. Keep him from anything harmful, keep him from discovering the Truth, anything that can possibly hurt him. And Omori resolved to do so from start to finish, a mechanical clockwork of duty he had been enacting for 4 years. It’s so simple, and oh so easy for him.

Except, it wasn’t.

Not when he started gaining his own sentience, not when he started thinking for himself. Not when everything started to fall apart as he recalled all the past resets.

Arriving in Blackspace always mean one thing. The dreamer is close to discovering the Truth again. An area that is ever changing and never constant, with pitch black doors leading to cursed sights that Sunny buries deep in his mind, it’s something that Omori had gotten used to.

“Omori... You came back for me!”

It seems he had chosen a door leading to Basil’s one of many deaths. He’s used to it.

“Watermelons sure are delicious!“

He’s used to it.

“Summer vacation with friends was the best, wasn’t it?“

He’s used to it.

Walking to the far right, finding themselves in a room full of watermelons scattered about with Basil closely following behind in silence. He’d cut open every watermelon he sees for the key, the way out of the place. Until his cut was directed to Basil instead, turning it bits and pieces of a bloody watermelon staining the floor behind him. He didn’t look, and instead continued to cut the one in front of him, grabbing the key to hurriedly leave the place with pursed lips. Unbeknownst to him that he subconsciously bit his inner cheek, not too much so as to draw blood, but it is an action foreign to a boy with neither a will and emotion of his own. Supposedly.

Omori continued opening the other doors.

. . .

“Oh, thank goodness you’re here, Omori. I thought I was gonna be stuck here forever.“

Another impending death. Omori stared at Basil for a moment, trapped within a large cobweb. He easily gets him free with one slash.

“Phew... That feels so much better.“

He led the way just the same as he once did with the other one.

“You know... I think spiders are really misunderstood...” Basil started to talk again.

Omori merely listened in silence.

“There’s so many spiders here all of a sudden...“

They continued to walk again. Omori tightly clutched his knife. He’s feeling a certain emotion he has yet felt at all, he doesn’t know what to describe it as.

“Ack! They’re biting me!”

The feeling grew. What is it, what would the others describe it as. Omori glanced at Basil. There were too many spiders on him, it made Omori feel uneasy. Was it uneasiness? No, it couldn’t be. Basil was comforting the spiders, awaiting Omori to move again.

They’ll hurt him. They’ll kill him.

Another impending death...

Could I... prevent that?

Omori took a deep breath as he turned around.

“Wh-what is it, Omori? Why are you holding your knife like that?“

“Stay still...“

Omori carefully swatted the spiders away with the blunt side of the knife before slashing them with its blade.

“Oh! Th-thanks! But.. ack!“

He kept at it. Yet no matter how much he swat away and kill, more emerges from seemingly nowhere. And soon, there was far too many of them.

“There’s so many of them... I can’t get them off!“

Omori can only watch in horror as Basil was engulfed by them.

I couldn’t prevent it...

Perhaps, he never could. Omori continued on to find the key and open another door.

[bard-of-spiders]

'Normally, a strange, disguised, illithid wouldn't be his first choice of people to trust in any other situtation, in this situation the last choice. However, he has held off the worst case scenario once already, which Ilztaun figured was worth not distrusting him just yet. He owed him that little, surely? Or simply this was a more interesting path to that inevitable worse case, a line of thinking better kept to himself than used as a justification to the others.

[kyistell]

So I added a fanfic snippet part to the google doc, wrote one for Jersey, Cali and then York, and York's the only one I want to share at the moment. Maybe I will share the other ones if asked but for now it's just this, ENJOY

New York-

Sleep

New York liked to sleep, it was peaceful and calming and he didn’t have to think about everything going on around him, it was the perfect break from his ADHD mind. However sleep did not like him, he wouldn’t be able to sleep for days until he basically passed out.

Mass was able to figure out that because NYC is the city that never sleeps, New York can’t really either. The two figured out that as long as he keeps up with a routine, he should be able to get to sleep easier and faster, though having a routine has its own problems. 

Table meetings could happen very early in the morning sometimes, and if York had to go to those meetings it would screw his whole schedule up. It wasn’t until one night where he finally was able to have a solution.

It was pouring out, rolls of thunder after flashes of lightning happening what seemed like every second. York likes the rain and thunder, it was calming, especially when the wind was loud, it was easiest for him to fall asleep. 

This was not the case for New Jersey. Jersey hated storms, wouldn’t be able to fall asleep until it was barely raining anymore and that wasn’t even consistent. He used to like them, though not as much as York did, but after hurricane Irene in 2011 and hurricane Sandy the following year, he could never see them the same.

This is why it wasn’t all too surprising to hear hard knocking on his door, opening it to find an exhausted and wet faced Jersey. Letting him in and onto the bed, the two sat there for a long while until York heard light snores coming from the other.

New York sat there even longer just thinking, hearing the rain start to die down he felt himself start to tire. He wasn’t feeling particularly tired before, but now, with Jersey laying on top of him as peacefully as someone afraid of storms can, he felt just as exhausted as Jersey had looked. 

For the first time in a few days, New York found himself able to sleep with ease as the wind slowed and the constant thunder and lighting became less and less. 

The two didn’t speak of this afterward, they never tended to when it came to storm sleepovers, York preferred just to remind him that he’s always free to come over if he can’t sleep, this time however Jersey said that the offer was mutual. 

York thought this over a few nights later when he couldn’t sleep and desperately needed to. Making up his mind, he snapped over to Jersey place, knocked on the door and waited for a moment before it opened.

When Jersey questioned why he was here York only said “Wanna have a sleepover?”.

[thefactsofthematter]

guess who started another new wip

[junkmailmusubi]

i am normal and sane and usual why do you ask ! :)

[jorvikzelda]

At this point I've got a full list in my head of fics I want to write when You Know What is done lmfao

[snowangeldotmp3]

hey, so, y'all know this post? well, i may have gone a bit overboard and now i have a few short scenes/glimpses into this au. tagging @perceivedregret bc the brain rot is REAL.

Something is not right in Hawkins, Indiana. Robin’s not sure what it is exactly, but something is…wrong with this town.

She asks Max about it one afternoon at the diner. “Have you noticed that this town—“

“Is cursed? Yeah, we’ve been over this,” Max states, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Robin blinks.

“No, I mean, like they’re all…” she trails off.

Max finishes the sentence, “Cursed. They basically live the same day over and over again. Like Groundhog Day.”

Robin’s incredibly surprised that the kid has even seen Groundhog Day. “So if it’s a Groundhog Day situation…”

Max stops eating her pancakes. “Wait, you believe me?”

No, but there’s not a better one. “Well, it’s the only explanation we’ve got right now.”

Max beams, “I knew you would!” Her face turns serious, and Robin kind of wants to laugh, but also finds it incredibly endearing. She looks exactly like Nancy. “We’ll need a plan.”

“A plan? Don’t you think that’s a bit much?”

“You’ve met my mom, mom.”

“Touché.”

[hopeintheashes]

Seven Sentence Sunday

tagged by @mellaithwen and @renecdote <3 <3 <3 soooo these are not new words so much as words i wrote and then forgot about but! i've been thinking about the alt s2 (and beyond) fic/series (still not sure exactly what form it's going to take) so i was excited to discover they already exist. preceded by this snippet.

"It's just— weird, okay?" He probably doesn't need to be so defensive. Eddie's just sitting there across the kitchen table drinking his beer. "I mean, her and Chim doing—" he gestures vaguely— "whatever it is they're doing is bad enough, but now she's yelling at me because Doug somehow ruined the concept of Christmas…." When Eddie doesn't seem sufficiently offended on his behalf, he throws up his hands. "She told me to get out of her house!"

Eddie raises his eyebrows. "She did?"

Buck huffs in frustration. "Okay, maybe not in those words, but the sentiment was there!"

"I'm not sure you can go from not seeing each other in… how many years? And then jump right into living under the same roof and have zero weirdness involved." He takes another sip of beer. "You both just need some space."

He tips his head back dramatically to stare at the ceiling. "I guess I could get a hotel for a couple of days."

"Buck," Eddie says, in a you idiot kind of way.

"What?" A little too aggressive.

"I have a perfectly adequate couch right here. You don't have to pay for a hotel."

"I don't… I couldn't. Christopher—"

"Adores you, and would be over the frickin' moon if he woke up and you were still here."

"I don't think Shannon would feel the same way."

Eddie sighs. "Yeah, we're… not exactly on those terms right now."

Buck raises his eyebrows, but Eddie just shakes his head. He'll have to work on getting that particular story later.

"I…" There really aren't any excuses left. "Yeah, okay."

i think everyone i would have tagged has already posted, so consider this your invitation if you have words to share but haven't yet been tagged!

[pepsiwriteswords]

It’s been a long fucking day.

Natacha sighs as she drops her keys on the little decorative platter on the table by the door, doesn’t even bother trying to keep quiet. The walls of the apartment are thicker than one would expect, considering everything else about the building, and she knows Victor isn’t home yet.

He’s never home.

Bending over, she unlaces her shoes to take them off. Leaves them under the table when she rises and walks to the kitchen. 

Tea, she decides. Then she can figure out what to do for dinner. 

She scrolls through her phone absently while the water boils, sends a check in text to Victor. Switches over to [Facebook], scrolls for a while. Her eyes glaze over a little more with every baby picture, wedding announcement, engagement ring photo she sees.

The writing stalled for a couple days, but hey! Have some Styx! ^_^

Natacha is living the 'almost 30 & everyone you went to high school with is in a Very Different Place than where you're at' life. xP

[chryzure-archive]

GENWALD CODED????????

[softgrungeprophet]

it's important to consider all your options