#will i write a real snippet from it??

[hrokkall]

Mama gave me music lessons,

now I play the saddest songs

[moe-broey]

Drops this Moe and refuses to elaborate.

....

Drops this extremely messy kinda janky sketch of Alfonse (?) and refuses to elaborate.

[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)

[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.

[thatwildwolfwrites]

i should stop posting wip snippets and just start posting fics but that's hard when your body has turned against you

[the-weeping-dawn]

'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

[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????????

[wisteriagoesvroom]

snip of a fic that i may never write (but maybe i will as some sort of patriotic duty/national tax obligation for @kichona-s's sister who has asked for it to Be Written):

-----

Oscar twirls the wrench on one finger. It's a neat trick. A very gen z fidget spinner meets rustic outback mechanic vibe. Lando stares, and then reminds himself to shut his mouth, as it is frankly quite disrespectful to drool on the garage's otherwise clean floor.

Then Oscar pulls a pencil out from behind his ear - who even does that anymore, Lando thinks to himself. And who makes it look so hot, comes a worse, more intrusive voice.

"What name should I put on the receipt?" Oscar asks, peering expectantly over the notepad.

"Er."

"Er. Surname um?"

He's funny too. Christ. This is bad. And it's a minor miracle that Lando hasn't been recognised yet. Maybe the GONE PHISHING hat and ill-advised summer facial hair had come in clutch after all.

"Uh." Shitshitshit. "Marx."

"...Marx?"

"Marx. Few...stappens. Like the self-help guru, yeah."

Oscar looks like he finds something about this very funny. "I don't think I've heard of Marx the self-help guru."

"Eh, my parents loved niche old books. Boring! And okay." Lando says, conceding. "You got me. My name's not Marx. It's Mark."

"Like, Webber?"

"Yeah!" Lando says, brightening. "You seen his races?"

"It'd be unpatriotic not to. Terrible luck though. I'm more of a cricket person myself."

"Never fancied driving one of these?" Lando says, gesturing at the vintage cars. When he looks back at Oscar, he notices a streak of grease on the other man's nose. It's hard not to stare.

"Dunno. Just wasn't my destiny, I guess."

Destiny. Funny concept.

Lando's fancy rental convertible's got an engine full of dirt, and he's stuck in the middle of Wonglepong, Queensland, with only the weirdly hot town mechanic for company. Could be the start of a great thing or a true crime series, really.

Unfortunately, Lando tends to choose chaos, and quite fancies his chances either way.

Oscar tucks his wrench back into his belt, and shrugs. Lando swallows. His throat is dry. Must be the desert air, he tells himself, despite the fact that he is in the middle of farmland, and nowhere near the desert.

But Lando's still buzzing with excitement. This is better than champagne spray on a podium. Almost. The thrill of a proper chase, because this man genuinely doesn't seem to know who he is.

Or maybe he does, and doesn't care - which suits Lando just fine, too. It's why everyone loved Halloween, right. Hiding, in plain sight.

"Cricket?" Lando finally manages. "Don't those games go on for like, ages."

"When you're in the middle of nowhere, there isn't exactly, like. Much else to do."

"Oh, I'm sure I could find some way to pass the time." Lando says.

And Oscar, to his credit, doesn't even say a thing at the blatant flirtation. Just wipes his hands of grease, and wordlessly passes him the bill.

But there's a smile, tugging at the corner of his mouth.

As if Lando said something truly worth laughing about.

AU where lando's on a roadtrip and his car breaks down in rural australia. he plays dumb and pretends to not know anything at all about cars just to have an excuse to keep talking to quiet mechanic oscar

[trashywritestrash]

the like hour of research i did about regency era england valentine’s day traditions was more fun than anything i’ve done in my applied history class