#writing noises

[ufuckingpastry]

Started working on a pet play fic for fitpac and, ngl, I think it's legitimately given me brainrot. I am rotating these two (and etoilza) constantly. I am looking at every interaction Fit has with Pac and going, yeah you would have that reaction dogboy. It's been so much fun writing and thinking and rotating it, and I'm so excited to share it once I'm done.

[chilipepperconverse]

surprised this hadn't been made yet

[neonaughtager]

were they wrong tho?

the creators of nanowrimo took one look at the dark wet month of November and were like she’s perfect the writers will love her

[neonaughtager]

aaaaaaaaaaaaaaa i need to write more words but focus is not here today :(

im 3000 words behind par,,,,

[soapcloth]

Soap, absolutely piss drunk outside of your apartment and belting out a personal concert for you and your neighbours after you ghosted him. Trying sooo hard (and failing miserably) to remember the lyrics to the song you had listed as your favourite on your dating profile. The song choice only gets sappier after that with no signs of stopping until you open the door.

[bluerosefox]

Hmmm we should play around with the idea of Tim going undercover more. Especially when he goes out as Caroline Hill btw.

Dead Tired prompt once again.

Danny knows the people he's working for are... shady at best but he needed this job, ever since he left Amity Park after getting into a bad fight with his parents, they wanted him to become a Ghost Hunter (funny how they never really pressured Jazz into it.), he made sure to shut down the portal now since he learned to make portals (and made sure to delete and burn his parents blueprints for it), renounced himself as Ghost King (he really didn't want the responsibility and helped set up a kinda self governing and kinda 'I will come back to help the Realms keep stable but I am NOT ruling' thing)

[Basically Danny is still technically the King, the Realms need him to keep stable (personal head canon the Realms reflect its Ruler, Danny is much more stable than Pariah Dark and thus the Realms are healing and slowly returning to its natural state), but Danny set up a somewhat self governing thing where he can leave but returns very so often to keep the Realms stable and healing. Its complicated but it works.]

AND because his grades tanked hard due to the accident and being a young ghost hero in high school, Danny didn't have a lot of choices for work or even school (he is in college, none of his dream ones though, and is juggling between it and odd jobs here and there)

Anyways so yeah, Danny knows the people he's working for aren't... great. He knows they're shady AF and knows he could maybe find out what if he used his ghost powers but he does need this job for just a bit longer, until his next paycheck that's all.

He also know his new co-worker might be an undercover cop and is investigating them.

Caroline Hill is a nice lady though, even if it was an act to get closer, polite, works hard when paired with him, and very pretty.

So Danny decides to help cover up tiny mistakes or distract their other co-workers/employers when she's snooping around their work areas/offices.

[keferon]

Two Peas in a Pod: part 1

*slips this into your mail slot and runs* I hope you like it, I wanted to give you a gift.

___________________________________

Things were never truly quiet. Electricity hummed. Pipes rumbled as water is pushed and pulled. Metal facets softly creaked under the vibrations. A muted drum of massive pump came from somewhere underground.

It was a poor symphony, but it was his personal, fucked-up, little lullaby. Guaranteed to be a nightly track on loop the droned him to sleep… usually.

And honestly, he couldn't imagine what it would be like without it.

Jazz rolled over to his other side in the shallows of his pool – arching his back just enough for his collapse dorsal fin to slip under him without crushing it against the floor – in the futile adjustment for comfort. After about five minutes of laying still with his eyes closed, Jazz huffed. He hadn't been able to even doze off, it was beginning to get frustrating. He shifted his head – resting on his arm at the dryer part of rubber coated slope of the concrete pier – to peek at the clock just beyond the staff entrance behind the main platform, two-twenty-seven.

Sighing and groaning loudly, he slumped in defeat, the morning staff were going to be on shift in two hours to start meal prep and in the following hour creatures all over will start waking up. When breakfast came at six, the gulls, crows, magpies – the fucking birds would be all over the aquarium squawking and trying to steal food. Then the whole place would buzz till work ended at six pm. Six to six of noise.

Jazz was just thankful that it was a monday, the aquarium was closed, so he didn't have to force himself to be extra cheerful. Just pleasant enough to get through daily check-ups and then maybe, he could try for a nap. But he wasn't optimistic.

Time seem to stretch on forever, every time he glanced at the clock, the minutes barely seemed to move. He shifted and kicked his tail, sloshing water up in a pitiful rain over him. Though the sound of water pattering along the concrete continued, and continued…?

Jazz lifted his head. That wasn't coming from his area, but it was too muddled to make out what it was. A skittering-like sound for sure, did something break? Was there a raccoon in the backend again?

With a quick spin he slipped off the pier and into his pool. The sounds became sharper, but not quite clear. Hurried footsteps of staff, far too many to be on shift at this hour, as he swam into the medical bay at the back. To where the one observation window that overlooked the staff area. Technically, the other way around, but Jazz would use it more than they did to spy on the back-workings.

Placing his hands to still his movement, Jazz saw two more staff rush past with a massive metal cart, recognizing the white shirts. Vets. There had to have been an emergency call that went out. Question was, was it an animal from the here or was it a beach rescue?

While Jazz couldn't see much passed the wide hallways on either side. The sonar map, as fuzzy as it was in his head, was picking up at least seven moving blobs in the hospital ward at the end of the hall. That was a lot of bodies. Too many to be needed for any of the animals here. An injured dolphin being brought in for recovery and rehabilitation, maybe? An oil spill with massive casualties?

Then ten more people joined and suddenly they were rushing out with equipment, heading somewhere off his limited radar. Likely rush off to the loading bay, the truck must have just arrived. Damn, whatever happened, it's all hands on deck.

Jazz pushed away from the window and lazily floated out back to the main area of his enclosure. He was sure his attendant would tell him all the news and gossip when he came around with breakfast. Till then, he might as well continue to try and sleep.

___________________________________

Couldn't have been more than a half an hour, and he felt like he was just about to fall asleep, when the familiar sound of heavy boots caught his attention. Thundering up the metal steps of the staff entrance.

"JAZZ!"

Noooo, it can't be time to get up. He refused to give him any acknowledgement and pretended he was dead just to be extra annoying. They both knew Jazz's hearing was too good for him not to hear the man tip-toe up the stairs. Heck, he could tell that there was another staff member with him, which was unusual.

"Jazz! Buddy– please, get up! We've got an emergency!"

Lights came on suddenly and made Jazz grimace with his eyes closed. "And that affects me how…?" Jazz drawled and lifted his head slightly to look over at them. Though spotting a nervous vet – not his vet either – rushing to prep a needle at the end of a long tube suddenly had him a bit uneasy. Jazz hated needles. Especially jittery hands at the other end of said needles.

"Wounded Mer, same weight class, and fortunately shares the same blood-type as you!" Blaster quickly informed and helped the vet prep multiple soon-to-be blood-bags. He then fixed his mer with a hard look. "Now get your tail over here!"

Jazz was rushing over to the sloped shallows before it fully clicked what was being asked of him. "A Mer?"

Blaster tugged on his arm and Jazz allowed him to pull him where they wanted him. Working as a team they dried, sanitized and banded his arm. "Ready for the poke?"

"Uh," he glanced at the vet, though the nerves seemed to more about the stress that happening elsewhere. Their hands seemed steady. "Just make sure you get it the first time," he said as he closed his eyes tightly.

"Thanks for being so good about this," Blaster breathed heavily with relief and gave Jazz a comforting pat on the shoulder of the arm his was still holding. The jab was harsh to get it through the mer's thick hide and it made Jazz flinch, but otherwise stayed still.

"So… are they like me?" He asked, trying to ignore the thought of his blood being drawn.

"Ya, just like you," Blaster answered softly, starting to calm down now that he didn't have to worry about what would have happened if Jazz had put up a fuss.

"Are they going to be okay?"

"We're doing our best," the vet answered clinically. "They're in rough shape. Likely a turf war judging by the injuries, or a leviathan attack."

"The team is really pulling together on this, even you, big guy," Blaster reassured and gave him another pat on the shoulder.

Jazz tried not to sound excited by the news. "Will I get to see them?"

"If they pull through, you might get more than that. Seeing as there isn't many places here big enough to hold something that big. Hope your ready for a tankmate."

He clenched his hands into fists so tightly they started to shake. He wanted that, he really, really wanted that. Please, please, please. Please don't die.

If Blaster misunderstood his trembling, Jazz didn't correct him.

___________________________________

-GLC

(hopefully there is no spelling errors ^^;)

Upd: Link to the next part!

Oh man oh man OH MAN ORCA JP FIC????

IM VIBRATING ON THE SPEEDS UNCOMPREHENSIBLE TO A HUMAN EYE RIGHT NOW PleASE THIS IS SO GOOD I LOVE IT SO MUCH I WANNA HUG YOU

I have NO IDEA if your spelling is good but it doesn't even fucking matter because the atmosphere?? THE ATMOSPHERE IS FANTASTIC. The VIBE is HERE. IF YOU MAKE THE SECOND PART I WILL GIVE YOU MY FIRSTBORN

[god-offical]

Few places are as misleading as arcades. A fun place where you can play video games and eat grease that’d disguised as food. All you need to do is endure the most visually and audially overwhelming place known to man. I’ve been in casinos quieter than an average Dave and Busters

[lavenderprose]

Emmrich is a morning person and Rook is only a morning person under duress, which becomes only a minor issue after the gods are finally dead because Rook's ideal wake up time is roughly noon, and Emmrich's up at the asscrack of dawn every day whether he works or not.

It's six thirty AM and Rook's face-down on the bed, titties out and hair splayed across three pillows, and Elgar'nan breathed this last breath less than a week ago. Emmrich gave the various factions of Thedas exactly three days to demand Rook's attention and, on the morning of the fourth day, grabbed Rook with one hand and Manfred with the other and asked the Caretaker if there was an Eluvian that might deposit one anywhere in the area of the Cumberland countryside.

Emmrich apparently maintains a small country house here, for 'Whatever occassion might arise' (demented) and it's modest but pretty. Manfred trampled straight into the rose garden when they got here and hasn't emerged since, but Emmrich claims that's normal for him. Rook personally believes that Manfred, even, is still processing their mutual ordeal, but she's content to let him do it with the caterpillars and the rose petals. Not like a skeleton can be pricked by a thorn.

The moment they arrived, Emmrich sought out the housekeeper and told her that her services would not be required for the coming week, and to stand by on the subject of next week as well.

"Go celebrate the world not ending, Helga!" he'd said, maybe a bit too loud and manic, as he closed what was surely much more than a week's salary into her hand. Knowing Emmrich, there was already a very robust system in place to assure that his housekeeper received her generous salary every week--this was merely some sort of consolation pay for the very difficult task of being given a week of vacation.

Helga was Elven, at least as old as Emmrich and blinked at him like a vaguely surprised cat. She swept her gaze over Rook as well before leaving. She'd been smirking, Rook thought, as the door closed behind her.

Thus, they've been alone in the house, and Rook has been sleeping, staring vaguely into the distance, sleeping, reading from Emmrich's extensive collection, looking at the ceiling while trying to forget the sight of Bellara's blighted eyes, sleeping, bouncing on Emmrich's dick like it's her job, and sleeping sleeping sleeping.

They've been here for two days, more or less 48 hours, and many of those hours were spent in his lap. Fucking him, yes, but also just clinging onto him like an extra limb because right now, she feels like she might disintegrate if he isn't touching her. He reads to her. Smiles and laughs through so many stories from his life. She thinks about Solas disappearing into the Fade, maybe never to be seen again. The last God of her people.

When she goes too quiet, sometimes he tells her a joke or puts a little chocolate in her mouth. Once, he ate her out while humming the Nevarran national anthem and she laughed as she came. Sometimes he joins her in melancholy and they lay together and cope. Sometimes she cries, mostly from exhaustion and relief and grief, and he kisses her face. Sometimes he cries. From exhaustion and relief and grief, probably. She tucks her head under his chin and rubs her small hand up and down his broad back, and then she swipes the snot and tears out of his mustache with her very own thumb because she loves him, she loves him.

This morning, she flutters her eyes open and enjoys the texture of the silk sheets against her bare body (Last night, and for lack of a better term, Emmrich fucked her to sleep--apparently, when the world isn't in active peril, he's very into the whole tantric thing. Hours of crazy hot, dragging sex that destroys braincells, but only the ones she's better off not having.) and she does that for about thirty seconds before she realizes it's just barely light outside, blue and cool. Then she starts wondering why the fuck she's awake right now.

The answer becomes apparent immediately: Emmrich is in the ensuite bath, running water and making the weirdest, loudest noises. She thinks at first that he's managed to gag himself with his own toothbrush, but then he sneezes, blows his nose with a honking noise like a malfunctioning horn, and clears his throat so thunderously that Rook thinks he must somehow be drowning.

She rolls out of bed and wobbles into the bathroom, birthday suit and all, because clearly he's become sick in the night and it's now up to her to guide him back to bed and care for him. She's surprised, then, to find him looking hale and healthy in front of the sink. He's wearing nothing but silk pajama pants and down slippers. He's making an absurd clicking sound and swirling a finger inside his ear.

"Are you okay?" Rook demands, propped on the doorjamb.

Emmrich jumps a foot on the air, winces as he jabs his own eardrum, and says, "Ow! Darling, please don't sneak up on--"

"You are being so loud," she says, because the polite section of her brain hasn't woken up. "Are you choking? Are you sick?"

"No," Emmrich says slowly. "I just--oh, the door must have fallen open. The floor isn't terribly even here. I'm sorry, darling--sound does carry in this old house." He twirls a finger behind his ear and clinks again. "I fear I suffer seasonal allergies, dearest, and it's been a long while since I slept more than a night or two outside of the Necropolis or the Fade. There's quite a bit of...mucus..." He clears his throat.

"Gross," says Rook, and then, "It's dawn, Emmrich."

"Mm-hm." Emmrich is now leaning across the counter, two inches from the mirror and examining his mustache like a jewel appraiser.

"Why are you making heinous old man noises at dawn?"

His eyes veer towards her reflection in the mirror, and they make eye contact in the glass. Very neatly, and with a raised eyebrow, he says, "Heinous old man noises."

Rook starts making hawking, gutteral noises in the back of her throat. It's a pretty faithful imitation.

"Dearest," he yells over the sound. "I apologize for waking you--"

"I cannot believe," says Rook, "that I'm going to spend the rest of my life being woken up at dawn by the hacks and sneezes of a man who wears wing tip shoes."

She's halfway through a half-asleep snicker at the hilarity of her own statement when Emmrich fixes her with a surprised look in his wet eyes and she realizes she's never actually voiced the idea that has become an unspoken certainty in her mind: That he's the love of her life, and her life may not be as short as she was thinking it might be this time last week, and that she wants nothing more than to spend the rest of her ambiguously-numbered mornings waking up to him.

She also realizes the truth of the situation. The baths in the Lighthouse were communal, and one never knew which companion they might encounter during their morning routine. Emmrich is fastidious and spends a great deal of his energy in broadcasting the image of a man who is utterly put together in everything he does. Never a hair out of place or a thread loose. It's a privilege of the highest order to witness him this way. Sleep-mused hair, shadow on his jaw. The bleariness of sleep in his eyes and, yes, even the throat-clearing and nose blowing.

Emmrich clears his throat and whispers, "Forgive me. I've...lived alone. For a very long time."

Rook's eyes water as she croaks, "Not anymore. I don't...want you to."

A smile spreads his face. It is wobbly, boyish, and so so beautiful. The absurdity of the situation finally reaches her--she is very naked and he's only slightly more dressed and there is a perfectly warm, perfectly comfortable bed steps away.

"Come back to bed," Rook says. "Please?"

He does.

[lewkwoodnco]

a week in the life of London's youngest agency head (insp.)

[burningcheese-merchant]

ANSWER THIS AND YOU GET A FUNNY BURNING CHEESE COMIC

Hear me out

The ancients giving themselves up to the beasts as sacrifices if they agreed to leave earthbread alone and never wreck terror or show their faces again

I'd say everyone besides Flour would go:

Say less Babygirl*hops into a pumpkin carriage and rides off into the sunset*

Maybe Salt would need a lot of convincing because... Holy shit it could be this easy, Milk you seeing this, quick Spice snap a photo this is a moment in history

Flour is just in massive denial but would find a way to agree to mke it seem like it isn't about love or anything

Unknown3doors, don't tempt me like that 👀 don't tempt me like that, unknown3doors 👀 you're playing with fire, unknown3doors 👀🔥

Pure Vanilla surrendering to Shadow Milk would be the happiest day of Shadow's life. He makes Vanilla repeat himself multiple times, makes him announce it through a megaphone, they do a radio broadcast, Shadow makes a TV special out of it, Shadow writes poems and essays gloating and taunting... And then he eventually agrees to Vanilla's terms (although, he DOES try to haggle for permission to continue annoying people). Pure Vanilla is HIS!!! HE'S FINALLY HIS!!! FOREVER AND EVER!!!!!!! (And the Soul Jam, technically. But WHATEVER!!! HIS SILLY VANILLY!!!). Now Vanilla must endure having to spend EVERY SINGLE MINUTE of his life within 10 feet of Shadow AT ALL TIMES, or else the deal is off and Shadow will commit genocide in retaliation. Why the long face, though? You agreed to this! You knew this would happen! Maybe if Vanilla behaves well enough, like a good little doll, Shadow will allow himself to be HIS doll for a time. Tit for tat. It's only fair. They can be each other's playmate for eternity now...

Eternal Sugar would be 100% awake for the first time in forever if Hollyberry offered herself to her - in exchange for anything at all, it never had to have been for keeping innocents safe. Typical of Holly, in her estimate; she's not necessarily surprised by this. Maybe she'll feign a bit of surprise just because, maybe she'll tease Holly about it... But all in all, she's quite pleased. Now she can keep those pesky subjects of Holly's away from her much easier (as well as her friends... Including that ridiculous dragon...). Holly will learn to see things her way eventually. Appreciate the little things. Like a nice, long nap in a warm bed, in the arms of a loved one... Pleasant, sugary sweet dreams that are too comforting to wake up from... No one ever bothering them about anything ever again. Free from their responsibilities, free from the burden of the shield and the crown. Just the two of them in their own little world, pursuing their own happiness. Won't that be nice?

Mystic Flour would struggle to even entertain Dark Cacao's presence, never mind his... proposal (oh gods, not that word). She would refuse, and refuse, and refuse again. But Cacao does not give up, stubborn fool that he is. Curse his Light of Resolution... Eventually, in lieu of plainly refusing, she tries to appeal to reason. What about his kingdom? His people? What would they say, think, do? Will he leave them behind just to keep her pacified? What about his friends? His son? Who will rule in his absence? Unfortunately, Cacao has an answer for every single one of her questions... and, with an even greater undertone of misfortune... she likes them. That part of her that likes HIM also likes this. That he always has an answer for everything she says. That he won't bend the knee to her, no matter what. His self-sacrificing nature, bordering on martyrdom... just like hers once was. In truth, every word out of her mouth is only serving to delay her inevitable acceptance of his offer. A feeble attempt at shooing him away, one final shot at denying her feelings towards him, for having him around her constantly would be too much to bear, and she might... She... She'll break. She knows she will. And she can't have it. She won't stand for it.

... Dark Cacao, stubborn, handsome, selfless fool that he is. He has undone everything she ever worked for. Her apathy meant nothing the moment they locked eyes. It means nothing now, as they go back and forth about this foolish deal of his. And it won't mean anything when she eventually says yes.

(But she'll try to pretend otherwise, for as long as she can. Neither of them could handle the truth...)

Golden Cheese: Burning Spice, if you leave everyone else alone, I'll give myself to-

Burning Spice: DEAL!!!!!!!!! *pounces on her before she can actually finish or explain herself any further... What he does next, I'll let you imagine/decide 😉*

Silent Salt... wouldn't even believe it at first. He'd be astounded. Dumbfounded, really, that White Lily would say such a thing... Is this really her? Is someone forcing her to do this? What is the catch? Enough reassurance from her would convince him that she's being real and sincere and every other word that can be used to describe her deal, and... he accepts it. No other ifs, ands or buts. His White Lily... now, she really IS his White Lily. Forever and ever... He doesn't mind having to keep away from society; that's hardly a punishment. It costs him nothing. And if his White Lily is there with him, he won't even notice the difference...

[ufuckingpastry]

Progress is being made on PB! I'm reworking the fic and likely going to be rewriting a large chunk of it. My goal for this year is to actually finish this fic. Finish writing it, tho not so much finish posting it. This month, I'm getting the characters' motives, goals, personalities, conflicts, general details set in stone. And also making playlists based on the characters!

[vm-haunts]

Little Prayers

A shrine is where gods and spirits resides, a little kid read from a book.

Thinking of that, the kid made a shrine in his corner of the apartment.

It consist of one candle and two prized books, made scared by a few candy wrappers and the prayers of a little child.

A few days later, a tiny wisp of something moved in.

[thread] [ao3 version]

...

The spirit is... weak.

Weak to the point of almost fading, when it found this tiny empty shrine and moved in.

It wasn't always this weak, maybe. Once upon a time, it might even have been strong. With a solid body, a real name.

Now it has none of that, just a wisp that held no memory nor shape.

The spirit confessed to the child, in a voice that isn't made from sound, that it isn't a god, nor can it offer protection in return. That it is sorry for taking the offering but couldn't brought anything in return.

The child doesn't know the difference though, between a god and a spirit, between then and now. Nor does he particularly cares. His little shrine worked and that's the important bit. The child told the spirit exactly that, and got a flicker in the candle light as a nod.

So the spirit stayed, in the little shrine of one candle and two books. Listening to the prayers of a child, spoken more to a friend than a god.

Maybe it can offer something back after all, the spirit thought. A presence, a friend. That'll be... not good or enough, but nice, maybe.

...

Jason is- not lucky, no.

Lucky would mean his mom is healthy, or never had gotten sick; lucky would mean his dad not getting caught, or not needing to work anything illegal at all. That would be real luck, and Jason don't have that kind of luck.

But Jason isn't absolutely unlucky either, he reasoned. His parents aren't good people by the standards of most, but they do love him, when they're able to.

That's better luck than a lot of kids in the Alley.

Jason tells that to the little god- spirit, he isn't sure he knows or cares of the difference. The wisp living in his shrine wavers, and the shadows whispers again that they're sorry they can't help him.

Jason is fine with that. The spirit staying with him in the little shrine is enough luck, maybe.

...

Then, one day, Jason's luck ran out.

Well, not really. There's a lot that can happen to a kid left alone in the Alley, and Jason had avoided the worst of those things so far. It's the same kind of not-quite-luck that he seems to had, and Jason is greatful for it. Sometimes.

Strangely, the spirit follows him still, even without the tiny shrine to hold them. So Jason shares his day and what food he could find, like he always did. He'll eat the offering too, after, like he always did. No sense wasting perfectly fine food.

The spirit flickers sometimes, speaks with him in a way that isn't really speaking, and Jason is... not content, but greatful, maybe, to be not entirely alone.

[skettibun]

This has probably been done before but this pose I doodled him in reminded me too much of it [plus a quick “aftermath” doodle]

Do you think Peppino stays strapped after the whole tower thing or

[teaboot]

How do we convince tiktok teens to demand all companies livestream their production and destruction processes so they can put pressure on brands that pollute and/or treat workers poorly...

Find a way to make encyclopedic knowledge of national health and safety bylaws into a meme, then start filming video reactions to poor working conditions like those guys who react to visual stim ASMRs

[shisasan]

circa June, 1968 Anne Sexton: A Self-Portrait in Letters First published: 1977

[ID: Date — circa June 1968 Text — I too, am in love with the sun. END ID]