writingpencil

[writingpencil]

I made these as a way to compile all the geographical vocabulary that I thought was useful and interesting for writers. Some descriptors share categories, and some are simplified, but for the most part everything is in its proper place. Not all the words are as useable as others, and some might take tricky wording to pull off, but I hope these prove useful to all you writers out there!

(save the images to zoom in on the pics)

[writingpencil]

Hello 👋,

I hope this message finds you well. My name is Aziz, and I’m reaching out with a heartfelt plea to help my family find safety and reunite with our mother. 😞

The ongoing war in Gaza has torn my family apart. My mother and newborn sister are stranded in Egypt, while I, along with the rest of my sex family members, am trapped in the midst of the genocide in Gaza. We have not only been separated but have also lost our home and are enduring unimaginable hardships. 💔

Your support can make a difference. Whether by reading our story, donating, or sharing our campaign with others, you can help us reunite, find safety, and start anew. 🙏🕊

Thank you, from the depths of my heart, for your kindness, compassion, and solidarity during this difficult time. ❤🍉

https://gofund.me/58268669 🔗

o7

[writingpencil]

Writing Song Lyrics Because I'm Hiding in the Bathroom

something here is rotten

Something isn't quite fine

I wanna wait 100 years

To get to heaven on time

So here I sing to you

All my sucky little blues

I wonder if the gods would laugh

Or sing right along too

Id think they'll pretend

That everything is fine

Give me a bowl of turpentine

To see if I can fly

But part of me wonders

They would ever know

What part of me is real

And which part is left at home

So I

Hereby

Declare all my sins

To realize

All the judges are great liars

And the choir is the jury

Hiding in the bathroom

Gives me a sense of glory

Cause at least if I wait a 100 years

I can get into heaven

And wear the mask of a 100 good men

All the jury and mice and sin

maybe they'd let me go

If I show what I don't know

I sing the blues

Laugh at everything I did wrong

Let them judge me

So I can judge myself

Maybe then I'll be fine

Maybe then I won't know

What it's like to cry

or be lost without hope

For once I wanna be right

Know that I'm as bad as I feel

So I can be right and not feel wrong

Or think like them all

And I sang out every day

While my throat was filled with haze

Cause the only good part of me

Is you and what you think of me too

So let me hide

And let me cry

I got a 100 years to wait

To end up at those pearly gates

but when I get there it's a shitshow

The gods are dead

It's always been that way so...

Saint Michael would laugh at me

Make me drink some turpentine

While all the angels mocked me

Cause they see what's deep inside

They find a little girl loving blue

Cause pink was wrong

Oh who knew

But they're gentle cause they're angels

And have no choice

Sometimes I wish I was an angel too

Cause angels don't hide in bathrooms

[writingpencil]

getting the the ship of theseus treatment damn

Magical healing leaves the body pristine, without a scratch or a scar. However, having received so much healing over your adventures, you're beginning to realize that the body it's giving you is not your original.

[writingpencil]

Three's A Crowd

An old darkfic about the DSMP peeps (yes this is from 2021)

I was a messed up kid lmao

"Welcome, boys and girls!" The cheers of the enthusiastic crowd made him smile underneath his mask. From the corner of his eyes, he could tell his cohost's smile widened. "And welcome back to our fabulous show. Today, we will bring you the newest series, among the many, that our production team has brought."

"This series," His co-host announced, dramatically waving his hands. “Is called Three’s A Crowd - you can give our intern all the credit for the name. Now don’t be shy, give them a round of applause!”

The crowd went wild for the blonde, who waved awkwardly from backstage. The blonde was much more focused on helping the producer with audio, a little uncomfortable with a camera suddenly in his face. Oh well, the host thought, it's good to be uncomfortable now and again.

“Alright, alright. Bring out the TV!” The host raised his hand towards the ceiling, where a large TV lowered into view. All the miniature TVs behind the hosts were shut off, then turned on to reveal a wide, purple smile with sinister purple eyes. The bigger TV turned on, revealing a series of animations that followed the host’s explanation. “For this series, there will be three contestants and only one winner. Hear? O-N-E. But if they cannot work together, there will be no winner at all. Tragic, huh?”

His co-host took over. “We’ve given the contestants five rooms to go through, each one getting harder than the last! Perhaps a sixth if they all survive, but, haha, we doubt it~”

“We’ll just have to wait and see, won’t we, Wilbur?” The host laughed as his co-host nodded. “Now, of course, I’m sure you’re all wondering - what makes this series special? Well, boys and girls, why don’t we show you!”

The TV changed from the animation to the live video of the three contestants in their “resting room”, still knocked out from their... operations. All three were tucked into their own corners of the room, purposely placed according to the hosts’, for lack of a better term, friend. One contestant, with wild black hair and a flame on their hoodie, was on their back, and it was clear to see that their mouth was sewn shut. The second contestant, with sunglasses by their head, was curled up in the corner, hugging their knees, gauze over their ears. The last contestant, a blonde with a series of freckles dotting his face, was sat upright, his back pressing against the wall he was chained to, and with chemical burns around his eyes. They healed, rather well, but it would be a nasty sting. 

“Boys and girls, meet our three contestants!” The co-host took out three cards, as he never took the time to learn the contestants' names. “Nick, George, and Clay! Roommates who were falling apart by the seams when we got a hold of them!”

The crowd roared into laughter.

“Isn’t it a shame when friends fall out, Ranboo?”

The host nodded. “Most certainly!”

“Now, for clarification...” Wilbur took a glance at the cards. “Nick is the one with his mouth sewn shut. Boy, he was a loudmouth alright, apparently, he has a fiery temper as well, and a little bit of a soft side, but let’s focus on that temper! Imagine starting arguments, and now being unable to be listened to! Perhaps he will be first to go!”

“Or the first to snap!” Ranboo snapped his fingers to make a point.

Wilbur laughed. “And George, a terrible listener, according to our producer, is the one with gauze. Now imagine his shock when he has to trust his friends with information he cannot hear! I also hear that he is a regular ol’ Sleeping Beauty! Let’s hope there are no evil queens to come and put him under eternal sleep.”

“I’m more concerned about his stamina - how will he keep up with the others?” Ranboo feigned concern. “He might be considered dead weight!”

“You’ll have to stay tuned to see!” Wilbur took a peek at the last card. “And last, but probably least, is Clay, someone dependent on his sight! Parkour artists are always reactive to their environment, and now he has to be led by his friends!”

“I hear he doesn’t like being useless,” Ranboo said, shaking his head. “Let’s see if his stubbornness keeps him running.”

“Stubbornness?” Wilbur chuckled. “The stubborn are always cut down to size!”

“They’re always bigger than their bodies, aren’t they?” Ranboo rolled his eyes but fixated his attention on the live audience and the cameras. “Remember, boys and girls, the camera footage is live 24/7 on the Bur’n’Boo, but check back in on your own TV.”

“Remember also,” Wilbur started. “That you being a viewer now doesn’t exclude you from eventually participating! If you don’t care now, you certainly will soon!”

Ranboo nodded. “Tune in frequently and see our commentary on the situation! Hopefully, this will last longer than two rooms!”

“The last contestants were certainly greedy!” Wilbur pressed his hands together, setting them back on his lap. 

Ranboo’s smile coiled into a wicked grin. “We’ll see you soon! Three’s A Crowd, boys and girls!”

[writingpencil]

"No," She picked at her nails before biting at them.

The CEO stared, blinking in confusion. "But-all that destruction! I made sure you were under my control! You did it-you destroyed an entire suburbs under my control! How dare you say you weren't mind controlled! This...this doesn't make sense!"

She smiled. "Oh yeah, your mind control is shit... but thank you for the confession."

"Confession?-" The CEO's face dropped as she tapped the underside of her eyes. "...no..."

"I did say I needed contacts, right?" She stood up on his desk. "I didn't say which kind."

"Don't you fucking-"

"Sent!" She whistled. "Ooohhh, we're having a field day with this one."

The Ceo pulled out his phone as it blew up from thousands of notifications, calls, and messages.

She stretched and opened a window. "Thanks for the food, byyyeeee."

And she flew away.

“Wait… So this whole time, you weren’t under my mind control?”

[writingpencil]

"I owe you nothing."

That was the funny thing. For all their misgivings about her as a person, all the ideas that she is something noble, something suddenly richer than gold and diamonds; they now think they own her. All because she has some fancy powers that woke up because of their abuse.

"That may be the case," The officer said. "But you are under arrest for trespassing, loitering, theft-"

"I didn't steal anything..." That they know of. But was dumpster diving really theft if it was going somewhere else to rot.

"Arson-"

"You have no proof." They never did.

"And now sassing an officer of the law... unless-"

She sighed and turned around, hands behind her back. She could fight. She could run away. Hell, she could fly. But they wouldn't stop harassing her, maybe they would start targeting her friends, so she played sacrificial lamb.

"I owe you nothing," She said. "So, go on, since you want to be God... be God and lead me into the hands of the assholes."

If it was any other officer, any other day, they would've stroked their egos, and arrest her.

"...Go."

"What?"

"Just go, kid, I don't know what you're gonna do...but I'm more afraid of what they're going to do with you. So go, okay?"

She opened her mouth, wanting to say something-thank you? I'm sorry?-but she couldn't.

The officer stared, for a moment. "I'll see you around, kid, okay? Just stay safe."

She nodded and, silently, ran off.

"...fucks sake," The officer leaned into his walkie-talkie. "Subject left the city, building is clear."

"10-4."

The officer sighed in relief.

Maybe she had powers but she had no duty. Unlike him. His responsibility was to protect the people and that included her.

She was a person too. She always had been.

Nearly all your life you lived on the streets. People ignored you at best and reviled you at worst. Then you got superpowers and those same people begin to lecture you about “altruism,” “duty,” and “responsibility.”

[writingpencil]

𝐀𝐧𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐲

AN-thruh-kuh-man-see

Divination by the inspection of burning coals

[writingpencil]

Writing Song Lyrics Because I'm Depressed :D

My finger lines the edge

The metal of my soda can

Could cut a line so thin

And bleed while no one notices

This 5 cent can and I

Fought a war until I cried

It understands me and it lies

Thats more than enough in this lifetime

I think I forgot how to breathe

Chest is closing in on me

My little rage conceals my heart

Drink the soda until it starts

Unto me I'm cursed

With nothing more than a verse

I want to scream and want to cry

Lowkey really want to die

But I cut a line in my thumb

I think Its enough

Enough to satisfy

Anothr day another night

[writingpencil]

Only very few people recognized her face, attaching a name to it. Even fewer people knew what to do.

A hero, as great and powerful as her, living in the streets; the same one that both corporations and officers attacked, ignored by the villains, yet who many of her friends, her family, called home as much as she did.

Now, without an identity, there was nothing protecting her.

Sure, she couldn't be tracked easily, but that wouldn't stop anyone from attacking her fellow homeless in order to find her. Because she wasn't a hero to the people on top, she was competition.

"Congradulations, detective," Was her first words demasked. "Have you satisfied your curiosity?"

The city’s heroine was unmasked, only to be revealed it was a homeless 17 years old girl under it.

[writingpencil]

Writing Lyrics Because Artfight Is Giving Me Burnout

(my vibe was feminine rage because I am experiencing every layer of grief everytime bloody mary comes around)

Blood runs down

And I think about it often

No words hurt worst

Than the ones cooked in the oven

I think I find myself

Among the soldiers

Red staining the porcelain

Of my bathroom

I look in the mirror

I don't like what I see

Bloody Mary, Bloody Mary

You're so moody

Even moreso full of apathy

Bloody Mary, Bloody Mary

Who hurt you, girl?

Was it the gullotine

Or the way you are so mean?

To yourself

All the chocolate and the tea

The whispers of promised dreams

Or cute little puppies

Can free me from this curse

And yet they ask of me

Please just calm your body

You're acting so emotional

How about a temporary cure

With a life time of responsibility

And if it's a girl

I have to make apologies

Every month

Since the day shes 13

Because no one did it for me

Bloody Mary

Make me scream

[writingpencil]

"I turned out this way and I can guarantee it wasn't because of the yelling."

"You never know."

"I do know because I'm the product of it."

[writingpencil]

Host x Parasite where the parasite needs the host to live, and will do anything to ensure their survival, but the host has accepted death and doesn't do anything to prevent it(even makes a joke out of it) but they don't go out of their way to die.

So the parasite is an accidental guardian angel that has their host on a child leash

Friend: Wow, you're so lucky you didn't get hit

Host: Yeah, it's amazing right?

Parasite: *breathing heavily* STOP JAYWALKING

[writingpencil]

I have stretchmarks on my shoulders

On my stomach and back and thighs

So, before you challenge me

Remember that father Thor has hailed me as his child

And there is lightning in my veins

Thunder in my voice

[writingpencil]

rewriting jeff the killer because im mentally sane

<- is a liar

[writingpencil]

Writing Lyrics Because ArtFight is Draining Me Part 2

(the genre I'm going for is slow early 2000s soft emo music)

There is a deep sadness in these bones

Someone, somewhere would call it home

But not to me and this reality

Ive lived long enough to call it a fatality

Alone, I fear, has caught my heart

Fatal ruins gave me a start

To understand demands of a fallen land

The places between my dopamine

These rooms are quiet

Abandoned all hope all thee who enter

Can no longer deny it

I'm terrified to be by myself

For my dreams

what do I recieve

A little copper penny

And something scary

Little nightmares crawl up my sleeves

They bite and I stall

But it's written on the walls

The bathroom is labeled in marker;

"My sadness is empty"

[writingpencil]

Writing Song Lyrics Because ArtFight Is Killing Me

I hate her cherry lips

The saunter in her hips

The way her hair flips

How she taunts me when we skinny dip

I think of desire

As I gift her flowers

Memories of the battery

The analogy of history

And she makes me taste bitter

To her sunday holy flavor

Yet to the gods

She goes beyond

And the patronage

Of the promised ones

elect her to the queendom

And thy kingdom come

Out of love

For that Sunday measure

Such simple pleasure

And its my favorite

Though I hate it

Can I still get into the holy land

With this contraband

Of a lover's hand

Hypnotize

With those hazel eyes

Or is my soul doomed

Is that what I want

Am I fool

And to who