#how was this 700 words

[beelmons]

Spencer x ADHD!girlfriend.

"...and that's exactly why The Zodiac, in theory, was more prolific as a mathematician than a serial killer." he finished his sentence as he drew a couple more words and connected lines on his whiteboard. His body turned in your direction, and it made you jump slightly on your spot on the couch.

"You're so right, babe, that makes a lot of sense." you said. Truth was, you had no idea what he was talking about. You were having dinner together, and you mentioned Zac Efron on the Bundy movie, things escalated, and he took out his whiteboard, and that's what you remembered happening last.

You loved your boyfriend, and you absolutely adored hearing him ramble about whatever topic he was feeling passionate about. It was one of his most endearing features, and you vowed to yourself you would always be there to listen.

Tinsy problem, sometimes your brain was physically uncapable to keep up with his talking speed, and the second you didn't understand something and you couldn't just interrupt him to clarify it to you, your brain would fly somewhere else. It wasn't because of boredom, his speeches were never dull to you, you were just wired that way, and there was little you could do about it but conceal it from him and try to pretend that you got everything he was sharing with you. At the end, that was your true intention every time.

His arms dropped defeatedly to leave the marker by his coffee table, immediately they traveled back to his chest, crossing them over it. "Okay. What was it this time?" he asked.

"What do you mean?" you frowned in confusion. He noticed your obliviousness and decided to walk in your direction, crouching down in front of the couch.

"You zoned out. I'm curious about what you were thinking about instead of The Zodiac." he smiled.

"You noticed?!" you almost yelled out your question.

The chuckle that he let out, amused and surprised, easied the slight anxiety that you had began to feel. "You do that all the time, I'm pretty familiar with your present-body-absent-mind expression." he clarified.

Your hands flew to your face, covering it with your palms in embarrassment. "I can't believe you have known all along." you mumbled against your own skin "I'm so sorry." you said with a slightly saddened voice.

"Hey," he reached out to grab your hands and guide them away from your face, taking them in his instead "why are you sorry?"

"I really love hearing you talk about things so passionately, I promise." you tried to reassure him. He let out a smaller laugh this time.

"From all the people I've met in my life, you're the only one that's never asked me to stop." his eyes moved to yours. His sight was longing and gentle, his thumbs rubbing at your hands with adoration. Your heart beat erraticly for a second, regardless of the amount of time you had been together, he still made you nervous, he wooed you with his beauty and kindness. "Regardless of how long my ramble is, or the topic. Not even that one time I was telling you about flatulence characteristics and types." he admitted shyly.

You took back your hands and bent forward instead. Your fingers landed on his cheeks and you pulled him closer so you could place a gentle, loving kiss on his lips.

"And we weren't even dating then." you joked "Still, you should have said something."

"It doesn't bother me" he stated "If anything, I'm always amazed with the random, completely unrelated thoughts that pop into your mind during your zoning out. So, tell me, what was it this time?"

Your lips pursed slightly, eyes looking away shyly "I was wondering how faucets work." you admitted and he yet again let out a gentle chuckle.

"I actually know the answer to that one." his eyes narrowed and he turned back to stare at his messy whiteboard, his entire body still crouched before you. "Perhaps if I break it down on modules, and we have a dynamic activity in between, I can keep your attention engaged." he said once he had turned back at you.

"Or we could make out. That keeps me engaged." you mentioned, your hands tangling on his hair.

"Yeah, nevermind, let's do that."

#spencer reid #spencer reid/reader #spencer reid x reader #blurb: spencer #blurb: criminal minds #criminal minds #criminal minds blurbl #spencer reid blurb #spencer blurb #reid blurb #reid x reader #adhd #this one is absolutely self indulgent #i literally just had a 15 minute meeting i didn't listen to a single thing #my coworker noticed and he took notes for me LASKJFALa #autism x adhd bf gf my beloved #how was this 700 words #????????????????????????? #blurb: mine

[piplupod]

youtube endscreen "choose another video" choices are about to make me scream

#jerma #how do words work. i am so tired today #jerma985 #pippen needs 2nd breakfast #500 #700 #1k #1500 #2k

[lorillee]

im sooooooooooooo normal about them (me when i lie)

#ace attorney #miles edgeworth #franziska von karma #lorillee.png #probably not going to finish any of these so ummmmmmmmmmmm take them . #the first one does actually have context but im not going to bother pasting the 700 word discord message #so if you wanna know youre gonna have to ask #anyways trying to relearn how to draw people. its going distinctly mediocrely #the von karma-edgeworth family soap opera

[oatflatwhite]

curtbucky for you all

#oatflatscribbles #curtbucky #masters of the air #mota #hbo war #:))) #this is fic 3 of what took you so long i'm only on 700 words so. struggling a little. (how do you start a fic again?) but i liked this bit.

[non-un-topo]

Kind of obsessed with this nickname actually

#context: chapter 2 of my wip summerwind. 8 or 9 year old nicolo unwillingly receives a prophecy from a leper and it's rather terrifying #the man tells him he will 'fly on red wings for Christ's love' #also this: #'The streets will run rivers of blood and in it you will be baptized anew. Will you feel Christ’s love then boy? I should think not...' #i COULD just share the whole snippet but i'm insecure lol. and it's 700 words. i'll share the whole scene if ppl want but i'm shy #how does the old leper know all of this? idk it's fiction man. he can See it in his Eyes #also the thing about prophecies is that sometimes words like these stick with you for life - #- and your actions after hearing them begin to manifest that kind of future. or something. #yusuf does not get a creepy fortune teller. but he DOES develop a thirst for justice in this chapter #and begins to realize things about the world around him. about injustice and prejudice and expectation. #anyway i feel like i plagiarized 'hell bird'??? but i like it so it's mine now #also i love just sharing awful screenshots of my documents lol i don't know why i do this

[juminies]

pinky promises

a gesture jumin doesn't see the need for

jumin x reader, 779 words, fluff

♡

“I promise I’ll be home on time tonight, my love,” Jumin says. It’s just past 7:30 a.m.; you lazily stand in front of him in your pajamas as he quickly fastens his coat, getting ready to leave for work. Elizabeth 3rd hovers around your feet, occasionally alternating between whose attention she’s attempting to get hold of. “I know I’ve been taking on a lot of overtime recently—things have been particularly busy while we've been attempting to secure a new deal with a large company overseas. However, it’s almost complete now, so,” he stops mid sentence as he’s distracted by you suddenly holding your hand out towards him, pinky finger extended.

“Hm?” he muses, looking down at you through half-lidded eyes. His hands slow down in their actions, coming to linger on his metal coat buttons.

“Pinky promise,” you clarify, not quite a question. "So I know you're serious."

He chuckles warmly. “Correct me if I’m wrong,” he says, stepping closer to you and moving his hands to rest gently on your waist. “But did I not already tell you that I promise?”

“Well, you did… but there’s no harm in making sure…” you retaliate, a slight aura of mischief to your tone.

Jumin quizzically raises an eyebrow at you, a small smirk appearing on his face as he catches on. You press your knuckles against the layers covering his chest, pinky still outstretched. His smirk drops to a playful pout as he murmurs, “You mean to say that my darling wife doesn’t trust me?”

You respond with a huff, but won’t be defeated so easily, you decide. “And what if I don’t?” you say. You flatten your hand finally, bringing your other one up to his chest too. He simultaneously moves to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear, and afterwards subtly manoeuvres both of his cold hands beneath your pajama top to rest on your lower back.

You shiver under his touch, and his smirk returns.

“If you didn’t… Then I’d be ever so hurt.” He emphasizes his words as he speaks; blinks down at you and sniffles quietly to rein in the (albeit fake) emotion.

“You’ve never lied to me before, but I just never thought that such a loyal man would be so hesitant to commit to a pinky promise,” you continue to tease.

“I heard somewhere that upon its origin in Japan, the idea of the pinky promise was that they cut off your finger if you broke your word. They called it yubikiri, and there was a saying that went alongside it. Something like, whoever lies should swallow a thousand needles. Are you planning on doing that to me?”

“Now that you’ve suggested it, I might take it into consideration. Especially if you’re planning on breaking your word, as it seems you just implied.”

He laughs again at that, properly now, and you feel his chest shake under your hands. You couldn’t explain his laugh if you tried—it’s like honey, a blanket on a rainy day, a fresh bouquet of flowers. And so, even trying to keep a straight face, you can’t help but beam at the sound.

He leans down to softly kiss you as his laughter subsides. “I really have to leave if I want to be back on time,” he whispers against your lips.

“Hm… Let’s see,” you whisper back before kissing him again. You put intention into it now; it’s longer, deeper. And when you pull away,

“Not without pinky promising.”

This time he doesn’t hesitate as he takes a small step back and holds his hand out to you, pinky finger outstretched just as yours had been before. You link yours into it and he smiles softly. He continues to focus on your hands as he speaks.

“I never understood the point of this. As far as I’m concerned, a promise is a promise. I might have turned down every pinky promise ever offered to me, though I could probably count on one hand just how many times that is. Considering it now, would that have made me look like an untrustworthy man? Perhaps. Nonetheless, for you, my angel”—he tightens the grip between your hands and looks up from where your fingers are interlocked, his eyes warm as always—“I promise.”

You press your thumbs together to seal his words, and he smugly insists on also sealing them with another kiss on his way out.

You text him after he leaves, just for clarity’s sake.

For the record, you’re the most trustworthy man I’ve ever met

I love you. Have a nice day ♡

He responds immediately.

I love you too. Pinky promise.

#mystic messenger #jumin han #jumin x reader #jumin x mc #aka how many times can ann write 'promise' in 700 words #annfic

[the-insouciant-scientist]

@fallenlondonficswap @house-of-mirrors

For the general swap! You said you'd like to read about Irem, and my brain just went... a little nuts with this concept. Hopes this makes sense, and uh. Sorry in advance about the tenses.

Will You Greet The Daylight Looming

Unnamed zee captain character, General Rating, 732 words. Slight spoilers for Irem.

You will arrive at Irem. You will always arrive at Irem. You will leap from your ship onto her shores and you will reach out both hands and you will be welcomed like a stranger, like a friend, like a lost part of a whole. Your crew will not come with you, not here, you will assume. 

You were given a heavy robe and lead along gold-garlanded paths and you watched as people parted before you like the sea, like the zee, like reeds. Some of them whispered to themselves as you walked past. The silk veil you wore fluttered in the faint breeze.

A young man stands before you. He has something to say. You nod, and he speaks.

 “ What is time but string and Fate, 

     A key-to-heart, a broken crate, 

 Pandora’s Box has caused such grief,

   But time heals all and brings relief.       

        So what is it we can’t abide

That causes us to run and hide?

 Clocks will turn and things will change,

Does that make your soul feel strange? “

You will have stepped back, clutched at your robe, and turned away. When you will have looked back, he will have left. His words will be ringing in your ears.

Hands have been guiding yours, gloves smooth against yours. They have been soothing you to the best of their abilities. You have wiped a tear away from a shrouded eye, and you have been walking. You did not know how long you have been walking for.

The people of Irem will have spoken in riddles. They will always have done this, and you will always have known this about them, even before you disembarked. You will not have expected this riddle to cut you to the bone like it has.

You found your future in a tapestry. You weave your future yourself. You will discover your future.

Why did this hurt so much?

The warp and weft have shown you a warmth you had forgotten. Beams of sunlight have kissed your skin and you have squinted, up into the light. Up into the law. You have instinctively flinched, because you have died many times over, and light has no mercy. It had something to say. You have closed your curtains and covered your ears and huddled on the floor.

“COME BACK.” It will demand. You will shake your head. You will feel like a child being scolded.

“THINGS CAN NEVER RETURN TO THE WAY THEY ARE.” It said. You pulled your veil down further, buried your face in the lace. Was this a Judgement speaking, or just your own psyche? 

“I want them back.” You tell it. Your voice is small, and cracks when you speak. You do not know if it can hear you. You do not care.

“MY LIGHT WILL NOT ABIDE IT.” It will have stated. You will have clenched a fist and stood, robes heavy on your shoulders.

“Then I will not abide your light.”

You had broken your shuttle, cracked it down the middle. Your weaving had been ruined. You had a bitter smile on your lips. Your crew had found you, even though you had told them to remain on the ship. You had been crying. 

You will leave Irem. You will stride alongside your crew, your family, back to your ship. You will leave this city of roses and serpents and go home. 

—

A knock sounds at the door to your cabin. You wince, because you have a massive migraine from Irem’s whole past-present-future tense thing. Your first officer comes in with tea, and you could nearly forgive her for that alone.

“Sorry for barging in, Cap’n. Just wanted to check on you after… All that.” She says. You don’t say anything. You don’t need to.

“...What did you see?” She asks, softly. 

“The Sun,” You reply. You hear her breathe in sharply. “I saw sunlight.”

“Were they… I mean…”

You close your eyes. Your veil shifts against your cheeks. “They couldn’t be. Light is Law.”

“What are you going to do, then?”

“Whatever it takes.” You say simply. Your first officer gives you a long, sideways look, before going back to her tea.

“Never much minded the dark myself, you know. Eh, Captain?” she says, elbowing you gently.

You rub your thumb across their compass, where it hangs around your neck. Pointing you home. Pointing you back to them.

You smile.

#fallen london fic swap #fic #the scientist scribbles #irem #house-of-mirrors #sat down like 'ooh i wonder how writing about irem will be' and then blacked out and came to 700 words later #a copy of your bazaarine tale

[poisonedfate]

"Don't you dare look him in the eye" is SO merwaine

hello!!! is it just me or are these getting longer and longer (the answers, i mean). either way! so very fun to write, not as much action as i had essentially wanted, but there's gwaine wooing merlin so. hope that balances out.

send me prompts

It was unusually quiet around him, even with the annoying ringing in his ears. He remembers most of the men being held up by the rest of the knights as Gwaine pulled him in the opposite direction. He remembers two of the men noticing, chasing after them. He remembers seeing the crystal in their hands. He remembers losing them. He remembers suddenly feeling the cold dirt under his cheek.  The men were mere soldiers of the sorceress whose name he couldn't place as he lay on the ground. She had given them a crystal that, if what they said was true, should help them figure out who Emrys was. He could feel the crystal, the pulse of it, when they were close, so he was inclined to believe it worked in its intended way. They talked of glowing eyes guiding them, so Merlin had averted his from their gaze. Maybe that's how they figured it out, maybe that's what tipped them off, maybe that's why they were chasing them.

Suddenly, there were two hands grabbing at the front of him, pulling him upwards, pushing his back against the tree. Merlin kept his eyes closed, both because he couldn't quite manage to open them yet and because it just seemed like the better option, all things considered. Gwaine was yelling his name, somewhere, in the distance.  He must've fallen unconscious because next thing he knew there was a splash of cold water on his face. It knocked a gasp out of him, eyes flying open. So much for better options.  "Come on, you've had enough rest, get up," the man growled, pulling at him again, this time upwards. He stumbled just so before finally finding his footing.  They must be waiting for the other man, he thought since this one hadn't reached for the crystal already. Merlin was right, as the other soldier soon approached: "Is it him?"  "I don't know, you had the crystal." "No, I- wait, yeah, there it is," the man laughed roughly. Were they playing some sort of game, or were they just plain stupid? Stupid, Merlin quickly decided. He's seen enough of those to know by now.  Merlin didn't think that the crystal had any other effects on his magic, though, in a perfect world, he wouldn't have to use his powers - he didn't know what had happened to the rest of their group, and though he trusted the knights, though he was quite sure he could deal with them as well if needed, he preferred not to risk it.  Before he could even think any further, he heard more footsteps coming in their direction. The first man was holding his head slightly upwards, the second was only about three steps away from him now. His odds weren't great, but as soon as he recognised Gwaine, he knew those odds were about to change.  The men barely had time to react before the knight was already right next to them, calm, sword drawn, eyes steady and dark: "Merlin," he said, almost like a greeting, more like a question. He could only muster up a small smile in response. Gwaine had come from the right, closer to Merlin and the man holding his face, clearly marking him as the first target. As the two fought, the second man took his chance to approach Merlin, committed.  "Don't you dare look him in the eye," Gwaine spat, as serious as ever, sword to the man's throat.  Merlin's head was still spinning slightly, everything moving both a little too slow and a little too fast, so he hadn't noticed how quickly Gwaine had taken care of the first soldier. Though if he was to judge by his second battle, the knight certainly wasn't wasting any time.  Merlin exhaled heavily, shoulders finally relaxing, as Gwaine came to hold him up, arm around his waist.  "Where did you even come from?" he questioned, trying to put the pieces back together.  "Can't get rid of me that easily, Merls," Gwaine laughed in response.  "You know, I could've taken care of them too," he continued, holding on to Gwaine for dear life, which did not help his case at all.  "Oh, I know, but saving you is such a rewarding quest, pretty one."

#so so fun #it's like 700 words but doesn't seem like enough though i'm quite fond of the general idea of it #don't typically write damsel in distress merlin because #yknow #powerful sorcerer and all #but that's just how the dice rolled or whatever #hope you like it!!!!!!! #thank you so much for asking!!! kisses #q's #ask game #also again - did not reread properly so #apologies #merwaine

[aria0fgold]

A spell for warmth, a spell for comfort, a blanket for silence.

Morgana paced about the room, he's all alone again. Well, that's to be expected when Ren is now going about his usual schedule of hanging out with other people after school, it's always a good thing to deepen his bond with others. And quite frankly, Morgana prefers that right now, to be alone. It helps, the silence, allowing his thoughts to be loud enough for him to think everything through properly. Though now'd he think about it, even with Ren around the silence still lingers, considering how he isn't much of a talker, yet despite that, it was warm. Silence blanketing him in a warmth just by the presence of someone else he trusts and care for as a friend. One of the first friends that Morgana even had ever since he woke up in… this form. A cat… How useless.

They defeated Okumura, accomplished their mission and now all they have to do is wait, like always. But the feelings of self-doubt doesn't vanish just as easily as that, the feelings of uselessness that lingers even though a day or two had passed. He mostly had been pushing such feelings at the back of his mind the past couple of days, the air around them is still somewhat tense, with the public believing in the Phantom Thieves more and more. It isn't just them waiting on Okumura's change of heart now, but the majority of the public too. Not to mention having a new addition to the team means some readjustments in strategies and training so that Haru could get used to it all. There just hasn't been time for Morgana to focus on his feelings at all. Was there even a reason to?

He'll get over this in the future anyway. Right, he can prove to everyone just how helpful and useful he can be in the future! There will be more opportunities then! So there's really no need to linger on it… Really…

Morgana huffed, in the end, he still feels a bit heavy.

He then heard the sound of footsteps climbing up the stairs, that might be Ren, so Morgana stood still, shaking his head and took a deep breath to compose himself. It'll be fine, he shouldn't worry Ren about this.

“You're bac—”

Ah. It's just Kaito.

Kaito laughed, “Whoa, I never thought I'd see a cat quickly shift expressions from excited to disappointed in seconds!”

Morgana sighed, though it only came out as a huff. Well, at least this time he didn't mimic Ren's voice.

“Heeey~ Cat got your tongue?” Kaito teased.

Ugh, Morgana doesn't have the time nor the energy to deal with this. Kaito can't even understand him so what's the point in speaking? It'll only come out as meows so Morgana can't even just tell him to shut up or leave him alone. This is the worst, he'd rather talk to Ryuji instead.

With another huff, Morgana tried his best to glare at Kaito before turning around to lay on the cough, curling his body into a ball and putting a paw on his ears, he knows it's useless with how sensitive cat's ears are but muffling even just some of Kaito's voice is enough for him and maybe, just maybe, it'll come off as a clear message that Morgana doesn't wanna listen to him at all.

Seconds pass in silence.

A moment, and then another. And yet… Morgana can still feel someone's gaze on him.

UGH! SERIOUSLY JUST LEAVE ME ALONE!

Morgana stood and quickly turned to face Kaito with the intent to hiss and bare his teeth, much like an annoyed cat would, it'd be obvious then, right?

But… he stopped midway.

Kaito still stood by the stairs, a serious expression on his face, it was rare for him to have such an expression when he's always smiles and tricks. His eyes were focused on Morgana, scanning his body from top to bottom, what is he looking for exactly?

“You—” Though Morgana knew only a meow would reach Kaito's ears, he couldn't help but try to speak anyway.

“Are you upset about something?” An attempt that was cut-off by Kaito's sudden question.

What… What is he—

Kaito's lips curled into a small smile, one that strangely feels genuine, not unlike the others he had which only felt like… a mask, “Eheheh, I don't know. It just feels like it. You're a smart kitty so I thought that maybe… … Say, can I sit next to you?”

. . .

Morgana doesn't really know what's happening anymore. Kaito is enshrouded in one too many mysteries, possibly even more than that Detective Prince. How can he figure that out when he can't even understand what Morgana's saying in the first place? Just from body language? Of a CAT? …Aren't all cats supposed to be easily irritated and annoyed?

. . .

Morgana huffed, he moved over to the other end of the couch, allowing space for Kaito to sit down on.

“Thanks!” Kaito sat down, seemingly making sure to leave out enough space between them.

“So… Hmm…” Kaito put a hand on his chin, deep in thought, most likely figuring out on how to cheer up a cat.

Morgana can't help but feel slightly moved by that.

“Uhh… I don't really know how to cheer up a cat. I don't even know what you're upset about.” He chuckled, “I doubt I can even figure that one out!”

A beat of silence pass, though strangely it wasn't as cold as before.

“How about…” He grinned, flicking his hand, a red rose appeared seemingly out of thin air, “some magic tricks?”

Morgana huffed, in his head he wore a smirk, such an expression not quite easily done on a cat's face, “What other magic tricks are there anyway?”

After all, Kaito has done at least a number of it already whenever he's around them. He seems to really enjoy doing it.

“Oh? Is that possibly doubt towards the many tricks up my sleeves?” Kaito wagged his finger while clicking his tongue, “Never doubt a magician's tricks, smart feline!”

And with a toothy grin, Kaito stood up, opening his arms wide as he announced, “Welcome to Kaito's special magic show! I'll be sure to make you smile, my furry friend.”

Morgana huffed, in a friendly mocking tone, as a means to take up Kaito's challenge, and another as a way to say “Cat's can't smile, dumbass.”

“Ehehehe! Keep your eyes peeled now! You don't wanna miss a second of this after all!”

Frankly, Morgana's problems still lingers, something he'd have to deal with in the future. But despite that, he didn't feel as heavy as before. In the comfort of the couch, Morgana watched a magician weaved spells in the form of tricks, all to cheer up a mere cat. And maybe, that's all Morgana needed today.

#ariawrites #persona 5 #morgana #magic kaito #kaito kuroba #ngl i didnt expect this one to get this long (just around 1k words) still tbf its longer than the prev ones i did thats just #around 600-700 words (was making sure to not get it too long for the tumblr post but alas... i cant cut this one any shorter) #also hmmmmmm maaaaybe i should start posting these in ao3 too??? maybe. not sure. still scary but at least #itd be more organized in ao3 than here in tumblr but also-- kinda scary... i dont want the either fandom to perceive me #through the insanity that is my lil crossover fics of kaito being in p5. just seems scary but maaaaybe in the future i can #work up the courage for it? maybe. but for now. have at thee! kaito in p5 with morgana friendship! i love their friendship... #love how easily i can get these two with moments of being alone cuz theres akiren being busy with the confidants #he'd have his moment too dw. just gotta get through some more arcs and then itll be time for actual jokid content from me

[starryeyedjanai]

Make Me Write

thanks for the tag @stobinesque @eriquin @inairbinad @steves-strapcollection and @scarcrossdlvrs💕💕💕

Rules

Set a Word Count Goal for the week

Create a 24-hour poll with all the projects you would like to work on for the week

People can send asks or messages about things they'd like to see snippets of [I will tag you in the snippets I post at the end of this challenge]

Once the poll closes, divvy the word count based on the percentage of votes each option got! Start tracking your word count from when the poll closes.

Optional: By the end of your 7-day period writing period, post a snippet for each option. Match the snippet length to the sentence or word count length to the number of votes that option received.

This means there is no winner or loser. All the fics below will be worked on! This is just deciding the percentage of the word count!!

Goal

Minimum WC goal: 7,500 words Stretch WC goal: 15,000 words Completion date/time: Sunday, July 23, 10pm EST

Tags

No pressure! Either to do this too or just to boost and/or enable me!

@sidekick-hero @legitcookie @patchworkgargoyle @starrystevie @scoops-stevie @matchingbatbites @kkpwnall @judasofsuburbia @thefreakandthehair @artaxlivs

#the stretch goal is so optimistic because i have a work thing this weekend and idk how much free time i will have to write #make me write #wip game #college hockey au is absolutely something that came to me in a dream and i have 700 words of nonsense splattered in scrivener #and i'm looking flesh it out a bit :) #stranger things

[valleyfthdolls]

Drabble request: basically the missing kids + golden duo(cc and Cass). All forget their memories and names, so they go by their animatronic names, and act like the animatronic personalities.

(also cc and Cass)( are regarded as one person, even though they are separate, so like Fred or Goldie)

"Chica."

The little girl tilts her head. It's jerky, robotic. Years ago, she used to have a looser neck, she thinks. She glances.

The child awaiting her is blurry, its visage shifting, warping and distorting like it can't make up its mind. Through the monstrous yellow body, she can make out black, curly hair tied into pigtails. It stares blankly at her. Dressed in a ripped, baggy golden shirt with puff sleeves adorned with the dirtiest purple bow tie and vest she's ever seen, it stands with purpose, and oh. Goldie is acting like itself again. Chica swivels, turns around and faces it. Its image is blurry in her pretty blue eyes, shining a fuchsia hue under the stage lights. Its voice is whispery, but determined. Angry. Goldie is mad again, she thinks.

Trying her best not to upset it by noticing the difference, Chica smiles, and the skin of her cheeks crinkles and stretches painfully. She clasps her hands together.

"Goldie! Good to see ya got your wits about ya again, dear," She coos hollowly, her throat hurting with every word she speaks. She thinks there was something there once. Something cold, something metal. She swallows. It burns. Goldie scowls.

"Someone is here."

Chica's smile drops.

She doesn't like intruders. Not one bit. Not after they took her away from wherever she was supposed to have come from- the factory they made her body in, the pizzeria that used to be here.

"D- do Freddy n' the others know?" She whispers. Foxy won't like this, not one bit. Oh, and poor Freddy- the sweet little thing never got over his fear of the dark, and he'll be so upset knowing they've got someone lurking in the shadows. It doesn't help him to know that they're the monsters under the bed.

"Fredbear told them already," It rasps, pointing to its blue eye and tap-tap-tapping. "They're angry. They're real angry."

"Is that so?" Her voice rises, fearful. Goldie- Fredbear- either or, really- is angry. It always is. But it carries an air of seriousness- of barely masked fear and a desperation for self defense. Her eyes ask a silent question, a beg for an explanation that goes unseen and unregarded. Is it that man?

There's a man that Chica knows. The man, maybe, who took her from the factory, the pizzeria she was made in, stretched her skin and cut her neck and made her body rigid. All Chica knows is that because of that man, the world is no longer safe if it ever was.

"You know him," Goldie hisses. Chica's hinges are slow, awkward. When her head moves to face Goldie again, it's not looking at her, or any of the other children. It seems to be looking at itself. It nods carefully, and shaggy brown hair falls into its face. "I know him."

"Goldie? What's goin' on?"

"Shut up." Goldie's red eye briefly glances up at Chica as it brushes back a black curl that's slipped loose from its pigtails after years without brushing or washing. "You know him, Fredbear. Who is he?"

Chica steps back, not wanting to anger Goldie. Everyone is angry. Everyone is so angry all the time. The anger burning in Chica's little body is enough to make her want to burst. It scares her. It physically makes her sick with revulsion, and if she ever had a stomach she would throw it all up in the bathroom and it would come out tasting like old pizza. She wipes her mouth, almost preemptively. Her servo motors whir, air pressure valves clicking with the jerky movement.

"I will not let him touch us. Do you hear me, Fredbear? I will fucking kill him." Too young to be saying such nasty things. Chica frowns. Did it ever have parents? Did its creators ever scold it for its language? "Tell me. If it's not him, who is he?"

Suddenly drained of energy, Goldie looks down the hallway, a brown curl falling over its face. Its blue eye stares wistfully. Chica clasps her hands together again, preparing to try to butter it up so that no one else has to do anything that will make anyone more upset and no one has to make her any more afraid. Her cheeks ache as she prepares to smile.

"...I know him," It repeats.

(Drabble requests are open! Check pinned.)

(If you want a more specific situation that might focus on other characters, lmk and I can try to whip something else up for you too!)

#woe. southern chica and it/its golden freddy be upon ye #idk how that last one happened tbh #~700 words #drabbles #fnaf #fnaf fanfic #therealstickleer #fnaf golden freddy #fnaf chica #five nights at freddy's #golden duo #i'm not a frequent golden duo writer so I hope that my depiction of them (and cassidy's implied design) and the surreal vibe i went for #are up to what you were hoping for #tysm for the request! this one was so much fun #fic request #writing #i. fogot what my tag for these was

[thetwelfthcrow]

Do you have an overview of the fics you are planning? 🥺 (Also, may I ask what's before march? 🫣)

before march is me rn working on loaads of uni stuff !! and work !!! and just. so much. in march i should be dooneeee. so i'll have time then!

i have an overview of all my wips but i'm not actively working on all of them. i'll filter (and probably miss some) fics that i want to work on from march onwards! all of these are 4433

keep me under the charm vampire lewis ; a trilogy series ; 2/3rds done ; 60k now

you crawled inside my head and set a fire there instead soulmate au ; oneshot ; 10k now only needs a sex scene

the netflix padel event title says :) ; oneshot ; only brainstorms

brazil, 2022 max/lewis/checo ; oneshot ; only brainstorms

suit shopping 4433 run in at an event, lewis thinks max should get a proper suit ; oneshot ; only brainstorms

i think your tired eyes are kinda nice dog sitter max fics ; part 1 (/4) here ; 4,6k now

H20!4433 the H20 just add water au (mermaid lewis) ; only brainstorms

got your naked pictures and i keep them in a folder lewis sends max a dick pic... on accident ; oneshot ; 3k now

a couple bodies in the garden where the grass grows serial killer max in-universe ; oneshot? i think ; only brainstorms

oh. oh that's quite the list. it'll be a busy month hm!

#zhalia's lil' answer chat #Anonymous #4433 #them wips baby! what a list #and this is not even counting the prompts you lot have sent in my inbox !!! #i need to learn how to write ficlets like 600 700 words and no longer fr fr #otp: not god and his angel

[wrencatte]

-gasp- Can it be??? Am I finally actively working on the sequel for when my cage is by the window (I can see the sun)???? Recovery (fics) are always hard to write. At least for me. But I'm going to do my best!! Here's a little sneak peek at the beginning! A little bit of Bruce & Robin!Jason

Jason’s been sneaking around the Manor as of late. Bruce noticed. He will always notice. But...it’s not the kind of sneaking the kid’s been doing since he decided to be the best Robin he could be. That kind is practice. Seeing if he can sneak up on the old man and take him by surprise for the first time ever – and failing, because Bruce will never not be hyperaware of his children’s presence, Batman or no Batman. This kind of sneaking. Well, it’s the kind of sneaking he used to do when he first came to the Manor, all skin, and bones and with a fearful sort of stubbornness that made him jack the tires of the Batmobile just to make sure he would  have enough to eat over the winter.

Unfortunately, Bruce knows exactly why this sneaking has popped back up. And he hates himself a little for being unable to just…put to words what he means.

So, the next time they pass each other in the kitchen, Bruce taps his shoulder in lieu of grabbing his arm. Jason actually stops, shoulders scrunching to his ears, sweatshirt all baggy and loose. He can hear the crinkle of plastic from the pocket and his heart clenches just a little. Food hoarding isn’t an easy habit to break, not after years of food insecurity, but he’d thought….he’d thought Jason had felt a safer than that, he thought it’d lessened. To have to reemerge so loudly now.

Bruce swallows. He messed up – but he also didn’t. Jason needed to be benched from Robin. He needs to – Bruce needs to find a therapist for him.

And isn’t that funny, that he’s thinking that now?

But there’s a difference, he’s pretty sure, between him becoming Batman and Dick taking on Robin compared to the grief turned anger turned recklessness that Jason is going through right now. People process grief in different ways, and he was an idiot for thinking two boys (three, because he’d also just been a boy) were the same.

He’s quiet for too long. Jason’s spine curls and he hunches in on himself, already two steps closer to the exit. Bruce takes a deep breath, opens his mouth, and says –

“Hey, you know I love you, right?”

Jason freezes. Doesn’t turn around. Just freezes like a baby deer caught in the headlights of a semi. Bruce reaches for him before he hesitates then pulls back. It feels weird, not gathering him into a hug. He’s never been overly affectionate, at least physically, but he’s learned well through Dick’s love for hugs and arms over shoulders. He feels like he’s implemented it well with Jason too, learning when hugs are okay, when to swap them out for hair ruffles or pats on the shoulder. Knows Jason never really asks for the hugs he so desperately craves, so he’s learned to spot the signs.

The signs now scream don’t touch me. Bruce wants to hug him. Reassure him.

But he listens and obeys the signs.

“If you ever need to talk, I’m here,” Bruce says lightly. If he pushes, Jason will close off even more. He’s handled this all wrong.

Did he fall…or was he pushed? he’d asked, not because of some sort of – condemnation or accusation. Not because he believed Jason to have done it. It was purely to know how to handle the emotional fall out. If he were pushed. If he’d fallen and Jason tried to catch him. If he’d fallen, then Jason refused to try and catch him. They all have different responses.

And Bruce failed in every one of them.

But maybe he still has time to fix this. Maybe –

“Yeah, sure,” Jason says. He refuses to meet Bruce’s eyes, his voice is rough and raspy, gritty in the way it gets when he’s been crying and sneaking smokes. “You got it, boss man.”

He tucks his hands a little further into his pocket, package crinkling, and hurries out the kitchen, dodging Alfred just in time.

Bruce watches him go, stomach sinking, some foreboding feeling filling the empty space up in its place. Alfred gives him a commiserating look, a hand on his shoulder.

“He’ll come around,” he says.

“I hope so,” Bruce murmurs. “I’ll check on him in a few hours.”

(In a few hours, all Bruce will find is an open window – the security system expertly bypassed – two books missing from his evergreen pile on the bedside table, and a note on the bed in his wobbly, careful handwriting.

In a few days, all Bruce will find is his son’s body, broken and already cooling.)

#my writing #jason todd #bruce wayne #work in progress #honestly this snippet is only tangibly related to price of lions but it its 700 words of not a story and you know how i like flashbacks and #all so i added it

[laplacemail]

i'm glad i have such awesome writing partners that don't really mind how long i take to get to their asks/threads and stuff. 😭 been trying to slowly tackle the mountain of stuff i let pile up since december and it's hard not to feel discouraged (that people will eventually lose interest/not really want to do anything) and frankly overwhelmed (amount of things i owe) about it all... but people are really nice to me and they know that when i say low activity i truly do mean it.

between stuff happening irl to how bad my executive dysfunction has been (to the point that I can barely even do things that I need to do) things have been sooo terribly awful to get under control that I barely have energy to engage with my favorite hobby/creative outlet, which is writing. so thank you for being patient with me and all! i came to the conclusion recently that just because i don't use icons, i don't really need to write double - or even triple - the amount of words just to compensate for the lack of graphics. that it's not sustainable or even possible considering my energy levels recently. so i've been trying to de-worm myself by tackling my inbox, little by little. writing a few paragraphs is just as good as writing an entire novel for a reply, and this is incredibly hard for me to come to terms with/realize and understand. i'm still going to try and reply to things as much as i can, and hopefully not bite more than i can realistically chew (that one is a work in progress lol)!

but again, thank you for sticking around. whether we interact or not, it's always a pleasure to see people doing their stuff and i enjoy reading y'alls stuff a lot! 🌸 :)

#ooc #been thinking about this and how. ive been constantly dropping the ball w everything. and im rly rly rly sorry #really the 'you dont need to write 600-700 word replies to every single thing you receive' is the hardest thing to understand for me #but i'm... slowly... getting there........ not letting my brain stagnate and all. #anyway hope that you (reading this post) is having an awesome day. get something nice to eat. treat yourself #this post will self destruct #also things have been so hectic since last year. i'd love a break. please. please. pleas

[ghoulbread]

lynn murray witnessing her son getting taken away by the television, screaming in agony and grief and pure, motherly rage. lynn punching the television that stole her son, over and over again, screaming to let him go, to give him back. she receives the alternate version of her son from cracked and mangled hands, pushing the baby into her arms desperately. she doesnt realize that the alternate has tricked her. she wont know until its too late.

the television is broken, lynn's hand is bleeding, and the tears that have pooled down her face have dried. her child is crying. she gets up from shock, holding her child in her arms like he'll get stolen again (its a possibility. she doesnt know where or when adam could get snatched again), and goes to the master bedroom. she's alone, with her child, not knowing when or if jude is coming home soon, or if what happened actually did.

the only evidence of the act being her bloodied, possibly broken fingers, and the television screen being smashed to bits, glass almost everywhere in the baby's room. she first wraps her son, her beloved baby boy, in a towel, and places him in the bath. she has full view of him from here, in case they come from the drains this time, yet enough room to fix up her hand. the hammering in her head, blurred and sore vision make her unable to focus on anything but her baby.

after painstakingly getting the bits of glasses that were stuck in her knuckles out, wrapping her hand up the best she can, she sits in the bathtub with him. its silent, save for the attempts to calm her breathing, the heartbeat slamming against every rib in her chest, and the incoherent, quiet babble coming from beside her. shifting in her seat, she stares at adam. her boy, her precious bundle of joy, almost died by something she had no comprehension of.

the thought terrified her. what if they come from the phone next? what if they break down her door? what if they torture such an innocent baby? who even are they? the thoughts raced in her mind, hands moving before she even registered that shes hugging her knees tightly, nails digging into the fabric of her pants. the tears start back up again, lynn quietly whimpering while adam falls back asleep, none the wiser.

she startles when the phone rings in her back pocket. the uncomfortable lump shes felt the entire shes sitting here has been her phone. shifting around, she answers the phone. her voice, hoarse from yelling and crying, stutters and stops.

"lynn? honey, im on my way home. i know im a bit late but the boss wanted me to do overtime." jude's voice was static-y, no doubt from the bad connection. lynn felt herself relax a bit, hands still shaky and mind still racing, though calmed by her husbands voice. "jude. i- i saw... i did- i-" she felt her throat close up, still trying to process what to even say. "something bad happened." how else could she describe it? could she?

"lynn? what the hell? what happened? did something happen to adam?" he sounded urgent, and perhaps even accusatory. "yes. no. i dont know. i cant describe- i- it all happened so fast- that- he's-" "lynn, what the fuck are you saying?" anger, now. "the television. it- it took him. but i- i got him back." silence. and then a very loud, very disappointed sigh. "listen, lynn. just- look, youre obviously hysterical right now, ill talk to you when i get home." dial tone.

she felt dread pool in her stomach, though she knew that it had to be a terrifying hallucination. it had to be. it had to be. why would televisions grab children? that doesnt make any sense. none of this made any sense. if her mind wasnt safe, what was? could she trust anything that she sees from now on? questions, yet again, filled her mind. the now silent bathroom, save for the occasional baby noises from a sleeping adam, mocked her.

she gets sent to a mental hospital for years, until adam no longer remembers shes even alive. the quest to find her, once again, ignites.

#an alternate (heh) beginning to adams life! lynn lives but everythings still Fucked Up #ermm. ask to tag?? #is this considered tmc fanfic. i guess it is? it was originally just an idea but uhm. well you see how that turned out #also no i dont know what pov this is <3 sorry #i think that this is lackluster but im not about to rewrite all of this again #if something doesnt make sense tell me!!!!!!! please #700 ish words. wrow

[juminies]

Weirdest thing ever is scrolling through your docs only to stumble upon something you literally do not remember starting. What was my vision for this? Where was it going? Why did I stop working on it? Life's unanswerable questions

#found something I started in september which is actually very cute if I do say so myself #but I did completely forget about it for 2 months #it's like 700 words!!!! how did I just wipe it from my memory hahahaha