#zwrites

[zavbees]

Here is my take on Zane Ro'Meave for my au of Minecraft Diaries. I think I may post here and Twitter about the fic. Link things I don't necessarily want in the fic proper but still make my brain happy lol

ANYWAY this is Zane! He's pretty much the same (from what I remember of him anyway). He's still moody, he's a control freak, and he's a manipulative fucker. And I love him.

Writing a fanfic centered on the Jury of Nine and the Shadow Knights is surprisingly fun lmao

Here's the fic if anyone is interested:

#aphmau #minecraft #minecraft diaries #art #zane ro'meave #ao3 writer #ive been writing this for a while now #ive been enjoying it to much #ill post about the rest of the Jury later #idk man #im just vibing #its great #ZDraws #ZWrites #Diaries #ZDrawsDiaries #ZPresents[FtLB]

[zackmartin]

alright i might be a little too obsessed with this thought

#zelda writes #zwrites #zenry #anyway this is a very very very first draft i wrote like fifteen minutes ago so pls don't judge it too harshly alskdjf #they truly give me mental illness #but it's fine i'm having a blast #they're probably not going to be a couple in this. at least not with the idea I have right now #i realize i have a zenry blog for this stuff but i'm forcing you all to look at it anyway #i'm like. lowkey anxious about posting this but i'm having fun so it's fine. IT'S FINE #*

[weakzen]

alright, gonna ramble a little about the IF under the cut, yeah??

hell yeah

it's a slow-burn, cosmic horror mystery (with potential romance!!) set in 1967-68 alaska, a few years after the '64 earthquake & tsunami that wrecked anchorage and destroyed numerous coastal communities. the speck on the map where this story takes place--a highly-isolated seaside town nestled within the fjords and protective islands of southeastern alaska’s inside passage--was not one of those communities.

but they’ll wish they were.

...that said, i started writing this thing because, well, i love horror and i love scaring the shit out of people lmao. i'd been dying to run a call of cthulhu campaign for offline friends, with full costume, props and flickering candles, but, y'know, covid. so i started thinking about how to adapt those mechanics and vibe to interactive fiction and, heh. i think it's gonna work fantastically. <3333

(and for those who've never played call of cthulhu, it's basically the complete opposite of dungeons & dragons--an anti-power fantasy, where your characters are weak, fragile, die frequently in horrible ways, and when they do score a victory, it's often pyrrhic and ultimately hollow, on a cosmic timeline.)

so yeah. the vibe.

the story also deals with labor rights, indigenous rights, environmentalism and greed, amongst other things, and i'd say the major theme underlying everything is loss and change, catastrophic, life-altering loss and change, and how people and places move forward from that--or don't.

that theme extends to all of the romance options too, as survivors of '64. they might share their stories eventually, if you earn their trust. in the meantime, they are:

a botanical illustrator. charming, flirty, dismissively flippant. may or may not have already slept with the ROs, amongst other people in town.

a geologist. friendly, earnest, obsessively determined. may or may not have angrily thrown rocks at people on different occasions.

a hunter. dry, giving, elusively detached. may or may not have taken a stupid dare once and ended up with parts stuck to glacial ice.

all three are present in the town and story, but only one romance is available per playthrough (determined by which of them is on the ferry with the MC at the beginning of the game). and the romance is entirely optional. you can be friends, acquaintances, or just plain ol' bitch eating crackers i can't fucking stand this person lmao. i won’t punish jerk or indifferent MCs with less content, just different paths forward--along with logical consequences for their choices.

anyway, this is kinda long, so i’ll end with some more things you can do in the first chapter:

get seasick and vomit on the ferry, earn a perma ‘seasick’ flag to ensure it probably happens in the future

pet the ROs dog before it goes missing, and offer to help find it!

get a job at the salmon cannery, smell like fish for the rest of the game

#hell yeah #zwrites

[alesbianwithanotebook]

Chapter 3 of ‘all I’ve ever known’ is turning out to be a long one, and it’s probably going to take me a while, so here’s a tiny sneak peek at some of what I’ve got so far!

❝ The next morning, Tubbo was up before dawn. With the sun still below the horizon, he made his way blindly out of his room, daring not to light a candle. Making his way downstairs, he was quiet on the stairs for, quite possibly, the first time since he learned to walk. He snuck into the kitchen, breathing a sigh of relief that it was empty. Though it was unlikely Quackity would be up at this time, you could never be sure. Quackity was a notorious workaholic, and Tubbo had been forced to drag him to bed more than once. He immediately set to work, pulling out plates and digging a couple slices of bread out the bag as quietly as possible. Quackity was going to eat three square meals today, even if Tubbo had to force it down his throat.

He ducked down to grab the jam from the back of a cupboard, careful to mind his horns as he stuck his head in to see round the corner. They had been saving the jam for a special occasion, but it probably wouldn’t keep for much longer, and neither of them were going to be around to eat it, anyway. That was the plan for the next couple days, really—finish off the food in the house before they left, or else it would be off by the time they got back. Despite this, Tubbo knew Quackity would try to give him all the food, and he refused to lose two parents within three months of each other. Not that he missed Schlatt. It would just suck. Yeah.

But anyway. The jam. It had been sitting in the back of the cupboard for a few weeks now, both he and Quackity too nervous to entertain even the idea of opening it. One of the few nice foods they had left, it seemed almost sacred.

Tubbo took a deep breath before cracking open the jar. He fished out a knife from the drawer and spread a generous amount of jam on each slice, before plating them and setting them on the table. He then slipped on his coat and crept out the front door with the bucket they kept by the door. El Rapids was a small town, well known for being primarily populated by hybrids and magic users. Their water system was well-kept by a small family descended from the naiads that resided in the nearby river. Though most natural magical beings had died out long ago, magic was still present in the blood of many half-humans, known as hybrids.

As Tubbo ran down the lane, the sun began peeking over the horizon, casting long shadows over the dirt road. With Winter drawing ever closer, the nights were stretching on, and the sun came up later and later each day.

Tubbo made his way to the end of the street, where the old well stood. At its edge, a young woman stood, her faded pink hair tied up with ribbon and her cloak fluttering lightly around her ankles. She held her hands in front of her, steadily guiding a stream of water into the well. As the last drops fell in, she sighed and lowered her hands, drawing her cloak tighter against the morning chill. ❞

I think it’s pretty obvious, but who do you think this ~mysterious figure~ could be? Let me know!

Also, I’m trying to increase my reach with some new tags, so fingers crossed it works!

#zwrites #all ive ever known is how to hold my own (but now i wanna hold you too) #dsmp fanfic #dsmp fic #dsmp

[shattered-starzz]

Three words, yet sometimes….They’re hard for Mossie…. Even to a newly found brother.

—

The words felt bitter on fae’s tongue. The air around them felt overwhelmingly suffocating, as the words repeated in their head.

But they had to say it, these words meant so much.

‘Traitor. Liar. Monster. Fool.’

They pushed the words back. Back to the roots of anxieties and fears, back to intrusive thoughts that crave violence, back down- further and further to the loathing self hate that bubbles over as their own thoughts.

Fae’s grip strengthened. Around him, hugging him tighter- but not enough to hurt, yet enough to keep them grounded.

It was hard to even continue on, everything in them screamed to back away. Drop the conversation, and let it go.

But something else, deep inside them screamed out. These words are so important, and they know- no matter how painful and bitter it is to get the words out, they mean every aspect of it. They truly mean the words, and he deserves to hear them this once.

Taking a deep breath, the try to cleanly get the words out.

Their breath hitches, and the words just freeze- No. He needs to know. They break through it. Now is not the time to lose their voice, maybe they’ll stumble around, maybe they’ll barely be above a whisper- but he needs this. He needs to know.

“I- I love you…. Astrin.”

#Mossie!! #zwrites!

[alesbianwithabook]

Me, whenever I write anything

#zisrambling #zwrites #my beloved #thesaurus.com

[joonieshoelace]

P.O.V:

You're startled awake in the middle of the night, but you cant figure out what by. You sit and try to calm yourself down, and you're in the middle of taking some deep breaths when you hear it.

"Aaaaaaaaarrrmyyyyyyyyyy..." a whisper on the wind blowing through the open window. Everything inside of you tenses and tells you not to look outside, but you've never been good at trusting your instincts. You slowly, silently creep off of your bed and towards the window, the moonlight casting shadows around the- wait.

Didn't you close the curtains?

You pause in your movements and hold your breath, straining to hear... something? You're not sure if hearing or not hearing something would be better at this point. Regardless, no noise reaches your waiting ears, so you continue your slow tiptoeing across the floor.

You're right by the window now. You talk to yourself, saying that theres nothing to be afraid of. You hadn't heard anything anyways and you were probably just being silly-

"Aaaaaaarrrrmmmyyyyyy....."

It was louder this time. You stand shock still, the only sounds being the light breeze from outside and the loud beating of your pounding heart.

You shouldn't have to be this afraid in your own home, you think. This was your place. Your space to live and breathe and feel safe. Whoever - or what ever - was making this sound was trespassing, and had disturbed your sleep. You were angry.

"H-hello?" The anger did not carry to your voice, which shook with fear as you called out to the empty room. "Who's there?"

You wait, one moment, two, three, but no reply answers your question. You decide to look out the window.

Counting down, you take deep breaths as you prepare yourself for whatever you may or may not see awaiting you in the garden.

Three-

You close your eyes, shielding yourself from the ghoulish shadows created by the moonlight that twisted and changed to look like creatures of the night and danced around your room.

Two-

You inhale and steel yourself against intrusive thoughts running wild in your head, producing gruesome images of the horrors you were convinced you were about to see.

One-

Your eyes open, and you are confused.

You feel the grass under your toes and the chill of the air on your skin where before you felt the comforting warmth of indoors. The moonlight that once fell through the window to hit the floor now bounces off your bare skin. You are in the garden.

Your eyes open wide and you look around wildly, your breathing coming in harsh, heavy pants as questions hurl through your mind at light speed.

How did you get here?

Is the thing that made the noise out here with you?

Are you alone?

At this last thought, you gasp and look up to the window where you believed you stood just moments ago, where you remembered counting down but never taking that final step to actually look at the thing outside.

You look... only to see seven sets of eyes staring out at you.

Lmao idk my brain tried to tell a joke and it ended up like this. I dont really write, like ever, so please be nice 🙃

This is all my writing so please dont steal it

#bts #bts fanfic #min yoongi #kim seokjin #kim namjoon #kim taehyung #jung hoseok #park jimin #jeon jungkook #supernatural au #bts fluff #my writing #zwrites #festa 2020 #bts festa

[jinyoungied]

BUT IMAGINE JINYOUNG SITTING ON THE COUCH READING SOME BOOK AND YUGYEOM JUST COMING OVER AND LAYING DOWN WITH HIS HEAD IN JINYOUNG’S LAP, BUSY ON HIS PHONE OR WATCHING TV OR SOMETHING AND AT SOME POINT, JINYOUNG STARTS TO ABSENTMINDEDLY CARD HIS HAND THROUGH YUGYEOM’S HAIR AND YUGYEOM JUST SMILES TO HIMSELF

#jingyeom #park jinyoung #kim yugyeom #jinyoung #yugyeom #got7 #jinyoung got7 #yugyrom got7 #hc #zwrites

[zavbees]

In this episode, Arthur decides to try something different: not be a dumbass. It doesn't work out for too long.

He finds out some stuff about some people though!

And learns more about Blackberry - before getting distracted, as usual.

#we happy few #whf #arthur hastings #arthur hastings we happy few #sally boyle #sally boyle we happy few #ao3 writer #fanfic #ZWrites #Joy #ZPresents[LD]

[zackmartin]

Trick or Treat! I hope you have a super-duper wonderful Halloween! I love you too! 💜

ahh, thank you, bestie!!! I hope you're having a fun Halloween too!!! 💕💕

ask box trick-or-treating: fic writer edition!

This snippet is from the same halloween fic as this excerpt. I apologize, this is really long, but I liked it and I couldn't bring myself to cut it off 😅 (also, like i said before, please forgive the fact that this is kinda messy since it's still a first draft)

Henry shrugged and sank lower in his chair, absentmindedly picking at the peeling label of his root beer bottle. “Who knows? He started complaining about remakes and how they don’t do the originals justice, so I stopped listening.” Jasper snorted. “We could always do something else,” he suggested. “Like…?” “Party?” “You mean the parties we weren’t invited to?” Jasper rifled through the bowl of candy on the table. “Maybe you weren’t invited to,” he mumbled under his breath. Henry rolled his eyes and opened his mouth to argue but stopped himself when there was a knock at the front door. He was barely out of his seat before Piper came flying down the stairs, screeching, “IT’S FOR ME!” as she went. The three of them instinctively glanced toward the door as she pulled it open, Henry resisting the urge to flinch at her harsh, grating voice. He took a swig of his root beer, almost swallowing his tongue in the process, when he caught sight of who was standing on the other side of the threshold. Jasper whirled around to look at him at an almost neck-breaking speed, eyes wide, as Henry leaned across the table towards Charlotte. “Why is Zack Martin at my house?” he whispered. Charlotte peered at him, brows furrowed. “How should I know?” “Did you bring it? Did you bring it?!” Piper gushed, practically bouncing on her heels. Zack nodded as he stepped through the door, using his foot to nudge it shut after him. Henry tried to force himself to look anywhere but at Zack, but it was no use. His eyes always ended up traveling back in spite of himself. Zack was already in costume: a ’50s greaser-style outfit, complete with cuffed jeans, black Converse high-tops, and a leather jacket that made Henry’s heart rattle around his ribcage. “Hey, Swellview,” Zack chirped as he caught Henry’s gaze while following Piper to the counter. Henry’s pretty sure Zack also said hello to his friends, but he was too busy trying to remember what words were to really know for sure. He had to settle on giving Zack some awkward chin nod in lieu of a verbal greeting. “Here it is!” Zack announced, setting down the scroll-like object in his hand before he unfurled it across the countertop. Henry craned his neck to get a better view. “A map of all the best trick-or-treat spots, including all the places with full-size candy bars.” Piper stared down at it with a greedy smile, looking like a little kid who had just been let loose in a candy store with an unlimited budget (although Henry supposed that really wasn’t that far from the actual situation). Henry’s so focused on the fact that Zack Martin’s currently standing in his kitchen, smelling like stale cigarettes and cheap cologne and making his teenage hormones go absolutely haywire, that he forgets to ask how Piper even knew he had such a map.

#asks #heather tag 💜 #zwrites #zelda writes #happy halloween! #zenry

[weakzen]

lmao starting off my IF strong, with options to steal from people, fail job interviews, and lock yourself out of the (sole) romance by being a jerk about the RO’s missing dog

#refining the first chapter outline tonight and MAN there are some choices #zwrites

[alesbianwithanotebook]

Just realised I’ve forgotten to update here, so here’s the latest!

WHO GAVE THE CHILD A GUN

Chapter 12:

ALL I’VE EVER KNOWN IS HOW TO HOLD MY OWN (BUT NOW I WANNA HOLD YOU, TOO)

Chapter 1 (Chapter 2 is out as well!):

#who gave the child a gun #all ive ever known is how to hold my own (but now i wanna hold you too) #zwrites #dsmp fanfic #dsmp fic #dsmp

[shattered-starzz]

A ‘friend’ stopping by once more, or. More then a friend. Well, Haven and Cas do be like that sometime… Months, then together again.

No trigger warnings?

—

Traveling through the worlds, exploring new views, regions, people- was never that bad. It didn’t weigh too much, and brought a sense of freedom. Being able to communicate and get to know others better, the new experience it brought through adventure.

It was almost welcoming, the feeling to do what’s wanted. To have no chains to bound one back, to be able to be fully free- with no consequences.

Yet even at the deepest corner of freedom, was homesickness.

The longing to go back to where it started. The push towards seeing them again. To be welcomed back home by another again.

But sometimes, home comes to you.

…

Haven was to put it shortly, exhausted. They don’t even know what came over them, when they decided to help out front. Perhaps they forgot how busy it gets, but either way. It was torture.

The moment the opportunity came to leave? They didn’t hesitate to jump up, and run out of that clambered, loud, headache-inducing place. Probably forgetting several things, as always, but getting out was first priority.

Their social battery had ran out hours ago, yet they kept pushing past limits, clearly forgetting how overwhelming that got.

The fresh air, and calming breeze that brushed past their hair was quite relaxing. A break from the closed in space they’d been in, and a welcoming change at that.

As they finally got back home, they wanted nothing more than to crash on the ground, and melt into a puddle. Although not the smartest plan, they were done. Today had been a day, one that needed to end.

However, as they opened the door- a fresh smell overcame them. One of their favorite soups, simmering on the stove. Cooked just like always, and clearly going to lead up to a nice dinner for once.

Except. That’s when it hit them.

Haven isn’t a cook. They didn’t make that soup this morning, they can barely touch food without burning things, or causing pure chaos. Which, in their defense, the eggs were an accident. They weren’t quite sure how they blackened them so easily, but, then again. Getting easily distracted could’ve added on to that, but also, that book was too good to turn away from.

Looking around on edge, they quickly froze as they viewed the couch.

Dropping the bag in mere seconds, they seem close to tears. Taking a few steps forward pointing a little bit before…. Trying to get a few words out.

“C-cas…?”

Their voice is practically a soft whisper in the room, delicate and easily broken. But still, it carries a comforting feeling, a sense of happiness embedded into their tone.

The almost can’t believe it.

“C-cas…. When?”

They try again, before a soft chuckle is let out. Cas stands up slowly, walking forward until they’re in front of them, holding their arms out- as if for a hug.

They smile, before speaking.

“Hello, my love.”

Haven, on the verge of literal tears, doesn’t dare to turn that hug down. Melting into their arms, and letting a few tears fall. They don’t seem like letting go, but they also have so many questions.

It’d been months since the last time they’d been together, and it pained Haven having to leave more than anything. Seeing Cas right before them, was everything.

“When…. Did you arrive..?”

Haven asks, slightly in between sobs.

“This afternoon, heard you were busy, so, I decided to surprise you instead.”

Cas says simply.

They both are happy, overjoyed even, to be in each others arms again, but Haven suddenly pulls away.

“W-what if I don’t want to eat tonight…?”

They seem a little hesitant, not sure on what answer to expect from Cas- but still wanting to make it known they are recently.

Castiel only smiles,

“There’s always tomorrow, I’m not going anywhere, my love.”

Hearing that, made their face light up,

“Wait- you’re…. You aren’t leaving this time?”

Haven couldn’t help but ask, clearly hoping they didn’t misunderstand.

“No. I’m not.”

They sigh, before tackling them back down to the couch, laying within their arms and basically latching on.

Cas seems rather caught off guard, but can’t help but let out a small laugh. One Haven hasn't heard in awhile.

It brings such a happy atmosphere, everything just seems so perfect. It’s very comforting, and before they realize they get closer to drifting off.

Before fully falling asleep, Cas whispers in a very gentle and caring voice.

“Goodnight, my love.”

#Haven!! #Cas!! #Zwrites!

[zickd]

04. butterfly, pinned to cutting board

It itches, and she can’t scratch it.

She wonders when Father started collecting dead butterflies and putting them on display in his study. She barely makes a noise when walking on the carpet, bare feet taking her from a wall to the other – from a death to another. Would they fly again if she broke the glass and unnailed them.

Rivers of warm tears down her cheeks, and it still isn’t enough.

Fingers rap on a golden frame, making a ticking sound like clocks or drizzle. On the board, the blue and white butterfly shudders. Its wings hold tightly onto the smallest breath of life. If she tried to fix it, would it work?

There is something in the back of her head, begging for attention.

She knows better than ignoring it.

She knows she can’t ignore it.

There’s a child tied to the kitchen table, and she is screaming.

Her whole body pauses for just a second. Her index finger crooks, scratches the glass but leaving it pristine. Skin burning. Soul reclaiming what’s locked.

SINCE WHEN DOES SMOTHERING FIRES SAVE THEM?

When she walks out of the room, the aftertaste of rusted iron keys still lingers in her mouth.

#zwriting #oc: chris muir #merulia #hehe metaphors go brrrrr

[alesbianwithabook]

Send Me Writing Prompts!

Send me prompts! I'm bored, and it'll be a fun challenge. Send me something, I'll write you a drabble. I need to get the creativity flowing.

How It Works

Prompts

Prompts can be anything - songs, emojis, characters, writing prompts, colours, aesthetics, pictures, mood boards, whatever you want! I don't care, as long as it's something I can write about.

I will do fandom stuff, so long as I know the material.

Rules

Absolutely nothing NSFW. I'll write horror though, but the results may vary

Send me an ask or comment on this post.

I will tag you in the post, or use your ask

Will be cross-posting on my side blog, @alesbianwithanotebook

Thank you!

~ Z

#writing #zwrites #drabble prompts #send me prompts

[arif3007-blog]

The actual meaning of MATURITY is when people hurts you and you try to understand their situation rather than hurting them back. #maturity #growup #understand 17042019 05.24 #zwrite https://www.instagram.com/p/BwVUTRYFPls/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=2l8qkzjrbn4f

#maturity #growup #understand #zwrite