#song writing snippets

[songwritingsnippets]

60s Party Parody

It's a 20s party from a 20s movie

Oh It's a 20s party from a 20s movie

See the dancers in the ballroom

Swishy Swishy Swishy Swish

Swishy Swishy Swishy Swish

It's a 20s party from a 20s movie

Oh It's a 20s party from a 20s movie

See the moonshiners in the woods

Mixy mixy mixy mix

Mixy mixy mixy mix

Swishy Swishy Swishy Swish

Swishy Swishy Swishy Swish

It's a 20s party from a 20s movie

Oh It's a 20s party from a 20s movie

See the voters at the ballot

Voty voty voty vote

Voty voty voty vote

Mixy mixy mixy mix

Mixy mixy mixy mix

Swishy Swishy Swishy Swish

Swishy Swishy Swishy Swish

It's a 20s party from a 20s movie

Oh It's a 20s party from a 20s movie

See the stock market falling down

Crashy crashy crashy crash

Crashy crashy crashy crash

Voty voty voty vote

Voty voty voty vote

Mixy mixy mixy mix

Mixy mixy mixy mix

Swishy Swishy Swishy Swish

Swishy Swishy Swishy Swish

It's a 20s party from a 20s movie

Oh It's a 20s party from a 20s movie

See the singers at the nightclubs

Jazzy jazzy jazzy jazz

Jazzy jazzy jazzy jazz

Crashy crashy crashy crash

Crashy crashy crashy crash

Voty voty voty vote

Voty voty voty vote

Mixy mixy mixy mix

Mixy mixy mixy mix

Swishy Swishy Swishy Swish

Swishy Swishy Swishy Swish

Singy singy singy sing

Singy singy singy sing

#lyrics #scout songs #bsa #camp songs #parody #song writing snippets

[hrokkall]

Mama gave me music lessons,

now I play the saddest songs

#ULTRAKILL #Ultrakill spoilers #<- God I hope everyone who hasn't played the update has that blocked by now #Gutterman #Gutterman ultrakill #Mother mother mother of me. Save me mother mother mother of me. Save me. Mother mother mother of me save me #Also shoutout to ME for writing a snippet that predicted this in DECEMBER of last year. That I completely forgot about. #It was not NEARLY as emotionally devastating as what was in the game though. Holy Shit. So I HAD to draw something for the real 7-2 poem #Also if you scrolled through the tags this far; caption is from an unreleased Mother Mother song that I've loved dearly for many years. #Hrokkall art #1k

[bored-platypus]

swim in circles (sniper! tim)

au where tim's parents get kidnapped by obeah man earlier on but they survive. and he becomes a sniper. :)

inspired by @yjcorefourenjoyer's sniper! tim idea, who graciously let me run around in their sandbox. :D

Turns out, when you leave your child alone without a parental figure for months, you can’t integrate yourself back into their life and just pretend all is normal.

You never wanted to parent me before, Tim wants to scream. Why are you even pretending you care now?

But he says none of it, swallows it down his throat dry where it resides in his chest, thick and cloying like a good son. His parents narrowly escaped being killed. Tim is being selfish because he isn’t used to this. It’s fine.

Jack wants him to transfer to a nearby private school and live at home instead of boarding school so he and Mom can keep an eye on him, fine. Tim can adapt, take advantage of the fact that he’s home more to take pictures of Batman and Robin. 

So Tim is twelve years old when his father brings him to a shooting range and puts a hand on his shoulder. Some good ol’ father-son bonding, his dad claims. His dad is too scared to admit what the true purpose is; so Tim won’t be defenseless in case he’s kidnapped.

But it doesn’t matter whether his dad verbalizes it or not: Tim knows, so there’s no point in saying it out loud.

(For a brief moment, he thinks of becoming Robin, of fists and swinging staffs and acrobatics. Of following Batman’s no-kill rule.)

It’s a silly thought. Tim’s parents are very much alive, and his reality is this: gunpowder and cameras and slow, choking patience. Tim is athletic, but doesn’t exactly make a point to get into fights— if he’s attacked, he would have the best chance with a gun.

But for the next few months, Tim drowns under his father’s expectations and his mother’s worried and guilty gaze. The knot in his chest tightens until he struggles for air, and Tim needs something, needs to get out of the house, needs to do something other than follow Batman and Robin because his parents keep checking on him in the middle of the night.

Tim flounders, kicks fruitlessly at the waters until another weekend, when his father brings him out again and he adjusts his stance, aligns his handgun, and waits until his hands are steady.

It doesn’t take long until he speeds through a fire safety certificate test and all but owns his father’s 9mm pistol.

For the first time in what feels like forever, Tim breathes.

It’s a hobby his father supports and something his mother, who sits in her wheelchair, loosens the furrow in her brow for. Before he goes, she quietly brushes her hand over his hair. Remember your gun safety, Tim, she says, and he nods before heading out for another lesson.

Really damn good, his instructor says, and Tim smiles, because his arms are getting used to the recoil and Tim has one of the highest accuracies among all the teens in the class, even if he takes a little longer than everyone.

But it’s no matter: Tim has experience with being patient.

It doesn't take long for Tim to start bringing his handgun out with him while he goes birdwatching. It takes even shorter for Tim to start eyeing the bolt-action rifles jealously, thinking of how much farther he could take it, what he could do. Eighteen years old, he chants, eighteen years old.

Except when Tim turns thirteen, Jason dies. Batman grieves his son’s death in a way that leaves Gotham a bloody, destructive swathe of pain. And Tim can’t just watch, anymore. He goes to Dick, pleas in his mouth, begging him to see that Batman needs a Robin. 

It doesn’t work. And now Two-Face has Bruce and Dick, and Tim has nothing but his 9mm pistol and the location of the Wayne manor. Alfred looks down at him, lips pursed in hesitation, and Tim knows, knows that Robin doesn’t use guns, knows that it would be an abomination to Bruce’s values and Dick’s legacy but he doesn't know what else to do. 

“Please,” he begs.

Surprisingly, it is easier to convince Alfred that he can protect himself with a gun. Tim suspects that Batman will have a different reaction.

–

Bruce and Dick are safe, Two-Face is safely in jail, and Bruce looks at his guns with poorly concealed suspicion and apprehension. And that’s the crux of the matter: Tim uses guns, Robin does not. Tim cannot be Robin, not with his parents so closely around and his only method of protecting himself being a lethal weapon. The worst part is, it all feels like a waste. The hours at the shooting range, his father’s proud smile, his rising accuracy rates, and it sucks, because Tim doesn’t want to feel this way. 

Tim never meant to be Robin. But he needs to become Robin now and Tim has never trained in hand-to-hand combat or swung a staff before. His way out has become another trap, and Tim has never shot a dart gun before, nor is it sustainable to use tranq darts. 

Funny. Tim never seems to be given a choice. But he can’t complain, so he does the next best thing. Tim throws himself into convincing Bruce, tries to prove that he can be Robin, even if he’s fighting a losing battle. There’s really only one way Bruce will accept, and Tim knows it. 

He screams until his voice is hoarse after Batman nearly dies, but he can't be Robin, not until he gives up Tim Drake. Timothy Jackson Drake holds tightly onto a hope that isn't sustainable, thinks of his father who looks at him in the eye and makes him promise that he'll keep his life over everybody else's.

TIm is selfish and he’s drowning again, but so is Gotham.

–

“Tim.”

His dad looks angry, flickers of worry shining from behind his eyes. Tim knows he’s been acting suspicious: too many bruises on his legs and cuts on his arm, coming home later than usual.

Tim shrugs self-deprecatingly. 

“Please, dad? I know it’s not what you want but it’s getting to be a lot and I need to move around my schedule to fit in more.”

“Tim… This wasn't brought on because the boys in your class have been roughhousinging you because you’re better, right?”

“No! It’s not, it’s not,” Tim shakes his head, face burning with mortification. That would be so embarrassing. It seems so juvenile, quitting because he was bothered by the envious comments, rather than quitting because he wanted to take on a vigilante mantle that had a fifty percent mortality rate to make sure Batman didn’t go off his rocker. 

Tim is so grounded when his dad finds out. His father sighs, running a hand through his hair, and Tim guiltily shrinks under his gaze. 

“You spent so long practicing,” his father accuses. There’s the hidden panic Tim was expecting. “I really thought you were into it, Tim.”

Tim flinches. 

“It’s not that,” he mumbles, trying not to feel like he’s wasted so much of his and his father’s time. “I’m just not that interested anymore and…”

And the truth is, Tim hates this choice. But it’s still his decision, to pick up Robin and put down Tim Drake. He goes for the low blow.

“Let me make my own choice for once, okay? You always want me to do this and that and I’m trying, but I want some space to figure out what I like instead of just balancing what you want in favor of what I want.”

His dad freezes, frustration playing out over his features, but Tim knows he’s won this one. 

“I’m going to check up on your mom. I don’t want to talk about this tonight, but we are talking about this.” I can’t stand talking to you right now.

It’s fine, because Tim has won. 

The situation will blow over, and Tim will prove that he can protect himself in other ways, to both his father and Bruce.

And once again his reality shifts: swinging fists and lies and the fast, spiraling rapids of life.

He thinks of steady hands and the quiet click to the loud bang of a gun. He will wait it out, he foolishly thinks. He has practice being patient.

a/n:

so basically this could go a NUMBER of ways, holy. i had so many plans that i derailed and thought over and whatnot

i originally was going to go for tim being a sniper wayyy earlier, like shooting bruce with tranqs post-jason death (which, by the way, tim would've gone through SO many hoops for that, dude is way too tiny to pass as over 18 and has to be a pretty damn good liar to his parents), never becoming robin (prob would've become a vigilante, just with guns)

but oh man in this version i haven't even GOTTEN to sniper! timmy yet...

also! discussed another cool idea with my wonderful beta @pinkcowzz about reverse robins where tim comes back from the dead as a sniper would also be fun. there are many ways that this au could branch out lmao

#tim drake #sniper! tim drake #tim drake is a huge liar lmao #unreliable narrator ofc #red robin #tw gun #plot bunny spinoffs #my writing #title from the song hope by roar #btw i know nothing about guns #so if anything is inaccurate please tell me lmao #jack drake #janet drake #bruce wayne #batman #lots of metaphors for drowning #weirdly felt like it fit sniper! tim ig? #might finish this up with more parts... eventually #somehow stuffed twenty motifs in here #lowkey wanna post a reverse robins snippet of this au

[save-the-villainous-cat]

mother im hungry for some angst and horny , may i ask for a hero x villain where they both hate each other but end up having hate sex after a real bad argument 🥺🙏

The hero remembered that one time when the villain broke their collarbone. They had just broken into a museum, stealing expensive vases and ancient relics, making it infuriatingly difficult to get them back on the black market.

The hero had arrived at the scene of the crime before anyone else, just in time to catch the villain. But as the villain prepared to flee, they cracked the hero’s collarbone into two with a steel pipe. Smirking, they’d blown the hero a kiss. A present for you.

It had hurt like hell. The hero had been unable to move for weeks, being practically useless to the agency. Christ, they still had problems with their shoulder at times. Too much exercise, too little exercise: it was a nasty pain that didn’t quite leave them.

And right now, the villain sucked the third hickey into the hero’s skin, right there where they had done the damage.

The hero cursed quietly, hating and loving how much it hurt.

“Asshole,” the hero hissed.

“Did you say something?” The villain’s voice was low, still angry and already a little drunk on pleasure. It had started out with both of them hooking up when they were drunk. The hero had suggested it and the villain had been much too happy to use that opportunity. It had been messy and quick (and good). A one time thing.

But that was really it.

For a week, until it became a little routine. No feelings involved, except for hatred.

And when opinions clashed against each other and insults were thrown into the air today, the hero needed something to calm down. Apparently this helped both of them.

“I hate you,” the hero said, despite the villain being inside them. “You disgust me.”

“Oh, boohoo. Is someone sad they’re not getting what they want? Poor hero, must be terrible.”

“Fuck off,” the hero said, pushing the villain’s face away with their hand. “I’ve been working for weeks on this mission. You have no right to—”

The villain pinned their wrists above their head and shut the hero up with a kiss. It was quite counterproductive, the hero was aware of that. It wasn’t healthy either but it was all the hero had. Sometimes being close to someone, anyone, at all costs was worth a broken heart. Just a little.

The villain pulled away, panting heavily.

“I thought we’re over this. I like you. But you’re not more important than my work.”

Ouch. The hero swallowed, thinking what desperate part of their brain had made them hope they could be more than enemies.

They knew the villain would smash they collarbone anytime without batting an eye and maybe it was good the way that it was.

“Oh, don’t look at me like that,” the villain said. “We’re both enjoying this, let’s not ruin it.”

The hero took in a shaky breath. Yes, they agreed. They enjoyed this, they enjoyed the villain’s company. It made them want to punch the villain even more.

“Now be a doll and spread your legs a little more,” the villain mumbled.

And the hero hated how fast they forgave them.

#One more stupid love song I‘ll be sickkkkk #writing snippet #heroxvillain prompt #heroxvillain snippet #heroes and villains #hero #villain #hero x villain #heroxvillain #request #an answer for an ask #omg pulmonaria officinalis marry me -.- #what am I even saying ononis repens my beloved #Fabaceae are so pretty for literally no reason #but also mrs Galium aparine slaying #B-b-b-b-but what about tanacetum vulgare?? Look I see ya but we are here for the slaying not for the cuteness #achillea millefolium extra points for mythology #ALL OF OUR BRIDGES BURNT DOWN #suggestive #angst

[ettelenethelien]

If Silm characters had Tumblr blogs (Years of the Trees):

Galadriel:

url: flowers-glade

pfp: probably a cat picture

blog title: have a voice and won't hesitate to use it

bio: 240s * mixed heritage (all three<3) * disrespect any and I am not liable for the consequences * anti-fëanorian * involved in politics to a reasonable extent

blog is a mix of aesthetic/poetry/literary analysis, strongly-voiced political views (no, she's not 'reasonably' involved), and personal posts that sound a lot like bragging tbh

Maedhros:

url: 12russandol

pfp: a picrew

blog title: Even scholars have their doubts, even painters have their missteps

bio: eldest brother of seven • yes, my father's Fëanor • probably won't reply to any asks about family matters • busy existing

posts like once a month on a very varied array of subjects. always polite

Caranthir:

url: you-are-the-blood-in-my-veins

pfp: something with a dark background

blog title: I just f**ing hate this world

bio: You're not going to like me, but maybe you'll stay to watch the trainwreck

very emo about it, song lyrics and edits, cultivates a deliberately edgy persona (is not really like this irl). steers clear of politics

Finrod:

url: manifestations-sevenfold-daffodil (bastardisation of some hyper-complex philosophical term + something random added on for good measure; if you ask him about the meaning he won't shut up)

pfp: cartoonish snake on a green background with yellow flowers (suspicious similarity to the arafinwean badge)

blog title: Edginess kills

bio: We could also just get on well with eachother :)

posts once a few days, reblogs anything that catches his eye. has contributed to various heritage posts though he isn't tumblr famous, has the epitome of a tumblr sense of humour. rarely makes original posts that aren't about complex philosophical questions.

Bonus - Fëanor:

has no consistent url because he gets banned every two months and has to make a new blog. is a troll. gets into a vicious fight with galadriel every week, neither knowing it's the other. very occasionally posts something more wholesome about his family or craft, but it's rare in comparison.

#Fingon and Argon have very cladsic Tumblr blogs; sometimes wacky #most of the time good-natured and participating in discourse™ at whiles #Maglor has an 'official' blog under his own name where he sometimes posts snippets of songs but is rarely active on #Amrod and Amras also have contributed to some heritage posts; in addition they run a joint gimmick blog of some sort #...if you've had the misfortune to run into some variation of oxford-comma Fëanor is like *that* #(by which I mean not the grammatical feature but that reddit atheist that's found his way on tumblr. IYKYK) #huh #this was hard to write at times #especially the urls and titles because these are often pretty obscure references... please take them as more of a general vibe than my last #word on the matter #// #my post #tolkien #Silmarillion #silm #Galadriel #Finrod #Caranthir #Maedhros #Fëanor #to be cont? #character lists #modern au

[reading-is-an-escape]

"If we ever end up having to make a cruel choice, I'll choose you. Because I know that losing someone I love is worse than losing myself. Please don't resent my choice. Please forgive me for condemning you to the same hell I went through."

Dohee's letter to Guwon

#my demon #my demon netflix #sbs my demon #not guwon reading that snippet of her writing and just knew #his girl lies lifeless in frony of him #he can't live without her #gah my heart my soul take it all #song kang #kim yoo jung #jeong guwon #do dohee #dowon couple

[ghosttotheparty]

ok i have an idea but i don't feel like writing the whole thing as an actual fic so here's me talking ab famous!steddie

modern au where post upside down/saving the world eddie and corroded coffin gain popularity in the metal scene bc of eddies dropped murder charges and everything

steve and robin start making music too but it starts as just a way to make extra money; they play at local bars and cafes after leaving hawkins; steve writes songs and robin picks up piano and guitar p quickly (i assume w how good she is w languages shed be good w instruments too) but after a while she wants to stop when she gets a job so steve learns guitar himself and he keeps playing by himself

they both get big but they're in such different scenes (eddie is metal obv but steve is more like noah kahan midwestern loneliness vibes) that no one knows that they know each other but there's a consistent thing where ppl compare their lyrics and how similar they are

theres even a game ppl play on tik tok where they read some lyrics and ppl have to guess whose music its from (ppl know that eddie is the songwriter for cc and that steve writes his own music); their music both follow themes ab like mortality and lost faith and like kinda fantasy ish stuff (heroes and villains etc)

its not until theyre both present at some award show that ppl start wondering if they know each other; steve is being interviewed on the red carpet whatever but eddie walks by behind him and they both get kinda distracted watching each other pass bc they haven't seen each other in years and steve has to have the interviewer repeat the question; the clip of them looking at each other goes viral and ppl are speculating ab how their expressions change when they see each other (eddie almost smiles and his eyes widen a little, and steves lips part and he fully loses his train of thought until eddie is out of sight)

(and maybe steve wins something and someone catches eddie in the crowd just gazing at him w very wide eyes and a soft smile that looks almost fond)

and then a tik tok goes viral where some girl named madison hagan says she found her dads old high school yearbook and would you believe that eddie munson and steve harrington both went to hawkins high school and they were only a year apart and oh my god they totally recognized each other at that award show holy shit--

#someone write this i beg #i have too many wips to do it myself but i might write a snippet just to write some song lyrics #like maybe a tik tok of some kids playing that guessing game #steve harrington #eddie munson #eddie munson prompt #steve harrington prompt #stranger things #stranger things prompts #steddie prompt #famous!steddie

[writing-on-the-wahl]

Partner in Crime

For @thepenultimateword's Song-Story Writing Challenge Extravaganza

Song prompt submitted by @starry-night-author - I hope this does what you'd imagined justice!

(song info at the end, read the snippet first :)

Empty shadows and dim streetlights. 

A locked door and a pair of headlights. 

Henchman slid down further in the passenger seat of the dark sedan parked strategically across the street from her quarry as the pale lights pulled around the corner and the silence of the empty street was shattered. 

--already late, got to hurry. He might have already left and if I blow this job--

Crooked tires and a slamming door. 

--do I have all the supplies? Yes, you checked twice you numskull, the code, the code, don’t drop anything--

The figure fumbled over their bags until a single finger snaked out towards the shining metal buttons that stood out against the weathered side of the of the old brick mansion that took up half the block. 

--there we go, 64729, yes now the handle, no!--

A thick folder smacked against the ground, and the  crouched awkwardly with their laden arms to reclaim it, turning enough that the streetlight gleamed off the smooth cheeks of the fresh-faced hero. 

When the door finally slammed shut behind them, Henchman dropped her focus, and the chaotic thoughts faded into the quiet buzzing of a trapped fly. 

Four weeks of nightly surveillance, and she finally had the last code they needed. 

Her pen scratched across the inside of her wrist. 64729. 

As the minutes turned to hours, she let her eyes close and her mind wander. He wouldn’t want to wait, not with the XX approaching, Everything else was already in place. Tomorrow, the wait would be over. 

The sky was two shades lighter when the door finally opened again. 

The figure reimerged, hands empty, and darted to their car, head ducked and eyes scanning the shadows. 

The red tail lights were still visible when Henchman blinked, and he was beside her, the driver's door already clicking shut. 

His thoughts hummed, flying by like a bullet train, smooth and blurred like they always were. “You got it?” It was more a statement than a question, and Henchman pressed her lips together to keep from beaming at the unspoken praise. 

“I got it,” she confirmed, twisting her arm to show him the numbers on her wrist. 

This thoughts zoomed, as fast as he was, until the train slowed into a single track of a toy train running circles under a tree as he caught her hand and slowly kissed the inside of her wrist. 

Genius, brilliant talent, indispensable. 

Henchman was glad for the shadows that kept the heat in her cheeks hidden. 

When his mind raced, it was like a override channel, white noise she could focus on to tune out the chaos of the crowds around her. 

But she loved even more the rich texture of his mind when he slowed down and his thoughts turned to appreciation. His praises never failed to make her melt. 

“You’re incredible, H.” 

She barely stopped herself from responding with “No you are.” It would have been too corny, and unnecessary. Villain was a genius, and he knew it. 

His thoughts picked up again, flying by but at a pace she could follow. A silver keypad, a brick hallway, a gleaming brass safe. His forehead brushed her as his thoughts slowed to a stop as the safe swung open and revealed their treasure. 

She looked into his dark scheming eyes, so close to hers. 

“Tomorrow?” 

Villain smiled the wicked smile she loved so much, and, in her mind, he leaned forward an inch until their lips finally met. 

He sat back into his seat, already running through the plan again. 

“Tomorrow.” 

-------

Hurry, hurry we’re going to be late!

Two cappuccinos, one americano, one diet americano, three blacks, two chai-- no three? Was it two? Mia, Thomas, Mindy? Did she have one?? Who am I missing-- 

Four blocks down and take a left--

I should have picked the black shoes, I can already feel the blisters forming. 

Can I just quit and sell books online? I don’t want to people today… 

Get out of the way you moron it looks like rain twelve dozen is not enough cute dog there she is I want oh sorry they’re calling again now please sweaters work open mine stopmyturnclosebootslatepeopleparkwalkinggo--

“Henchman.”

Large hands dropped on her shoulders, and the flood of voices disappeared as the purring hum of thoughts wrapped around her. 

Villain slid one hand down her shaking arms to grasp her hand. 

“Henchman.” 

At the second time, she looked up at him. 

“You can do this. Twenty minutes and we will be back at base.” 

Base. Headquarters. Safety. Home. 

The sanctuary Villain had made for her where no other minds could drown out her own. 

Henchman turned back to the street crowded with light and people. So different from its quiet shadows of the night. 

“Henchman.” 

She pulled her eyes back to Villain. “Six minutes of focus, and then it will be over.” His hand on her shoulder tightened. “Six minutes, just like we practiced.” 

She forced a swallow and a nod. 

His mind ran through the plan once more, and she did her best to follow as the voices pressed against her. 

When Villain was satisfied she wasn’t going to fall apart, he released her and stepped back. 

“We’ll just walk down the street like a happy couple and slip inside.” 

The nod came easier this time. It was an image she often pictured. 

The hand that was still wrapped around hers shifted until their fingers were intertwined, and her heart stuttered as he pulled her out of the alley and into the stream of pedestrians. 

The warmth of it occupied her mind until Villain pulled her to an abrupt halt and before she’d registered they’d stopped, the door was open and they were slipping into the narrow brick hallway. 

Henchman lost track of the turns as Villain pulled her through the labyrinth of hallways. 

Using the humming of his thoughts as a buffer as she used her powers to avoid guards and patrons as he dragged her through the repurposed mansion. 

Three minutes and fourth two seconds since they left the safety of the alley, they came to a stop in front of a wide mahogany door. 

Villain picked the lock in the blink of an eye. His hand on the handle, he turned back to her. 

Henchman shook her head. 

No minds were present behind that door. 

The safe was covered by the painting behind the desk. A cheap imitation of a Monet that was worth less than the gaudy frame that held it. 

Henchman dropped into the leather desk chair with a sigh of relief as Villain went to work at the safe.

The whirring of the safe handle was the only sound as Henchman shuffled through the desk drawers, pocketing a golden hilted letter opener and a ruby crusted pennant ring. 

Leaning back in the chair, she enjoyed the pillowing cushion of silence that eased the pounding headache that was building behind her eyes. 

Through the window she heard a dog barking and the distant echo of a siren. 

Henchman sat up with a jolt as the final tumbler dropped into place and the door to the safe creaked open. 

“Wait!” 

A cloud of mist exploded from the safe; her warning too little, too late. 

Henchman doubled over as the tear gas burned her eyes. The door they’d closed behind them slammed open, and the flood of mind-voices returned like a tidal wave. 

A room that blocked out the thoughts of others. Oh how foolish she’d been. Villain had created for her just such a space. 

The voices crested with the throbbing in her head that had returned tenfold.  

The loudest of the voices was filled with derision. 

“Did you really think we were such fools?” 

A hand on her shoulder. 

She ignored the judgment in the hero’s question and looked up at her partner in crime. His eyes were creased with regret. 

Villain. 

It was as if he was the one reading her mind this time. 

His thoughts were a jumbled mess. A ten lane freeway rather than a bullet train. 

Analyzing all the possibilities. 

But Henchman already knew the answer. 

He’d come back for her. 

She lifted her hand to his on her shoulder. 

“Run.”

The song for this prompt was Partner in Crime by Madilyn Mai

Taglist:

@im-a-wonderling @shieldmaiden-of-gondor @watercolorfreckles @distance-does-not-matter @onestopheroxvillain @lolafaiy @chaoticgoodandi @1becky1 @tobeornottobeateacher @himynameisorla @superherosweet @brekker-by-brekkerr @crazytwentythrees @great-day-today @sunflower1000@selectivegeekwithstandards @chibicelloking @trantolette @sapphiques @jinpanman @genesissane @wish1bone1 @amongtheonedaisy @distractedlydistracted @kitsunesakii @glitterythief @jinx1365 @cherrychewingbrat @in-patient-princess @thepenultimateword @sorrow-and-bliss @technikerin23 @deflated-bouncingball @talesofurbania1 @rivalriotrenegade @valiantlytransparentwhispers

#songsandwords #hero x villain #villain x henchman #song prompts #writeblr #writing community #writers of tumblr #creative writing #snippet #hero x villain community #am I posting this with fifteen minutes to spare #yes #yes I am #it wouldnt be me if I hadn't procrastinated it until the last minute guys

[obsessiveagony2point0]

Oh, boy, it's you... That I lie with... As the world caves in...

Twitter/X•AO3•Pillowfort •Linktree•Bluesky•Ko-fi

🛑 SPOILER WARNING 🛑

If you haven't read or looked up anything on The Sandman past the show, then don't read the little ficlet below the cut line.

I had this thought... What if instead of Dream dying the way he did...his body faded into a flurry of poppy petals..

Throw in some Hob and Dreamling...

He's spilled family blood. One of the few rules of the Endless. And he knows he doesn't have much time. As soon as Orpheus stopped breathing he could feel his body changing. He immediately teleports himself to Hob's dream, which whatever was happening vanishes and in it's place is a white background with nothing but a worn couch and a coffee table that holds 2 wine glasses and a few bottle of wine. Hob is confused, but happy to see his once friend now love. They sit, and they drink, and Hob talks, but the immortal knows something is the matter. Dream...isn't fully here with him...less so than usual. So...he asks. To his surprise, Dream answers. And it's the most gut wrenching answer Hob has ever received. He doesn't understand why Dream must be punished for being merciful to his child and says, "There must be a way to stop this!" Dream shakes his head. It doesn't matter. His body is already shifting, fading. As he says this, Hob watches as a poppy petal floats off Dream's shoulder, leaving nothing but a see through hole, as if Dream were nothing more than empty husk. Hob stares at Dream, his heart aching. Tears sting his eyes as more petals drift from Dream, pieces of his love floating away and it feels as if he can't gather enough air in his lungs. He gently holds Dream's face, afraid touching him would cause the Being to disappear faster, but to his relief it does not. Instead, Dream presses his pale cheek against Hob's worn, calloused hand, crystal tears pooling in the corners of those blue eyes and floating away with the petals. He pulls Dream into a kiss, tears running down his face as he can feel through it how very thing the Being's presence is in his hands and against his lips. He feels the whisper of a touch brush up his jaw to his cheek and Hob knows it's Dream's hand. Hob releases Dream's lips and presses his forehead against his love's, the lump in his throat making it hard to breathe. He stared into those beautiful blue nebula's, but in the corner of his eye he can see more and more petals and can feel less and less of Dream. His heart nearly stops as those blue eyes close. An exhale of a sigh echoes around them and then...Dream's form is no more. A cloud of poppy petals is all that is in front of Hob, floating away into the emptiness of the dream. Hob reaches up after them. As the remaining petals in his presence leave, they wind and twist up his arm and hand, the softness of them like a lover's farewell touch before they float well out of his reach. He watches them for as long as he can, as best as he can, because his vision blurred from tears that didn't seem to stop. When they're out of sight, he whispers, "Goodnight, love..." Hob awakes to the darkness of his bedroom, tears pouring down his face. He turns on his side, curls into a ball, and sobs. Heaven shattering cries and sobs and screams that he doesn't bother trying to muffle. Why should he cover his pain...let the world hear. Let the world hear the mourning of an Endless.

#dreamling #obsessive_dreamling #dream of the endless #centennial husbands #hob gadling #digital art #digital artist #dream x hob #dream of the endless x hob gadling #sad Dreamling #angst drawing #angst dreamling #the Sandman spoilers #spoiler warning #I cried writing the little snippet #poppies are our dreamling flower #poppies #death of a character #Sarah Cothran - As The World Caves In #song lyrics #As the World Caves In

[ghost-bxrd]

I'm just imagining the tough conversation Bruce is gonna have to have that. Yes. Maybe it's good for Dick to make and sleep in nests but Jason's back is probably not gonna like that in the long run so could they please stop sharing the nest?

Omg Y E S

And Dick just absolutely tearing up because Bruce is trying to separate him from his owlet, and Jason just SCREAMING at Bruce because how dare he insinuate that they sleep apart (but also grudgingly relenting because Bruce isn’t wrong, his back DOES hurt…)

So they do end up trying to sleep apart, but Dick just straight up stops sleeping at all after the second night of having a panic attack because— what if Jason spontaneously stops breathing during the night? What if the Court found him? What if Jason is hurt? And just holes up outside Jason‘s window like a very sad doggo that‘s not allowed inside the house to stand guard

Jason doesn’t fare any better. He trusts Bruce now, but the manor is big AF, what if someone breaks in? What if the bad people try to take Dick away to their strange cult again? What if everything was just a dream and he‘s still a lonely street kid trying to survive the night?

Yeah, neither is having a good time for it and eventually Jason and Dick compromise and make a nest on top of Jason‘s bed.

They are horribly codependent and while it‘s not exactly healthy, they’re both very happy.

Bruce just sighs and orders larger beds for both boys with drapes so it feels more like a nest for Dick. 💚🦉

#thank you for this wonderful suggestion 💚 #i love it when people send me things to write little snippets for #or just world building for fics in general #owl song #talon dick grayson #jason Todd #jason and dick #protective dick grayson #batfamily #bruce wayne #fic #snippet #drabble #world building

[hufflepuffwritingstuff2]

Pen's Song-Story Writing Challenge Extravaganza Submission!

@alilbatwrites your song was "The Law" by Reach, here is a snippet based on that!!

When Hero got back to the league from saving the city, they had expected celebration, or at least a thank-you. What they got instead was… eye-opening to say the least. They opened the doors to a bunch of stone-faced, enhanced superiors.

“Uh…what?” Hero asked, confused, “did I cause collateral damage again? I thought I was careful this time!”

“It isn’t that, Hero,” Superhero started.

“You took Supervillain down in under two minutes,” another super stated.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Hero joked.

When they received no response, Hero faltered.

“It…it’s not a bad thing, right?”

“Hero, you know our League is here to keep the nation’s peace,” Superhero said, “and to eliminate security risks.”

“Well, yeah, I’d day I did pretty good out there,” Hero said, “so why do you all seem upset?”

The sound of footsteps behind them made Hero’s head turn. Two league agents put a hand on each of Hero’s shoulders.

“Superhero,” Hero asked nervously, turning back to face their superior, “what’s going on?”

“We took a risk letting you roam free with your powers of energy manipulation,” Superhero said, “your abilities have grown to an incredible strength, and now the risks outweigh the benefits. I’m sorry, Hero.”

As Superhero spoke, one of the agents jammed the end of a needle into Hero’s neck. Hero cried out in pain, feeling ice flood their veins.

“So that’s it- you’re just going to get rid of me because I’m too good at my job!?” Hero asked desperately, feeling their limbs turn to lead.

“Your powers will only increase exponentially from here,” another league member said, “if we don’t contain you now, we’ll never be able to stop you if you become a threat.”

Hero tried to wrench themselves from the agents’ grips, but they held them fast. Hero’s knees buckled just as a wheelchair with padded restraints came into view.

“Take them down to Containment Level 3,” Superhero ordered.

“N-no,” Hero slurred.

Hero felt themselves be lifted into the wheelchair. Straps tightened across their body just as their vision began to fade. Their head sank down into their chest as the drug sucked them under.

…

When Hero awoke next, they thought maybe the events from earlier were just a bad dream. Maybe Supervillain had defeated them, and they would wake up in the med bay with Superhero by their bedside. Hero opened their eyes to a stark white room. They looked down at their form and found that they had been stuffed in some kind of straight-jacket suit, the buckles going all the way down to their ankles. Hero jerked upright, trying and failing to free themselves. They tried to call on their power, but their movements were sluggish, and their energy barely materialized.

Hero fought back the tears that brimmed in their eyes. They had figured if they ever did get captured, it would be by some criminal, never by their own team, the people they fought beside every day. Now their team- their family- had them drugged up and restrained in a cell just like those criminals they had been taught to fight. When they couldn’t fight them any longer, Hero let the tears fall with a choked sob.

“Hey,” a voice echoed.

Hero looked up, sniffling. The door opened, revealing a league agent.

“What do you want?” Hero asked bitterly.

“Seriously?” the league member demanded indignantly, “I come all this way to save you and-oh. Right. The outfit.”

The league member unbuttoned their uniform to reveal a familiar, dark suit underneath.

“Villain?” Hero asked in disbelief.

“Duh,” Villain said, “saw what you did out there with Supervillain. That was pret-ty impressive. But I knew your precious league wouldn’t like it. So here I am.”

Hero remembered the stories Superhero had told them about Villain, how they had abandoned the league years ago. They remembered the late-night, rooftop conversations with Villain, about how the league wasn’t what they seemed.

“Are you going to say, ‘I told you so’?” Hero asked dejectedly.

“Nah, you’ve been punished enough,” Villain said, “come on, let’s get you out of here.”

Villain worked to free Hero from their restraints. They pulled out a syringe filled with liquid.

“This is gonna counteract the junk they’ve pumped in your system,” Villain said, “the car’s outside waiting. We can be out of the city limits in an hour… unless you’d like to torch this place first?”

Hero shook their head, holding their arm out for Villain to administer the antidote.

“I just wanna go,” Hero said.

“I gotcha,” Villain said, helping them up, “leave the torching to me then.”

…

Villain drove off, Hero in the passenger seat, the league base ablaze behind them.

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#pen's song-story writing challenge extravaganza #the law by reach #the law #hero x villain #heroes and villains #corrupt superhero #corrupt league #corrupt hero agency #writeblr #writing #creative writing #whump #snippet #drugging #captivity #rescue #arson

[songwritingsnippets]

This is my death wish

So Hang me high when

the day meets the night

I'm bleeding out in

In the kitchen sink

Are you deaf to me

You are dead to me

#lyric snippets #song writing snippets

[lonelym00n]

GUYS GUYS GUYS

sam x r (who’s younger and part of tara’s friend group) with the song fucking young/perfect by tyler the creator

—> there’s obvious tension between them from the day they meet

—> r is super flirty with sam who just like pretends to be unbothered by it

—> eventually things build up and BOOM, one thing leads to another and theyre having a heated makeout sesh in the kitchen

—> feelings get involved from there + they sneak around behind the group’s back

—> sam gets guilty after almost being caught so she breaks things off

—> says she’s too damaged and not the one for r, r deserves someone the same age who has their shit together

—> r tells sam its clear theyre meant to be and that sam’s just scared

—> they stop seeing each other even though they both want so badly to be together

—> r keeps showing sam how much she loves her (comes over and cooks meals when sam has a double shift + other cutesy stuff)

—> sam still holds herself back

—> eventually tara (who has known about the relationship the whole time) talks some sense into sam and tells her to go for it

—> yay!! happy ending <3

#sam carpenter x reader #scream thoughts #me scrolling through my playlists looking for songs to write little snippets too #srry chem but u’ll just have to wait #someone feel free to add onto this bc theres so much potential here #genius ideas for future use

[save-the-villainous-cat]

There were tears in the hero’s eyes.

At first glance, they had looked dead. Blood soaked through their suit and the villain was sure they had felt bones break when they’d hit their enemy several times. They’d been sure the hero was dead this time but they were still breathing. Still responsive.

The villain cursed in their mind. How many times had they been in this situation before? With the hero on the ground or the villain on the ground and the other just staring, too stunned to utter a word. Too stunned by their own actions and their own lack of humanity.

How many times had one of them stopped for a second, right there? Had hesitated and asked themselves if this was their true self? How many times had they recalculated everything and fallen to their knees next to their nemesis? God, the villain didn’t know.

But this was one of those times and honestly, the fact that the hero cried made the villain uneasy. They usually didn’t do that. They got back up or stayed down. Quiet. Suffering alone.

“This is insanity,” the hero wheezed. The villain stood there, scrutinising the mess. Assessing the situation wasn’t easy. They didn’t know how much damage they had done — they never did — but they knew the hero was okay. They were always okay. Always being just fine.

The question was: how do you kill such a saint?

“I’m afraid it is,” the villain whispered. “But I have to be honest. I don’t know how to stop. I don’t know when to stop.”

“And yet, you never pull through.” The villain kneeled beside the hero, listening carefully. “And neither do I.”

They studied their nemesis, studied the blood and the broken bones. A normal human being could never survive this.

The hero leaned their head against the wall and groaned. Blood was running out of their mouth.

“I will always have to stop you,” they said. “And I know you won’t stop. You won’t stop until you get what you want. God, I don’t even know what that is. Money? Chaos? Revenge?”

Purpose, actually. But the hero didn’t need to know that.

“Creation through destruction” the villain mumbled. They pushed a loose strand of hair out of the hero’s eyes. In another life, they could’ve been something different, they feared. “That’s what I want.”

The villain was a brilliant liar.

“Ouroboros,” the hero said. They looked at the villain and something incredibly tragic soaked through the air between them. “Tail devourer.”

“I’m no serpent.”

“We’re doomed, aren’t we? For as long as we’re alive, we are doomed.” Tears kept falling down their face and, hell, the villain couldn’t place that feeling in their chest at all. As if someone or something was squeezing their heart together until it popped.

“We can’t change this,” the villain whispered. They put a hand on the hero’s thigh, attempting softness when all they had ever touched had turned into dust. “But at the end of the day, I still have you. We may be doomed to fight each other, to attempt the other’s destruction but at least we do it together.”

They wiped tears and blood out of the hero’s face and stood up, looking around aimlessly.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Both healed overnight, like immortals do, and the circle repeated itself the next day.

However, it felt different this time. For both of them.

#and the Britney song was onnn and the Britney song was onnn and the BRITNEY SONG WAS ONNN #yeahHAhhEahhAhh it’s a party in the USA #THE DJ PLAYS MY SONG AND I FEEL ALRIGHHHHHHHHHT #SHE TIED YOU TO THE KITCHEN CHAIR SHE BROKE YOUR THRONE SHE CUT YOUR HAIR #writing snippet #heroxvillain prompt #heroxvillain snippet #heroes and villains #hero #villain #hero x villain #heroxvillain #an answer for an ask #request #whump

[teaoftheoldestflower]

ribs

CW: broken bones

The hero dodged through side alleys, their heart pounding in their chest. Their lungs screamed for air.

There was around a 97% chance they were going to die.

They shot up a flight of stairs beside an apartment building, hauling themselves onto the roof from the top. They were nowhere near ready for the supervillain, but at least it would be easier higher up. They were more in their element.

The hero took a moment to lean against some chimney like brick box and catch their breath and count up their injuries. One of their arms hurt like hell, and their fingers were going numb. Probably broken. It hurt to breathe, too, so probably at least two broken ribs.

They wandered over to the edge of the building, peering down at the street. They had to admit, being splattered onto a sidewalk wasn't their idea of a nice death.

"Where. Are. They."

The hero didn't even need to turn around to know who they were speaking to: the same supervillain who had tortured them, who had killed their family. The thought ignited a new flame of rage in the hero. "Good afternoon to you too." They turned around anyway.

"What have you done with them?"

"Let's not pretend like I have any idea what you're talking about. I haven't even had my morning coffee."

"It is 6pm. And I'm sure you'd notice my best villain whether you'd had caffeine or not." The supervillain crossed the roof impossibly fast, lifting the hero off their feet by their collar. God was it annoying being 4'11 and thin.

"I have done absolutely nothing with your best villain, I assure you."

The supervillain glared at them, analysing. "Why should I believe you?"

The hero shrugged.

The supervillain stared at them for another beat until a new voice rang out. "If you believe that they could have the power to kidnap me, you're stupider than you look."

And just like that, the hero was a lump on the floor. Everything hurt, but what hurt the most wasn't the broken ribs.

It was hearing the voice of someone who had told them, who had promised them, that they would never return to this city.

Actually, maybe it was the ribs.

#not a prompt #oh to be saved by your true love #on a dramatic concrete roof #ribs by lorde #not rlly a vibe connection #but a good song nevertheless #hero x villain #heroes and villains #villain x hero #villains and heroes #writeblr #writers of tumblr #writing snippet #villain x supervillain #supervillain x villain

[dollsuguru]

starting my curator!geto fic officially now! <3

#really want it to sound artistic bc obvi he’s an artist/art curator so i HOPE that comes through 😭 #also finally got the name of the fic down! i was lamenting for ages bc i couldn’t think of anything that was art-inspired #and then i listened to a song and in the lyrics… There It Was… shining like a beacon of light <3 #(funny bc the name has ‘shadow’ in it) #also by alter-ego you’ll see what i mean once i write more of the fic i promise that part will make sense 😭 #kenjaku exists in this fic almost like an Entity he’s not actually a person in this fic #it’s a no-curses au! just wanted to play w different facets of suguru’s personality is all :3 #why aren’t tags saving #oh now you save you bitch. #ANYWAYS. #editing me here: i’m already reworking this intro so it’s more descriptive and less choppy #but it’s hard bc i wanna use a bunch of descriptors but i don’t want it to be CLUNKY 😭 intro is beating my ASS rn #kenjaku has me against the ropes 😩🫦 #ignore the lipbite or don’t… but omfg… maybe I’M the tortured artist 😳😳😳 suguru step aside #double edit: the newer vision is so much better omfg i’m kinda gagged… #snippets #personal