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 Writing Buddies, Due January 30th at 11:59pm
played by Mother of SinOverlord395 posts
24 years
953 points
Writing Buddies

We all write together on a regular basis, but I don't think many people have worked together to write the same thing. So that's what this challenge is, it would be best to do this is google docs so you can both write at the same time, but you can do it any way you'd like to (PMs, email, on-site PMs, whatever you'd like).

So here's the contest: Write a New Years' story with a writing buddy - it can be a Sinsomnia story, or just something completely random. But here's the catch: you must switch off writing. One person can write up to a paragraph before the other person must write the next one. Though you can do it sentence by sentence if you'd prefer.

You shouldn't completely plot out the story, just some basics and see where it goes. You may post the story color coded for who wrote what, but it's not necessary.

  • PG-13/R
  • Max 1000 words
  • Post the story once and specify who the contributors were.
  • Max 3 people per story
  • You may be involved in 2 different groups
  • Due by January 30th at 11:59 PM

Unique Prizes


[post][title]Story Name[/title]

[align=center]Written by: AUTHORS HERE[/align]


played by JoThe Lazy Admin153 posts
24 years
The doer of many things
263 points

Suicide of Silence

Written by: Ames and Jo-Jo

“Ever think about your own death?” He called absently to Dillion, stubbing out the last of the joint on his own leg and then setting it in the ashtray to the side of him. “Like seriously, what the fuck happens next…” He mumbled, having been brought up in a religious… cult, he was made to think there was some sort of magical island where they all went and all was fucking well but that place was probably never for him since he’d be consigned to hell. He felt the pricking chill of that other that he’d not ever shown the mountain beside him. The part of himself he’d never chosen to reveal but the ice filled his veins as the normally chatterbox of a pouf struggled for words to make the full sentence.

“I have died, twice technically...I- end..darknesscoldpain-..noairnoligjtnoairnnNn ..” He faltered then, strange as he winced and closed feline Eyes with another flinch. DT’s eyes shifted to watch the smaller man, eyes searching. It was...off. Like a stroke or seizure he seemed...affected by whatever he had originally planned to say. Enough so that he fisted his hands in a rare display of anger. He almost panted for breath, jaw muscles bunching as he ground his molars. Eyes refusing to focus on anything as his head began that pounding he had come to associate with nightmares and the all to prominent result. What the fuck was happening with Dillion? Was he having a seizure? Hands automatically put the bottle he had cradled on him onto the table and then moved to hold one of Dillion’s shoulders, squeezing it trying to get his attention. He didn’t know the kid had epilepsy. Death, dying, and the fucking fact that those words had set the great scheme into play, and the dates were gambling and cutting the threads of life that bound one's earthly self here...but who? Himself...or Toby?

“Death is...transcendence. We cease to exist yet shift into a new birth, via transformation of the physical variety. Is there a god? Probably, but it’s probably female and pretty damn ugly by our standards. Any superior lifeform would lack the need to physical attribute I suppose.” DT looked confused, he wasn’t sure what the fuck was going on, how was he supposed to react to that? His voice cracked then, rough and gravel strewn as the scar tissue along his throat spasmed in accordance with the mild episode. Thumb and index finger twitching of their own accord. DT’s hand moved from his shoulder to his hands, holding them, trying to stop the twitching as his eyes were wide with confusion- what was he supposed to do? A fit you normally had to move everything away and let them finish and make sure they didn’t choke on their tongue but he was talking so he couldn’t be having a fit right? He sniffed again as the all too consuming sensation of suffocating and yet being filled to the seams distracted and staggered his speech pattern. “Sometimes...sometimes I feel like I already am dead...and that this is some sort of hellish punishment. Living..is hard. Dying? Well that’s the easy part of living.”

Hands went up to grip Dillion’s face, holding his head. “Dill. Listen you’re not dead. Fuck me, come on.” He grumbled, thumb moving back and forth on Dill’s temple, trying to bring the snarky faggot back, trying to get him to stop whatever he was doing now. It… kinda freaked Toby out. Looking him in the eyes, thumbs still rubbing the smaller man’s temples back and forth very slowly as he tried to calm him. The concern displayed was something Dil had not truly expected from the big man. He gave Toby a slightly glazed look from winter sky eyes as he got his temples massaged. “Pretty sure I would have noticed if you were a fucking animated corpse by now wouldn’t I?” Toby said with a small grin, trying to joke with him, keeping his eyes on him as he held his head still trying to bring him back. He had always hated being a freak, as s child he’d wake screaming as someone else died in some gore filled horror flick for a night terror. The older he got the more violent and prolonged they could be. Toby’s hands were so warm though.

New York was frigid in the winter and the recurrent ice storms and blisteringly cold wind often killed the homeless here. Those were sometimes the worst. The feeling of utter desolate despair and only the answering bone deep pain of frostbitten extremities to keep one company. “Not undead, reborn. Death is temporary for some.” The response was odd but made sense. People stopped breathing and their hearts ceased to beat all the time. And again, Toby started chuckling under his breath, eyeing Dill with a sharp gaze, but one filled with subtle amusement. “And now you’re Jesus Christ? What am I going to now?” Statistics would surely provide numbers for that but he did give a small..albeit wan, smile before pressing his lips to the inside of the others wrist. “No vampire love bites or zombie nibbles for you.” Toby closed his eyes as he felt the lips pressed to his wrist, as he smiled and sat back pulling Dill to him and then raising the bottle to his hand. “I hope fucking not. I’d rather you shoot my fucking head off.” He said whilst still chuckling, a hand moving to the back of his head, fingers spreading in Dill’s hair as he tugged on it affectionately. He tilted his head back along one wide shoulder and peered up with a look of sadness that disappeared quickly, but the statement rang deep.

“No, not Jesus. I’m more like Lazarus” He didn’t want to lose the great man that cradled his 5’9” frame like a childs doll.

played by Mother of SinOverlord395 posts
24 years
953 points
Prizes for our Winners!


The Bag of Holding - Anyone who plays anything knows what a bag of holding is. Ideally, it's a bag from which you can pull anything you could possibly need, inside which you can store absolutely everything you carry without limit. However, the reality of this bag of holding is a little different, instead of giving you what you actually want when you stick your hand into this nifty little shoulder bag it will give you what it thinks you need. This could be a rose because you were just flirting, or a tissue because you sound like you have the sniffles. It could also be something incredibly useful if it likes you today. It entirely depends on what is going on around you, where you are, what the bag feels you actually need, and just about any other random factor it feels like. Something so docile as a passing bird can change its mind, and from inside you will pull a slice of bread instead of the keys to your car you left at a friends house. Putting things inside this bag means you could potentially lose them forever or find them inside the next day.
written by Yvonne


Mask of the Dead - This power grants its user the unique ability to alter their features using a blend of physical changes as well as magic - a lot like a lycanthrope or shapeshifter can shift parts of their body. However, in your case, it’s facial expressions only and it also has the unique property of being an exact mimicry. Thing is, you can’t mimic anyone alive. You can only mimic the face of someone who has died and whose corpse you’ve touched. Morgues might become your favorite place to hang out for a chance to do some sweet, sweet identity theft! One of the perks of this power, though, is that your smell changes too - to the person whose identity you’re borrowing. It only lasts for a few hours but that’s more than enough time to pull off a heist! … Or you know, run away. Whatever floats your boat.
written by Renior
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