#my shitty writing

[0bianidalas]

“𝐦𝐲 𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐳𝐞”

2.8K, explicit, post China Sprint

Read on AO3 or bellow the cut

He’s still fuming even when the roar of all engines has shut off. Absurd move, and for what? Fucking out of the podium and pole again. He yanks the balaclava as he seizes the ‘55’ of the garage, each step he’s taken has slowly made the anger subside but still sits in his gut like lava.

Everyone turns to him with their eyes wide and unblinking and Charles breathes. So, they’re waiting for a scene. A screaming match or maybe blows but it’s not the stuff he and Carlos are made of— apparently. He bites his tongue in his mouth when Carlos comes, eyes deep and gone.

“What the fuck was that?” Charles repeats himself, but his tone is far lighter than he intended it.

“Not right now, okay?”

And just like that, he flips the switch. Just like that, Charles’ fire dies and he thinks anyway. He thinks whatever. He thinks good riddance.

Because it’s always been like this with Carlos. Always half-measures and stolen glances and mixed messages and never enough. He should’ve known better than to hope their last year would’ve been different.

If anything, this might just prove to be the worst one yet.

By the time he’s done with the media circus, smiling in the absurdity of his frustrations, he’s ran out of fuel to keep him fired up, and when Carlos approaches him –fucking finally– he’s only greeted with a tired, heavy sigh. “I have to speak to the stewards because of the shit with Alonso, listen—if I was too aggressive—”

Charles taps his chest and through the layers of fabric, he can still feel the heat coming off Carlos, the steady pumping of his heart and the hard carcass that surrounds it. “It doesn't matter. I've been there, too, haven't I?” he relents and it's pathetic. He knows.

But Carlos squeezes his fingers and looks at him puzzled, as he's often done lately. Half-here, half-somewhere else. One foot out, Charles remembers.

And he doesn't say anything else before he disappears from his grip again, Charles also doesn't stick around to listen.

Instead, he replays the sprint idly in his mind after he's showered, revisiting all the missed twists and turns and convincing himself that his fight with Carlos didn't fuck up his chances for a podium. Maybe it did, maybe it didn't. What counts is tomorrow, anyway.

But then a flash and he's pushed out of the track like nothing but a bug and his head is spinning and it's a hundred degrees but his gut is boiling with more than just that. His heart is racing for more than just racing. Fucking see me, I'm right here.

I'm yours to push and shove.

He doesn't have to open his eyes and look down to know what he knows already. His shaft's hardening as he lies and overthinks, great. It's not the first time he's gotten hard after a fight on track, it's not even the first time he's gotten hard after a fight on track with Carlos. But it'd been a while, and it'd been a while since the race, too.

He bites his lower lip and eyes his problem. His cock is nestled only somewhat uncomfortably inside his briefs. He could leave it there, he's only halfway into hardness. But then it's also just 10 p.m. in Shanghai so he's got a few more hours to kill before he's ready to rest. Social media seems like a good idea for a minute until he watches one too many videos of the race and his minor issue goes right to considerable.

It's starting to itch, the fabric. But when he moves his hips a little bit the constriction provides friction and Charles' interest is piqued, then. Fine, he'll stoop lower. It's one sprint video that leads to interviews with bullshit excuses that make Charles lose himself in brown eyes like he's done for the last three and some years that then lead him to a myriad of Sainz footage and he's gone.

And Charles could call him up, could get the whole actual show. But Charles was weak enough already to turn down his apologies when Charles very much deserved them, Charles was weak enough already to just let him fucking push him over, he'd been weak enough lately.

This was still weak, of course. But it was at least between him and God. Did he mention he was the bigger man earlier already?

He throws the phone to his side when Carlos' smile begins spinning in his head after three or so photos. It always took so much of his face, but Charles noted that it didn't matter because his laugh was contagious. A lot of aspects of Carlos were like that, could make you feel whatever he wanted in just a flick.

Charles palms himself, just a press of the heel of his hand to his bulge and he breathes heavily. Inhaling deep as his teeth trap his lower lip. He turns over and pushes a pillow between his legs, just to keep the pressure subsided.

Except that Carlos' fingers earlier linger on his, in his mind, and Charles eyes his hand like it's foreign to his body. He's washed off, it's been hours already; there's no trace of Carlos' smell or his heat at Charles' fingertips but it doesn't hurt to imagine. It doesn't hurt to rub himself softly, index finger moving from his clavicle to his chest to his navel until Charles breathes heavily again before he pushes down the briefs and ends the charade that he's wishing this away. He squeezes the pillow harder between his legs to keep his cock from flinching at the cold of the dead darkness of his room. The nearly dead emptiness of the life he carries. And his finger draws faint circles on his body again. Aimless, odd-shaped figures across his arm and his torso and his shoulder just like Carlos would. Touch and graze him like Charles was made of the most precious marble.

And kiss him. Carlos would kiss him breathless. Would kiss him like his life depended on it, would kiss him like he'd fight him on track. Like he did today.

This is all that I've got— can you take it?

Charles bucks into the messy lump he'd already made of the pillow as a yes echoes in his head, chanting, nearly. Yes, I can fucking take it. You want to fight me harder than the rest? I'll meet you halfway there. I'm no coward. Crash into me if that's how bad you want it. We'll give them a bloody show.

He grunts when his tip grazes the silky fabric of the pillow just slightly enough to sting and he comes to think that maybe he ought to just get on with it and use his hand, instead, but the rough friction is good. The rough friction reminds him of calloused, big hands, tanner than his. Musky smells and hairy wrists that always manage to twist right how Charles needs. It's unbearable, really. How perfectly they piece together.

And now Carlos wants to fight me.

All because they have left us in these ruins.

It's not my fault they didn't pick him.

He whimpers as his rhythm picks up, back arched as he's shifted to topple the pillow that's now under his belly. He no longer worries about the cold because his many efforts now got him glistening in sweat and panting, just like he was inside the car earlier.

Riled up because of Carlos fucking Sainz, albeit in two entirely different ways. Or were they? Wasn't their predicament the entire cornerstone of Charles' current frustrations?

They couldn't love each other, they could never love each other. They couldn't even have each other, because they didn't have a say in that.

And they couldn't hate each other, either. They couldn't go at each other's throats.

Well, at least that's what I thought. But he didn't give a shit about that, did he? Maybe that could mean…

“Merde,” he moans when he starts rocking his hips easier because he's started leaking. The moist spot he's made gets slicker with each roll of his hips and soon he just thrusting wantonly into the misshapen lump.

He supports himself a little on his elbows on the mattress, back arched just enough to make room for him to thrust back in, and so he repeats in a frenzy dance. He imagines himself squeezed into nothingness like the pillow, and bucks harder, relentless. Carlos wouldn't lose the pace, not at least until the very– very end. But he wasn't Carlos. He was only the mess Carlos had made of him, whimpering and moaning into his mattress and about to come untouched like a fucking teenager.

I bet he's smiling. I bet this is what he's wanted all along. To see me lose my damn mind like this.

He curses and he can nearly taste the bleach they used to clean the sheets; his tongue dries in the cotton as he lets go of the fabric, and adjusts himself a little. Legs a little spread, this time just pressing on his knees and he moves his hips in circles. Charles breathes at the slight change of pace but his mind provides more reasons to keep him going. Flashes of Carlos meaty lips dropping wet kisses all over his back before he claimed him, the way his bushy eyelashes would flicker before he came, mouth slacking in a soundless ‘o’ that Charles always needed to stick his tongue into.

Carlos' breathy laugh and silly jokes and big hands, crowding all of him both in public and private. Did he even know? How easily can I be undone under his fingers? He picked up his pace again as frustration started filling him once more.

“Charles?”

Yes, he'd fucking say. Sharl all soft like nothing's ever been wrong in the world. Like they're not caught up in the shittiest situation. Like Charles isn't absolutely dreading the end of the season. Like Charles doesn't lo–

He freezes when a hand wraps around his nape and Charles feels like an exposed wire, ready to electrocute. But the hand holding him knows him all too well, and it is as firm as it is tender. So Charles breathes and leans back into it.

“Vai avanti,” Carlos whispers in his ear and Charles wants to kick him out, kind of. He also wants to turn around and kiss the living daylights out of him.

It's always a bit complicated after a race, anyway. Carlos is the one he has to beat all the time, no matter what, but he also needs to have Carlos do good.

And they can't fight, so they don't fight. They make love instead, which is its own kind of fight, if you ask Charles.

He moves slowly — slower than he was a second ago— and the hand at his neck is so hot suddenly the pillow is too cold and rigid and Charles is no longer interested in it. He twists his face to see him, but the room is pitch black and the angle isn't right anyway.

“Carlos…” he whispers. It's not a plea, he wouldn't call it that. He's still got some dignity left in him.

But Carlos answers like he's made to answer, and Charles reflects on how bad he's been to him for the last two or so hours, until he reflects that he's in fact been soft. They both have.

“Shh, keep going. I got you,” Carlos says, and the hand around his neck rolls down his spine slowly to sneak under and wrap around him and Charles moans louder this time because it's what he's wanted the whole fucking day, since that stupid stunt he pulled.

Touch me the way it fucking matters.

“Venga, amore,” he prompts again, in the weird mix of Spanish and Italian he can muster, just towering over Charles somehow. Here and there and all around and Charles is dizzy in lust and something as intoxicating. He pushes himself up, pressed fleshed against Carlos, who's still gripping him loose and Charles knows this is what he'll give him this time. Just this, not more.

You get one piece of me this time. You'll never have me whole.

Charles loves a good challenge.

But he wasn't aiming to win this particular battle, so Charles just moves against the hand holding him firmly, Carlos rubbing his thumb on his tip so the precum would make the grip pleasant while Charles lost himself to the sensations and soon he was bucking erratically into Carlos' fist before spilling his release all over it.

Carlos supports him through the wakes of his climax, holding him to his chest as he stands just right near the edge of the bed, dropping soundful kisses on Charles' shoulders that make him shudder while he's still coming down from his high, Carlos still milking him through.

After the lights have stopped sparkling, Charles finally looks up at him. “I’ve been texting you,” Carlos says at the side of his face, but he sounds amused.

Charles half shrugs, before turning around fully, arms thrown over Carlos' shoulders. “I've been busy.”

“Clearly.” Carlos' right hand is sticky on his hip.

“How did you get in here?” Charles inquires, after he finally gains some clarity.

“Asked Nicolas for a spare key. Told him that if he's gonna tell the media you and I kiss then he might as well help me give it a shot,” Carlos says but there's a trace of amusement in his tone.

Charles still frowns. “Seriously?”

“‘Seriously’ did I ask him for the key or ‘seriously’ did he tell the press we kiss on the mouth?”

Charles rolls his eyes because he didn't really care that much about the answer. The world wasn't burning, so, who cared if his manager joked on international TV about something that may not be a joke? Who cared if Carlos outed them to his manager in response?

He leans forward slowly and drops a kiss on Carlos' lips only to realize he still smells like gas and sweat and tastes like their energy drinks. “Are you still dirty from the race?” Charles blurts, almost absentmindedly.

Carlos slaps his cheek in response and it makes a slick sound cause it's still covered in cum. “You're one to talk about being dirty.”

He chuckles, head falling on Carlos shoulder and trying not to giggle too much but the embarrassment is slowly getting to him. When he stretches his neck again, big brown eyes are looking up to him like he hangs the moon every night.

It's hard to imagine this is the same Carlos that would force him out of the track. The same Carlos that will fight tooth and nails this year to prove Ferrari that they should've chosen him instead of Charles. But, then again, they were all different people once the lights went off.

Charles could never begrudge him.

“Wanna take a bath with me?” he offers. “You can do your hair routine on me so I can have amazing hair after a race like you do,” Charles adds, playfully.

“Anything for Lord Perceval,” Carlos jokes in the same nature.

“You know it isn't personal, right?” Carlos asks after they sit in the tub for a while. His fingertips are drawing circles on his scalp and Charles lives, however long this moment lasts, in a world where none of that matters.

For this fleeting, miniscule moment, he's just having a bubble bath with the most beautiful man he's ever been near.

“I know.” Does he wish it was? Does he wish Carlos wasn't lying?

“It's not easy, though. It's not what you and I are used to,” Charles says, honest, too. Carlos is the longest teammate he's ever had so comparisons are dull. But, still…

Carlos stares at him unblinking as he does, and his eyes sparkle with sadness and wonder alike. It's a weird mixture that only Carlos can pull off, Charles reckons. “I'm afraid we're heading into territory that's gonna have us outside of what we're used to, amor.”

Was it a threat or just a bad omen?

“I can't say I won't be aggressive again for the rest of the season. You know why this one is more important than most to me, Charles— but… but I can promise that I'll come back to you still after. And we'll sort it out.”

The corner of Charles' mouth draws up as he looks at him. Yes, he knows. Ever since Carlos joined him, three years and so ago, Charles has known.

The only place Carlos would ever serve him is the bedroom and the only way Carlos would ever be gentle with him is like this.

#charlos #f1 rpf #my shitty writing #anyway. im sorry for my transgressions its Charles' fault for leaving his radio on

[bringmecoffeeandroses]

Me, realizing I’m not good at writing action scenes while in the middle of writing an action scene:

#writeblr #writing #writer problems #writer things #my shitty writing

[mads198-9]

f ~ sharp!

#yellowjackets #laura lee #laura lee yellowjackets #aesthetic #the wilderness #lottie x laura lee #lottie matthews #lizzygrant #moodboard #ethel cain #preachers daughter #the virgin suicides #my shitty writing

[lumenhunter]

Headcanon: Astarion learned how to play a variety of instruments under Cazador. This was not a pleasant process.

--

Cazador stared, unblinking. So still, like a statue. With just the two of them there was no point in pretenses. He didn’t breathe, didn’t swallow. Didn’t make the little movements that implied any sort of humanity. In contrast, Astation was forced to cling to those little things.

Remember to blink, at least three times a minute. Steady breaths, in and out. And most of all, ignore the pain. Ignore the burn and sting as his fingers slid gracefully along the strings. Ignore the ever-present gnawing of his stomach. Astarion’s lips were shaped into a soft, pleasant smile. Something he’d worn as a magistrate in difficult situations and now perpetually plastered on, a mask he wore to hide the pain and fear that wracked him day in and day out. 

He’d learned early on Cazador had no patience for anything like a show of displeasure. 

The strings bit into his fingers, each one its own little agony. They’d been at this for hours upon hours. Blood dripped from each string, making each note simultaneously sticky and slick. But Cazador demanded perfection. As the final note died down, he glanced towards his master for approval, swallowing the bitterness that such a word came so easily to him now.

Blazing red eyes met his own. He knew that no praise would be forthcoming.

“Your technique is passable, but where is the passion? The joy of the song? Surely you don’t seek to sway me with such a lifeless performance?” every word was mocking, reveling in his slave’s torment. “Again.”

Astarion’s smile didn’t falter, voice coming out smoother than he felt. “Of course, master. Your wish is my desire.” 

#astarion #bg3 #fanfic #fanart #cazador szarr #my shitty art #my shitty writing #here have some angst #gawd im so pleased with how this turned out

[sleepyhollowgirlsworld]

she wears a token to Hades around her neck, solemnly devoted to a deity of pain.

sired by desire to be worshipped like the gods who shaped her understanding of perfection--Him.

a canon of a man, of a father and a friend

eager to please and ready with ease she gives him all she can

but they only love her through the screen, through layers of static and glass and particles traveling through the ether to the ends of the world

she runs her fingers through the grass, imagining it is his hair,

ripping out tufts and pounding her fists against the earth, demanding to be heard, demanding to be seen away from the screen

mud under her nails, and blood within the beds

#i dont fucking know #my writing #writing #original writing #dark poem #dark poetry #dark writing #my poem #my poetry #my shitty poetry #my shitty writing #is this even poetry

[animalsandskyyy]

my cousin just posted about her 5 year wedding anniversary

which is weird

because I was there

and legitimately cannot believe that was 5 years ago

time is weird

because I was 15 then

and I started remembering how I was going through an entire gay/ace identity crisis at the time

and I went and looked at my photos from that time

and I was a baby

who was at this wedding with her family

and writing sad and longing poetry

about how she wanted to dance with a girl there

but didn’t

and I just feel so bad for her

because I want better for her

and like mentally and life-experience wise, I’m in a better place than her

but not really

i’m still not out in any way shape or form anywhere, except for the internet

and I can’t even talk about my feelings or identity without feeling uncomfortable and shutting down

i’m still desperately longing for love and devotion

and although I wouldn’t actually start doing so until i was 16, i’m still shitposting on tumblr about these things

i’m still longingly hoping for some kind of love and connection in the future, with no way to actually attain it

and it’s weird

poor baby grace

i, young adult grace, need to do better for her sake

but how

idk

posting this sure as hell doesn’t help

but it cleared my mind

and is reminiscent of how my mother writes posts on facebook

…fuck

….

the end

#my main probably isn’t the right blog for this but idc #should I revive ‘shitty poetry by grace’? lmao #no the answer is no #but still #grace is dramatic #thoughts #rambles #ramble ramble ramble #4am thoughts #at 3pm lol #memories #do better #shitty writing #my shitty writing #thoughts and feelings #txt #txt post #text #text post #sapphic #asexual #ace #pride month #wlw #wlw ace #not poetry #but poetry vibes #words

[existennialmemes]

I am not meant for

Rules nor Tasks

I am just here to

Snooze and Cat

ฅ⁠^⁠•⁠ﻌ⁠•⁠^⁠ฅ

#shitpost #shitposting #cats #cat memes #neurodivergent #neurodivergent memes #my shitty writing

[spencerreidswhore187]

Hi! I've seen you post a lot of pjo things as well as fanfics. Any chance you can write a solanegolo grumpy x sunshine fic?

You're amazing 🫶🫶🫶

Thank you 🫶🫶🫶

Stick Season - Solangelo

“So I thought that if I piled something good on all my bad / That I could cancel out the darkness I inherited from dad”

Pairings: Will Solace x Nico di Angelo

Word Count: 803 words

TW: Body dysmorphia

You can’t cover the mirrors in the car - it’s the only place that Nico couldn’t escape his reflection. 

All the mirrors in the 13th cabin had been covered, turned around or fractured. It had been that way for a while. Nico supposed that was what he liked about the underworld - it was dark. He could hide that way, he could allow himself to slip further and further into the abyss before it consumed him. There would be no more Nico that way, instead, he could just…be. 

Maybe then Will Solace would leave him alone; Nico could not risk Will’s warmth, his light, diluting the darkness. 

Jules-Albert drove slowly, sifting through the busy afternoon traffic. Nico pulled his knees tight to his chest, if he closed his eyes and allowed himself to dream, Nico could almost imagine he was holding someone else. 

The car window was open, the cold air played with his messy, dark locks. Nico could not pull his eyes away from his reflection. 

The longer he stared, the more he began to hate. He’d never noticed how sunken his eyes were or that gentle bump in the bridge of his nose. His cheeks had hollowed since the last time he stared upon himself, he looked more dead than Jules-Albert. 

He looked like his father: the god of the underworld. 

As they neared the camp, Nico started to worry about what Will would say when he saw him. 

Would Will notice the weight Nico had lost? Would he notice the change in the way he walked, with the weight of the world on his shoulders?

Was this how Percy felt holding up the sky for Annabeth? Was this what love felt like?

Would Will notice the tattoos Nico had gotten over Christmas, Bianca scribbled across his wrist and a sun over his heart? 

Nico was not good with people, no matter how hard he tried, he could never articulate quite what he was feeling. 

‘I love you’ turned into ‘I hate you.’ 

Sweet glances turned into eye rolls.

Nico would practice sentences in his head, you’re beautiful, you’re smart, you’re incredible. He’d repeat them and repeat them, sounding out every syllable. But they’d always leave his mouth as insults. 

Nico was unlikable, Nico was weird, Nico was foolish. 

He didn’t know why he bothered trying, 

Nico Di Angelo was not made to be loved. He could offer up his heart a thousand times but Will would never even notice it was there, that it was his. 

Nico did not want to speak to any of the campers, he especially did not want to be anywhere near the Apollo Cabin. 

With his head glued to the ground, Nico walked, following the path to the Hades Cabin. 

Nico was not sure what he expected when he entered the cabin, but it was not the sun sat on his bunk. 

When Will spotted the shocked Nico in the doorway, he stumbled up, off the bed and strode straight towards him. 

The closer he got to Nico, the brighter Will seemed to glow. It was cute, Nico thought. He wanted to tell Will but he’d inevitably end up saying something stupid. 

Although, that might have been better than the stream of jumbled sounds that poured out of his mouth as Will aggressively poked Nico in the chest.

“Where in the Gods names have you been?” Will yelled.

“Erm-”

“I know you wanted to spend some time at Camp Jupiter but I thought you would at least reach out, send an iris message, a phone call or even shadow travel! But no! Radio silence!”

Nico wasn’t quite sure how to respond. Will was just so…Will. He was bright, he was happy, and he radiated warmth and love. He was the opposite of Nico and the dark shadow he lived in. 

Nico was terrified of contaminating Will’s joy. He had seen the way that the night sky swallows the sun. He couldn’t let himself extinguish Will’s light - even if he desperately wished for that light to banish his sorrows. 

When Nico first arrived at Camp Blood, all he wanted to do was avoid the Apollo kids. But then he saw William Solace and knew that it would be a losing battle. 

So when Will took Nico’s hand and began to drag him out of his cabin, Nico let him.

“You’re coming with me, death boy. One week helping out in the infirmary so I can keep an eye on you. Doctor’s orders.”

Nico grinned, tightening his grip on Will’s hand. 

He knew better than to say no.

Smiling for the first time in a while, Nico replied, “Si, mio sole.”

#solangelo #will solace #nico di angelo #justice for my baby nico #percy jackson #camp half blood #apollo cabin #hades cabin #doctors orders #stick season #noah kahan #solangelo fanfiction #fanfic #light angst #angst with a happy ending #my shitty writing

[luv-assangiebatch]

Mendax Undercover - Chapter 8: Charged Gazes and Dropped Hearts

As the friends met the next day for lunch at their favorite Indian restaurant, Kat decided to surprise them with her interesting news.

“So I slept at Julian’s last night,” she nonchalantly blurted out.

Marilu had just taken a drink of water and immediately spit it out after hearing Kat’s words.  The others reacted with dropped jaws, gasps, and exclamations.  Kat laughed as she waved her hand to clear the mist from Marilu’s reaction.

“I thought you might like that…” she chuckled.  “Honestly though, nothing happened.  We just worked really late, and I ended up falling asleep in his lap at one point.  Then the trams weren’t running anymore so he offered for me to stay in a guest room.  It was quite sweet, actually…”

“In his LAP?!”  Juniper echoed with wide eyes.

“Yeah…you sure nothing happened?” Astrid giggled with a raised eyebrow.

Kat shook her head adamantly.  “No, no, no… I mean, yes I dozed off and collapsed and my head landed in his lap somehow…and he just…let me sleep I guess?  When I woke up I was beyond embarrassed—but he seemed to find it amusing…”

“I dunno about this…you two seem to have some peculiar connection…” Marilu mused.

“Yes, I keep saying he doesn’t talk to anyone else the way he talks to her,” Juniper confirmed.

“Well, I think it’s sweet he offered up his guestroom to you to stay in because it was late.  It’s a bit romantic, isn’t it?”  Bethany added, beaming with optimism.

“He also let me wear some of his clothes to sleep in, you know, just like a t-shirt and comfy pants…”

“Oh that’s so sweet!” Bethany exclaimed, bringing her hand to her heart.  “What a gentleman!”

“Yes, that is a bit familiar, isn’t it?” Marilu pondered.  “Intimate…”

“By the way, do any of you know what ‘The Pirate Bay’ is?” Kat asked.

“It’s a BitTorrent website where people can go to download media, like movies and songs, for free.”  Marilu answered.  “Why do you ask?”

“Oh well, that’s what was on the shirt he let me borrow…I was just curious what it was…” Kat blushed, feeling a little foolish for having to ask the question.

“So how did this morning go?  Did you come to work together?” Bethany asked before taking a bite of her paneer tikka masala.

“Oh…well…” Kat began while she tore her naan into a few single bite pieces.  “I haven’t seen him yet today…I left this morning before he woke up…”  she lowered her head a little, as if she were ashamed.

The four friends gasped almost in unison.  Kat responded with a flustered shrug.

“Well I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to do!  I had to get home so I could get ready for work…and I still felt a little embarrassed over the whole thing…I wasn’t sure if I could face him…and have him see me all a mess in the morning…”

“Awe, I don’t think he would have minded any of that one bit!  You worry way too much,” Bethany responded, hoping to reassure her friend.

“Yes, maybe he would have cooked you breakfast or something!” Astrid added, reaching for more rice.

“Oh I dunno…maybe…” Kat shook her head a little.

“I don’t know how you don’t see it—he likes you!  Why else would he let you sleep in his lap and stay at his place overnight?  It’s so obvious!” Juniper exclaimed with bright eyes and a hopeful smile.  “You guys would be really cute together!”

Kat couldn’t conceal her beaming as her face flushed with a little heat, which was not caused by the spices in her delicious meal.

“That is definitely a thought that lives rent free in my head quite often…but ugh, I just don’t know… I think it might be easier if we didn’t work together and he wasn’t in such a high position…”  Kat sighed as she paused for a moment.  “Anyway enough about me and Mr. VP…what else have you all been up to for the past week?

“Oooh, well something I haven’t told you guys yet…is I have recently started archery lessons…” Juniper shared, reaching for their mango lassi and giving it a stir.

The table directed their attention to Juniper with enthusiastic surprise.

“Archery?!  That is so cool!” Bethany exclaimed.

“Yeah definitely!” Kat confirmed.  “How did I not hear about this sooner?”

“How is that, is it difficult?” Marilu asked.

Juniper nodded and smiled, acknowledging all of the reactions.  “Well, you know my affinity for all things outdoorsy and adventurous, and, well, I just thought this sounded like fun—like a new adventure.  It is difficult, a little awkward, but the instructor seems to think I have a bit of a natural knack for it…”  Juniper began to blush a little when they mentioned the instructor.

The friends were intrigued and wanted to know more about the archery in general, but also picked up on Juniper’s reserved giddiness over this instructor.

“So this instructor…” Astrid began.  “What are they like?”

Juniper smiled as their eyelashes fluttered for a moment.  “Well, the instructor is very skilled, I mean I guess that is why he is the instructor…”

“He?” Astrid raised an eyebrow. 

Juniper fidgeted a bit, feeling a little shy at first but eventually obliged the questions and told their friends all about the instructor.  He was an Irishman with long, thick, and wavy brown hair with some lightly tamed scruff about his face.  His eyes were also of a dark chestnut color, but they were kind and warm.  His name was Killian, fitting of his Irish background, but most people called him Kili for short. He was brawny like a lumberjack but also had a grace about him, as if he were a descendant of Mother Nature herself.  Juniper found themselves to be quite taken by Kili’s talent and kind-hearted soul.  He was soft-spoken and quite playful at times, which made his class quite popular.  Juniper often wondered what it might be like to go on a camping adventure with him in the Swiss mountains sometime.

“Well this is exciting…you should invite him out sometime so we can meet him!” Bethany cheered.

“Yeah maybe…” Juniper began.  “Or you could come and observe a class, too.  See him in action.  He is really something!”

“Does someone have a bit of a crush?” Astrid inquired with a smirk.

Juniper shook their head. “Agh, I dunno…m-maybe a little…but I’m just really enjoying the class right now and learning from him.  Besides, I don’t really know what his story is, if he is single or any of that…”

“Well there is always time to figure that out…how many more classes do you have with him?”  Kat asked.

Juniper took a sip of water as they finished up their lunch before responding.  “This class is a 12 week class, twice a week, and I just started a couple weeks ago.  I think he teaches more advanced classes as well.  He also competes in those axe throwing competitions…”

“Oh yeah, those are really popular right now!” Marilu noted.

“Yeah!  So I suppose that is my news for now,” Juniper concluded.

“I think it’s cool you just signed up for archery…I mean how random!  But also exciting.  I’d like to see you do that sometime,” Kat added.

The rest of the table responded in kind, and Juniper really appreciated the support.

“What about you, Astrid?  You always have intriguing tales for us,” Bethany inquired.

“Ah yes, you know…the rich doctors and businessmen…they are all the same.  Although last night, I did meet a somewhat peculiar man…”

Marilu tilted their head inquisitively. “Peculiar—howso?”

“Well…” Astrid smiled as she gestured with her hand dramatically.  “He was a bit of a wallflower at the bar, you know…just gawking in the shadows.  He had a typical upper-crusty look due to his attire but there was something about his face…something that seemed a little….dark.”

“Ermm…sounds like a serial killer…” Bethany giggled.

“Yes…he was dark and mysterious, but I didn’t get this sense that he was harmful in any way…” Astrid continued.

“Well did you talk to him?”  Kat asked.

“I did.  He had a very refined British accent, soft-spoken.  He is a doctor, of course…but quite different than the other doctors I’ve met.  He’s a forensic pathologist by training.”

The table gasped.  “Forensic pathologist?  How cool!  I wonder if he has a skull in his office…” Juniper smiled as they folded their hands and tapped their fingertips together just under their chin.

“Yes…so, it takes a special type of person to do that sort of work, no?  A dark and twisted soul, “ Astrid mused, finishing up her drink.

“I dunno, “ Kat shrugged.  “I mean, I’ve worked with pathologists and assisted on autopsies, and they are pretty normal.  Family men and such.  However that was just surgical pathology, not forensic.”

“Yeah, think of all the heinous crimes he may have seen throughout training, “ Juniper added.  “But the crime might be worse in the US or England, rather than here in Basel?”

“I definitely think he has seen some stuff, probably when he trained in London,” Astrid theorized.  “We didn’t talk too much about that though.  He was charming, he bought me drinks and treated me like a lady…”

“And did you dominate him later, put him in his place?” Marilu asked.  The rest of the table giggled.

Astrid shook her head though.  “Nope, not this time.  I offered, but he declined.”

“Has that actually ever happened to you before?” Bethany asked with genuine surprise.

“No—and this is what intrigues me.  He did however, ask for my phone number, so I gave that to him.  I think there is an interesting man in there—something deeper, more profound than these others who are so easily toyed with it’s sickening…” Astrid sighed.

“Did you get his name?” Kat asked.

“What does he look like?” Bethany followed.

Astrid shared that the man’s name was Alister and he was a man of medium height and build with pale skin, freckles, and ginger hair that was tied back in a low ponytail.

“Hey, ginger…!” Juniper raised their glass in a humorous manner which gained a round of chuckles from the table.

By this time, the friends had finished their lunch and needed to make their way back to the office.

*   *   *

After lunch, Kat settled back into her desk and unlocked her computer as she prepared to finish the second half of the workday.  Just as she had opened a case and began reviewing all of the detected variants listed, a mysterious black chat window popped up on her adjacent monitor.  It was like the one she received from Julian just the day before.

<jjj>: Kitty-Kat

Kat’s heart dropped into her stomach as she saw this message, both excited to receive another message from Julian but also worried she may have upset him by leaving without seeing him earlier.  As she pondered a response, she noted in the lower left hand corner of the screen she could update the chat handle that appeared for herself.  She smirked as she took a subtly flirtatious step, wondering if Julian would pick up on it.

<kkk>: Hi Julian!

<jjj>: Can you drop by my office?

<kkk>: Of course!  On my way now…

Kat sighed as she locked her computer again, feeling her face flush with warmth and her palms starting to glisten.  She took a quick sip of water to help calm her excitement before standing up and heading toward Julian’s office.  Once she arrived, she knocked on the door lightly before popping her head inside.

“Hey, Julian…?”

Julian looked up from the monitors at his desk and grinned once he saw Kat, and motioned for her to enter.  She nodded and walked inside, shutting the door behind her.

“Hi Kitty…” he said softly with a smile as she sat down in one of the chairs on the other side of his desk.  “So you must have left early this morning, I was surprised to see you were gone already when I got up.  Did you sleep okay?”

“Oh, yes I did—very well in fact!  I just had to get up so early so I could get home and get ready before work.”

Julian nodded, his blue zircon eyes shining warmly.  “I understand.  I should have given you the number to the driving service to come get you…”

Kat smiled, trying not to blush or fidget too much.  “Oh it’s okay, thank you though—and thank you again for letting me stay there last night.  I still can’t believe I just fell asleep on you like that!”

Julian nodded with an amused smile.  “It’s quite alright…I had a nice time.”  His eyes gazed at her before he blinked softly.  This look made her heart race a little faster.

Kat lightly batted her eyelashes before responding.  “I—I had a nice time too…”

They continued to share a charged gaze before Kat spoke again.

“By the way…I meant to ask you about the driver…and while we’re at it, the mysterious chat window…?”

Julian chuckled with another nod.  “Well I can’t give away all my secrets now, can I?”

Kat giggled, very much enjoying the flirtatious banter.  “Something tells me you have more…”

Julian returned a smile but then seemed to pause and tense up for a moment.  He did have a lot of secrets, especially one big serious one, so he thought it might be best to try and change the subject.  He pursed his lips and sighed briefly before delivering his next response.

“The driving service is just a company benefit.  The chat window, well…”  Julian bit his bottom lip for a second before continuing.  “Let’s just say I like my privacy and because I know my way around computer networks I found a way to create an instant chat that is not monitored by our IT department…”

Kat blinked a few times, intrigued.  “You really worry about IT looking at your chats?  They’re so harmless…”

“Yes, you’re probably right… call it an old hacker habit.  Sometimes it’s just fun to do it because you can.”

“Hacker, huh…?”  Julian’s mystique and dreamy good looks were driving Kat mad inside.  Every time she talked to him the attraction got stronger.

Julian internally scolded himself for letting out another juicy secret, but he did feel comfortable around Kat and believed her to be trustworthy.  However, he still wanted to remain cautious.

“Yes, well…you know—all ten year old gamers think of themselves as hackers,” he chuckled, diffusing the disclosure.  “Anyway, I asked you in here because I have some good news regarding our project.  I think I’ll have a better idea toward the end of the week, but I think we are almost ready to start validation!”

“Oh, that’s such exciting news, really?”  Kat was ecstatic.

Julian nodded with a wide grin, then swooped his hair behind his ears.

“Yeah…I will need to spend the rest of this week helping out with the pipeline issues the blood assay has been having, but I may have some time by Friday afternoon to put the final touches on this and take it for a test spin.  Think you’ll be available then?”

“Oh definitely, Friday is perfect.  I can’t wait to see how this turns out!  What time works best for you?”

Julian rolled his chair back toward his monitors to look at his calendar.

“Hmm…probably 4 or 5…”

“How about 430 then?” Kat suggested.

Julian leaned back toward her and flashed another one of his charming grins.  “Perfect.  I’ll see you then.  Thanks Kitty-Kat.”

Kat felt as if she were going to melt right there in his chair.  His smiles, those mysterious zircon eyes, his velvety-caramel voice—they all gave her the warmest shivers throughout her body and she was addicted.  The chemistry was so strong she pondered that he must have felt it too, and started to believe that maybe her friends were right after all, that he might have feelings for her as well.  The chemistry would not be so strong otherwise.

“Thank you, Julian…so much!  I will see you Friday!”

“Yes…if things go the way I think they will, we may have a reason to celebrate.”

Kat tried to control her giddiness as she stood up from the chair and prepared to exit his office.

“I certainly hope so, wouldn’t that be something?”

“Yes…” Julian mumbled quietly as Kat made her way toward his office door.  “Oh hey Kitty—” he added quickly.

“Yes?”  She turned around as she held the doorknob in her hand.

“Nice chat handle…it suits you,” he quipped along with another charming grin.

Kat’s heart dropped into her stomach again before it was picked up by a swarm of butterflies.  She chucked nonchalantly, looking away shyly before meeting his eyes once again. 

“I’m glad you think so,” she whispered.

They both stared at each other for another charged moment before Kat finally broke the gaze and quietly walked out of the door.

#mendax undercover #kassangie #my shitty writing #the fifth estate #fanfic #my f/o #self-ship bullshit #precisionmed!au

[trashmouthdiangelo]

“I remember telling you guys that originally, mistletoe kisses were on the cheek, and then Richie spent like a week trying to tie a branch of mistletoe around Eddie’s waist because I didn’t specify which cheek.” — Ben Hanscom

From my fic The Last Ingredient

#reddie #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #my shitty writing #omfgiminlovewithneeks #it #stephen king it #it probably happened

[that-irishman-fan]

complicit/a charlie lonnit x reader fanfic

FANDOM: The Devil In Me/The Dark Pictures Anthology

GENRE: A one-shot edited fanfic and unrequested, simply me indulging!

SYNOPSIS: ( SPOILERS AHEAD ) Charlie has been accused of being complicit after a clue is found to lead his friends to believe he might not be who they think he is, though the one he loves is quick to step in. This would be my loose take on the guilty complicit ending for Charlie if he survived it. 

TRIGGER WARNINGS: Spoilers for the game, swearing, implied then blatant crush, and angst!

As always, Charles Lonnit had become the villain of the story, if that was the right term to describe his predicament. There was nothing he could have done to quash the accusations. Stop the theories flying out from the mouths of people he had trusted. What had been on that tape incriminated him for an evil he hadn’t committed in the first place. Any fragments of trust left in him had shattered before his very eyes. Suddenly he was the guilty one. The role of the co-conspirator who wallowed in unspeakable sin had been ascribed to him. A wolf in sheep’s clothing crawling amongst them. Would his crew ever believe that he was their friend again? Whatever the case, he knew in the immediate moment that grave danger lurked around every corner; and that it was likely he would fall into its clutches if he could not convince his friends of his innocence. 

Complicit. What a foul word to speak. A stinging bullet fired from a merciless shotgun. He wouldn’t have dared to call himself a saint, but to say he was a sinner beyond redemption cut deep. 

Complicit. If they truly believed that, why not be done with him? Carve it into his chest and throw his body to the birds. Have him face the heavens for an omniscient, mysterious god to recognize him for the traitor he was and cast him into the blackest hellfire. 

Complicit. Nine letters, nine evils manifested. He was none of those. 

“ I’m not buying it. ” a voice soft in caution interrupted in the darkness. Mark and Erin turned towards the direction where Y/N stood, their fists clenched to their side. Surprise replaced the defensive expression on his face, his brows arching upwards over the frame of his glasses. His heart did a leap inside his chest, hope lightening the burden he carried on his shoulders. The metallic taste of fear on his tongue subdued. A breath he didn’t know he was holding pierced the silence. What were they playing at? Did Y/N have doubts that he was involved? Or was he hearing what he wanted? 

“ What do you mean? It’s all right there, Y/N! Do you want me to rewind the tape? ” Erin cried, seizing the cassette player from its spot on the table. 

“ If Du’Met is capable of building this fucked up murder castle, I imagine it’s not a stretch to assume he could edit this to fit whatever purpose he had. Think about it, Erin. You’re a sound engineer, do you really believe that Charlie was complicit in this whole thing? ” 

Complicit. There was that word again. 

“ Look at the other one, then! Use your fucking head, I’m no traitor! ” Charlie butted in, his indignant rage getting the better of him in the moment. Mark was noticeably quiet, trying to gage who to trust from the sidelines. 

“ Shut up, you don’t get a say in this matter!” Erin fired back, doing as Y/N had instructed her. She clicked on the other tape recorder, ear perked to listen for any evidence that would convict him. Fizzles of worry sparked in Charlie’s stomach, for a reason he could not explain. Why he was so nervous despite not having any malicious intent to begin with was past him. The second he heard his real voice fill the room speaking nothing but the truth, that anxiety died. A sob caught in Erin’s throat, her eyes dark in a mixture of shame, fear, and anger Inside of him, his mean streak revelled in her guilt. Seeing her wrong gave fuel to that inferno of bitter pleasure next to his white hot fury at the entire situation. Yet, there came a tiny pleading voice in the back of his mind that reprimanded him. Was he really going to hold a girl responsible for her completely sensible terror? Nonetheless a sweetheart like Erin Keegan who did not possess an evil bone in her body. No, he wouldn’t stoop to that level. 

“ See what I mean? Du’Met is trying to divide us so we’ll turn on each other. It’s another one of his sick psychopathic turn-ons.” Y/N whispered, keeping their tone neutral as was possible. 

“ I agree with Y/N. It makes us easier to pick off one by one. If Charlie really was the bad guy, wouldn’t he have tried to lead us off into more danger? I haven’t seen anything like that.” Mark replied, casting a calm look towards his boss.

“ I’m so sorry, Charlie...” came Erin’s quavering reply, to which he gave a stern but forgiving glance at. 

Gratitude blossomed up in Charlie’s chest, the most towards Y/N, who was talking to Erin. A flower of love sprouted for the screenplay writer across the room. Whether he wanted to get down on his knees and thank them or kiss them, he could feel himself falling harder for them. No longer was he the guilty one. If he could only get off this accursed island, he would make them see he was more than innocent. 

‘ If I get out of this circle of Hell, I swear to give up smoking and make them mine. The only crime I’m complicit for is for falling head over heels for you, Y/N.’ he thought, a small assuring smile playing on his thin lips for the first time in the previous few hours. 

Complicit. Maybe it wasn’t so bad to be complicit if it meant his dreams were fulfilled. 

A/N: God this was total shit, but I wanted to write something for my sweet British baby boy Charlie even if it wasn’t up to par with my normal standards. I fucking love the Dark Pictures games and Charlie Lonnit most of all, and wanted to express it as best as I could! This anthology has become my entire life the past month, the amazing people on this platform in the fandom helping to find another passion of mine which I thank them for! 

I’m going to tag the coolest person I know @itscrimsonsixx​ for this fanfic, I’d love to hear your opinion on my writing here if that’s cool with you, bestie! Everybody please have a fantastic New Year and enjoyable rest of your Holidays! Thank you so much for reading!

#@that-irishman-fan #the dark pictures anthology #the dark pictures #the devil in me #the dark pictures the devil in me #charlie lonnit #the devil in me charlie lonnit #the devil in me charlie #charlie lonnit x reader #the dark pictures x reader #the dark pictures fanfiction #my shitty writing

[0bianidalas]

#charlos #my hand slipped and im back on my sports rpf bullshit #my shitty writing

[bringmecoffeeandroses]

Necromancer Druid floating around my brain, calling forth spirits to inhabit remains and wrapping them in nature’s protection? Going back to that origin of necromancers communing with - not commanding - spirits? Helping them, exchanging their skill in battle for help crossing over into the next plane?

Totes not an excuse to create possessed, plant-covered undead monsters.

#necromancy #necromancer #necrobotany #necrobotanist #zombies #i have ideas #my shitty writing #not my art but definitely insp for the idea

[medaknight4]

Frozen Assets

Chapter 3: Ritual Summon

An eerie stillness followed the intrusion despite the steady breeze that now filtered into the fortress. Although the room was now partially filled with sunlight, the shade that remained clung fast, deepening in the newfound tension. Lhikan felt like he was under the gaze of a thousand eyes, sizing up the situation at hand. Restricted by the possibilities, the Toa of Fire realized that he was clenching his jaw much too tightly. He relaxed his muscles and finally let himself breathe. A soft yellow light scattered a few straggling shadows as Lhikan activated his Hau, shrouding his body in a shimmering shield. He glanced down towards Mace and pleaded in hushed tones. “Come back to us.”

Flail was rapidly checking their comrade’s vital signs. Heartlight: fading. Optics: unresponsive. Brain stalk: avoided sustaining injuries, but only just. The unlikely projectile threaded the needle between Mace’s mask and their skull. There was a small laceration behind the auditory conduit; if it were a centimeter back, the impact would have been undeniably fatal. But Mace is a fighter. Flail turned their massive shoulders towards Lhikan (and, more importantly, away from their unwanted guests), silently mouthing a name: Matua. The rookie nodded. His mask power wouldn’t encompass his teammates entirely but he could throw his body between them and any approaching threat.

Vinik felt it in his bones: he had to stall for time. He had no clue what these mercenaries were asking for, but he knew a deal wasn’t going to happen. No, he had to string them along just enough to allow backup to arrive.

“Look around you, Hunters.” He pointed towards the hulking brute in the hole-way, and then to the room at large. “There are specimens a plenty ripe for the bargaining. All you had to do was ask!”

Vezok, the navy-blue ne'er-do-well with the unnaturally toothy smile, squinted in annoyance. The Skakdi’s eyes lit orange; Vinik felt an invisible impact to his pauldron and was knocked off his feet, spinning backwards from the blow. The Toa whipped his Protosteel claw into the floor, catching himself before he careened into the wall behind him. Vinik felt a pop in his shoulder as he landed in a painful kneel. Spirit’s sake, really? I just got that fixed! Vinik retracted his gauntlets and looked back towards the mercenaries, rubbing his newly injured arm. “You three should really be more careful around here! Don’t you know that Frostelus have terrible ideas about architectural alterations?” As if to illustrate his point, a few bits of mortar fell from the newly formed window.

The other Skakdi, a maroon thug named Hakann, hissed at his accomplice and smacked him upside the head. “Listen to the clown and don’t miss.”

“I didn’t! You just saw–”

Ancient huffed and gripped the two bickering beings by the back of the neck. “I tire of these games, Toa. Give me what I want, lest this wretched place crumble to the ground with every failure inside along with it.”

Vinik slowly stood up and put his weight on his back leg, his fists in a pugilist stance. “Including you?”

The massive Dark Hunter fired three Rhotuka in rapid succession towards the insolent Toa before him. Enough was enough. It came as a surprise, then, to see every one of his shots miss. The warrior seemed to duck and weave between the wheels of energy like a leaf on the wind.

Impossible.

Ancient stomped his heels into the floor, activating the levitation Kanoka in his heavy boots. He needed the mobility boost in case of–

CRACK!

A speeding silver blur struck Hakann in the chest, sending a fine mist into the mercenary’s face. He spluttered and shook his head, but before the Skakdi had the opportunity to complain, a thin crackle of energy emanated from his shoulder and latched onto Vezok’s hip. Hakann felt his head slam into his partner in crime as his shoulder zipped to where the thread – now a chain – anchored itself to. The two Skakdi fell into a heap of curses and insults. Ancient moved before scanning the chamber, strafing left as another CRACK! filled the air and a blur flew out the hole in the wall. A third grazed the Dark Hunter’s leg as it hit the cobblestone behind him, a tangled mess of vines erupting from the impact. Enough shots to triangulate his new targets.

There, in the shadows of the far corridor.

Ancient fired another volley of Rhotuka towards the darkness. Two new Toa leaped from their hiding spot, now fully part of the fray. The blue and white one’s mask faded to matte as she stopped focusing on her Kanohi; the Toa of the Green pulled a bulky machete from the small of his back.

“Sorry for the delay, Vinny.” Nikila, too, drew her weapon and brandished it to face their new foe. “A good ambush is so hard to come by these days.”

Vinik’s eyes lit up as he heard his teammate’s voice. It took all he had to not turn around to greet her as he kept his eyes on Ancient. “All we need is Les and we’re set!”

Matua’s eyes darted around the chamber, landing upon Mace’s still form. He cursed and ran towards his own comrades. “Tower!”

Lhikan winced, his mask and shield flickering. He was losing concentration but it should last long enough to get upstairs. Flail picked up Mace, wrapping their armor around their patient like a cocoon, and fled up the adjoining spiral staircase with surprising speed for one so bulky. Ancient took aim but was interupted by a burst of sound swatting his temple.

“Oh no you don’t.”

The Dark Hunter glared at the silver menace. He clicked his heels together and landed with a heavy thud. The veteran enforcer cracked his neck and his knuckles as he headed towards the two Toa. “Hard way it is.”

Vezok studied the fight from afar as he struggled against his energized bonds. Ancient was as strong as a Muaka and tougher than a pissed off Kane-Ra, yet even he was having trouble. Every time he blocked one attack and dealt with a foe, the other would pick up the slack. An impromptu dance of battered flesh and Protosteel. Still, Ancient relented with calm fury.

If I can help this brute defeat these dolts, I could use him to acquire the Makoki Stone, take him out while he’s weakened, and get out of here free as a Gukko. I just need to get out of these cursed bindings! If only I could be as strong as he is…

Vezok grinned wickedly as an idea formed in his head. Could it lead to knocking himself and his patsy out cold? Yes. But the reward would be worth the risk. He squatted and sprung towards the scuffle, bringing his enraged accomplice with him.

“What in the Pit are you doing?!” cried Hakann. “You want us both dead?”

Vezok hesitated to explain his scheme, lest Hakann ruin it with his loud prattling, so he simply continued to make his way towards the Toa of Sonics. Almost there. In the chaos of the battle, Vezok was nearly squashed underneath Ancient’s heel, but he persisted. Vinik leaped above the Dark Hunter’s head as Nikila swiped at his legs. He was ready for the sweep but not the overhead. Vinik unleashed a cone of sound down towards the floor as Nikila dodged out of the way. The short burst of noise dazed the three mercenaries just long enough for Nikila to jam her trident onto Ancient’s wrist, jolting her foe. Vezok snapped awake to the Dark Hunter’s groans of pain. This was his last chance.

“I need you to get angry, Hakann!” Vezok squirmed against the energy chain, making sure his spine was against his fellow Skakdi’s.

“As if I wasn’t already!” Hakann felt a horrible ringing in his ears. He also felt the needles on his back meet resistance and the plan finally clicked. He roared in pent-up rage as a fire roiled in his belly, then between his shoulder blades. His elemental flames met with bubbling water, an onslaught of steam hissing between the two. Vezok wasn’t sure if using two powers at once would kill him but the plan was already in motion; he was going to find out. He let the sonic energy he absorbed flow through his spine in tandem with the water he was supplying. After a few seconds, the built-up sound and steam exploded, flinging the two Skakdi apart.

When Vezok came to, he noticed that everyone else in the chamber had been caught in the blast as well. Nikila had been thrown next to the tower stairs and Vinik had the wind knocked out of him. There was a crack in the ceiling above the Toa of Sonics – he had been tossed upwards! Shame he was still alive. So that left…

Ancient slammed Vezok into the wall by his throat. “Give me one good reason you don’t die for that.”

“Quickly,” Vezok wheezed. “While they’re recouping. We can end this and get… the… Stone…”

Ancient chose not to crush the Skakdi’s windpipe and instead turned to face the staircase. He reasoned that the Toa above were the ones to know the location of the information he required. The Dark Hunter was battered and bruised but could still handle extraction. He took a step before stopping in annoyance. Two familiar figures arrived: one with a mace and the other with two greatswords. And they looked ready for a fight.

Ancient sighed and muttered under his breath. “It was supposed to be quiet.” He steeled himself and lumbered forward. These Skakdi are going to make a choice when this is over: clean up the bodies for me or join them.

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#bionicle #my shitty writing #fanfic #happy new year lol

[sleepyhollowgirlsworld]

In the blueness of the in-between, when anything and everything feels possible, that's when I fell in love. That hour when the day bleeds into the night, the night into the morning; when dreams are born and love is made and forever seems a lot closer than I ever could have imagined. The static bustle of a restless city turns white noise into poetry. His steady breathing is slow and melodic, keeping the rhythm of our hearts and the pace of our minds. Nothing to worry about now. Silence. And he smells like browned flour on a rainy afternoon, chopped celery and fresh-baked cookies, lavender and cigarettes, tobacco and fresh rosemary from the garden; he smells like home. The rough scrape of his calloused finger pads against my cheek as he plays connect the dots, using my freckles as his guide. Silence. There is nothing to say, nothing to think, nothing to see here, in the darkness, where the twisted fingers of the light cannot ruin this--cannot unscrew the solidity of this moment.

#writing #my writing #original writing #3am thoughts #creative writing #writers on tumblr #my shitty writing #writeblr #writers and poets #writerscommunity #3 am ramblings #idk what to tag this as #random thoughts #nostalgia #random rambles #random writing

[pacificgem]

I have no god. I believe in no one. But when you look at me and smile I believe in you. My god, I believe in you.

#darling #my shitty writing #I suppose it needs to come out #personal