#writing again is scary | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

Visit Blog

Explore Tumblr blogs with no restrictions, modern design and the best experience.

Fun Fact

In February 2021, Tumblr had 518.6 million blog accounts.

#writing again is scary

flowercrowngods · 3 months

Note

i’ve decided to send an ask for each story you posted in the wip game kdnehdhs who did this to you? lives rent free in my brain 💛💛 (@a-little-unsteddie)

thank you so much 🥰🤍 still slowly working my way through the asks, so have a few more words to make up for the wait 🫶

who did this to you (pt.4) // tales of blue part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | read on ao3 🌷 preceding snippet no 1. | no. 2

Finally, finally, the familiar sound of Wayne‘s old truck rounding the corner into the trailer park interrupts the tense silence that seems to have fallen over all of Forest Hills tonight, and Eddie has half a mind to run out there, run toward them and get the whole story. Just to be sure that everything is fine. Just to be sure that Steve’s still… That he’s still there.

He stays right where he is, though, staring at Buckley‘s wild hair, feeling her shadow walk over him as Wayne pulls up to their driveway and stops. She is right in the centre of the headlights, but still she doesn’t move. Eddie wants to scream at her. Wants to nudge her and shove her out of the way — imagines it, imagines all the alternate universes in which he finds her wide eyes scared and unseeing as Wayne‘s voice sounds behind them, telling them that Steve didn’t make it.

Except in this one, Wayne said they’re coming home. In this one, shit like that doesn’t happen to eighteen year-old boys and their friends.

Aside from that girl. Barbara Holland.

Eddie swallows, his eyes flitting between bright lights to the silhouette of Buckley right in their centre. Like a doe, he thinks. Terrified of what she’ll find.

Don’t you wanna know? Eddie wants to ask her. Don’t you wanna see? What are you afraid of? What did you see? Who is he, Robin, and who are you? Why the fuck won’t you move?

In the end, it is the sound of a car door slamming shut that snaps Buckley out of her stupor, and she all but flies off the steps towards the truck. Towards where Eddie can vaguely make out the shape of a badly bruised face, the play of light and darkness not enough to conceal the deep purple splotches or the sluggishness of his movements as he raises his head. Turning toward Buckley like a flower to the sun.

She presses her hand to the window for a second, just looking at him — and Eddie is glad he can’t see either of their faces. He has a feeling that what he’d see there would haunt him forever.

#steddie fic #steddie #who did this to you #who did this to you part 4 #make me write ask game #i don’t. i don’t know why this is suddenly so dark. but maybe it’s because eddie‘s not important anymore #and he knows. but he wants to crawl his way back to being in the situation just as badly as he wants to run from it #and i think that’s just. scary. petrifying. he doesn’t need to be brave now he doesn’t need to be strong for anyone.#because robin and steve have each other now and he knows snd its fine bc he doesn’t know them yknow but.#i also think eddie just wants to sit on the floor again and not be part of anything. and at the same time take care of these two.#he also wants a hug. needs one. deserves one. and wayne will provide don’t worry. but eddie’s sorta dissociated from the situation now #and that’s the worst thing that can happen to anyone who’s telling a story yknow. well anyway. sorry jfjfjdhdh shutting up now

70 notes · View notes

turqrambles · 5 months

Text

Currently thinking about how the writer for the Prima's Official Strategy Guide for Rayman 2: The Great Escape did not know Jano's name and so just kept calling him "the scary man" or "the old man".

Doesn't even call him The Guardian, a title that gets dropped in conversation. No. He is the scary man.

#Rayman #rayman 2 #rayman 2 the great escape #Jano #strategy guide writing is honestly a lost art #you got a lot of non-canon mistakes in strategy guides #now we got too much proof-reading and synergy from the companies for stuff like this to happen ever again #and yes I know Jano's name wasnt that well-known until the GBA era #I just like the scary man

70 notes · View notes

good-beanswrites · 3 months

Note

hii hiii is it alright if I request something with kotoko and haruka?(platonic ofc) their character foils drive me insane with all the weak stuff authngghn icant be normal about them

Oooh thank you so much for the request! I realized that these two actually have one of the smallest windows to talk easily, given Haruka's nervousness and Kotoko's T2 changes. They have such interesting approaches to strength/weakness, and I hope I could capture it a bit here! This takes place immediately following Kotoko's bday timeline after Harrow's release:

“I’ll accept those birthday wishes…” Kotoko gave him a wave over her shoulder as she returned to making her bed.

She shook her head in awe. It was rather impressive how quickly the boy had changed after his verdict. The others had more subtle differences, but he was someone entirely new. She could rest easy, at least, knowing that her verdict wouldn’t change her much. For as long as she could remember, she’d been like this. She knew where she stood, and neither guilty nor innocent verdict would affect that. This verdict was really only an indicator on whether the warden could be trusted or not.

Her body tensed up when she turned back around, startled by Haruka lingering silently in the doorway. She decided against chastising him for scaring her half to death. Still, she couldn’t keep the bite from her voice as she asked, “did you need something else?”

“Ah… I just…” He twisted his hands together. “I had a question.”

He fell silent, but Kotoko could tell he was chewing on his next words. She waited.

“H-how do you do it? All the time? You’re older and stronger and braver and I-I just don’t know how.”

“Give yourself some credit. I’m not that much older, or stronger. I only have, what -- two, three years on you? And you did very well in the arm wrestling tournament the other day.”

She wasn’t being patronizing. For someone so sheltered, Haruka could do some damage. He stood a few inches taller than her. The others had taken the arm wrestling as a little game, but Kotoko had used the event to measure up her fellow prisoners. After his close match with Mikoto, she had made a mental note to take him seriously.

“No…” his expression twitched, getting frustrated with the misunderstanding. “Not muscles. I mean… you don’t have someone like Muu. You don’t need someone next to you all the time. But you still talk with everyone… and it looks easy. All the time. You always know what to say, and what to do. You never look scared. You never cry.”

Kotoko’s smile softened. She wasn’t the prideful type, but his words gave her a wave of accomplishment. She certainly was scared. She did cry. But she wasn’t about to show a single crack in her resolve in front of anyone here. Haruka had given her the greatest of compliments by confirming her success.

“Ah, you mean strength of spirit. Well, that doesn’t just appear out of nowhere. It comes with my purpose, with my virtues.”

“Virtues…?”

“I see the injustice around me, and want to protect the innocent. When I see how awful the world can be, when I see the monsters that are hurting those who are weak, I can’t help myself.” She clenched her fist. “The power to do so just comes to me.”

“Oh…” Haruka looked down at his palms.

Her heart sank, realizing he didn’t quite understand. It was a shame that not all of humanity could be as righteous as her. That heroic drive had always come so naturally to her; she wasn’t sure she could put it into words to explain to others.

Haruka’s open hands were trembling. “Um. Is there any other way?”

“Hm?”

“All my life… I only cause pain to everyone.” His worry gradually turned to desperation.” I hurt everyone who gets close to me. Especially things that are small and weak. My whole life, I’ve been nothing but a… a curse. So… is there another way? Please. I want to be better. I want to be strong! I want to be like you! Tell me!”

He stepped forward, pleading. Kotoko stepped back.

His blue eyes widened at her sudden shift into defense. “Ah! I. I’m sorry. I’m-I’m sorry. It’s your birthday. You should be… Have a g-good day.”

“Wait.” Kotoko stopped him before he could flee. She was aware of the massive gap between them, the vastly different backgrounds they came from. Still, she offered the same advice that had helped her in her toughest of days.

“Don’t worry so much about others’ strength. The quickest way to burn yourself out is getting overwhelmed with the power that’s all around you. Once you start putting all your focus toward honing your own skills and strengths, you’ll realize how much you’re truly capable of. You don’t need anyone else. You’ll realize that you are enough.”

“I… am enough…?”

She placed a hand firmly on his shoulder.

“So, no need to get all worked up now, okay?”

“O-okay. I’ll do my best.” He stiffened, trying to appear worthy of her words.

She let out a bitter laugh. “I told the others not to do anything for my birthday, but I don’t think they paid me any mind.” Kotoko still couldn’t fathom how they were so friendly with each other given the situation. “Let’s go see if there’s some cake or something.”

#milgram #kotoko yuzuhira #haruka sakurai #thank you so much! this one was super interesting to write 👀#the thing is even though they dont have any direct problem between them they would still have a hard time communicating #but once they DO communicate there would so much they could learn from/help each other with!!!#this is leaning into my theory that kotokos murder (like harukas) was a rightful emotion that spiraled out of control #it really puts it into perspective how young kotoko is when you remember shes not too much older than haruka #and theyre both susceptible to strong emotions that stem from feeling weak int he face of the big scary world #but kotokos sees her as some blessing of power to serve her heroic thoughts and haruka sees his as a curse #ty to my pals who helped me find the exact spot in the timeline i was looking for 🙏#although kotoko doesnt believe she can change that easily she 100% undergoes the exact type of dramatic change as the others #once again referencing the arm wrestling info from yamanaka #between that and the fact that strangulation actually takes a fair amount of power #i just think its very good to remember that haruka is so physically strong #also something something kids looking up and wanting to be like kotoko and her complex emotions on that....#these two are sooooo interesting AH #drabbles

26 notes · View notes

sluckythewizard · 14 days

Text

BUT IM NOT A WRITER. something strange possessed me to write my first proper fanfic in maybe a decade. be niceys to me but also grill me so i can get stronger. this one is a stupidly self indulgent bit between Soda and Emizel, a day or so after emizel was sired. CW for gore descriptions, but thats about it i think. image below is a snippet of the start. the rest of the whole dang thing will be under the cut. ive never posted fanfic ever in my life. read my tags for secret behind da scenes commentary

"Oh shit… I think hes dead…" It was another night, another patrol, another fight, and another win, for Emizel and Soda.

Under moonlight, under street light, under interwoven wires above, the two stood here in a quiet and damp alleyway. The air was drenched with the smell of a previous rain, and the puddles of said storm remain huddled in corners and pot holes.

One splashed as soda found himself stepping forwards into one. The residual adrenaline of the fight had left his body shaking, his heart still pounding, his wounds still throbbing. They had still won; or more-so, Emizel had won. A particularly nasty blow to the side had Soda reduced to the side lines for most of the fight, left to watch as his newly vampiric comrade had absolutely eviscerated the competition.

Emizel had only been turned a day ago, but it was impossible not to notice how it had changed him. He already acted so goddamn confident, so on top of the world, and this newfound power, newfound speed and strength, only built upon his insane ego.

The Fangs that they encountered here on this night stood no fucking chance. Emizel was too quick, too strong, and he easily chased off the rivals. It was only now, as the final unfortunate opponent had turned to flee, a clean clock in the jaw sent the human tumbling to the ground with a dull thump, and it did not move afterward.

Soda shifts his shoe out of the puddle, the cold seeping into his sock being one of the few things keeping his mind in his body in the moment. Is the guy breathing?

A low laugh bleeds from Emizel as he stretches his arms, licking his sharpened teeth as he stares off in the direction the remaining Fangs went. Soda knew that look on his face, the look of a tiger pondering on its next kill, he knew well that Emizel wanted to chase them.

But the guy on the ground.. It was one punch to the face, and the wicked crack sound that came from it had planted a seeding dread within Sodas chest.

As he steps forward, around the puddle, the resulting sound made Emizels attention click back over to Soda, the snap of his gaze making Soda flinch.

The two lock eyes, and Soda weakly gestures to the limp body on the floor. "The uh.. I think.. Is that guy dead?" He finally asks, having a hard time keeping contact with Emizels intensely red eyes.

Emizel turns his attention to said body, tilting his head as he goes to kick at the thing, turning it over. "Man no way hes dead, I punched him once." He mutters.

"Well, yeah, but his head almost twisted all the way around when you did.." Soda steps up to stand beside Emizel, the two boys standing with their hands in their pockets, down at this unfortunate, limp body.

"Should we hide it?" Soda asks, glancing back over at Emizel, who had.. An odd look on his face. He was clearly pondering something, but Soda could only guess whatever was going on in that brilliant head of his. He knew and trusted that Emizel was smart. If anyone could figure out what to do about this, it would be him.

But the lack of an answer had anxiety chewing at the back of Sodas rib cage, and after a second, he speaks up again, compelled to fill what he perceived as a tense silence. "Like.. I dunno, I've never uh... killed a guy..." He shrugs, prompting Emizel to let out a big sigh.

"He's not dead man, just out fuckin cold." Emizel kneels down next to the body, putting an ear up to its chest, and pondering on that for a moment. An uncertainty twists his expression, as he decides to instead place a hand on the victims throat, checking for a pulse. A moment passes, and seemingly finding nothing, he pulls back.

"Uh... Okay, so he might be dead."

Something about the confirmation from Emizel made a shiver run up Sodas spine. That, or maybe it was just the breeze agitating the cold water in his shoe.

"Huh… Damn.." Was all that Soda could really get to leave his mouth. Which was hardly a splash compared to the torrent that was slowly churning in his head. They just killed a guy. Or, Emizel just killed a guy. And it was so easy. They had to hide the body now, right? That was the usual progression here? Getting caught for murder was way more extreme than getting caught for breaking mailboxes with soda cans. It was so, so disturbingly easy. It really was just one punch. It's not like the Fangs are weak by any means, so just one punch? And this guy is dead? Forever?

Or, perhaps by human means, their rivals were fairly tough. But Emizel was on a whole other level. No mortal could stand up to him now...

"Hey, are you okay?"

The question had pulled Soda back from his head, his gaze flicking back over to Emizel, who was looking up at him with those eerie, piercing red eyes. Soda felt another shiver.

"Uh, ieah man, I'm all good." Soda nods, swallowing down whatever anxiety was bubbling up in his throat.

But Emizel didn't seem satisfied by his answer, standing back up and staring down his human comrade. Soda couldn't meet his eyes, his gaze instead traveling downward, and pausing on Emizels red, cut-up shirt. There was something off about the color, the way it seemed darker in some spots, brighter in others.. Wait, wasn't Emizel wearing a white shirt before all this?

The vampire boy seems to pick up on Sodas expression, following his eyes down to his shirt. "Oh, yeah! While you were on the floor, the knife guy got me a little" He says, a stupidly simple smile on his face. Soda was about to let out a laugh at how unbothered his friend seemed by it, but it gets caught in his throat when Emizel goes to pull his shirt up.

The sound of the bloodied fabric peeling away from skin made Sodas own skin crawl, but that wasn't nearly as bad as the sight of the intense gash running from his collar bone, down to his stomach.

"Oh, fuck dude!" Soda gasps, but Emizel laughs it off. Even despite knowing Emizel well, Soda was still surprised by just how much Emizel could shrug off. "Shit, doesn't that hurt, dude?"

"Oh yeah this fucking hurts!" he says with a laugh, his smile big and toothy and proud as he presents this egregious wound. Swollen and angry, pulsing with a slow heartbeat, and still oozing with thick, dark blood.

The sight of the split flesh, and the glints of bone beneath the dark, dark red all tugged at Sodas gag reflex, and yet he couldn't pull his eyes away. So Emizel's just been walking and talking so normally this whole time with his chest just cleaved wide open? Soda felt just as impressed as he felt horrified.

It wasn't until Emizel reaches down to poke at the abhorrent wound that Soda snaps out of it. Watching his friend press his fingers into the bloodied flesh, and slowly pulling it apart, allowing more ichor to seep from the gash, it was too much to watch at this point.

Soda reaches up to put a hand on Emizels wrist, the vampire boy stopping, and looking up at his friend.

Soda found himself freezing again when he locks eyes with Emizel. He was going to say something now, right? "U-uhm.." Is all he really chokes out, giving Emizels wrist a gentle tug. "D-do you. Uh. I suppose a hospital Isn't a place you can go anymore..?"

Emizel just smirks at that, letting Soda pull his hand away from the wound. "Oh, yeah no, but it's fine. I mean, I don't think it's gonna kill me" He shrugs. It was so, so impressive just how unphased Emizel was by all this. Fuck he's actually so cool.

"Well yeah man but it's like, still a bleeding hole. Like you're soaked in blood dude, I'm pretty sure that even a vampire needs that stuff on like, the inside." Soda rubs the back of his head, still unnerved by the sight of it all. "Vampires have like, super healing, don't they?"

"Oh yeah like, regeneration powers. I know I heal faster sometimes but I dunno how to just, activate it on command.." Emizel hums, his eyes narrowing down at his own injury, as if trying to will it into mending. Soda looks away, unable to watch that vile gash ooze any longer.

"I dunno man, how do they do it in like, video games?" Soda tosses the question out, trying to click together some sort of solution in his own head.

"Uhhh.. Huh, video games.." Emizel repeats to himself, chewing on the thought while idly poking at the laceration; until an idea audibly flickers to life in his head. "Oh, I just gotta refill my blood meter. Or whatever."

"Oooh yeah, blood meter!" Soda perks up, "Of course, see this is why you're the brains, man" Soda smiles, glancing back over to his cool friend, but immediately needing to look away again when the sight of that egregious gash tugs bile back into his throat.

While Soda averts his eyes, Emizels eyes wander back over to the body, and that classic 'Emizel has a bad idea' smile creeps across his face.

"Well, if this guys dead, I'm sure he's not gonna need all that blood.." He grins, kneeling down next to the body again.

The word 'wait' had hardly gotten the chance to crawl from Sodas mouth, before Emizel lifts up the arm of the unfortunate body, pulling the sleeve back, and immediately sinking his teeth into the exposed wrist.

The sound and the sight of blood gushing around Emizels teeth made Soda cringe, his hand impulsively coming up to aide his own wrist. An empathetic phantom pain made his wrist ache, his imagination simulating the feeling of shark teeth cutting into skin, sinking deep into the flesh, and clacking against bone. That was a lot of blood, that was streaming down the arm of this fodder.

A low growl bleeds from Emizel as he adjusts his teeth, cutting into more flesh, opening the wound further, and allowing a pulsing torrent of red to stream down his chin, onto his coat. It was an annoying thing, to clean blood out of clothing. Most of the Demons deemed it easier to just let the stains remain. But the night that Emizels throat was torn open, and liters upon liters were granted freedom from his human form, the unbelievable mess had practically changed half the color of Emizels iconic coat.

That was the first time Soda had ever seen that much blood from one person. And well. This would probably be the second.

The sight was unnerving, but it was impossible to look away. The alley was quiet, save for the distant bustle of a distant city, which made the noisy squish and squelch of teeth gnawing on flesh all the more apparent and nauseating.

Emizel had become a monster for sure, and watching it feed on something was… thrilling, in a way. It reminded Soda of feeding a pet spider, or lizard. A mouse for a snake.

It's a heavy thing to witness, the end of a human life. The fear of death is a primal thing, and Soda was no different from any other living thing. He figured everyone else feared death just as much as he does. Well, maybe except for Emizel, of course.

It made sense. Emizel was such a cocky and noisy kind of guy, but hes always had the power to back it up. Even when he lost, or seemed at his lowest, Soda still saw this sort of fire in him, one that Soda admired.

Of course Emizel would be the one to become something like a vampire. Something that Soda had always figured was just a fantasy creature thing. He wondered; if vampires were real, what else was real? Werewolves? Zombies? Unicorns? Are there real demons? Like from hell? Is hell real? Is he going to hell?

The sudden ttteeeeaaaaarrrr of flesh rips soda from his wandering thoughts. Emizel was tugging his head away from the arm of his kill, his teeth clamped down into the chewed meat, and pulling it apart. Soda had seldom seen so much of the inside of a human arm, and the sight of spilling threads and squirming veins was hardly something he ever wanted to stomach again.

"Oh fuck, dude, hey-" Soda steps forward, raising a hand, but the way Emizel snaps his head back over to him, twisting to an unnatural degree, Soda cant help jolting back.

Reddened teeth glint menacingly in the low light, a threatening growl thundering from its clenched, dripping jaws. Emizels eyes were focused, yet wild, glowing with whatever light they could reflect.

Sodas eyes were wide, and his body was frozen in the thick, electric tension within the air. It was like staring down an angry dog.. Suddenly a light bulb in his head flickers to life. It was kind of like an angry dog, right? One hunched over a meal it didn't want to give up. Memories of old encounters and unfortunate dog bites resurface in Sodas head, and with that experience, and with those lessons learned, he gathers the courage to react.

He shuts his eyes, keeping them closed for a few seconds, as he slowly pulls back his arm, and slowly steps back. It was an eye contact thing, wasn't it? Eye contact makes dogs angry, right? That was how you dealt with an angry dog? As he pulls back, and takes in a breath for composure, he finally dares to peek at the angry vampire before him again.

Its snarling had died down, but its eyes were still trained intently on Soda. After a tense, and agonizingly, slow pause... It blinks back, lowering its head back down to its meal, but keeping its anxious stare on this potential threat.

A relieved sigh falls from soda as the tension finally melts. He didnt realize he was holding in so much of his breath. "O-okay, man.. It's yours, you uh.. Earned it.." Soda mutters, stepping back further, until he was standing in a sufficiently dry enough space to sit down in. Now that he wasn't standing, he was finally taking into mind just how much his hands were shaking.

It's odd. Soda couldn't really describe this feeling thrumming in his chest as something like fear.. Nausea? For sure. Disturbed and rattled? Oh absolutely. This was certainly a sight he would have a hard time scrubbing from his eyelids when he sleeps tonight. But he wasn't scared. The memory of the night that Emizel was sired still coated the inside of his mind like an unwashable film. Even in that moment, when the unnatural teeth from the unnatural maw of an unnatural thing hovered over his throat, he couldn't say with confidence that he was scared.

Emizel really is his best friend in the world. And he knows with his whole heart that Emizel feels the same. He knew and trusted that his best friend would never hurt him. Not too badly at least. He loves Emizel, and would give anything to support him.

Like a mouse to a snake.

This really is an incredible power that his comrade had come across, and Soda especially felt a sort of pride in his friend. He felt it was worth it to help him feed it.

The bile in his throat had made its point, and Soda agreed, that watching someone die, and get torn apart and drained might be too much for him. Despite how much he hated the Fangs, the end of any human life seemed like such a jarring thing. To have such an intense fear finally get confronted. Would he go to hell?

Maybe he couldn't just feed people to his friend. So an alternative could be donated blood, right? Soda wouldn't mind giving up something like blood. His body makes it for free, after all. Maybe some other Demons would agree to give up some blood too. But they shouldn't have to take on such a burden. Soda wouldn't mind being the only one. The only one. The only one.

His hand comes up to rub at his neck, as his imagination conjures up what it might feel like to have teeth sink into his flesh. He's been stabbed before, is that sort of what it would feel like? Would he have to get stitches? He didn't really want to get stitches, so maybe there could be a more effective way to get the blood out of him. And there was so much vital stuff in his neck too. There's' a vein that's safe to cut into somewhere, right? He would have to look that up later.

A STARTLING RINGING;

Splits the moment,

Prompting both Soda and Emizel to jolt in shock,

As the phone in Emizels pocket rings away.

Acting as if nothing abnormal had taken place, Emizel pulls out his phone, and answers it.

"Heyy, Johnny! Yeah we chased em off, I don't think those bastards will be infesting this street again anytime soon. Yeah, ieah we'll be heading back soon. Oh fuck yeah dude, save us some!"

Emizel covers the speaker of his Nokia, turning back to Soda with a big smile on his violently bloodied face. "They got some pizza waiting for us back home, dude!" he whispers out to him.

Soda does his best to crack a smile, and to suppress the look of unease that probably stained his face, as he stares at the literal murder scene that's been splattered about in front of him.

"Oh, yeah, hell yeah man.." He swallows down the bile again. "What kind of uh.. Soda did they get?"

Emizel ponders that, before turning back to the phone to ask Sodas question.

"Sprite and a big pack of that one strawberry mountain dew" Emizel tosses the answer back over to Soda, who gives a nod, and thumbs up.

Mountain dew is so neat, Soda really liked all the wacky flavors those guys come up with. The thought of going home and opening a can of soda was certainly a comfort. After witnessing all this blood and gore and viscera, Soda absolutely needed to get back home and get a nice cold glass of something bright red .

As Sodas mind wanders off to soda, Emizel wraps up the conversation on the phone, before hanging up, and standing up.

The movement had pulled Sodas mind back into the moment, enough for him to timidly voice a concern he's had since the start of this debacle.

"Uh, hey, so.. The body, should we… Uh.." He gestures vaguely to it, and Emizel grants it a nonchalant glance.

"Eh, I can toss it into a dumpster or something, I dunno. I'm sure its fine. I'll handle it."

The vampire boy goes to pick up the corpse, the wound in its mangled arm no longer even dripping with blood, the flesh pale from the absolute absence of red in its veins.

"Go ahead and meet me by that one mailbox, the one with the bullet hole in it." Emizel casually instructs, tossing the drained body over his shoulder. "I'll catch up."

"Uh, yeah, okay.." Soda musters up a nod, and the strength to rise back up to his feet, wincing as that bruise on his side makes itself loudly known again. He still felt anxious, but even despite it all, he knew he could trust Emizel to take care of things. He always does. "Just stay safe man, I'll see you there." Soda assures with a smile, and Emizel matches it, tossing him a wink. And then suddenly- -He's gone! If Soda had blinked he would've missed it, but he was fortunate enough to just barely catch the glimpse of Emizel darting off at an inhuman speed, probably looking for a place to dump the body. Right, he would take care of it. Emizel always makes sure his crew is taken care of. Well... Guess all that's left for Soda is for him to walk back to that meeting spot. He looks around the alley for a moment, taking in the sight of that enormous pool of blood in the middle of the concrete. Or whatever the floor of this alley is made from. He ponders on the present moment a little longer than he meant to, the shock of it all leaving him aimless for just a few, soothing moments of just, decompression. The night is quiet, vast, and cold, but the stresses of just the past 5 hours had left his body radiating with fiery aches and pains, so the chill of the occasional clawing breeze was welcomed. Except for when said breeze agitated the cold water still soaked into his sock. He should step in another puddle on his way back to even it out. The smell of rain still rested heavy in the air, heralding another storm on the horizon. There was that, and then, well, there was also the blood. The stench of it felt far too intense to just ignore it, the metallic miasma making itself maliciously unmistakable. Maybe the impending storm will wash this mess away... He looked forward to putting this unfortunate night behind him. With one last rattled, but deep breath, he stuffs his hands in his pockets, and turns away, strolling back over to the mailbox that Emizel had described.

He couldn't wait to get home and drink some soda with his friends.

#NO TAGS ON THIS ONE BC WELL. IM SHY. IM TAKING A BIG LEAP JUST BY ALLOWING U TO REBLOG THIS. IF IT BREAKS CONTAINMENT THATS UR FAULT.#i unfortunately suffer from the disease of 'i hate everything i write the day after i write it' BUT IM GETTING TREATED #I WILL NOT BE HAUNTED BY THIS WEAKNESS FOREVER. AND HEY LOOK THIS IS THE FIRST ACTUAL FIC BIT IVE EVER FINISHED..#ITS SOMETHING TO BE PROUD OF!! AND BY JOBE I WILL BE PROUD EVEN IF I HATE IT.#i dont always need to be the one who likes my art bc i know Someone out there will always enjoy it.#and to that someone i say: omg thankyou i LOOOOVEE YOUUUUUU!!!!!#JUST DELETED A WHOLE RAMBLE I JUST HAD ABT NERVOUS DISCLAIMERS FOR MY ART BUT I DONT NEED EM!!#GET CONFIDENT GET CONFIDENT GET CONFIDENT. ANYWAY. so emizel and soda huh #THEYRE SO CUTE TOGEEHTERRRR TEEHEHEHEHEEEE they are the homies that kiss eachother goodnight like CMON #but uhh so hey your bestest friend in da world just got turned into a freaky creature thing that eats ppl #ieah yknowthe guy that u care about alot that u had to watch get bled out by another freaky creature thing in an alleyway #yeaaah and you were super hurt and weak and stupid and u couldnt do jack nor shit to help him #what was i talking about again. RIGHT so hes even cooler now bc he cant die n hes super strong n his arms can be knives. sometimes.#but also he can eat people now. and sometimes he cant stop himself from eating people. and thats kinda scary. but in a cool way.#but also in a disturbing way. but also in an interesting way?but also in a freaky way.the feelings ARE MIXED!!!ATLEAST I THINK THEY WOULD B #okay again i havnt listened to the suckening ina bit. so its been a minute since i absorbed their personalities. i could be misreading or #misremembering or misconstruing or mischaracterizing or WHATEVER. i think the confusion carries its intended effect #LOSING MY TRAIN O THOUGHT. anyway i love soda n emizel i hope they get locked in a saw trap together or somethign. for enrichment.#TALOS GRANT ME THE STRENGHT TO POST MY CREATIONS ON LINE!!! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAUUUUUUUUGHHH!!!!!!!

16 notes · View notes

ghostclowning · 8 months

Text

Ok but imagine if ZZL actually thought he could have some fun bonding time with master Shen. Like oh yeah, I've got a bit of spare time before going to demons realm, we could do something wholesome up here as well!! And then master Shen just does some wild shit, leaves him all alone and drunk and never even calls him again

#and he still was happy to see sqq again #but sqq only was happy to see him bc he got lost in a cursed tomb with scary monsters😭#this is so toxic i am no longer a sqq apologist #(this is a joke btw)#(will i start writing toxic svsss fanfics now though? yes i will #(i spent too much time in confinement)#svsss #shen qingqiu #zhuzhi-lang

55 notes · View notes

recitedemise · 4 months

Text

𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗻𝗲𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗲 𝗼𝗿𝗯 𝗮𝗰𝘁𝗶𝘃𝗲𝗹𝘆 𝗿𝗼𝘁𝘀 𝗮𝘁 𝗚𝗮𝗹𝗲'𝘀 𝗯𝗼𝗱𝘆. And it is excruciating. On his chest, one can trace its ugly mark, the brand less discoloration and more, unfortunately, a deep-grooved scar. It is unavoidable and impossible to ever miss. Similarly, the way it eats at him is obvious, too. Gale, especially at the start, when his condition, fresh and disorienting, was still abundantly new, the effects of the orb were frighteningly worse. At that time, he little knew how to quell it, that feeding off the Weave would balm the pain, and so for all those days and weeks of panic, he rotted and ached at a terrible pace. He had decayed. And he had bled. Gale's body oozed black, skin, especially at his casting arm, rupturing like cracks in terracotta. He tasted filth always, the bitterness of wasting flesh thick in his throat, nose perpetually leaking with the ink-dark of bleeding. He'd labored to breathe, a feeling like devouring maggots pulsing in his chest. In fact, at the lowest point by then, wallowing and stuck in his tower, Gale began to lose hair, his nails loose and cracking as he scrabbled at the floorboards, knees weak and pain bolting when he collapsed to the floor. He was a pitiful sight. And a worrying one. And even now, with the consumption of magical artefacts, one can still see the way he bows to the blight, heaving for breath when it takes his chest again, sweat at his temples and mouth gone dry. It's all-encompassing. The agony is chronic. It feels like being eaten, being hollowed to his barest self right from the inside. He's a vessel of magic, and the orb means to consume him down to his every last molecule, teeth bared, hackles raised, and appetite crushing. It's like--dying, stolen away to be but swallowed down whole, surrendering to the suck of a hungering vortex. He's unsightly. As well, too, as a burden, he thinks, to the very naked of his bones. But when someone hangs back, touches him despite his rot, he thinks, you shouldn't have to handle something like this. This mere shamble of a graveyard--he's so sorry to dirty their hands.

#HEADCANON.#I explore more the depths of his orb... a la EA Gale. More EA Gale. Because that bandaged hand will forever be in my thoughts.#Imagine at the start when he had no idea what to do about this thing in his chest.#If it fucked up his arm I imagine it had to fuck up everything else. Like. LEGITIMATELY rotting and dying.#How scary. How lonely. How PAINFUL.#God. Mystra really heard and knew him literally in agony and just said. Well. That's your fault.#ANYWAY. Now if ANYONE shows care and actively hangs back to help him catch his breath #or help him and wipe his nose when he begins to bleed he's just... oh. Thank you. (so warmed. so touched. so--#you would touch me like this? handle me when i'm just--rotting skin and vile blood? isn't this all unsightly?)#Bro. I got thoughts.#Anyway MERRY CHRISTMAS EVE. I finished ALL I HAD TO DO. But now I'm worn out. Happy to be writing again tho. :' )

26 notes · View notes

writing-hat · 28 days

Note

Out of curiosity, and you don't have to answer if you don't want to.

how would jay (from your fic) react to seeing or hearing about Arrakore?

SORRY FOR TAKING SO LONG TO ANSWER I needed to figure out how it would happen (idk if this is complete or not but it should be)

anyway bbnb!jay meeting Arrakore!

oh he would FREAK OUT

Like, real and heavy panic attacks that make me absolutely tense every time I write them

He would not feel safe every time he's around Arrakore, and panic alone in a room as soon as he can or something I think.

because Nadakhan kept lying to him about how djinns really were (for intimidation purposes mainly, but also because he was pursuing his own sort of ideal that lead to him getting banished from his homeworld (I'll explain all that in another fic that's taking me a while to write dw about it for now)), Jay is going to think Arrakore has to be lying all the time, or at the very least playing with them

He might even think Arrakore might be planning revenge for his people, like Nadakhan had, or is at the very least working with him or something

First scenario. First meeting might be Jay freaking out with his powers going insane, and him actually loosing control for the first time in a while. This might lead to Arrakore trying to help him control his powers, only for everything to get worse.

Or, second scenario, Jay might attack on purpose, trying to get rid of someone he knows is an enemy. There's no way that djinn would be on their side, and his friends trust him cuz they don't remember. That's it. Nya? She trusts the guy, but she can be wrong, and that's okay. He'll do the dirty work for her

3rd scenario would be Jay not attacking, after being told by the others not to, but being tense, not letting him out of his sight for even a second. Or trying to avoid him.

If it's during his amnesia, I'm considering the first or third being more of what could happen. I do like the idea of him not knowing why he's so scared, why he's so terrified of someone he's never known

Maybe even have Nadakhan's face replacing the Arrakore's every now and then, and him not really knowing what to do

I have multiple ideas mainly because I'm not done with my fic, and I have not decided on what the resolution of his emotions or powers is going to be. I mean, I have something I consider a vague idea, but based on how I handle it, Jay is going to have more or less control of himself whenever things like those are going to happen to him

Also, depending on whether Arrakore knows it's because of Nadakhan or not, his actions are going to be very much different as well

Cuz he knows how much of a twisted bastard the banished prince was, and he knows he must've done something terrible if Jay panics whenever he sees him like that

The worst in this, is that I see Arrakore being a kind and good soul, always trying to help out the lightning ninja

only for it to ultimately fail

But yeah! Overall, Jay would be terrified, and not trusting of Arrakore. He'd even try to get rid of him at all cost, and if he understands that his friends trust that guy, then he might try to do that behind their backs. I am one to believe Jay would be ruthless when it comes to a situation that is serious, especially if it's to protect his friends

An even twisted way for things to happen, would Jay taking sorta revenge about Nadakhan on Arrakore. How? Plenty of ideas there, idk if you guys want me to elaborate cuz this is already VERY long (and I'm sorry about that MJKERRLGK I digress easily help)

(Of course this would be resolved but it would take TIME. so so much TIME. And I am one to take time and write a lot when it comes to comfort and all so yea.)

thank you for the ask!! and I hope this answered properly

see you around!

#anonymous asks are scary #hat's words #hat's fics #bbnb #bending but never breaking #arrakore #jay #this actually makes me wanna write about it #but I have too much to finish #maybe once I clean a bit my unfinished fics zgelhsrts #thanks for the ask!! sorry again for taking so long to answer argh

16 notes · View notes

polaroidcats · 5 months

Text

Wednesday snippet!

I got tagged by the lovely @pinklume, thank you for tagging me!! You don't know this but your timing in tagging me was incredible, I actually hadn't written any fiction in years and have never written fanfic until like a week ago but now I do have something to share with the class, with the lovely encouragement & tag of @neongreenllama as well!! 💖 It's a small snippet from a wolfstarbucks crackfic that I'm writing as pure self indulgence (not sure if I'll ever post it, but writing it is fun).

Remus sat down on one of the sofas with a sigh. The party was loud and he'd had fun dancing earlier in the evening, but he had also already had several heated discussions about communism and everyone else was so, so wrong and no one seemed to get Marx anymore. He just needed a short break from everything.

Luckily he always carried his pocket edition of the communist manifesto with him anywhere he went - you never know when you might be in need of a word of encouragement from your hero, and Karl Marx was the one person who had never once disappointed him. He flicked through the pages of the battered small book where he had written way too many comments in the margins over the years and thought fondly about how much better the party would be if Karl was there with him.

Remus was so lost in the beautiful words of his hero that it took him by surprise when someone sat down on the couch next to him. He looked up into a friendly face surrounded by curly, dark brown hair. "Hi! I'm James, what are you reading there?" Remus raised his eyebrows. Wasn't it obvious that it was the communist manifesto? Why did this stranger - James - even need to ask that? What was he doing at this alleged leftist party when he didn't even reckognize the book cover of the german edition of the communist manifesto from a distance? He was probably another one of those losers who pretended they knew what Marx was all about just because they took one polticial science module in their first semester of university. Remus sighed again, closing his book. "Just flipping through the communist manifesto for some inspiration. I'm Remus."

Open tag for everyone who wants to post something, I'd love to see what everyone is working on!!💖

#tag fun #thank you both for tagging me #sharing this is a bit scary bc writing fiction again after so long is hard and writing in english is also hard!!#but it's pure self indulgance and silliness so it doesnt have to be good it can just be fun!!#antifa marauders agenda #karl marx fangirl remus lupin #antifa wolfstarbucks #llama tag

29 notes · View notes

ink-wells-and-feathers · 4 months

Text

What if Terry had met Veronica when Scary was young? What if he had gotten to be her dad for much longer

#ink says something stupid again #ink.says #ink writes #dndads #dndaddies #dungeons and daddies #dungeons and daddies c2 #scary marlowe #terry stampler #terry junior

27 notes · View notes