nerdingz-writes

[nerdingz-writes]

OCtober Day 6

Day 6: Rivals

[This was from a prompt by @writemeagoodprompt go check them out!]

Dom cracked open his dry eyes, groaning in pain. “Ugh... What the fuck happened?” He cursed himself, sitting up. His head throbbed badly, and his joints ached.

He glanced to his side to see a bruised Darren hunched over in a chair fast asleep. His eyebrows were furrowed, his expression troubled. Bandages covered his arms and neck, but nothing serious.

Dom gazed downwards at his own body, which was covered in bandages. His left arm was in a splint, same as his ankle.

Then he realized, looking at all of the wrappings around his chest, that Darren saved him.

The feeling in his chest was a mixture of too many feelings, fondness, anger, concern. Why would Darren save him? Dom’s head throbbed with the added questions running through it.

Dom looked around the room, ignoring the cries from his body to lie back down. The walls were covered in an awful floral wallpaper. There was a small window to his left and a door towards the foot of the bed. Another door was opened next to it, leading into a small bathroom. And on the far side of the room was the exit. Next to the exit door stood a table with three chairs, all of which seemed to be falling apart. There was a small fridge, a microwave, and a sink near as well. The room smelt like the appliances looked, old and slimy.

For all that money you guys are supposed to have, this is the hotel you choose? Dom thought, staring at his brother.

Darren stirred. He rubbed his eyes, then his hand went to his neck, gently caressing it.

Dom stared, slowly moving away.

Darren sighed and took a water bottle from his bag. “You won’t make it far.”

Dom jumped. “Is that a threat?”

“No, dumbass. You were knocked out after the lab exploded. You’re lucky to have even woken up so soon… Mom wants to see you. Alive.” Darren took a drink from the bottle.

Dom huffed. Not my mother, he thought.

“Be mad if you want, but we leave tomorrow to go meet her. And you’re not getting out of this.” Darren offered the water to Dom.

Dom rolled his eyes and laid back down in the crappy bed.

His head was throbbing now. Each time he tried to replay the events at the lab his head pounded harder. He pinched the bridge of his nose.

He must have fallen asleep because when he sat up again, there was no Darren. Just a note, the water bottle, and two pills.

The note read:

Out for food, the pills should help with the headache. Don’t go anywhere, Dominic. - again, you won’t make it far before you pass out. Be back within the hour.

D.B.

“Even your hand writing’s fucking perfect.” Dom tossed the note to the floor.

The clock on the nightstand read 7:38 pm.

Dom glanced back at his ankle, then at the pills. He turned and placed his feet on the floor, he winced and grasped his side at the motion. He sat a moment to catch his breath.

“Like I’m going to stay here.”

He grabbed his shirt and put it on, cringing at the pain as he did. He took the water, then hesitated but decided to leave the pills, they would probably make him drowsy anyway. He stood slowly, one arm using the bed frame for support. He glanced around the room, but there was no sign of his shoes.

“Great. You’re not a total dumbass, Darren.”

He checked the clock again. 7:45.

“And now you’re out of time, Dom.” He said, wiping a hand through his hair.

He attempted to take a step towards the door. When he shifted his weight however, his ankle sent a shockwave of pain through his leg and he had to sit.

His head throbbed at the sudden movement. “Damnit.” He cursed himself, trying, against his bodies’ demands, to come up with a plan.

The lock on the door clicked and Darren entered.

He carried a bag in one hand and tossed the keys on the table with the other. He set down his bag and began unloading, not looking at Dom once.

"Where are we?" Dom asked.

Darren didn't answer. Instead, he took out a paper-wrapped sandwich and tossed it back. It landed on the bed next to Dom.

Dom stared at the sandwich, then at Darren.

"What? Too good for talking now?" Dom picked up the sandwich and unwrapped it. He took off the bread and checked it's ingredients. It was a basic turkey sandwich, nothing abnormal about it. Dom suddenly felt hungry, but that didn't mean he had an appetite for anything Darren gave him.

"It's not drugged. Eat." Darren said coldly.

"Where are we?" Dom asked again, his headache coming on more intense.

"It doesn't matter. Not for you." Darren finished his unloading, taking out a jug of water.

Dom took a hesitant bite of the sandwich. It tasted good, better than good like he hadn't eaten in months.

"What about you?" Dom made a gesture to the food, not that Darren saw it.

"I ate while I was out."

"How long was I asleep, before I woke up earlier?" Dom asked between bites.

"A day."

"And what you just dragged me to some crappy hotel?"

"Would you rather I had left you?"

Dom was quiet.

"Take the pills," Darren said, turning around.

Dom raised an eyebrow.

"Or suffer the headache and your injuries, I don't care."

"Yes, you do."

Darren rolled his eyes and walked towards the bathroom.

"I know you care because this sandwich is the same as the one we'd eat in the park as kids. It's one of the only things I remember, it was during our last year, before Avila-"

"Or perhaps it was the closest shop." Darren snapped as he entered the bathroom and slammed the door behind him.

Notes: 

Aye have some bros. :)

[nerdingz-writes]

OCtober Day 5

Day 5: Kiss

Story: NG

[First, a shit-post for your health and mine because toady’s my Birthday :)) ]

McCoy: “Dude, that’s my sister. If you’re gonna kiss her, do it when I’m not around.”

Porter: “Uh, okay, then leave.”

McCoy: “I can’t do that. You’ll kiss my sister”

[Okay fr now :) also, meet my two gae bbys who I love more than myself.]

Aaron stumbled through the door to his room. Eyes tired, his body hardly awake, but mind spinning. Where was Mikhail? He should be here. He should’ve been watching the younger kids he should... where is he?

Aaron had been away for months on a mission with his team. He hadn’t been able to talk to or even check on Mikhail once. It was agonizing. Aaron’s work was dangerous and would probably bring dangers to Mikhail soon, but not being able to know, the thought terrified Aaron. The minute he set foot back on friendly soil, he called Mikhail. They’d had a short conversation, but Mikhail knew Aaron would be home today.

So, where was he?

Aaron hardly noticed he’d made it to his bed, where he gratefully sat down. He didn’t bother taking off his boots, which Mikhail would probably nag him about, and rolled over onto the bed. Aaron didn’t get under the bedding; he didn’t turn off the lamp; he just let himself drift. He starred at the closed door for a while, expecting it to open. But Aaron drifted off to sleep.

Aaron woke to the touch of a hand on his. Then the mattress shifting with the weight of another body on it. Aaron inhaled deeply, trying to make out the figure beside him. 

“Shh, rest. You’re home.” Mikhail’s whispered in soft Spanish. (Aaron’s native language)

Aaron smiled gently up at Mikhail. “Si... with you.” 

Mikhail leaned down and kissed Aaron’s forehead. Then, he shifted and moved to the end of the bed. Aaron sat up to watch as his love untied, took off, then placed his boots on the floor.

“Mm. Sorry.” Aaron said, falling back on his pillow.

Mikhail moved back up to lie next to Aaron. Aaron laid face up with his arm over his eyes, so he couldn’t see Mikhail lying on his side, taking him in. He couldn’t see the look on Mikhail’s face. He couldn’t see the expression of a man who looked deprived of something he cherishes for months.

“Don’t be. I’m glad your back.”

Aaron removed his arm from his face and looked at Mikhail with a side glance and raised an eyebrow.

“They are shoes Aaron, not the end of the world.”

Aaron smiled and turned over. His name, God, that’s what he missed the most. It only sounded right was when it was coming off Mikhail’s tongue. His name was Aaron, but when Mikhail said it, it’s like he was a completely different being entirely. He moved his hand to caress Mikhail’s face. 

“I missed you too, mi amor.” Mikhail replied, taking Aaron’s hand under his own and moving it to his lips. He placed gentle kisses on Aaron’s palm, then his knuckle, then his wrist. Then he did it all over again. Aaron sighed, relaxing into the touch. How was it possible for someone so amazing to exist, so absolutely perfect? And how was he Aaron’s? Aaron would have to find the answers another time because now, he was with the one man that mattered. His ultimate supporter, lover, and forever. 

Aaron slowly pulled his hand away, leaning into Mikhail, his lips finally embracing his lover’s own after too many long months.

Notes: 

Mikhail is from Russia. It’s where they live together. Aaron is from Spain, and after his parents died, he lived with his aunt in Russia, where he met Mikhail. Mikhail is a street boi but lives in a house sponsored by [redacted :)]. The house is essentially an orphanage, but the kids can come and go. Mikhail is like a big brother to all the young kids, and he’s the sweetest boyo you’ll ever know. Aaron is the quiet type, not necessarily broody he just doesn’t like to talk. On his team and missions, he’s the sharpshooter and scouting specialist. 

Hope you enjoy my soft bois, that is all :)

[nerdingz-writes]

OCtober Day 4

Day 4: Siblings

(Story first notes at the end)

Story: NG

McCoy leaned on the balcony’s railings, drink in hand, watching the night clouds roll over the city. It was a beautiful night, chill and moonlit, if you ignored the lights of the other buildings, and just as embracingly noisy. McCoy chuckled to himself as he watched a couple below run across the street.

He waited a few more moments before checking his watch it read 11:34. 

Brooke was supposed to have met him here twenty minutes ago, McCoy was getting anxious. 

Finally, he heard the whoosh of wings and the soft, clank of landing on the opposite end of the balcony. 

“You’re late.” He joked, not turning to look at his twin.

He stepped to stand next to him and leaned on the railing with him.

“Better than never.” She held a folder to him. “I hope you know that it took selling my soul to find this stupid thing.”

McCoy huffed a laugh and set his drink on the ledge, taking the folder from her. He opened it and finally looked up at her. He noticed her dark brown hair was down for once and fell almost seamlessly to her wings. 

“You going to see Porter or something?” He asked, mostly just to bug her.

“What, I can’t just wear my hair down? Come on, tell me what’s the deal with this and why you couldn’t just get it yourself.” She gestured towards the file.

McCoy sighed. “Later.”

Brooke stood and crossed her arms. “No way, you’re not about to pull that stupid obsess and don’t tell anyone else stik with me.”

McCoy closed the folder and took a sip of his drink. “Jaylyn locked me out, said I needed a break.” He sighed again, more frustratedly this time. He looked back out over the New York skyline. “I’m close Brooke. Mom and Dad, you, Theamus, Mei, Will. I can piece it all together, find out the bigger goal.”

Brooke relaxed her stance. “What all by yourself?”

McCoy glared at her and she knew, if he had to, he would.

“Let me help.”

“No, it’s too risky to pull you into this too.”

Brooke laughed. “Too risky for me? McCoy, I’m the one they want, I’m the one with wings and powers and you think that after all this time, all the shit we’ve gone through, that it's too risky for me?”

McCoy huffed, he was too tired to argue with her, and they were both too stubborn to let it go, so he gave in.

“Fine.”

Brooke nodded, satisfied. 

“I’m still four hours older than you.” 

Brooke smiled and shoved his shoulder, then rejoined him at the balcony’s ledge. 

Notes: Brooke and McCoy were separated for years after the ‘accident’ that 

killed their parents when they were no more than 6. But now, going into their early adult years, they’ve been reunited for ~a solid four years and they’ve cherished each moment with each other and their found family. The twins are the definition of the power duo, each as they’d say, ‘born with what the other was born without.’ Brooke’s optimism and extrovert nature pairs right along with McCoy’s realism and unperturbed (and a bit egotistical) attitude. Of course, this brings up the typical sibling rivalries and disagreements, but Brooke and McCoy wouldn’t have it any other way. 

Physically, the twins are nearly a perfect match, brown hair, blue eyes, an athlete’s physique. The only -hardly- noticeable difference: their height, McCoy out reaching Brooke (by an inch) at 5′9. Of course, they’re also Brooke's wings to be accounted for, but, as she says, “they’re an post-birth addition, they don’t really count.”

Overall the twins have a fierce sense of protection and responsibility for each other. Together, they are formidable opponents in any fight. Their sense of siblingship extended past themselves and to their teammates, bringing and establishing a bond like no other. 

[nerdingz-writes]

OCtober Day 3

Day 3: A Friend’s OC

(Note: This character was actually created by me and a friend, who will go untagged bc she is w/o a Tumblr.)

Dominic Ellery Ward : Dom

Story: BABM Role: Main Protag.

Age: 22

Sexuality: (Is still in debate, but we’re thinking either Bi or something close to it.)

Nationality: US

Languages: English, ASL

Height: 5’10

Hair: Dark Brown

Eyes: Brown

Personality Type: ENFP-A

Kin: Gabriel Justin Ward (Father) Avila Blair (Mother) Kira Lyn Parker (Step-Mother) Darren Benjamin Ward (Brother) Casey Lee-Ann Ward (Half-Sister)

“Emergency Contacts”: Elias Moore (Uncle; Adopted)

Bio:

Dominic is a fun-loving, party-going college kid. He loves summer, sporting events, and gaming with his close-knit group of friends. He’ll listen to any music, so long as it doesn’t kill his vibe, and is down for any movie, especially horror. He’s majoring in technology and is just two years from graduation, he’s living his best life, the typical college kid life.

Although, typical isn’t the word he’d use to describe his life. He prefers to avoid the ‘behind the scenes’ aspect of his life and would much rather spend every day going between classes and the coffee shop than getting involved. Alas, this coffee-loving kid learns quickly where his priorities must lie.

[nerdingz-writes]

OCtober Day 2

Day 2: Recent OC

Troy Ashly Doherty

Story: NG Role: Antagonist/Leader Villain

DOB: (Tbh I haven’t decided so if you wanna suggest one feel free)

Age: 19 - 24 

Sexuality: (I haven’t decided :))

Nationality: Scotland?

Languages: English, Scottish Gaelic, German

Height: 5’5

Hair: Strawberry blonde/red

Eyes: Green

Identifiable Markings: (idk yet man, she very recent)

Skills/Abilities: Extensive contacts throughout the black market/underground world; skilled in many forms of close combat; terrifyingly charismatic

Kin: N/A

Personality Type: ENTJ-A

Bio:

Troy is a supreme example of an unexpected villain. She prefers the beauty in the small things in life, is never one to turn down a party, and loves little kids. Behind this love of small things, however, hides a manipulative and extraordinary leader, her charisma and ‘charm’ contested only by Jaylyn. She’s a commander in ---- for a reason, she worked her way to the top, her only obstacle her conflicting desires between [redacted bc spoilers?]. Her superiors have always expected great things of her, what they didn’t expect is for her to quickly surpass them in rank. She quickly adapted to her role and now commands her squadrons with an iron fist, no fear, and great boldness. 

She has a greater plan for ----, of course, but until then, she’ll follow orders and give them accordingly.

[nerdingz-writes]

OCtober Day 1

Day 1: First OC

Brookelyn Briana Smith

: Brooke, “B”, “BB”

Story: NG Role: Protagonist/Hero

DOB: September, 23

Age: 17 - 23 (depends on story’s time)

Sexuality: Bisexual

Ethnicity: US

Languages: English, German, (some) Russian

Height: 5’8

Wingspan: ~12Ft (~4m) (fully extended)

Hair: Brown

Skin Tone: Tan/white - Green/Blue undertones

Eyes: Blue/Green

Identifiable Markings:  Large brown wings on her back, arrowhead shaped scar on her inner right wrist

Skills/Abilities: Winged flight, Energy shields and manipulation, skilled in hand to hand combat

Kin:

Megan Davis (Mother/Deceased)

Brian Davis (Father/Deceased)

McCoy Smith (Twin Brother)

Personality Type: ENFP-T

Bio:

Brooke prefers the fun and exciting things in life, paired with her beautiful wings she’s got her head literally and figuratively in the clouds. This front of curiosity and optimism, however, hides anger and tragedy.

She was born in The Bronx of New York along with her twin brother, McCoy, to a wonderful couple. However, when a fatal “accident” occured, and her parents were killed, Brooke and other survivors were taken to a lab of —–, where she was given her wings and powers. She was modified to be a weapon for the awful organization, but now she’s the weapon that will be their downfall, even if they hunt her till the ends of the earth. 

Reunited with her brother, Brooke and her team, her family, fight the good fight, protecting innocents from the disasters of —–.

Her connection with her brother is a tight one, the two are like the Winchesters when it comes to protecting each other. She would trade her freedom for the safety of her team, regardless of the fact that her greatest fear is being trapped away from her found family, caged like a bird.

Overall, Brooke could be considered the heart of her team. She’s never one to back away from a fight, has a passion for family and loyalty, and never leaves a man behind. 

Note(s): Lol so I’ll be honest Brooke was created when I was like a 5th grader (so like 10-11 yrs old?) And is heavily based off of myself, but over the years I’ve developed her and the story around her and I just can’t let her go. (And her name is based off my Middle name lol) Hope y’all enjoyed, it was really fun to do this, especially considering how old Brooke really is for me.

[nerdingz-writes]

On: Religion

I’ll try to keep this short, but I just needed a little vent.

The other day I had a family member ask if I [still] believed in God. 

I grew up in a Baptist Christian household, not too strict or anything, but we attended church as often as our lives would allow and I always loved (still do) going to summer church camps. (and for context I was also baptized/saved)

However, the question made me think, probably harder than I should have. 

It’s not that I don’t believe some supreme being exists, but it’s the way people have gone about religion for millennia. 

I love history, especially religious aspects of it because religion throughout history has empowered nations and also torn them apart. (take literally any European nation at one point)

But the most fascinating thing is watching religions change, grow, and evolve. For centuries people have changed religions (especially Christianity in my opinion) to fit their needs/wants. Take King Henry VIII who made a new form of Christianity so he could divorce his wife when the Pope said no.

Anyway, that’s my main point. Religion has been changed, ‘mistranslated’, and even corrupted since, to be honest, the beginning of humanity. 

So yes, I do believe in a higher power. But I just don’t think that everything that a priest, or preacher, or shaman, or whatever, gives out is always “true” to the religion. And I suppose that’s the greatest thing about being human, we can literally create gods. Are they true? Who knows. But does it give us something bigger than ourselves to strive for? Absolutely, and I think that’s what’s important.

TL:DR: Religion is vast and tbh complicated, but belief is something true to the believer. So even tho there are many religions and all are respectable, it’s all up for interpretation and that’s where it gets complicated. So just do you. Have a good day. :)

[nerdingz-writes]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: The Old Guard (Movie 2020) Rating: Not Rated Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolo di Genova Characters: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani, Nicky | Nicolo di Genova Additional Tags: Fanfiction, Romance, Sweet Summary:

A dark room? Check. Rain? Check. Two adorable, incurable romantics? Absolutely. Nicky can't sleep, he doesn't know why nor does he care, but Joe cares. And if Nicky isn't going to sleep, well then they’re going to make the best of it.

I’m shamelessly in love with their story and The Old Guard, take my fanfic (wowow i haven’t wrote fanfic for anything in yearrsss)

[nerdingz-writes]

Writober/Fictober 2020

Combo Fictober/Writober I couldn’t find many lists so I made one of my own. I switched genders and tense around at random, so obviously feel free to do whatever you like for those. They’re in a totally random order so do them what order you like! I also tried to make things ambiguous enough to be used for all kinds of genres, I hope you lilw them.

1. It was so dark he couldn’t see his hand in front of his face.

2. She felt a grim smile touch the corners of her mouth.

3. “It’s coming,” they murmured, “watch my back”

4. I didn’t think I’d ever seen something like this.

5. He shrugged, “Well, I guess this is the end.”

6. She slapped the back of his head. “Ow?” he huffed.

7. They shook their head, “I told you not to come back.”

8. It wasn’t as though I’d never been in worse situations, but this was maybe the weirdest.

9. He held up his hand to the light, he was pretty sure he wasn’t supposed to be able to see through it.

10. “I didn’t really want it to come to this,” she said, drawing her weapon.

11. “I hope it was worth it,” they said, “because we’re all going to die.”

12. “I thought you said you didn’t believe I ghosts!” he shouted, flinging himself through the doorway.

13. The crunch of leaves was the only sound.

14. She really wanted people to stop wishing her luck.

15. They shivered, not entirely sure if it was the cold.

16. The knob rattled and I stood stock still. Then something slammed it’s weight against the door.

17. His smile was dangerous.

18. She leaned comfortably into the shadows

19. The hair on the back of their neck rose, a cold sensation that shivered down their whole body.

20. The small sound echoed into the darkness and faded away.

21. When he’d said ‘you’ll be the death of me…’ he hadn’t meant it as a prophecy.

22. Her back was to the wall, figuratively and literally.

23. They knew this was probably the worst plan they’d ever concocted, but plans 'A’ through ’M’ hadn’t exactly worked out.

24. Something swirled just beneath the surface of the black water.

25. “Correct me if I’m wrong, and I’m usually wrong,” I said, hoping this time that I was.

26. “I don’t want to be a downer, but do we really have to dig up a body?”

27. Ancient ruins were not her favorite camping site.

28. They held their hands up, “I can explain,” they said, realizing belatedly that it rang sort of hollow with their hands covered in blood.

29. I’d like to think I’m smarter than this but experience keeps me from lying to myself.

30. “It’s never personal,” he said through gritted teeth, “until it is.”

31. Bright blue light expanded and burst into a spear of cobalt fire that lanced up into the dark sky.

[nerdingz-writes]

Here's her list if anyone's interested!

I know there are lots of other lists, and most people will being doing arts stuff, but I really like her's for prompts anyway so yea

I am going to do my best to participate in Sarah Dandh’s OCtober (OC october) this year! Instead of using an art medium however, it will be written little tidbits. I’m excited!

[nerdingz-writes]

There is a tradition in the US Navy that no submarine is ever considered lost, those that go to sea and don’t return are considered “Still on Patrol”. There are 52 WW2 submarines still on patrol, and they have just started coming home.

[nerdingz-writes]

Ghost Mariners

[Sep 12 2020]

There is a tradition in the US Navy that no submarine is ever considered lost, those that go to sea and don't return are considered "Still on Patrol". There are 52 WW2 submarines still on patrol, and they have just started coming home. Prompt from: @writing-prompt-s

It all started with one. It had breached the North Atlantic waters off the coast of New Jersey. The US Navy was the first to intercept the vessel. The men on board acted as if the war was still going on. Not a man among them appeared older than thirty. Their Captain forbade his men from speaking to their rescuers, claiming there was no need to be rescued, there was a war to win after all. Eventually, however, the submarine was taken ashore, and the men went with the modern men. 

Most of the newly found mariners were sent home to the families that succeeded them, but not the Captain. He was adamant about finding the ‘other fifty-one,’ as he called them. He didn’t care to learn about how much the world had changed, didn’t care who was in charge, he became obsessed with finding the other fifty-one yet-to-return submarines. He didn’t accept a modernized uniform nor did he wish to use the technology. He ignored any and all news reporters. Most dismissed him as delusion, anytime he was asked where he’d been all the years, the Captain would dismiss the subject just as he became dismissed.

Scientists and paparazzi of all kinds swarmed to get their hands on the mariners or the vessel in which they came. The event of the resurfaced ‘ghost sub’ became international news. People all over the world buzzed about the returned crazy Captain and his men and the luck the United States seemed to have gotten.

Then a few months later, another World War II submarine breached off the coast of Florida, and suddenly the Captain wasn’t so crazy. The men inside were the same as the first, young, and all accounted for in Naval records. The Captain from this vessel was even more obsessed with finding the other submarines. He rejected any modernity and refused to try to reintegrate with the world he found himself in.

A little over a month later the next submarine breached, then a week later another, then another, then two on the same day. And suddenly the 21st century US Navy found themselves with 51 20th century World War II Submarines of many varieties. No one in the White House, Pentagon, or any commanding office of the United States knew what to do with the vessels. Nor did they know what to do with the hundreds of men know returned. Even more so with the fifty-one obsessed captains. Each seemed to know more and more about what happened, but their stories just didn’t click together. So, they let the captains keep searching for the last missing vessel. 

Months passed, and attention moved on to newer worldly events. Most scientists gave up on the lost cause of the ghost mariners. The crews of the vessels did their best to live somewhat normal lives. The fifty-one Captains, however, never gave up their search. They’d said the last one would make it all clear, then they’d go home, they’d try to readjust, and that it’d all be over. So, they kept searching.

On a warm July morning, the Navy intercepted the last of the fifty-two US World War II submarine off the coast of California. The men on board were different, however. They were older, not by much, but there was a significant difference. And the Captain was calm and collected. He didn’t say much and willingly joined and briefings that he had to attend. He answered questions with sharp and to the point responses, and only answered questions, he rarely added his own comments or started conversations. He was never rude and never wore much of an expression on his face. Finally, when everyone agreed the time was right, he was interviewed about his time at sea…

“So, will you tell us what really happened out there? Was there some underwater war still going on or something?” The show host nearly laughed.

The Captain did not. “Spot on. We were still fighting a war, unaware that our brothers on the surface had gone home.”

“Wait, like still fighting the war with the Nazis?”

“Yes the Axis Powers and the creatures down there allying with them.” The Captain paused. His face turned to his military escort commander off stage and his brows furrowed. The silence that surrounded him and the host was deafening. 

“Something wrong, Captain?” The host laughed nervously.

“Nothing at all, so long as this century’s esteemed Military didn’t wait for US subs alone to resurface after all these months.”

“Sorry, I don’t follow.”

The Captain sighed patiently then, with the most intense seriousness, he explained, “there’s a war going on, and if we get to come home, then who else got to go home? Who do you think those men brought with them. Our fighting lasted to the surface, for all these years we were locked in time until someone turned a key, opened a door… There’s a war coming, a war forty years in the making is about to surface… and you all had no idea.”

[nerdingz-writes]

Good to know I'm not the only one 😗✌️

hell is actually when your google doc gets so long it lags

[nerdingz-writes]

You know what's really cool? Being in a call with a writer when they're just coming up with an idea for a new story.

Being trusted enough not to laugh or snicker as they explain everything they have so far-- from the newest and vaguest of ideas to the most concrete and fleshed-out.

Listening to the excitement in their voice as they come up with character arcs and side plots; as they come up with a story right infront of you, and being equally as excited because "Holy shit man, this is something you've gotta see through! Seriously! I want to read it right now!"

Being asked for advice and sheepishly throwing something out for them to work with, only for them to embrace that idea and flourish it into something even more spectacular than you would've thought it could be.

Laughing as they explain the little inside jokes and easter eggs they're going to web between their sentences-- little tidbits that now not only are you going to keep an eye out for, but that you'll still laugh at and gasp over once they're revealed.

I think everyone should know a writer, or at least get to be around one while they're coming up with an idea. I assure you, there's something so euphoric about being in the presence of that much raw creativity and passion, that it's just absolutely inspiring.

[nerdingz-writes]

The Assassin's Advice - Witches of Callin (on Wattpad) https://my.w.tt/kFgVbb71y9 Mallory Jensdottir and Jackson Elk are assassins. The best in their clan- but each group despises the other. And when Jackson becomes Mallory's next target, truth and chaos unravel, as if living in the middle ages wasn't hard enough.

The history of Callin is revealed! But is it the whole truth? Father Abden would have everyone believe so...

[nerdingz-writes]

I am going to do my best to participate in Sarah Dandh’s OCtober (OC october) this year! Instead of using an art medium however, it will be written little tidbits. I’m excited!

[nerdingz-writes]

The Assassin’s Advice (on Wattpad) https://my.w.tt/oiCQHe26j9  

Chapter 3 - Ignorant Girl, has been published! Mallory’s investigation begins, and deep secrets slumber under very thin ice.

Mallory Jensdottir and Jackson Elk are assassins. The best in their clan- but each group despises the other. And when Jackson becomes Mallory’s next target, truth and chaos unravels, as if living in the middle ages wasn’t hard enough.