writingishaaard

[writingishaaard]

The Scars

Title: The Scars Word Count: 619 Rating: T Notes: A bit of blood and angst so, be warned! Anyways, this just a random idea and I hope you enjoy Fandom: Original Work  

The Scars

The occasional brush of fingers across the wounds littered across his chest would bring out a sharp inhale. He tried his best to stay still with what the needle being so close to his very, very sensitive scar tissue running from in between his collarbones down to almost reaching his navel. He had gotten his hands dirty on a run and the kill just so happened to have a knife. And they were quite sure that he wasn’t going to take their lives.

But he couldn’t help the feeling of guilt running down his spine whenever she would steady her breathing or take a few seconds to still the shaking in her hands. The sadness and almost fear hidden in a face that tried to hold a glare made him want to grovel at her feet and hold her and apologize over and over and over and over an—

  “I don’t think I can take this anymore…” came her shaky voice.

She finished stitching up the red gash left on his ribs and took a step back. Her eyes cast down to the floor, she bit her lip and avoided his gaze. His arms instinctually wrapped around her waist and brought her closer to him.

She didn’t resist, instead she almost fell into his lap if there weren’t worries about the wound. He gazed up at her with a worry in his eyes that some would say pathetic. Well, it would depend on who you ask. She would call it his ‘kicked puppy eyes’. He would call it an apology.

  “Baby… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean ta make ya worry… I…”

Her arms wrapped around his neck. She gave him a look that pleaded for him. Yearned for him to stop whatever atrocities he has committed in his life. He could see her eyes glisten with regret. With pain. With the sadness a lover can give when another dies. She swallowed her tears as best she could as she tried to address him,

  “It’s not that… I know you can handle yourself… I have no doubt of it. But I can’t keep stitching you up and hope that they won’t pop out again,” she brushed an old healing scar he got a few months back. “I can’t keep waiting for you in bed, hoping that you’re not going to end up in so many bruises and slashes that I can’t even kiss them better… as stupid as that sounds…”

Her breath hitched as she took a breath. Her head rolled and her eyes closed, composing herself. They opened with such a gentleness that almost destroyed him from the inside. He wanted to take her face a kiss out all the pain. He wanted to cover her, smother her in reassurance. In love. He wanted to say it’s not to happen again. But making a promise like that is to lie to her.

His hands moved over her back, her skin covered with a thin tank top she borrowed off of him. He rubbed circles into her back, just the way she does when he wants help. Comfort. His right ended up at the base of her neck and he brought her lips closer to his. But he faltered just before their lips crashed, asking a silent question.

To which she answered by closing the gap, taking the invitation. Their lips melded and mingled. Tongues dancing not in a lustful lament, but in a comforting, soothing sonnet. The tears ran down her face to grace his cheek in a cruel reminder of what he put her through.

She lowered herself onto his lap like a wounded kitten would in its mother’s arms. He held on tightly as they broke apart.

[writingishaaard]

A Strange Sort of Comfort

Title: A Strange Sort of Comfort Word Count: 2,008 words Rating: T Notes: There are mentions of a suicide attempt so, be warned. And a dash of gayness in there, why not? This is kinda my sort of attitude to BLM. I’m not saying it’s useless. I’m not saying it’s not working. What I’m saying is keep fighting. Keep donating. Keep bringing awareness. And please, please stay safe out there guys! Fandom: Original Work

A Strange Sort of Comfort

He would be lying if he said that his boredom didn’t get on his nerves. He always has something to entertain him. It was either the fact that he could entertain himself using the mortals as play-things and the fact that he could, inevitably destroy the world and the things he started to enjoy, or the fact that his mortal hadn’t been herself. He could always count on her heart to fill him with excitement. Fill him with something to do. Fill him with the determination of protecting her.

The time of scraping the eyes out of angels and clawing at their wings to try and reach her side flashed behind his eyes. It brought a sense of accomplishment and malicious glee to rest in his core as he heard the growls of angry angels, left behind in tatters as his laughter echoed in the hollowed out space of the planes.

A sharp suck of air brought him back. So he sauntered through the studio, looking for his mortal. Looking for his Kiva. Looking for anything to do in the meantime as well. The presence of water lilies and wet soil filled his nose as he walked past her bedroom. Fresh out the shower, how delicious. He peeked into the room, trying to avoid making a sound with his horns against the wooden door.

There she sat on the bed looking at her phone, cross-legged with her slippers on her feet. Her wet brown hair clung to her scalp while her towel soaked up the water. But something didn’t seem right. Her heart didn’t have the energy it normally sang out. Her soul didn’t radiate as much love it normally gave freely. Her mind didn’t run free from life like it normally did. She didn’t act like she normally would.

He crept in like a puppy asking for cuddles. With his face crinkled in worry and confusion. His silent creep towards her got disrupted by his sudden flailing thought of make noise, she doesn’t like it when you sneak! Her head jumped up. The tears lining her eyes and the redness of her cheeks, the sniffling of her nose and the wrinkles of sadness on her face, made his heart plummet.

  “Kiva? What’s wrong?”

His long lanky body almost slithered onto the bed as he rested his hands on her arms. She made quick work of wiping away her tears and muttering a small,

  “Nothing”

From past experiences, he’d tell you that that word is everything except what it means. Especially if it comes from someone who just cried. But with her, he took it literally. He would leave her alone and leave it at that. 

Until he couldn’t. Until he saw the blood. Until he saw the pools it left. Until he saw where it all came from. Until he saw the knife in her hands. Until he saw the tears mixing with the red. Until he looked down at her wrists. Until she uttered the two words that would haunt him for the rest of his eternal life.

  “Help me…”

He had to stop himself from clinging harder. He had to take breaths that had to appear normal. He had to tell himself, calm down.

He gave a nod but made an effort to look into her red tinged eyes. He creased his brow when her round pupils met his own slitted pupils. An awkward lopsided smirk had been the only thing that he could manage.

  “You sure you don’t wanna talk about it?”

That’s when the flood gates opened. That’s when her heart decided to spill out the pent up energy of keeping it in. That’s when her soul opened the gates for her compassion and love to soak the floors and drip onto the downstairs neighbours. That’s when her mind started sprinting through the fields of worry, doubt, and frustration.

He had to take a deep breath in order to catch it from completely leaving his body. He looked down at her when her hands went to her hair, just above her ears. Her sobs wracked her body like a storm taking the waves to crash against the rocks. The words tumbled from her mouth like a person rolling down a hill in those large tubes.

From what he could gather, she had been mourning the losses of people that have black skin. She had been angry at their law enforcers allowing and causing the deaths of the innocents. She had been frustrated at the fact that she can’t do anything. she had been worried about her friend in the hospital.

None of this made sense to him. But he listened. That’s what he learnt.

  “I donate to charities, I scream on every platform I got, I sign petitions… I can’t do more! It’s not even helping! Nothing is helping,” she screamed at the air. She took a deep shuddering breath. “I feel like I’m just watching everything burn…”

He moved closer to her and took her hands in his. He made her look into his eyes, the tears now streaming freely.

  “It’s not nothing. It’s something. The fact that you’re angry about it means something. The people that aren’t fazed by it, is a problem.” He tried his best to hide the growing panic in his throat. He didn’t want to see her so demolished by a life that is insatiable in its misery. So he tried the next best thing,

  “What about that lady that got shot through her door by the officers? Her case got reopened right? And that-that white people are starting to help the black people? Or how they want to reroute the money from law enforcers to people that actually need it—”

  “Defund the police,” she corrected in a soft voice.

  “Yeah, that. And your friend will be fine. I’ll handle it. You said that people were waking up to it. Isn’t that a good thing? It’s not nothing. The fact that you’re trying to help is something… right?” He tried to smirk at his last word, but her reaction told him that he failed.

  “I guess… but every time I look at the news… it keeps getting worse. I can’t cry because then I’m too sensitive… but if I don’t, I’ll be heartless”

   “Who said that? Look, this mortal world’s a shit show. It’s always going to be a shit show. Nothing is going to ever be peaceful. You can’t take everything on your shoulders if no one else is willing to do the same.”

With those words, her eyes widened and her brow crooked in realisation. Her heart started to calm, her soul started to lull into understanding, and her mind slowed down to the alleys of awareness. She gave a small intake of breath before her head collided with his chest. He wrapped his arms around her with a sigh.

The thoughts of bringing that smile to her face made his heart pick itself up and soar. He said he would protect her, and protect her he shall. Even from the sadness this insufferable world brings. He gave a squeeze and took her face in his long thin hands.

  “How ‘bout we watch a movie? You make popcorn, I’ll take blankets to make a fort.” His half-smirk was genuine but taut, trying his best to gauge her reaction.

She returned his smirk with a shaky smile. A deep breath and a small nod brightened his whole heart. Or lack of a heart, he supposed. He jumped off the bed so quickly, he almost threw off Kiva. Her giggles stopped him from running back to see if she’s okay. And the lack of a thud with a following ‘ow’ had also been a reassurance.

He yanked the blankets off the couch, threw the pillows off like they were ticking time bombs, and dragged the stuffed toys to their spot in the living room. Fifteen minutes of folding up pillows into the blankets. Fifteen minutes of placing the stuffed toys like a nest. Fifteen minutes of… excited smiles and chuckles when Kiva went to appreciate his handiwork.

She came with the big blue bowl of popcorn that had the words ‘POPCORN’ printed on its front and cups of hot chocolate. He helped carry the hot chocolate while she talked about her movie suggestions.

Both of them plopped down into the nest of fluff he had created and put on the movie. They put on an animation she enjoyed so much, she could recite every song sung and every line said. But one song she didn’t sing was the lullaby that was sung to the little boy by a loving witch and her wife.

And that had been the song she fell asleep on. She was on his lap, facing the TV. But had completely turned around to rest her cheek on his broad chest as soon as the witch had tucked in her son. She let out a sigh as she snuggled in. Her weight started to increase on his chest. She’s falling asleep, luckily it’s the end of the movie.

As soon as the tension washed away from her body, someone’s legs came into view right by his face. They were sitting on the couch, running their hand through Kiva’s hair. The hand was an almost solid gold in colour but the more his eyes travelled up, the more the solid gold broke down into small flourishes that faded into a dark pecan colour.

His eyes finally rested on a face he would always describe as breath-taking. A sharp enough jawline to crack through diamonds, eyes so deep you could wander in them without worrying about getting lost, hair so white it could have been freshly fallen snow, and a smile so soft it feels like the finest silks draped across supple skin. The eyes flickered over to him and the smile faltered.

  “I am sorry I could not help today,” an almost melodious voice came out as this almost god-like creature apologised.

  “Oh, come here!”

He grabbed the man’s arm and pulled him closer. Their lips crashed against each other while the man almost fell atop him and Kiva. Thankfully, he caught himself on the couch. Minutes passed of them keeping their lips locked. His lungs started to burn but he kept the man there. His hand snaked into the white hair and pulled hard enough for the man to get the message. They broke apart with a small gasp.

  “Anaras…” the indignation in the man’s voice made him smile.

  “Layatiel…” He responded with the same amount of indignation the man had shown. Anaras’s smile widened as the man he grew to know as Layatiel looked him up and down. Then looked over to Kiva, completely oblivious to everything around her.

  “And if I had harmed her?”

  “Not when I’m around, angel”

  “Well, I should have be—”

Anaras silenced him again with a passionate kiss. This time longer. This time using his hand tangled in Layatiel’s hair to push him further into the kiss. Layatiel whined into the kiss before breaking off with another gasp. He took in all the air he could, fearing that Anaras would take him again.

  “Are you done?!” Layatiel whispered in a tone Anaras knew as silent sexual frustration.

  “Only if you’re done belittling yourself for not being here to help,” Anaras responded with confidence oozing from his mouth. “I know why. I know it’s seriously difficult where you come from, angels aren’t supposed to show themselves to humans, blah blah blah.”

The angel’s eyes softened. He looked down to Kiva and settled down next to Anaras. Layatiel started to run his hand through her hair again. Anaras took Layatiel’s head and rested it on his shoulder. He then intertwined his fingers with the other’s free hand.

  “Thank you Anaras”

  “It’s nothing”

  “I’ll take care of the friend tomorrow”

With that, Anaras took a deep breath and settled down. His heartbeat eventually slowing to meet Layatiel’s. His eyes fell and he welcomed the darkness that came with sleep.

[writingishaaard]

My Hero Academia Headcanon

Ok so, this is not really a headcanon but it’s something I’ve noticed with a few characters and I don’t know if anyone has pointed them out yet.

So a quirk is essentially a part of yourself and the word ‘quirk’ is defined as follows:

So it’s an aspect of a person’s character right? It essentially tells us how the person acts. It gives us a summary. But it doesn’t tell us who they are as a person. I’ve analysed a few characters and these are my findings:

Izuku Midoriya: His Quirk is One For All. It isn’t his own quirk but he makes it his quirk. Before he really knew how to work it, he always broke his bones (the poor bby bean) and he always seemed to break down, hence the many many tears he has shed throughout the show. But the more he is able to control and harness the quirk he is given, the less he breaks his bones, and the less he breaks down himself. His way of building up his quirk is his way of building up himself.

Katsuki Bakugo: His Quirk is Explosion. Already in his personality, he is an explosive character, he bursts out at anyone and everyone. But his motivations are earth-shattering with how much he fights for his ideals and how he tries to live up to what he thinks a hero should be. But the more he learns to lessen the load the more he calms down (not by much but still). In the beginning of the show his way of communicating with Kirishima contrasts with his communication with Midoriya. It isn’t his volume that makes the difference, it’s the words that he uses. But through the show, it changes. His words are now more impactful on Midoriya than in the beginning, because it was the volume paired with the words that set Midoriya off from Bakugo. 

Ochaco Uraraka: Her Quirk is Zero Gravity. We can see from her personality, she is a bit air-headed in the beginning of the show. She kind of gets into her own world when she analyses things (same thing with Izuku but not the point). But the more she strengthens the use of her quirk, the more steadfast she is on her feet. The more she starts to become confident in herself as a hero. 

Tenya Iida: His Quirk is Engine. He’s as fast as his engine with just his mannerisms alone. But with his personality, he is just as fast in his speaking as he is when his Quirk propels him. He is also very loud. Just like an engine even though his engines aren’t. With his Recipro-Burst, he can move faster in a small amount of time. And he had this even before they worked on their Special Moves, and this also reflects in his personality. He says that the Recipro-Burst can be reckless because it stalls his engines. That can also be used as an analogy for his recklessness for chasing after Stain. 

Shoto Todoroki: His Quirk is Half-Hot-Half-Cold. But he only uses his ice halfway through the show. This can be used as analogy for his cold nature halfway through the show. And in the Sports Festival we see that when he uses his fire, he gets more and more motivated. And his actions are more heated throughout the Festival, kind of indicating that he is warming up (which can be used as a hint of him later using his powers against Midoriya). And after that arc in the show, we see him interact with 1-A more than he did in the first episode. I mean he still distances himself from them but not as much as he used to. And the more he works at his Quirk the more he warms up to people.

Keigo Takami (Hawks): His Quirk is Fierce Wings. He has the ability of flight and can manipulate his feathers. His kind of aloofness reflects his flight ability but the manipulation of his feathers reflects the amount of control he has.

Tomura Shigaraki: His Quirk is Decay. Just judging from his personality, he isn’t someone that you’d automatically approach. He is someone that was broken from an early stage. And he just kept deteriorating from that point on. But his early ideals also broke down after his “talk” with Midoriya. It broke down and evolved into something else. That’s the same with decay. It breaks things down and allows it to turn into something else. We see it in nature, when something dies, it’s nutrients is taken and put back into the soil where new things can grow. 

But this is just a handful of characters that reflect their personality. I mean there are a ton of characters to analyse just off of their quirk and how their personality reflects it. I just like the way Horikoshi uses it to tell you about the character. Yeah, i hear you guys say, “But the quirk doesn’t always reflect the character”. 

Yes it does, you’re just looking at the wrong thing to link it to the quirk. This kind of analysing can also be used for making any character. 

I used this kind of principle to redesign my MHA OC, Kana Kashiko. Her Quirk is essentially Shadow (I’m still working on the name). She can shoot shadow-like tendrils from any exposed body part. In the beginning, she didn’t like her quirk because people saw it as a villain’s quirk. But she overlooked that and made sure that they rather see the person using it and not the quirk itself. Her personality is a bit... dark when you first approach her. But you quickly learn that she is very understanding and listens. Most people, when they look at her quirk, and how she presents herself, as a very mean and mysterious person. 

I used her Quirk, Shadow, to look into how she is. Shadow always relates to Darkness. But Darkness doesn’t necessarily mean “evil, spooky”. it can be comforting sometimes, because no one can see you cry (I know I know, depressing) and it holds calmness in everything. So that is how she acts. She is calm and wouldn’t judge you if you were to break down. She keeps secrets as if she was a locked safe.

But enough about that. Please let me know what you guys think! Criticism is welcome. And, please, you can add to the list of characters in which you’ve noticed this kind of trend too! Or you can correct me if you feel that I either missed the pot completely, or improve what you feel is missing in this analysis!

Stay safe out there guys! Reality’s scary...

[writingishaaard]

Good Omens Headcanon

This is probably the only contribution I’ll ever make to the fandom and idk if anyone else pointed this out, but… Just from going to church and following the Christian religion, one already knows that God sees everything and knows how your life’s gonna play out right? (I put that in a really stupid way but anyway) So what we know is that both Heaven and Hell are like two HR Offices that just get souls. But I kinda assume that it wasn’t always like that in the Beginning, because God was kinda in charge of everything. We see this in the Garden of Eden when God asks Aziraphale where the Flaming Sword is instead of her sending an angel. I can only assume that Heaven and Hell were made after the Revolution we learn about when Hell gets ready for the War. Anyway. I’d like to assume God kinda just went with the whole “we need to make a place for the saved in order for your creations to be with you”. So she’s like “alright, okay” but kind of already knows that shit’s gonna go down 6000 years later.  So she knows about Crowley and Aziraphale and I can only imagine the big ass shit-eating grin she has when Aziraphale and Crowley point out that the Great Plan is not the Ineffable Plan. And the fact that Gabriel and Beelzebub reacted in the way they did, I’d love to see her just on the floor laughing her ass off like “I knew this was gonna happen but I was NOT prepared for that!”

[writingishaaard]

Okay, here's the basics to what fandom I'm in and a few are dead, so to speak, that I'm gonna be writing for:

My Hero Academia (sometimes about my OC, yes i got one)

Good Omens (I think often enough)

Original Stuff I'm working on (probably the most often)

Dreamworks's Sinbad Legend of the Seven Seas (maybe not often)

*Note: This list is not in order of how many posts I make of each fandom they're just ones that I like to either make headcanons for or maybe write a bit of fiction so... yeah. Please bear with me, this is my first writing blog so... uhyeh... I might not post a lot...

But I will be rebloggin this post and the tag #my fandoms will be used to grow this list.