#class writing

[ch3rry-th3-eldr1tch-h0rr0r]

Bruh found something I wrote in 7th grade for a Halloween competition

TW: Murder, disturbing description, hiding a body

The tall trees surrounding the Forest, the pitch-black sky with the only light being the moon and the sound of snow crunching beneath your feet, it was a freezing cold night but when you decided to take a walk it wasn’t this cold

Hence, your jacket was light because you thought it would be a short walk but soon night came and you couldn't find your way home. Now you were wandering the forest with an eerie mist surrounding it then you saw a man

'maybe he could help me out!’ you thought in excitement to finally find your home then you saw the shovel the man had and froze ‘why on earth does this man have a shovel and why is he alone at night?’ you ponder then suddenly the man turned to face your direction

You quickly hid behind a tree then your eyes widened when you saw a decapitated leg sticking out of the ground then out of instinct you run then the man notices you and his grin on his face grew and it was so disturbing it's distorted and rotten

You get so disturbed to the point that you almost puke then there was a loud ‘thunk’ and everything went black and that last thing you felt was an icy cold hand grabbing your arm and your shrill cry echoed in the mist...

It had been weeks since you went missing and your family was becoming more and more worried every day but your neighbor was nice enough to come over with homemade jambalaya

but little did they know that their neighbor was the man that hid you in the head with the shovel and you became his next victim because you saw too much…

it was originally that the man killed you and cooked you into the jambalaya and your family ate you but school doesnt allow voilence sadly 

[ch3rry-th3-eldr1tch-h0rr0r]

Horror Story I Wrote For Class

lol happy Friday the 13th

TW for throat being slit/murder

The sound of leaves crunching beneath your boots could be heard throughout the forest “Charlie!?” You called out searching for your friend who had seemingly just disappeared from the world with a single step in the forest

You stopped your steps and hesitated going further into the woods “This isn't worth it…” You frowned turning to leave but that was when you heard the leaves make the crunching sound again except you were moving

You tensed up and felt a shiver go down your spine as the quiet was interrupted by somebody quietly humming an old lullaby. After a moment of being frozen in fear, You bolted running as fast as you could

But the forest seemed to never end and it felt like you were a rat trapped in a maze searching for the end, The humming got louder and louder with each step and you could tell whoever was singing was getting closer

After so much running, You hid behind a tree to take a breath putting a hand to your chest to steady Your heartbeat. You looked up and saw a street light and a person sitting on a bench causing You to sigh in relief

You tried to step towards the person and call out but You felt your hair being grabbed and pulled then the cold feeling of a knife pressed up against Your throat causing You to try and shout for help

But You were silenced quickly once the knife slid across Your throat now coated in Your blood, You fell to Your knees looking up to see who it was that had doomed you to such fate only to see Charlie’s grinning face before she began humming to herself

She crouched down to set the knife in your hand then turned and walked away still humming…

[bsscribbler]

Another assignment for my creative writing class. We had to look at an image and use figurative language to give sensory imagery in a piece of writing. I was listening to ‘Start a War’ by Klergy and ended up writing this. I’m quite proud of it.

————-

The sun reflected off the falls-or maybe the armored bodies laying at its base-like a raging fire. To bright and horrible to look at, yet your eyes couldn’t close no matter the burn. A holy light piercing through every other thought, leaving my vision spotty and body cold. Was the pounding in my head the mighty roaring of the water, or instead the blood rushing past my ears? Shutters rocked me, head thumping back into the rough bark at my back, but I could hardly feel the pressure. One hand gripping my side in a futile attempt to staunch the red flow, the other laying limply in the cool stream, but both were numb.

I tried to gasp through my mouth, a futile attempt for more air just as much as avoidance of the scent hanging heavy in the air. The reek of death and loss, as though the beautiful green being rose tinted wasn’t enough of a clue of what had happened. If I focused hard enough I could almost smell the crisp scent that all fresh water creeks held, the earthy moss. Would I make it long enough to hear the birds return? To hear the approach of either side checking in when no one returned.

Raising a hand I attempted to wipe away the blood from the corner of my mouth, arm shaking as I almost smacked myself. Cold droplets running down my hand, wrist and arm, I dropped it back to my side, barely recognizing the splash that signaled it had landed back on the sharp rocks. The taste of blood and bile was thick on my tongue, though it was nothing compared to the bitter regret. Regret to not see the end, to watch our leader be crowed. To make a home for myself in a new, better world.

My eyes were unseeing by the time they finally began to slip shut, gravity releasing me from the blinding god. I couldn’t feel the earth or the mist kicked up by the falls. Nor could I smell the fight, or even hear my own thoughts.

‘So you wanted to start a war…’

[toukatan]

Could you do headcanons about Eremika 'appreciating' (thirsting over) each other as they grow up during the time skip? Mikasa seeing how Eren gets taller, his shoulders getting broader, just all around bigger and more muscular. And Eren watching Mikasa's body develop in multiple ways, becoming more womanly in uh certain areas (and him low-key/high-key drooling over her). Basically just Eremika expressing extreme thirst over each other because they're hormonal teenagers becoming young adults!

anonie when you say ‘appreciating’ with ‘thirsting over’ all i can think of is teasing, body worship, losing control and cuddling ahhh okay alright so are you ready for some light ns//fw?? i mean we aren’t surprised are we? it’s expected in this household because we have needs!

eremika body loving/appreciation headcanons!

eren

his hands do all the talking here

eren likes to watch mikasa: eyes at her long legs and arms doing literally anything ‘eren, you’re staring’ is what armin casually says when eren isn’t listening to him ‘huh? no i was checking out the view—wait no’

‘pretty’ is something eren blurts out without noticing when mikasa puts her hair behind her ear and erens eyes follow her hand that touch her neck and it goes on

knowing eren he’d definitely use his strength to his advantage when it comes to physical body appreciation

eren loves to grab mikasa any chance he gets. she could be walking by and whoops his hands are on her waist, spin and she’s pressed against a wall hello

(grabbing part.2) ‘come here’ he says when mikasa is just looking too good ‘wait’ is her reply but of course impatience is his weakness and so is her so he’d pull her by the arm, she’d yelp when he stumbles while lifting her up so they can be in a seat. mikasa in his lap, legs around his waist he’d just admire her ‘what are you doing?’ a confused mikasa asks ‘nothing’ is his reply because boy is out here silently appreciating her legs, waist, arms, face and everything in between

(connects with that one ^^) long legs are his weakness and so he always has a grip on them when mikasa is on him

they could be hugging or cuddling and eren would be constantly running his hands up and down mikasa’s waist because he notices how her figure has altered

eren takes his time appreciating mikasa’s body which means soft kisses, gentle longing touches and observant eyes that gaze at her reactions

(soft uwu) eren pouting seeing how the cheek scar has stayed the same even though mikasa’s facial features have matured. he knows he can’t change a permanent scar so he just grabs her cheeks kisses it as if it’s gonna disappear

(soft part.2) ‘are you gonna cut it?’ a sleepy eren would ask once he’s awake and playing with her longer hair ‘it’s getting long, i think i will’ mikasa replies ‘no’ is what eren instantly says ‘i thought you were the one that told me it’ll get stuck in my gear?’ with that eren grumbles, press his nose and lips into her hair and quietly says ‘but i like it like this’ and so she keeps it the way it is

mikasa

as for mikasa her eyes speak louder, soft touches and words convey a meaning bigger meaning

mikasa quietly appreciates eren’s strength such as seeing him carry heavy things and doing daily tasks

when she’s in erens lap and his arms are around her waist she’ll run her hands over his arm muscles which sometimes tickle him

kissing the veins that pop on top of erens hands is a natural habit of mikasa when it’s late at night and she thinks he fell asleep but little does she know eren is awake and still shocked by how bold she is to do it

‘you’ve gotten stronger’ is what mikasa says when eren sits in front of her shirtless as she patches him up and notices how much boarder his shoulders are

mikasa running her fingers along his sharper jaw line and leaving lingering kisses that make him weak

she leaves kisses on the chest over his heart because we all know she’s very thankful that he’s still there and breathing with her

if they’re out here being hormonal and making out while eren is shirtless she is definitely gonna lightly trail her hand from his chest, down to his abdomen, v-line and it goes on

okay but the duality of both of them is so strong here. eren can’t resist while mikasa is soft and takes her time but lets be real that’s how they are in canon — hope you enjoyed these anonie, i loved wiriting them and might add more because i’m literally always thinking about headcanons! 💜

[linesinthesnow]

12.06

She stared mindlessly at her canvas. Paints, pencils, brushes, erasers, pastels, neons, cools, warms. All were scattered about with no place to call home. A sky blue streak ran across her left cheek, countering her deep green eyes. Purples, reds, and yellows were splattered across her arms and the woven denim of her jeans. Her favorite element, however, was the smudges along her fingertips. Black and grey coated her hands in the form of graphite and charcoal. Her body was a colour wheel, but her mind was but only a grey scale. She bled every colour, leaving her imagination black and white. 

[selfproclaimedalpha]

I WRITE REAL THINGS

I am writing a blog for a class and if you guys would want to give it a read it would be much appreciated. 

https://lookingupandliving.wordpress.com

[anunimportantsideblog-blog]

My levels of comfort when reading, writing, and speaking vary greatly. Reading is one of my favorite pastimes, and I often enjoy putting my thoughts into words. However, when I know a piece of writing will be shared with others, I tend to overwork the thoughts and become difficult to listen to. Additionally, I would certainly say that my level of comfort and my level of skill are two completely different things. While I may enjoy researching and writing about a topic, a large amount of time and energy is still required. When speaking, I am generally comfortable after repeated practices. I am much more comfortable writing than speaking, though. 

Writing often comes easily to me, though I would say I have the same trouble many people do: a struggle with finding a place to begin. Once I have found inspiration and started writing, whether it’s one of my own stories or a paper for school, ideas come much more fluidly. In this class, I would like to explore more possibilities with different styles of writing. Pushing outside my comfort zone is the only way to continue my growth as a writer and as a person.

[niiyuuu]

some class work i did.

Boys had a particular way of hurting you. Not in the physical sense and as far as Emma knew, if it were physical in anyway, she had a bottle of mace and a knife to exact revenge. No, they had a subtle, social way of hurting you; sometimes mindless, sometimes intentional.

It was a silly little thing, an issue wrapped mostly in insecurity and self-loathing but if she had spoken aloud about it, she would have garnered some sympathy from other women. Emma always appreciated woman sympathy, loving it’s tender and warm way of justifying the hurt she always tried to smother with her day to day life. She knew she would have gotten that, had she simply opened her mouth.

But she realized there was something sweet about it all. Something attractive about the heart ache, something her mind wanted to immortalize. The feeling of vulnerability and hurt mixed into some beautiful concept that her artistic hands wanted to capture. So she hadn’t spoken to anyone about it. She had simply grabbed a bit of charcoal and roughly outlined her feelings on a blank canvas.

Soft gentle strokes that were reminiscent to the strokes she craved upon her long brown hair. Smudges with her finger tips and thumbs that made her ache for a man to come and dab her tears away. Details that she noticed on other people and yet no one seemed to notice about her. As if reopening her wound and reminding her of the injustice of her gender, her situation, her feelings and her loneliness, she had exactly captured her feelings onto a canvas.

A naked body with a prominent spine. Shadows that stretched far beyond where they would normally. The soft and jerky motions that had resulted in a soft if frizzy and messy mass of hair.

Catching her reflection in a mirror, Emma was slightly amused to see a streak of charcoal run down her cheek like a dark tear. How appropriate.

Later, after clubs had gone home and she had taken her canvas to her empty home, instead of framing the piece of artwork that she had deemed her best piece yet, she had tossed it onto a pile of dried leaves and twigs she had meticulously collected. And with only a single match in a matchbox, she struck the tip and threw it on top of the canvas. It lit easily and brilliantly. The picture warped and the body looked like it had sickeningly shrunk before turning black and then to ash.

When the whole thing had burned, she kicked some dirt over the pile of grey ash and walked inside to her warm house. She looked forward to a cup of hot chocolate.