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sanguine-arena · 4 months

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"playing stupid games." | bad things happen bingo, #5

desc: Nali decides he has had enough of Thatcher Leichenberg's style of hockey after the two antagonize each other all game. Using some extra-sensory help, Nali decides that Thatcher needs a taste of his own medicine.

cw: some blood descriptions, descriptions of bones breaking, beating/physical violence, fighting

prompt: "broken rib(s)", @badthingshappenbingo

other tags: @isherwoodj , @aquil-writes , @elijahrichardwrites , @jezifster , @thetruearchmagos , @hottubraccoon (ask to be added or removed!)

wc: 3,601

(read on ao3!)

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Thatcher thought the game was going to continue like normal.

He didn’t bat an eye or have a single inkling of the idea that he may be in danger as he carried the puck down the ice. He kept his eyes trained forward, staring intently toward the goal that stood maybe fifty feet away by now. His hands handled the puck as if they were separate from the rest of his body entirely, and he dug his skates harder into the ice in an attempt to take off.

Thatcher heard the roar of the Thunder’s home crowd as he took off towards the Mirage’s goal, their cheers and screams echoing in his ears and serving as direct fuel for his legs. Any hint that they’d been giving him that they were tired was starting to wash away, and Thatcher cut directly across to the middle of the ice as soon as he got into the offensive zone. His hands continued moving fluidly, and Thatcher smirked as he enjoyed the few moments he got to toy with the Mirage’s goaltender, Kot- who he already knew hated his guts merely for being the one player on the Thunder who managed to score on him almost every game without fail.

Such a fact was not becoming of a goaltender constantly touted as a “generational talent”, and Kot definitely felt that sentiment fully. Conceding a goal to the Thunder was already a failure in of itself, but especially to the player that was both their captain and arguably their number one goon.

And yet, for the third time tonight, Thatcher dangled the puck in front of Kot like a stuffed mouse on a pole, and it didn’t take long before Thatcher immediately shifted his weight and put the puck over the goaltender’s shoulder. He relished in the satisfaction of another goal tallied onto his stat sheet, but also the sweet ping! sound that the post made when the puck had managed to hit it and drop into the net.

Thatcher skated away from the net and towards the near corner, throwing up his arms in celebration as he was soon mobbed by his teammates in a very aggressive dogpile meant to be a group hug. The group of five all yelled and ranted and raved, the sounds of a celly between linemates only rubbing salt into the wounds of Kot and the Mirage as they heard the entire arena erupt into a ravenous cheer that was almost deafening. The five Thunder players soon broke up, skating by their bench to get fist bumps from everyone else sitting there while the officials collected the puck from behind Kot, who stared down the ice in what would be a deadly glare if not for the fact he had his goalie mask on.

He soon looked up from his skates to see Nali approaching him, a cold look in the blond’s eyes as he came to a stop next to Kot.

“Do you want me to do something about that?” he said, his accented voice not leaving much to the imagination.

Kot hesitated, his jaw tightening as he tried to clench his hands into fists in an attempt to keep them from shaking. He could feel the rage building up inside of him, but he knew he had to at least try to suppress it, lest this become even worse than it already was.

“We shouldn’t be losing this fucking bad to them.” was all that came from Kot’s lips, his voice quiet but bustling with simmering anger.

“I know.” Nali said, now staring down the ice at the Thunder’s bench as the same five got into position at centre ice to drop the puck once more.

Nali took Kot’s words as an indirect request for him to do something about it, as he’d phrased it earlier. He went to line up at the right wing spot, smiling to himself when he saw that was where Thatcher would end up as well. He looked to the slightly taller man for a moment, sizing him up in his head. Thatcher had a noticeable size advantage, but that only encouraged Nali to take him down more than it dissuaded him. He lined up, slightly hunched in his stance as he waited for the puck to drop.

“Your goalie’s having a rough night, eh?” Nali heard Thatcher say to him, friendly in tone and with a playful nudge to match.

Nali took it as malicious, sweet-laced mockery and he now felt his own blood starting to boil. He kept his eyes trained forward on the two centres as he finally responded.

“Not as rough of a night as you’re about to have.”

The words came out of Nali’s mouth with ease, as if he’d said them a thousand times before now. He could hear the audible “huh?” Thatcher gave him in response, but the two didn’t have any more time to squabble before the whistle was blown and the puck was finally dropped. Nali watched as their centre easily batted the puck back to one of their defensemen, and with that, Nali was off like a shot. He skated off with the speed of a rocket, narrowly avoiding tripping over himself as he forced the puck into the Thunder’s defensive zone. He had the puck on his stick, easily weaving through traffic, though he soon found himself being herded towards the boards. He threw the puck to the middle as soon as he noticed it, and only half a second before he felt the impact of Thatcher stapling him to the boards with the force of a truck.

Nali gasped for his breath, but only for a moment, shaking his head and chuckling under his breath. He could tell he struck a nerve with Thatcher, though that was exactly where he’d wanted him to be. He soon rejoined the play, circling towards the middle of the zone, skating around and waiting for any possible opening to form so that he could take a shot and just put one on goal for them. He wanted a goal more than anything else most nights, but especially on a night like tonight, where somehow Thatcher Leichenberg had three goals and he had none.

Nali soon had the puck floated to him, and he’d just barely settled it on his stick before, once again, Thatcher was involving himself in every move Nali made. Thatcher came charging in, smashing into Nali once more, this time in open ice, and even with a slight jump into it from his skates. He knocked Nali over like a set of dominoes, and the force sent him flying into the boards that were only a few feet away. Nali barely managed to tuck his head into his chest enough to keep himself from going heads-first into the wall, though the feeling of slamming his back directly into it didn’t feel too much better. He groaned in pain, reeling on the ice for a moment before slowly getting back to his skates and striding towards the play that had left his zone quite a while ago by now. He shook his head once more, both shaking off the growing haze he felt rolling in on him and at how Thatcher was playing- he knew he was drawing out Thatcher’s brutal, dirty tendencies when it came to laying hits and playing the game.

It was the thing he and everyone else in the League hated about him the most.

Nali had enough of it.

Nali took off at full speed once he’d finally recovered, digging his skates hard into the ice and getting lower to get more power behind himself. He finally caught up to the play at hand, where the Thunder were managing to adequately cycle the puck in the Mirage’s defensive zone. Nali scanned the other four players on this line, smirking to himself as he watched the current puck carrier look around in what seemed like low grade panic. He could tell the fresh faced young man was looking for someone, anybody, to pass this puck off to in order to get the heat off of his back for the moment.

When the kid finally passed, Nali finally saw his opportunity. He slowed himself ever so slightly as he trailed behind Thatcher, who had just caught the pass from the much smaller and much more skittish player on the Thunder. Thatcher was handling the puck on his stick, idly rolling it from forehand to backhand as he too started to look for a pass.

It had to be the first time Thatcher ever looked for a pass, or at least the first time Nali had ever seen him look for one.

Thatcher passed the puck off to the cool and collected Haydn, and Nali glared at the blond for just a moment. He couldn’t be distracted from the task at hand. The second the puck was off of Thatcher’s stick, Nali pounced. He sped right back up, throwing his full two-hundred pounds and change of weight into the slightly larger man. He’d clearly caught Thatcher off guard, as he stumbled hard and struggled to stay on his feet. The impact started to lead them both into the near boards, and Nali made it a point to drive his full power into Thatcher’s body.

Thatcher crunched surprisingly easily into the boards, nearly crumbling to his feet. Thatcher sputtered, gasped, and wheezed for his breath. Every attempt he made to straighten his breaths out ended in a wince and a cough that would only make Thatcher curl in on himself more. He wheezed and coughed, flinching even moments after the hit and giving a pained yelp every time he tried to recover. Nali gave him a tap to the chest with his stick as he finally went to skate away, leaving Thatcher to fall to the ice without his support.

He figured that would be the end of it.

The whistle was soon blown on the play, something about an icing if Nali’s assumptions from half paying attention were correct. The two teams lined up at the faceoff dot, and once again Nali and Thatcher found themselves nearly shoulder to shoulder with each other. Nali kept his gaze facing towards the two centremen, though he smiled at the feeling of Thatcher staring him down with equal parts shock and pure hatred for him.

“You’re fucking dead.”

He heard Thatcher’s voice, low and still sounding as if he were out of breath. Nali chuckled at the threat, still not looking at him.

“Am I?”

He threw out the taunt at the very last second, immediately breaking his focus on Thatcher and skating to the top of his defensive zone to try and snatch the puck from the Thunder’s defenseman. He stretched his stick out, lightly whacking at his opponent’s without any care for the times that he accidentally hit his shinpads instead. He kept at this, ignoring the looming feeling that Thatcher was going to be all over him at any moment now. He hadn’t seen Thatcher after the latest puck drop, for now assuming that the man had been preoccupied with something else for the time being.

The Thunder’s defenseman threw it up the ice and towards the net, the same skinny, deer in headlights looking kid tipping the blade of his stick up to go for the easy deflection in front. The puck ramped up and off of his stick, just barely clipping the crossbar of the net and dropping in behind Kot.

Another goal conceded to the perpetually miserable Kongsplass Thunder, and Kot couldn’t handle it anymore. He huffed and smashed his stick over the crossbar, immediately taking the two pieces over to the bench while they had a few moments to spare. Nali had gotten caught up in the horrible feeling of being down yet another point, and in the feeling that their goaltender was losing the battle against himself to keep himself calm, when he was roughly shoved to the ice from behind.

Nali had faced many a crosscheck in his career, the stinging feeling in his back and the momentary loss of air being no stranger to him. Tonight, however, it stung a little bit more. Nali felt his whole body tense, his jaw locking tighter than the rest of it, when he finally went to get up.

Down he went, yet again.

Motherfucker, was the first and only word to come to Nali’s mind as he went to get up for the second time.

This time around Nali popped up with a certain anger that Thatcher wasn’t exactly sure he’d seen before. Nali’s vision instantly flushed red when he turned around and saw Thatcher’s stupid face staring him down, especially now that he wore a smirk not unlike the one he’d worn only minutes earlier.

“You wanna fucking go?” Nali shouted at him, immediately jumping forward off of his edges to throw a crosscheck of his own back at Thatcher, aiming low and for his stomach.

Thatcher sputtered and laughed, and Nali could still hear how he wheezed to keep his breathing steady. Nali knew he’d done damage already, and yet, here Thatcher was, still antagonizing him despite it.

“Do I wanna go?” Thatcher asked, his voice dripping with mockery and the coughed out laugh he gave didn’t do much to calm Nali’s nerves. “I thought you’d never fucking ask. You’re a fucking pussy, you know that?” “I’m a fucking pussy?” Nali’s voice almost gave out, cross checking him to the stomach once again. Thatcher stumbled back slightly, giving him a light shove just to keep him at bay for the moment.

“Yeah, you heard me,” he continued, dropping his stick and his gloves shortly after. “You’re a fucking pussy. You always hit from behind and never want to fight. Drop ‘em. You won’t.”

Thatcher seemed to be genuinely impressed when Nali eagerly dropped his stick and his gloves to the ice. The two started to circle each other not long after, both of their hands coming up to their proper fighting stance as if the two were boxers instead of hockey players. Thatcher would be the first one to strike, springing forward and immediately throwing a left hook into Nali’s jaw.

Nali’s head spun, but only for a moment, as he struggled to keep himself fully conscious. He would give Thatcher one thing- he definitely knew how to throw a punch. He shook it off quickly, ducking Thatcher’s next swing and immediately snatching the collar of his jersey. He gave the jersey a vicious tug, almost as if trying to drag Thatcher to the ice. He reeled his hand back, smashing his fist repeatedly into Thatcher’s face.

Thatcher continuously got lower and lower to the ice, pathetically trying to swing back and barely managing to land his punches. The half powered blows only seemed to piss Nali off even further, as Nali pulled Thatcher up to his feet by his collar. He held him up with an amount of ease that Thatcher hadn’t anticipated, and he wasn’t entirely sure how he didn’t know about how strong Nali was. His head spun as Nali made Thatcher into his punching bag, repeatedly hitting him in his face and the fact that Thatcher’s face and nose were starting to leak like a kitchen faucet didn’t seem to be much of a deterrent for him.

The officials watched, not too far away from the fight, but they didn’t seem too invested in breaking it up. The Thunder’s arena started to quickly devolve into a massive cacophony of “boos” and a particularly pointed “refs you suck” chant. The gallery that sat thousands strong were massively in opposition to the fight, but it didn’t seem to serve as a deterrent for Nali himself either.

Thatcher sputtered and wheezed even harder, blood coming out of his mouth in a coughing fit that wasn’t in any hurry to finish. Nali chuckled and held off swinging at Thatcher for a moment, admiring his work and ignoring the dull throb of pain that was starting to form in his right hand. He ignored the fact that some of the blood on Thatcher and his jersey was his own, and he gave Thatcher’s jersey another rough pull. He watched Thatcher’s head spin, able to see it through his half opened eyes. Thatcher tried to let himself drop to the ice in a silent surrender, though Nali pulled him right back up.

“Look at me.” Nali demanded, yanking on him again.

Thatcher didn’t look at him.

“I said fucking look at me, Leichenberg.”

Nali’s accent seemed to come out more with his increasing frustration, and Thatcher soon managed to pull his eyes up to look at him. He groaned in pain as he looked up into Nali’s eyes, which were now looking to be taken over by an all white glow that was only partially obscured by the tint in his visor when Thatcher was this close.

“Do you still think I’m a fucking pussy?”

Thatcher didn’t respond, something that would become a point of regret for him later. Thatcher was pulled up to his skates completely, and Nali’s vicious attack would continue not long after. This time Nali aimed his punches lower, hitting the soft spots between Thatcher’s pads with the precision of a sniper. He kept going as Thatcher sputtered worse and seemed to choke hard on any air that came in and hit his lungs. They burned as he desperately cried out in pain, whimpering in a manner that was pathetically mismatched with Thatcher’s whole persona.

“You- you win-” Thatcher coughed out, blood spitting onto the ice and at both of their skates.

“ Answer me. Do you still think I’m a fucking pussy?” Nali repeated his question, the next punch he threw seeming to hit with the power of a semi truck. Thatcher could’ve collapsed right then and there, and his stomach was threatening to turn on him. His ribs burned and they screamed in protest with every breath and little movement that Thatcher made. He groaned in pain, curling in on himself and hunching over in an attempt to protect his body. Nali pulled him up yet again, throwing another punch into his ribs that hit with concussive force. Both of them could hear and feel Thatcher’s bones crack from the impact, though Nali’s shudder of satisfaction and Thatcher’s almost scream of pain laid on opposite ends of the spectrum of reactions for this.

“Answer me and we’ll be done.” Nali hit the same spot again, and Thatcher couldn’t help but crumple under the sheer brutality that Nali had been showing him over the past couple of minutes. Thatcher’s body shook and every flinch he made felt like it came with the added jolt of pain that came with being stabbed by a knife. Nali pulled on him once more, chuckling as Thatcher’s body struggled to withstand the attack. He yanked and dragged Thatcher’s larger frame around as if he were a cat and Thatcher were a mouse. Nali didn’t throw another punch for a long while, taking in the rage he’d inspired in the crowd and probably even the Thunder’s bench themselves as he kept toying with Thatcher.

He listened to Thatcher’s weakened groans and his sputtered breathing. He listened as Thatcher wheezed and continued to cough, moaning in pain in a way that Nali had never heard but wouldn’t soon forget. He soon realized he was the only thing holding Thatcher up, the hand curled into his jersey tightening its grip.

“You wanna be done now? You got anything else to say?” Thatcher attempted throwing another punch, though his arm was quickly and easily slapped away by Nali. Nali looked down on Thatcher for once, letting him drop slightly to emphasize this fact. Thatcher squirmed in his grip and twisted himself in an attempt to punch Nali once more. He caught Nali’s chin with the very tip of his knuckle, the grazing of it barely causing him to flinch. Nali snickered and threw one final punch into his jaw, listening to and feeling every bone in it crack and eventually turn to mush from the force. Thatcher looked up at Nali with half lidded eyes again, and he knew that even if he didn’t remember this fight, he would remember the cold, unfeeling, all white look of Nali’s eyes as they seemed to stare through him now.

Thatcher was halfway onto the ice after the punch, and soon Nali let go of his jersey and let him drop the rest of the way. Thatcher crumpled down to it, still wheezing and choking on the small amount of his own blood that was caught in his throat now. His blue eyes closed and he tried to get in any shallow breath that he could in order to at least get some regular pattern of air to come back to him. Thatcher laid sprawled out on the ice, tiptoeing on the line between passed out and conscious. One thing was clear- Nali had gotten the upset win in this CSHL bout.

Nali rolled his eyes at how pathetic he looked, adding insult to injury by spitting on Thatcher before the officials finally jumped in to drag him to the penalty box. He rolled his arm out of the official’s grip, though he still continued straight to the box without a hitch. He smiled to himself and sighed under his breath as he finally let himself relax, his shoulders dropping with this relaxation as he stepped into the box and closed the door behind him.

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sanguine-arena · 4 months

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seeing people find out about the flesh centaur gacha anime girl is so funny

#wait hold up #this gives me SO MANY QUESTIONS #off topic

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sanguine-arena · 4 months

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i need to start creating things again so bad

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sanguine-arena · 10 months

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trying to write something again, send me ideas and characters to do a BTHB drabble to?

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sanguine-arena · 10 months

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im trying so hard to be creative again ive just had No Time !!!!! i need more hours in the day or to lose my need for sleep !!!

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sanguine-arena · 10 months

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my main two tags are #wip: slaughter season and #wip: acidic for my main two wips!

for any writeblr: interact with this post and drop links or tags of your stories. by doing that, i’ll boost them in here. - Mod E

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sanguine-arena · 10 months

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WIP Themes Tag!

thank you for the tag, @hymnonlips ! this was a fun one :)

Rules: Bold the themes that appear in your WIP. Italicize those that are loosely covered. Tag 10 people.

I’m going to use Slaughter Season for this challenge!

no pressure tags: @isherwoodj @artbyeloquent @rsdan @thetruearchmagos @thatprolificauthor @hottubraccoon @freeforestkids @aquil-writes @jezifster @wisteria-whump

#tag games #writeblr tag games #writeblr #writers of tumblr #original characters #wip: slaughter season

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sanguine-arena · 10 months

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feeling the urge to start a new project lately but i literally have no idea what

#theo chatter #ugh im so inactive im sorry #and i havent made anything in so goddamn long

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sanguine-arena · 11 months

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#writing process #yep. Yep. thats exactly it #ya did it

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sanguine-arena · 11 months

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oh man i havent written or logged on here in so long. hopefully soon. i’ve been getting the muse back slowly but surely

#theo chatter

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sanguine-arena · 1 year

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Heads Up, Seven Up!

thank you for the tag, @enchanted-lightning-aes ! i love this challenge!

no pressure tagging: @thetruearchmagos , @hottubraccoon , @aquil-writes , and whoever else would like to do it! (open tag)

In the blink of an eye, the ice had been dyed red.

Kalvin's head spun with how fast everything had happened, and his consciousness was blurred with the sheer level of chaos that had unfolded in the past several minutes. He couldn't help but stare as he watched the skaters from both the Riptide and the Mirage throw blow after blow into each other. Kalvin swallowed hard as he felt frozen in place, stuck in his net, his hands shaking despite the bulky gloves that covered them. He tightly gripped onto his stick, his eyes widened and his mouth hung slightly open as the scene unfolded.

If he were honest, Kalvin didn't remember how they even got here in the first place.

#heads up 7 up tag game #heads up 7 up #writeblr tag game #wip: slaughter season #c: kalvin n.#team: ransberg riptide #team: zlarina mirage #i wanted to write like. an outdoor game thing.#and naturally because its death league people are not having a good time (dyinh)#but as the goalie. you just have to watch it happen.

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sanguine-arena · 1 year

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"playing stupid games." | bad things happen bingo, #5

cw: some blood descriptions, descriptions of bones breaking, beating/physical violence, fighting

prompt: "broken rib(s)", @badthingshappenbingo

other tags: @isherwoodj , @aquil-writes , @elijahrichardwrites , @jezifster , @thetruearchmagos , @hottubraccoon (ask to be added or removed!)

wc: 3,601

(read on ao3!)

---

Thatcher thought the game was going to continue like normal.

He soon looked up from his skates to see Nali approaching him, a cold look in the blond’s eyes as he came to a stop next to Kot.

“Do you want me to do something about that?” he said, his accented voice not leaving much to the imagination.

“We shouldn’t be losing this fucking bad to them.” was all that came from Kot’s lips, his voice quiet but bustling with simmering anger.

“I know.” Nali said, now staring down the ice at the Thunder’s bench as the same five got into position at centre ice to drop the puck once more.

“Your goalie’s having a rough night, eh?” Nali heard Thatcher say to him, friendly in tone and with a playful nudge to match.

Nali took it as malicious, sweet-laced mockery and he now felt his own blood starting to boil. He kept his eyes trained forward on the two centres as he finally responded.

“Not as rough of a night as you’re about to have.”

It was the thing he and everyone else in the League hated about him the most.

Nali had enough of it.

It had to be the first time Thatcher ever looked for a pass, or at least the first time Nali had ever seen him look for one.

He figured that would be the end of it.

“You’re fucking dead.”

He heard Thatcher’s voice, low and still sounding as if he were out of breath. Nali chuckled at the threat, still not looking at him.

“Am I?”

Down he went, yet again.

Motherfucker, was the first and only word to come to Nali’s mind as he went to get up for the second time.

“You wanna fucking go?” Nali shouted at him, immediately jumping forward off of his edges to throw a crosscheck of his own back at Thatcher, aiming low and for his stomach.

“Yeah, you heard me,” he continued, dropping his stick and his gloves shortly after. “You’re a fucking pussy. You always hit from behind and never want to fight. Drop ‘em. You won’t.”

“Look at me.” Nali demanded, yanking on him again.

Thatcher didn’t look at him.

“I said fucking look at me, Leichenberg.”

“Do you still think I’m a fucking pussy?”

“You- you win-” Thatcher coughed out, blood spitting onto the ice and at both of their skates.

#self rb #bad things happen bingo #bthb #bthb card

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sanguine-arena · 1 year

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oops i accidentally made a zombie au for slaughter season

#wip: slaughter season #or i guess. as this au is specifically called:#wip: at the crack of doom #its edgy i know #ive already written 1500 words

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sanguine-arena · 1 year

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#writing process #okay but fr #theo chatter

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sanguine-arena · 1 year

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#writing process

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sanguine-arena · 1 year

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"playing stupid games." | bad things happen bingo, #5

cw: some blood descriptions, descriptions of bones breaking, beating/physical violence, fighting

prompt: "broken rib(s)", @badthingshappenbingo

other tags: @isherwoodj , @aquil-writes , @elijahrichardwrites , @jezifster , @thetruearchmagos , @hottubraccoon (ask to be added or removed!)

wc: 3,601

(read on ao3!)

---

Thatcher thought the game was going to continue like normal.

He soon looked up from his skates to see Nali approaching him, a cold look in the blond’s eyes as he came to a stop next to Kot.

“Do you want me to do something about that?” he said, his accented voice not leaving much to the imagination.

“We shouldn’t be losing this fucking bad to them.” was all that came from Kot’s lips, his voice quiet but bustling with simmering anger.

“I know.” Nali said, now staring down the ice at the Thunder’s bench as the same five got into position at centre ice to drop the puck once more.

“Your goalie’s having a rough night, eh?” Nali heard Thatcher say to him, friendly in tone and with a playful nudge to match.

Nali took it as malicious, sweet-laced mockery and he now felt his own blood starting to boil. He kept his eyes trained forward on the two centres as he finally responded.

“Not as rough of a night as you’re about to have.”

It was the thing he and everyone else in the League hated about him the most.

Nali had enough of it.

It had to be the first time Thatcher ever looked for a pass, or at least the first time Nali had ever seen him look for one.

He figured that would be the end of it.

“You’re fucking dead.”

He heard Thatcher’s voice, low and still sounding as if he were out of breath. Nali chuckled at the threat, still not looking at him.

“Am I?”

Down he went, yet again.

Motherfucker, was the first and only word to come to Nali’s mind as he went to get up for the second time.

“You wanna fucking go?” Nali shouted at him, immediately jumping forward off of his edges to throw a crosscheck of his own back at Thatcher, aiming low and for his stomach.

“Yeah, you heard me,” he continued, dropping his stick and his gloves shortly after. “You’re a fucking pussy. You always hit from behind and never want to fight. Drop ‘em. You won’t.”

“Look at me.” Nali demanded, yanking on him again.

Thatcher didn’t look at him.

“I said fucking look at me, Leichenberg.”

“Do you still think I’m a fucking pussy?”

“You- you win-” Thatcher coughed out, blood spitting onto the ice and at both of their skates.

#self rb #bad things happen bingo #bthb

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