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dreadwulf · 3 years ago

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prompt #1: The Green Knight

(Warning: Major Character Death. Not the Major Character you think. Be warned.)

The Green Chapel stands still and silent when the Golden Knight arrives.

Once he had expected a fine cathedral to await him at the of his journey, but by now he is unsurprised to find a crumbled ruin overgrown with ivy. Only the stone walls remain of this “chapel”. The sunken paving stones admit dirt and weeds between them enough that it is barely distinguishable from the forest floor, and the roof is long since fallen in. Everywhere it is overgrown with thick green leaves and vines, and surrounded by a canopy of trees that opens only enough to admit a slice of night sky directly above.

Ser Jaime Lannister enters watchfully, his hand on the hilt of his sword.

The Green Knight is nearly invisible to him at first: concealed in greenery, grown into the landscape as though part of it. The bark of his skin is encrusted with moss, leaving no visible gap between himself and the plants around him. Judging from the growth, the Knight has not moved in a long, long while.

Has he stood exactly here for the entire year, waiting for him? It looks more like a statue, or a tree carving. Something long abandoned. Much longer than a single year.

“Ser Knight,” he announces, “I have arrived per our agreement.”

Silence.

There is only him here, and a tree that looks only a little like a man.

He is early, Ser Jaime realizes. Will be it dawn of the day, or the very hour of their meeting? He may be here for some time. It will be hours to dawn, and it had been another sundown after that when the Green Knight had ridden into Robert’s court on his enormous steed.

One year hence, the Knight had said. Well, at least he is not late.

The pre-dawn hours are quiet here, and the grove is peaceful. The trees overhead open out onto a pretty sprinkling of stars, and all the noise of the forest and the brook which has lead him here has faded away. He can see why the locals call this the Green Chapel. It is the sort of place that encourages one to pray, and to contemplate, at least if one is given to introspection and piety.

Which he is usually not.

The Golden Knight quickly grows restless. Waiting is not a skill of his. He is impatient by nature, impetuous and impulsive. Faced with delay he will rush things ahead, or abandon his course. Unless, as in this case, he has no choice but to wait, and then he will be overcome with unease.

He paces. His fingers twitch. His gaze darts around, landing on this and that.

There is no sign of movement from the Green Knight.

If he had not seen him walking and talking, he might assume this to be only a sculpture, and not a living being. He might wonder if he had been tricked, and if some unseen enemy hovered nearby laughing at his predicament. But he has seen the Green Knight up close, and ran him through with his own blade, and watched as the great gnarled hands pulled the greatsword from his own breast as casually as a thorn from his finger, and tossed the weapon aside as though it were a child’s plaything.

His hands curl around the same greatsword at his belt. He has carried it for a year, this sword. It was his prize for accepting the Green Knight’s challenge, and ostensibly he is here to return it. When he does, the knight will return him the same blow, and stab him through the heart.

Was it worth it? What, after all, did he do with his fine sword?

Ser Jaime sighs and sits on the wet ground. He can grow no more muddy and disheveled than he is already. He left King’s Landing in his extravagant golden armor, wearing his lion’s helm, and riding the finest horse in his stable. But he arrives in the Green Chapel on foot, with no helm, dressed in shabby clothing and battered bits of armor. Even his golden hair is shorn, and only a thin growth of hair remains of his famous golden curls.

The only thing of value remaining to him is the sword. And to be quite honest, the Green Knight is welcome to it. If he could, he would exchange it for something much more valuable that he had found, and then lost, along the way.

It had taken many weeks to get him here. There were some diversions - misadventures, a strange episode in a Keep, and a good deal of wandering around lost - but he has come a very long way from Robert’s Court to find himself here. He had managed the journey only with the help of his squire.

The girl had joined him on the road on the very first day. She was part of the crowd that had followed him from the gates, those knight-hopefuls who so frequently followed his footsteps around the city. Most wanted some of his glory, hoped for it to spill onto them by mere proximity. Some wanted merely to see him meet his fate, others to be part of that tale if they could. But there was very little glory in this journey. They had been beset by bandits, wild animals, bad weather, and strange side-tracks from almost the very start

There had been six, even eight of them at a time, during the ride through the Westerlands, but as he traveled further and further from the capital and the weather worsened their number dwindled, and by the tenth night there was only her. Her name was Brienne. If she had another he has already forgotten it.

She was a strange girl, ungainly large, and dressed all in armor, in imitation of a knight. She had a face like rotten fruit, softly misshapen. Her straw-blonde hair, ruddy and pox-marked skin, and stubborn pout completed the picture. Her very presence proved subtly irritating. If a maid cannot be beautiful she might at least keep herself out of sight; or else be a servant, who are barely women to begin with.

His followers quickly decided to make a servant of her. This did not go well. Ser Jaime came upon her fighting three of the men on the third night. One of them had blood streaming from his nose already, another was sitting on the ground looking dazed from a blow to the head. The last was seemingly unfazed by the fate of the other two, and Ser Jaime observed him take a good punch to the chin that left him spitting out teeth. They were trying to steal her supper, she said. The girl should be cooking for us all, the men said.

“She is my squire”, Ser Jaime told them, deciding upon it at that very moment. “She will cook supper for only me.”

“Like hell I will,” the ungrateful wench spat at him.

Ser Jaime raised an eyebrow. “Do you wish to be a knight or not? First you must be a squire.”

She did at that. She did wish it, very much. He can see it in her eyes -- striking blue eyes, with a determined gaze.

Brienne did cook his supper, the next night, over the campfire. Not very well, and he did not insist again. But she also tended his armor and sword, and that she did very well indeed. She handled his greatsword with tremendous respect and care, such that it touched him to see. He had long since stopped being impressed by the blade, after carrying it for a year.

Brienne proved a loyal squire, if not the most typical one. When wolves attacked she proved herself courageous, stood herself well in front of older and more experienced men. When there was work to be done she would be first to do it, and without being asked: gathering firewood, tending the horses. Drudgery she avoided, but practical, necessary things she performed without complaint.

She had very blue eyes. Sky eyes, clear and bright. He would have liked to look at them, except that she would be looking back, and that seemed to frighten her. She did not like to look him in the face. A shy maid, for all her armor and prickly temperament. He liked to tease her, and tell bawdy jokes with the other men until her face turned a pleasant pink.

A skirmish with the Brave Companions lost three of his would-be-knights and all of their horses,and it lead to their capture for a brief time. When they managed to escape, they were left traveling afoot, and without their supplies. His other followers drifted off then, losing their taste for adventure. Only the girl remained, and walked beside him along the road North uncomplaining through the long days ahead.

She was good with a blade, better than most. Not so good as Ser Jaime, who had a prodigious talent. But on the occasions he challenged her to spar with him, she got his blood up and roaring in a way he had not felt since he was a young man himself, and all his adventures before him.

She was kind. Too reserved to be gregarious, but generous in spirit. She took pity on every foundling, every poor farmer and milkmaid they encountered along the way. She wanted to help them, rescue them all; if he had not restrained her they would have been fighting for the honor of each individual cow from the Westerlands to the Neck. She was much disappointed that they hadn’t. What is a knight for, if not that?

She would learn, as he once had. The Knights of Robert’s Kingdom were more tarnished than a starry-eyed squire suspected. Heroes and legends in tales were only men in the flesh, and men with a bit of money and renown all went the same way. Given the best of everything they would indulge themselves, would grow greedy, would came to expect what had once been freely given. They fought not for gods and country but for glory, and mainly fought each other. They plundered wealth and women, sat by roaring fires, went slow, went soft, forgot hunger and killing cold.

Honor was a facade, nothing more. To become a knight was to learn it. It made him glad she would never be knighted, and fail that lesson.

“Entertain me, squire,” he said to her as they rode side-by-side, needling her. “I have heard all of the songs and stories of this land, and they bore me. Tell me a tale of yourself, Squire Brienne. What adventures set you on this course to become a knight?”

She bowed her head. “I have no tales to tell, my lord. It is only a wish, and an aspiration. But I have no adventures but the one we are on now. But you, my lord, are a famous knight, and must have many stories to tell. I would be honored to hear them from your own lips.”

Ser Jaime had hundreds of tales. He has boasted of his adventures to innumerable audiences as they looked on him admiringly, the great Golden Knight. Wins at tourney, duels with other knights, riding to war for King Robert. But for some reason, as he turned them over in his mind, he discarded each of his favorite stories one by one. He did not want to tell them now; those stories are not for her.

“I also have no tales to tell,” he said.

“Are you not on a quest, my lord?” She looked over at him quizzically, her blue eyes innocent. “I hear tell you are riding to the Green Chapel in the north…”

“I am, and to meet the Green Knight. But even I am not so bold as to tell that tale when I do not yet know its ending. But it sounds like you could, Squire Brienne.”

Again she frowned at him for that title. But she did know the bare outlines of the story, how the strange Green Knight had rode into King Robert’s court and invited the bravest and boldest of his knights to face him in battle, to strike a single blow and receive a blow in return, and for it they would gain his greatsword as a prize. How the Golden Knight had taken up the challenge, and in a blow of great talent and precision stabbed the Golden Knight through the heart, finding the weakest point in his armor on a single try. But instead of falling down dead, the Green Knight had easily pulled the blade from his own chest and mounted his horse. He told the Golden Knight to meet him in one year at the Green Chapel, where he would return his blow.

“And I see you do not hesitate to keep your word,” Brienne concluded the tale. “You are as bold and brave as all the stories say. But what will you do when you get there?”

“Fight him, I suppose.” Ser Jaime’s hand tensed around the ruby-encrusted pommel of his borrowed sword.

“Ser?” She blinked back at him in confusion.

“What, you expected I would meekly bow my head and be murdered? Of course not.” Ser Jaime’s shoulders shook. “Twas not a fair bargain, when he has such dark magic that he can take a sword through the heart and survive. I have no such magic, and it isn’t a fair exchange.”

“But you did not have to strike a deathblow. By the bounds of the agreement you might have only scratched him, and taken only a scratch in return.”

Well, yes. In hindsight, that would have been wiser. If he had taken the time to think it over, he might have put that together. But by nature he rarely takes that time.

“He was a large and fearsome Knight, and I thought only to prevent the return blow. Of course if I had known he would survive it I would have acted differently. I know it now. And when I see the Knight this time I will fight him with everything I have, and he will fight me with everything He has, and we will see who is the victor.”

“But you made a promise…” She sounded faintly disappointed, and it irritated him greatly.

“It was a trick, girl. A trick to snare a knight by his honor. Would you have me die for a trick? What good will that serve? No, I will keep my appointment as promised, but he will have to work to land his blow against me. I’ll have my skill and my wit to defend me, as he had his magic.”

“Are you not afraid, Ser?”

“Afraid to fight? Never. It will be a fine duel, perhaps the finest of my life, and I am eager for it. It will be the battle that will make my legend, the kind that songs are sung of, and I look forward to that.”

Brienne said that she hoped to see it, and let the matter lie.

She did not see it, of course. They came to the Crossroads instead.

An inn stood at the crossroads, and cast-offs from the Riverlands sheltered there. Orphans and strays. Jaime and Brienne arrived only long enough to see a great many helpless faces before bandits came riding, meaning to plunder the kitchens, and carry off the women and children.

Jaime told the girls to run away as best they could, and aimed to do the same. If they were quick about it, the raiders couldn’t catch them all.

Brienne, on the other hand, meant to defend them. They would not survive alone in the forest, she said, and if the bandits took away the food, the little ones would starve.

“Better the bandits take them then, one or the other,” he said quickly, tugging at her. “But we had best retreat. We will not manage another fight in our condition, and not without more men.”

This was entirely reasonable, to him; better knights than he had often advised the same. There was no glory in failure, and certainly none in a pointless death in the middle of nowhere.

“No.” Brienne grew taller under his grasp, and would not be moved. “What good is a knight if he will not defend the innocent?”

“You stupid girl.” He holds her by the shoulders. “There is nothing you and I alone can do against so many men, no matter how skilled you are with a blade. They will surround us and cut us down -- it won’t even buy any time for your orphans. The best we can do is live to fight another day.”

“Someone must do something,” she says stubbornly. “I will not run.”

“Not to no avail! A battle is bravery, but this is suicide. It’s foolish, meaningless. It will make no difference whether you intervene or not - either way the women are taken and the children are killed. You will only add another body.”

“Someone must fight for them,” she insists. “Even if there is no hope. I am not enough, but if there is no one else, then it will be me.”

With that, she had shoved him in the larder, with a sudden and ferocious strength, and barred the door.

“Let me free, you stupid child!” He slammed his weight into the door sharply with his shoulder, enraged.

He could hear her through the door, her voice steady and clear.

“Someone must fight for them. If there is no one else, then it will be me.”

“Damn you,” he swore at her. “Open the door and I will fight with you. Two against a dozen is better odds than one. Open the door!”

“You have an appointment to keep,” she said, and then there was silence.

Jaime could not see what happened after that, but he could hear it. He could hear the disdainful laughter of the brighands, and the drawing of many blades. He could hear for a time the blades clashing, and much shouting, and one unfamiliar cry of pain, and for a brief moment he was hopeful that she might prevail. She was a talented swordfighter. If they fought her one at a time he had no doubt she could best them.

He could tell, even without seeing, that they did not. The fight turned, became a slaughter. He heard a single cry that he knew in his gut was Brienne, taking a blow she would not survive. There came more noise then, more steel and blows, and then the screams of the women and children being dragged from the Inn.

He screamed too. He wept, and clutched at his useless greatsword in a rage, wanting to throw himself through the door and impale himself on them like an arrow, these animals who would dare to touch a true knight. None of them seemed to hear him, or proved interested in the larder.

He didn’t know how long he had been left sitting there on the floor, with tears on his face and the earthy smell of raw meat weighting him down in the cool darkness. He waited for one of them, any of them, to remember him in the kitchens and come back, but no one did, and that was how he knew that no one remained. He wondered if he would be left there to rot. To moulder away with the bits of cheese and bread that remained there until he was nought but bones and a borrowed sword.

Eventually, quietly, a small boy with enormous eyes unbarred the door, having emerged from his hidey-hole only hours after the vicious intruders had left. Seeing Jaime huddled in the dark, he fled again and hid himself away in the Inn.

Jaime emerged into the twilight reluctantly. When he looked down the road, he imagined he could see them. The prisoners being taken away in the back of some wagon, women and children and women who were really children still, huddled together and weeping, down the long road and away. It was all for nothing, all of this. The brigands had taken them anyway.

There was no glory in this defeat. There was only a bloodstreaked trench in the mud where a terrible battle occurred, and in the middle of it a sad heap of metal. She was unrecognizable there, cut to pieces. Only a few strands of pale blonde hair remained to know her by.

The blacksmith’s armory had implements enough to break the cold ground. He dug a hole right beside the crossroads while the rain bucketed down on him. His chest hurt from the strangled sob caught in it. He put her in the hole and blanketed her again with the mud. If there had been flowers anywhere in that season in all the land he would have found them and laid them there above her grave. One day, he hoped, grass would grow.

It was a meaningless gesture, and made no difference to the blue-eyed girl. But it meant something to Jaime.

It was not meaningless to them, the shivering children and the sad-faced women riding away in the wagons. They had looked back, mournfully, at the place in the road where her body lay. Looked back down the long road, into the distance, through the rain and the trees and the tramping feet of the bandits’ horses and out of sight, and they kept looking. They would look back long after the rain and wind had wiped away any traces of what had happened there. They would not forget. When the enemy came for them, someone took up a blade in their cause. Someone thought they mattered. Someone thought they were worth dying for. They did not face their fate alone.

When evil comes, so long as at least one person stands against it, there is still some light left in the world.

He left the shovel there in the road and went back to the Inn. It took some time to locate the boy and persuade him to come out of the trunk where he had hidden himself. He carried the boy with him North to the next village, where he left him wordlessly at the Sept, and turned North again, alone.

The rain never stops now. The ground is crusted with snow and the air is wet and mossy and somehow the rains never wash anything away. It only soaks into the dirt and grime and ice and blood and weighs it down. Makes it heavier. Makes everything impossibly heavy.

There are more strange things that happen to him then: how the road curves and wanders beneath his feet and doubles him back to the start as though trying to throw him off his course. There were strange dreams, and visions, and he walks in a sort of fever. Nothing seems quite real after the Crossroads, nothing except the sword in his hand and his goal: the Green Chapel. He has an appointment to keep.

He grows only more determined to reach his destination.

The nights grow colder. He wakes up shivering, rolling over, trying to wake the embers of the fire, and every time his eyes open they are looking for the foolish girl in her armor. They find only blackness and he remembers then the crossroads and the hole he dug besides the road.

He missed her terribly.

He misses her still, sitting here before the Green Knight. It is a persistent ache, a weight that grows heavier by the day. It makes him feel ancient to contemplate. He sounds like one of the rusty old knights who cluster around Robert, lamenting the roads not taken, the women they might have settled down with. Lost loves. It has been only days and yet it seems like years ago, and a road already overgrown and impassable. He can see it already, the enormity of his mistake. His life might have become something entirely different, improbably better. The opportunity came to him, and he wasted it.

Brienne. The Maiden Knight. She could have been his lady love and his brother-at-arms all at once. Would anything have been so perfectly suited to him as that? He will never find her like again, and even if he did he would not want it; he will only want her, for the rest of his life.

Jaime muses over these memories through the hours. The journey, the past, the world around him. Time seems to settle into a hazy blur.

The sun rises slowly, impossibly slowly. He cannot see it past the trees, but the world gradually brightens, with gentle insistence. The greens grow ever more lush and verdant all around him. The wall where the Green Knight stands turns from grim grey to a lively grass color, the dark ivy wound around in loops that seem to form an altar of deep mossy overgrowth around the still and sleeping form of the Knight.

His hands worry at the hilt of the greatsword that he had come to return. He might leave the blade on the altar and go. Would that fulfill his word?

What did Jaime do with his famous sword, during the year he had it? Only held it aloft for others to see. Used it to threaten, and to cajole. Boasted of it to other lords. But the only time he had just cause to draw it he had chosen to retreat instead, and in doing lost the only thing of any value he had ever found.

If only he had gone with her. Agreed right at the first, without hesitation. If he had stood at her side it might have ended differently. One had no chance, but two, perhaps, might have survived. He might have taken her with him to the Green Chapel. He might have taken her home to the King. He might have seen her made a knight, and stood proudly beside her at the king’s table. The tales he might have made with her, he would be proud to tell.

The Knight’s form comes into clearer and clearer relief: looming over him, impossibly tall, improbably wide.

Jaime knows with cold certainty that the Knight is going to wake very soon. As the light grows stronger, the Green Chapel is waking around him with a thousand tiny movements. He can almost make out the subtle sound of leaves uncurling to the sun, and worms crawling in the earth.

The sword, Oathkeeper, quivers in his hands, as though outraged. How did he dare to carry that blade to this place intending to lie? To break his promise? More and more he thinks he did not. He came here for something else entirely.

Jaime finds, for the first time that he can remember, his hands are trembling. It is one thing to go to battle, but another entirely to go to an execution. His heart beats in his ears with a deep drumbeat of doom... doom... doom...

He’s not here to fight a duel, is he? What, then, is he here for?

Glory? Judgement? Mercy? Absolution?

Or only the cold, mechanical means of his inevitable end?

Was all this journey only for that? Is he truly here only to get a blade through his chest? And if so, might it be worth his while? After all, is there any better way for a knight to die? Will it not be a fitting end to his legend?

But he isn’t ready to die. Not willingly. Not without redeeming his honor, making something of himself. If he had another year… but would he do any more with that than he had the last? Than he has with all of the years thus far? Is there any amount of time that would make any more of himself than he has already?

The time he needed was these weeks on the road with Brienne. That showed him what kind of man he’d like to be. But he failed her when it mattered most. Perhaps he should be judged for that. Not a year from now, nor twenty. Today.

The sun rises higher in the sky, and paints the Green Chapel gold. The air warms, and birdsong calls to him on the breeze. The day is relentlessly pleasant, with a promise of endless more such days to follow. A bittersweet longing fills him. It has never seemed half so lovely to be alive as it does in this beautiful place. If only he could have brought her here.

I will be brave, he says to himself. Like Brienne.

All at once there is a great creaking sound of wood bending and tearing, and when Jaime looks up the green altar is moving. Green leaves tremble and wave purposefully, and twigs and small branches snap and fall away to rest in the dirt below. The trunk of the altar pulls itself free, excavates itself from the enclosure in the leaves and branches. Limbs pull free, and something nearly human rises out of the green, the bark of its skin glistening, newborn.

The Green Knight is standing.

Jaime looks up, and up, and up, from where he sits on the mossy floor of the green chapel, and his hand grips the hilt of his sword.

He is ready to fight, by instinct, and to flee, by sudden impulse. He is afraid, he realizes, afraid in a way he has never been before. There is more than a blow to the heart to fear here. There is the fate of his soul, which is suddenly entirely in question. Before his journey he had no doubt of his own worth as a knight, and now he is just as certain in the opposite direction. Is he worthy? He is not. He is not.

Slowly, he stands. The sun shines down on him through the same corridor in the trees where he had watched the stars the night previous, and its warmth is a rebuke; why should the sun shine upon one such as him? He is the golden knight no more. He is only a man, a man with a sword that does not belong to him.

His eyes raise last of all.

Jaime finds through the golden light the Green Knight’s face. The eyes first, through a thin bloom of leaves and moss, and then the nose, the jawline. He has never seen it so clearly before, not even when he had stabbed her through the heart. With slow realization his eyes travel down and up again, taking in the shape of his host, and her nature.

The Green Knight is a woman? Why didn’t he realize it before?

It seems only too clear now. The slight narrowing of the waist and wrists, and in the face… not a pretty face, but undeniably feminine. Full lips, round cheeks, and the eyes...

Blue eyes. Beautiful blue, sad blue, noble and sorry. The lost blue of long-forgotten clear skies.

When he sees them his hands stop shaking. All is well. His grand sword slips from his fingers and settles softly in the grass, sinks gently into the ground, is welcomed.

“It’s you,” he says. “I’m glad it’s you.”

The girl from the Crossroads is standing before him.

He doesn’t understand how it is possible. Was she always the Knight? Was all an illusion? Was the Knight in disguise when he met her, or was the Knight once that girl? But it doesn’t matter. Whoever she is, she is here now, and it is good and right that this happen to him.

Her voice is low and rusty, like a hinge that has not moved in many years, and slow in its opening.

“You... kept... our appointment,” the Knight creaks.

His mouth is gone dry. “One year hence. You gave me time enough. And so I am here.”

He thinks he sees her smile, faintly. With the crackling sound of breaking branches, the Knight gestures to his feet.

“You... dropped your sword... my Lord.” Ser Jaime glances down at Oathkeeper, already disappearing beneath the twining vines on the forest floor. “Is it not time... for our blades to cross? A duel to make your legend?”

“I made you a promise,” he says faintly, and puts a hand over his unguarded heart. “It seems my word is all I have, and if it means nothing to anyone else, it means something to me.”

She smiles. An oaken hand reaches out and touches him on the face, gently. “My brave knight.”

Her eyes are the bluest skies he has ever seen. He is not afraid. Not anymore.

“Are you ready?” she asks him, still stroking his cheek.

“Yes.” He is eager for it now. “Strike your blow.”

“Straight through the heart,” she agrees. Then she reaches out with her other hand to touch the other side of his face.

She kisses him.

#dreadwulf fic #jaime lannister #braime

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another-fantasy-world · 4 years ago

Note

Hi! Can I request a part 2 to your Valkyrae imagine?

GIF isn’t mine. Credits to the owner!

Title: Idol’s Inspiration Part 2

Pairing: Valkyrae || Rae x Fem! Reader

Summary: A collection of moments involving an idol and a streamer

Warnings: Cursing?. Just pure fluffiness

Word Count: 3,043 words

I had way too much ideas on this one so this is going to be a collection of said ideas. Have fun!

Actually, I saw someone on my dashboard asking for Rae x Reader imagines, so hi to that person!

You can read Part 1 Here

➽───────────────❥

You took a couple of days before you gathered the courage to actually message Rae, you also spent those couple of days staring at the paper containing her number and your phone, which also has her number punched in.

“Okay. I just have to press send...” Your fingers hovered over the icon as you chewed your lips in nervousness.

“Oh damn it.” Luna groaned before snatching your phone and pressing send, barely giving you time to retaliate

“Hey!” You complained, staring at her in disbelief

“You were taking too long” She shrugged, sipping on her milkshake as she tossed your phone back to you

You only had time to roll your eyes before phone vibrated.

‘About time you texted me, I was beginning to think you forgot. Oh and totally, I could make a lobby for you rn’

‘Sounds good! I’m free this Friday!’

You smiled, well, looks like you’re playing with your favorite streamer group this Friday then.

Your bandmate Jace actually owns a gaming pc, to which you borrowed to play among us, which ended you up here, in his room, on a private discord call with Rae, her helping you set up for tomorrow.

“So is this your first time, ya know? Playing among us?” Rae asks as the download bar for the proximity chat

“Oh no. Uhm, My bandmates and I play all the time, sometimes on public lobbies and sometimes we drag our crew to play, especially while on the tour bus. Plus, I watch you scream and play all the time so you don’t have to worry about me Rachel” You explain, smiling softly at the memories, trying to ignore the feeling of content and satisfaction at how easy her name rolled out of your tongue

“That’s cool.” She replies, about to say something when a bark interrupts her

“Mika! Hi! Hi baby~” You hear her coo, your smile widening

“Raeeee! Tell Mika I said hi!” You chuckled

“Y/N says hi!” She says, running her hand through Mika’s fur, the white furball now sitting in her lap

“Awee~ You’re both so cute~” You coo, laughing when Rae hid herself behind Mika

You spent the night talking about random stuff, setting up for the game and running a test run with her, but then laughing when you realized you can’t play with just the both of you, ultimately deciding to start early tomorrow for a test run. Her also adding you to their discord before sleeping.

“My new favorite seafood!” You furrowed your brows when you heard Sykkuno’s voice fill your ears when you joined the discord call

“Shrimp.” Brooke giggled

“OOOOOHHH. So that’s why they were saying shrimp for Rae. I was like, what does that even mean?” Rae’s sentence caught you off guard, especially since you just tweeted that exact same phrase before logging in.

“shit.” You mumbled, having dropped the lid of the water jug you were drinking from.

“Y/N! HI HI HI HI” Rae greeted

“Hello.” You replied, a little overwhelmed at being the center of attention.

“Pfft- My chat is saying shrimp for Y/N now” Sykkuno announces

“Mine too” Brooke agrees, soon followed by the rest of the lobby, making you laugh

“I’m Sorry, Sorry! Actually, I may know why that’s happening. Fun fact! I actually gave people permission to shrimp for me on an interview, since I found it funny, especially since I’m also shrimping for someone.” You explained

“Oh yeah! I saw that clip.” Rae mumbles, trying to decide which color she should be in and what hat she should wear

“I wonder who Y/N is simping for. Hmmmm. Who could that be? Hmmmm.” Toast teases

“Yeaaah. I wonder who that could be.” Poki replies, her teasing tone much more evident

It had been a couple weeks now since you first played with Rae and her friends, her friends who are now also your friends. You were pressured to stream on YouTube by your fans and also Rae, who you now have late night talks with.

“Y/N! Hiiiiii!” You hear Rae as you rounded, soon followed my Corpse’s voice

“Choke me-” Corpse started

“LIKE U HEYT MEH BAT U LAB MEH-” Rae continued, mispronouncing words that made you chuckle

“Lowkey wanna date me when you hmm me.” You sang, connecting the wires

“NEW SONG! NEW SONG! Corpse and Coldify! C and C!” Rae exclaimed, her little red bean circling you and Corpse

“Oh yeah, definitely, Corpse? You up to it?” You ask, doing a little wiggle to show your excitement

“Hell yeah! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAA” he does that deep voice thing that made you flinch

“I can’t stand it. I can’t stand the sound of my voice.” Rae exclaims, talking to chat you assume.

You rolled your eyes, finding Rae’s voice beautiful. You jumped out of the vent, knowing that no one was around, making her scream

“Hi! Just wanted to pop in and let you know that your voice is actually beautiful and I would love to sing with you some time. That’s all, I’ll go back to killing now, Oh! you might want to check vitals, love.” You say, hopping back into the vent, laughing silently. Then abruptly stopping when you realized you called Rae “love”, glancing at the chat, who were now spamming your ship name with Rae

Seeing Lily alone, humming a tune, you quickly popped out of the vent, sliced him in half before a meeting was called, Ludwig finding Toast’s body.

“Before we start. I just want to say, to the person who called me “love”... You don’t get to call me that then run away!” She exclaims

“Sorry! I got embarrassed!” You pouted. You wiggled your eyebrows at your chat, smirking slightly

“Uh-huh. Oops, Sorry Lud. Carry On” Rae says, letting Lud explain his “Different Universe” theories about how Toast died.

“Heeeey...” Rae trailed out, her cornering you in storage

“Hiiii?” You smiled nervously. You don’t know what was happening in her mind

“Soooo... Babuska?” You immediately got what she was implying, nodding frantically, before realizing she couldn’t see you

“Yeah. Yeah let’s do this!” You both walked out, Rae on the lead while your white character trails after her

“OH LOOK! There’s Corpse! And Sykkuno! Hiiiiiii!” She greeted cheerily, somehow you could see the evil smile on her face

“oh- Oh. Hi Rae! We’re just shooting some space rocks here!” Sykkuno says, her green character circling Rae

“I see. I see... Babushka.” Rae states, you wait a couple of seconds letting Sykkuno and Corpse panic first, before slicing Corpse in half.

“OH JESUS! You killed Corpse! You killed him! You really kil-” He was cut off when Ash creeped behind him, biting his head off

“Thanks Ash.” You say, laughing as Rae gasped and laughed as well

“Rae~ Oh Rae~” You chuckled, looking for the brunette

“What?!” She exclaimed from her spot behind the seismic reactors

“Oh uhm, are you streaming right now?” You asked her, preparing yourself for what you are about to say.

“Uh yes? Duh?”

“Ohkay... well, hypothetically, If I were to ask you out, is it okay if I do it on stream orrr?”

“Well, hypothetically, I would be fine with it either way, yes.”

“Oh okay!” You clear your throat

“Ms. Valkyrae, The Valkyrae, Rae, would you please grace me with your presence on this coming friday night and allow me to buy you dinner, m’lady?” You say in your best posh voice

“...Yes” She says in a small voice

“Great! I’ll pick you up at 7!” You say

“Great! Okay”

“Great. I’ll kill you now.” you say

“Wait what?!” she exclaims, her scream perfectly cut when the victory sign flashes on your screen.

“THE AUDACITY! HOW DARE YOU! I- I CAN’T EVEN” She rages

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” You apologized, laughing your ass off

“I’m on Y/N Protection Services! She’s been dying a lot lately!” Rae exclaims, you rolling your eyes at her dramatics, both of you were impostors.

“Well, thank you m’lady” You replied, faking gas

“Ooooooh! I have speci, come.” Rae says, her red character slicing toast nonchalantly when you passed him doing telescope

“Uhm-”

“Shh.”

And suddenly, when the decontamination doors open, Poki emerged from it, panicking you killed her.

“Oh shit! No! Wait! I’m sorry! Pokiii!” You whined, following Rae into decontam

Finding Janet in Speci, You go to say hi, only to be interrupted by the body being found.

“OH NO! TOAST! He was just with me! OH JESUS!” Sykkuno exclaims, making you bite your lip to avoid laughing

“Where’s the body?” Jack asks

“Medbay, by the telescope” Brooke answers

“It has to be Y/N! She’s the only one who could’ve killed Toast!” Janet accused

“Hey! What?! Why me?!” you complained,

“You came from upper decontam! Toast’s body is in medbay, That’s sus.” Janet says, you were about to defend yourself when Rae chimed in

“There is a possibility that Y/N is the impostor.” She states

“Wha?! RAE?! You- You were with me in speci!”

“What? No I wasn’t! You’re lying! I lost you when I was doing gas! I was looking for you everywhere!” Rae says making you look at chat with a pout

“I didn’t see her there either...” Janet backed her up

“Wha?! Guys?! Come on, let’s skip! There’s barely enough evidence!” You desperately say, trying to save yourself

In the end, 7 heads voted for you.

“...Y/N will remember this.” You state before being thrown off the ship, welcomed by Poki and Toast’s laughter

“Yeah. Yeah. Hmmpf.” you huffed at Poki and Toast

“My girlfriend just betrayed me. Rae betrayed me chat, she just, she pushed me off the plank. She just, watched as I burned in the lava. She kicks me out of her bed for Mika, and now she betrays me, then pushes me off the plank. Ohhh the pain” you dramatically say as you followed Rae, her returning to specimen

“Listen, chat, Y/N if you’re listening... That was payback for that one time you killed me behind reactor right after you asked me on a date! Okay!” You rolled your eyes and looked at your camera with an annoyed look in your face

But your smile slowly returns as Rae goes on a mass massacre making you both win without meetings, making you bounce in your seat, clapping

“Good Job Rae! That was so good! You successfully scared me, I might not sleep in your room now.” You teased her, making her gasp

“Here we go. Here we go. Here we go. Hello everyone and welcome to the streeaam! Part 2. We are starting the playthrough of little nightmares 2- Hold on, Y/N’s calling.”

“Love?” Your voice rings out through Rae’s phone

“Hiii Baby! You’re on speaker” Rae states while looking at the game settings

“Oh. Well Hi chat! Anyways, Mcdonalds? I’m 5 minutes away, don’t start little nightmares yet, come on.” You whined

“Oh you big baby, I wasn’t starting without you.” Rae laughs

“Liar, I was watching your stream.” You deadpanned

“Pshh. Pshh! But yeah, Mcdonald’s fine. And hurry up! I wanna play!”

“Okay, okay sheesh, I’ll be there with your chimkin nuggies”

“Baby?” You knocked on her door, even after all the months that you have been together, you always knocked on her door before entering, incase she was doing something.

“Come in love! Perfect timing.” You open the door to see your girlfriend playing with Mika, Little Nightmares 2 plastered on the screen. You approached her and kissed her forehead

“Hi Babe. Hi chat! How are you guys doing? Hold on, let me set this down.” You say, arranging the food on Rae’s desk, careful not to spill anything

“Are we ready? Baby, grab your chair. Are we ready? Are we ready? I’m so excited!” The excitement in her eyes is making you smile

“Oh she’s excited alright, she wouldn’t shut up about it chat. Trust me” You chuckled.

“Will there be a lot of screaming? Rae?” You read chat

“Uhm. Hopefully not, I don’t know dude. Can’t control my screams.”

“A Shoe!” Rae gasps

“Baby, there’s literally hanging kids dangling in a net and the first thing you notice is the shoe?” You looked at her in disbelief

“Oh. What happened to you guys? Stinkyy. Oooooh. Physics!” You bit your lip and shook your head at your girlfriend’s antics

“Y/N, I feel comfort when I hold this shoe.”

“Ouch. Are you saying I’m not comforting you? Rude.”

“Stop trolling!” She says, turning to you as you held up a fry

She raises her eyebrows before biting the whole fry, along with your finger.

“Ouch! Damn it Rae! You’re like a chihuahua”

“Owa Owa.”

“I’m sorry. OUWGHH?! OH MY GOD, OH MY GOD, OH MY GOD, PALAMPARAMPARAMPARAMPALAMPRAMPRAMPRAM! SHE’S COMING!”

“RAE! RUN! RAE! RAE! RAE! HOOOOLY SHIT! RAE! RAE! RACHEL RUN! RACHEL! RUUUN!” You panic, gripping her thigh as the teacher neck elongated, following your little character into the vents

“SHE DOESN’T CARE! SHE DOESN’T CARE! PLEASE?!”

A moment of silence pass the both of you as the character Rae’s controlling gets to safety. Rae slowly turns to meet your eyes, and bursts out laughing.

“You should’ve seen your face!” You laugh at her

“OH OKAY? Like you weren’t screaming for me to run.” She says then proceeds to repeat what you said while in a panic, making you laugh harder

“Sorry for screaming, it’s just really gross and unexpected.” She says sheepishly to her chat, which was now spamming ‘HAHAHA’ and ‘Damn how long is that neck’

“So, this question is directed to Ms. Y/N.” The interviewer moves his body to face you.

“Yes?” You smiled, guessing that this must be about you and Rae

“How are you feeling about your pictures trending on Twitter worldwide?” he asks, a smile on his face as the pictures flashed on the large screen behind you

“Ahm, it’s really great. A lot of hard work was put into that photoshoot, mostly because my girlfriend, Rae refused to put on the dress and was attached to the suit she’s wearing right there. God, she looks so beautiful. Uhm, but anyways, it took a lot of effort to get her out of that suit. ” You grinned

“Ahh. I recognize that look, Makes me remember about my wife and I. You’re so smitten. Can I just say that I ship you guys so hard.” The interviewer says

“Ah- Thank you. Hehe.” You say, embarrassed but proud

“While were on this topic of trending pictures, Can you guys explain whatever these pictures are? I’m pretty sure your fans already know what these are. But an explanation would be nice” The interviewer now addressed your whole group

“Well, considering that Y/N is dating Rae, Luna is dating Sykkuno and Jace is dating Imane, or Poki, Okay, so there’s this AU that’s around their community where they are mafia’s and we’re all members now. We all joked about being apart of their mafia, to which they agreed. So now Rae and Y/N are now the assassin duo, Poki and Jace are their supervisors and Luna, Sykkuno and Corpse are the deadly trio” Sebastian explains

“Their community is so creative I swear. And combined with our fandom, the fanarts and fanfictions are the best.” Luna says, a smile present on her face

“And yes, we all do read fanfiction, in multiple platforms.” You laughed, the live audience gasping in surprise

“None of you are safe.” Jace says in a playful intimidating voice

“Okay, I’m gonna get off. Thank you for watching. I’ll see you guys later, thanks for watching, I hope you guys enjoyed the stream. Uhmm. Appreciate you guys. Byeee!” you hear Rae end her stream from your spot in her bed.

“Hunter x Hunter? or AOT?” you ask her as you put your phone in silent and set it aside, opening your arms for her.

She crawls into your side, cuddling you while groaning lightly.

“Do you wanna take a bath first? Or do you wanna eat dinner? Maybe take a nap first? You’ve been streaming for 13 hours baby, your eyes are probably tired now.” You say, running your free hand through her hair

“Naps and cuddles please.” she mumbles, her head buried in the crook of your neck

“Okay baby, I’ll just put AOT on, oh wait. Hmm, Jujutsu Kaisen sounds great right now. No, wait even better, Ouran Highschool Host Club.” You go to turn your head to ask Rae, but you see her asleep.

You chuckle quietly, knowing Rae, she can overwork herself, sit on a chair for 13 hours, playing various video games, while you really can’t see yourself play videogames for 13 hours straight, you admire that she has the patience and energy to do that.

Smiling, you lower the volume of the Anime that you’re watching, slowly pull the blankets up as Rae shifts closer to you, clinging like a koala. Mika jumps up and settles in between the two of you, Your smile widens at the feel of things, the calmness, the silence, the tranquility and the sense of home, something that only Rae can provide. Something that you have been looking for ever since your career took off. The constant trips to the studio, the paparazzi, the world tours, the concerts, the interviews, everything, everything was worth it when you know you’re coming home to her.

You didn’t even know how you got to where you are now, cuddled into Rae, the comfort streamer you never thought you would meet, even when you mostly stayed where she stayed... Dating her was a dream, you didn’t believe it at first, she quickly proved that dream theory wrong when she kissed you, under the rain. As cliché as it seems, that was the day you both silently agreed to never let go of each other and take care of each other even if the other is half way across the world.

Even if dating her means also dating her room mates and her chat...

You would never trade it for anything.

Even if you knew she would scream her ears off once she knows that you have a whole album that’s inspired and dedicated to her.

#valkyrae #valkyrae imagines #valkyrae imagine #valkyrae x reader #valkyrae fanfiction #valkyrae x fem reader #valkyrae x female reader #fluff #im soft #rae x reader

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tooweirdforyou · 4 years ago

Text

Straw Hats With A Shipmate! Who Lost Someone Special

A/N : For anyone who has lost someone dear to them, whether it was recently or long ago, it’ll be okay. There are times where we either hate ourselves, hold regret, or refuse to accept the reality, but no matter what, we have to accept the truth. These things happen and we have to deal with it. I know some of us like to bottle these feelings up instead of letting it all out. But I just want to say that it’s okay to let it out. Don’t keep the pain to yourself because it’s not going to make things better. Let it all out and bring peace to yourself some day. Everything will be okay.

Warning : mentions of death, negative, heartbreaking thoughts, etc. + MARINEFORD SPOILERS.

Note : I don’t expect you to read this, nor do I expect you to appreciate this. I don’t know my readers, so I don’t know how sensitive some of you are. I don’t normally write this kind of stuff either, hopefully this is the only time you’ll see this.

of course this will have a sweet ending.

This is also pretty long.

Summary : The crew witnesses their crew mate’s loss of a loved one, and notice that their shipmate is acting as if everything’s fine. They won’t accept that.

Everything was peaceful.

The crew was just sailing around the seas for a bit, enjoying their time together after two years apart from each other.

After Fishman Island, the others were just taking a breather and relaxing.

However, you knew that your home island was nearby.

You wanted to visit it, which the crew agreed, since it let them experience your island and perhaps learn about where you came from.

Unfortunately, you didn’t know how horrible things have been since you were gone.

Nor did you ever expect to see someone so dear to you, die right before your eyes.

When you docked at the island, instead of a warm aura and a homely greeting from the civilians, the island was in ruins.

There was hardly anybody around, and the people that were still there, were all weak and barely alive.

Nothing was right, nor was anything left. Buildings in ruin and destroyed, fields and trees of the forests were burned and there was blood shed all over the ground.

Nothing could be seen but blood. It was truly a horrific sight to be seen.

The crew mates all stare at the sight in horror and shock.

After hearing your stories of how beautiful and amazing the island was and how kind the people were, they were definitely not expecting to see the opposite it was.

“Oi, this isn’t anything like you described. You sure we’re on the right island?” Luffy mindlessly comments, the others staring at Luffy like he was an idiot, Usopp clearly stating it aloud. “Oi, Luffy! Don’t say things so bluntly!”

You, ahead of the group and had an expression of fear and horror written all over, just snap back into reality and turn to Luffy, seeing the others staring at you.

“..I was thinking the same, Luffy.” You weakly smile as a forceful chuckle escaped your lips, you rubbing the back of your neck awkwardly. “I guess things can change when time passes.”

“Maybe we are on the wrong island..”

You weren’t. You knew you weren’t. This was the place where you were born and raised.

Although it was completely destroyed, you recognized some of what was left in the rubble, even some of the old people that were barely hanging on.

Your words were heard, the others noticed how quiet it was and already understood the truth. Something happened while you were away from home, and it wasn’t good from the looks of it.

“[Name]-chan... we don’t have to-“ Sanji starts but you only smile lightly at the crew. “It’s fine. Before we go back to the ship,.. can we look around a bit? It’ll be quick.”

They knew what you meant and what you wanted to do, all of them nodding. “Of course, take as long as you need. There’s no rush.” Robin assures softly, Nami nodding in agreement. “We’re here if you need anything.”

You nod at them and continue to lead the group through the streets, them following you in silence as Luffy kept his eyes on you.

You heard some of the groans and noise of discomfort and pain from the ones who were on the brink of death, your head lowering down as you bit your lip, trying to ignore them.

As much as you wanted to run to them and help them any way you can, you somehow already knew it was useless.

Whatever happened while you were gone, it was too damaging to be fixed. The many bodies that were spread across the town made sure of that.

In the back with the crew, you hear Brook, Usopp and Chopper freaking out every once in a while at the sight of the bodies, Sanji and Nami mentioning about feeling a bit sick and just shocked at the sight of them, while Franky, Luffy, Robin and Zoro all stare silently, many thoughts running through their head.

There was one thought they all had in common.

Just what the hell happened?

You continue to walk with your head down, before noticing an all too familiar house and look up, beginning to jog over towards it, a hopeful look in your eyes.

“W-Wait, [Name]!” Usopp calls at the others try to catch up. You ignore him and sprint towards what was left of the home and slam the door open accidentally.

“[ Special Someone ]!” You call out a bit too loudly, looking out frantically for them. “[ Special Someone ]! It’s [Name]!”

A small hum could be heard in another room, you rushing over just as the others arrived at the home.

You ran over and widen your eyes at the sight of them. [ Special Someone ] was leaning against the wall, breathing slow with many cuts and dried blood all over them.

Their clothes stained with the red liquid and the entire house was a wreck, with smashed furniture and shattered glass all over.

“[ Special Someone ]!” You shout in disbelief and horror, unable to process anything as you lunge yourself to the one person who was always by your side.

“[Name]..?..” they breathed out, weakly forcing themselves to sit upright more, you aiding them carefully, as their arms rested in their lap.

“Wow.. I can’t believe it.. how.. lucky.. I get to see you?..” [ Special Someone ] coughs out roughly, spitting a bit of blood out onto their hand as they did so making you even more shocked.

The crew enters the room with eyes wide as saucers. “[Name]?” Nami questions, mouth gaped at the sight of you kneeling beside a person on the brink of death.

Tears brimmed your eyes as you turn to Chopper pleadingly. “Chopper, please, help them!” You cry out with a shout, Chopper’s teary shocked eyes widening more as he nods quickly and rushed over with his bag.

Chopper sits on the other side of [ Special Someone ], opening his bag and grabbing out the proper supplies.

“[Na..me].. stop, I’m fine. There’s nothing.. you can do.” They insisted, turning to Chopper with a weak smile. “A rein..deer?.. how cute..” Chopper didn’t say anything as he continued to do his work, quickly examining the injuries they had before patching them up.

“Shut up, [ Special Someone ], Chopper’s going to help you, okay?! Now, tell me who did this to you?” You say, clasping their hand in yours as they cough once more and tilt their head back.

The others could only watch in silence with sad, concerned or pitiful looks at the sight, assuming that this person was someone so dear to you. They didn’t know who it was but they knew enough.

“... Marines..”

Everyone tensed at the word, a few of them in disbelief. Marines did this?

You didn’t say anything, your grip on their hand tightening as you chew on your inner cheek. “Marines, huh?...”

“If you don’t mind me asking, how long ago did this happen?” Robin cautiously and slowly asks, [ Special Someone ] looking up at her.

They look away and flinch at bit at Chopper’s work as they whisper out an answer. “.. one week.”

No one expected that. Everyone’s eyes widened even more. One week!?

“S-seriously?! This happened one week ago?!” Brook shouts incredulously, Usopp trembling in his shoes. “T-This happened while we were on our way here?!”

Your breath hitched in your throat, your body frozen and completely lost in thought. This..happened.. in a week?..

You.. You could have done something.. if you just got here faster? You could have prevented all of this, if you just arrived sooner?

No, you couldn’t blame yourself. How could you have known? You weren’t at fault, right? Right?

“[Name]. It’s okay..” [ Special Someone ] turns to you with the all too familiar smile of theirs, it was a weak one, but it was still the same.

“Fate has it twisted sometimes, but it’s never wrong. If fate had this in its destined path for me, then I have to accept it. If I must die, I’m happy to have died being able to see you one last time.” They managed to speak out in one breath, forcing their smile wider.

[ Special Someone ] notices Chopper moving away from him slowly with saddened and regretful eyes. They knew the result and reason for it already.

You chose to ignore their words and scoff, feeling tears brimming your eyes. “Stop talking like that, it’s not time for you yet. It’s not too late. Right Chopper?!” You look up with teary eyes at the small reindeer.

“You can save them, right!? It’s not too late!”

Chopper would look down, pulling his hat down to cover his face as his lips trembled and quivered a bit. “[Name], I—“

“Chopper! You’re supposed to be the best doctor I know, so please, tell me it’s not too late!” You cried out, turning to look at the others.

The others already knew the answer too just from the look of Chopper and how weak [ Special Someone ] was quickly getting.

“Franky? Usopp? Zoro?” You call out to them, receiving no answer and just sad looks of pity and sorrow.

“Luffy!” You call out to your captain desperately, seeing his head tilted down with his hat shadowing his face.

“Everyone.. WHY AREN’T YOU ANSWERING ME?!” Confusion ran over you, too worried and afraid to face the truth and have any sense.

Nami stares at you with her own tears threatening to fall, already knowing what was going to happen.

Chopper grips his hat tightly as he stares down, tears streaming down his cheeks and dripping to the floor.

Sanji couldn’t stare at you, his eyes closing shut as he wished he could help you somehow.

Franky looks at you with a frown placed on his lips, staying silent because he thought it was best to remain so.

If Brook had eyes, he’d stare with sorrow and tears as well, also remaining quiet.

Zoro just shut his eyes, almost unable to watch you looking at them so desperately and pleadingly.

Robin looks a bit pitifully, sad eyes washing over her and over at you and your teary form.

Usopp felt tears threatening to stream down his cheeks as well, feeling regret and sadness for you, hands clenched tightly into fists.

Finally, Luffy still held no reaction, arms at his side, head still lowered. But he was trying hard not to get angry or tear up himself, this reminding him of Ace’s death a bit.

“[Name].. it’s too late.. I’ve already lost a lot of blood and my wounds are.. too hurt to be healed.. the damage is done..” [ Special Someone ] breathes out, a small smile forming on their lips.

“[ Special Someone ]... what are you saying?.. I..”

“[Name]..”

“Stop..” you look down, your hair covering your eyes as your lip quivered.

“I’m thankful you found people to keep you company..” they turn to the crew with a soft smile.

“Stop it..” you whispered, teardrops slowly falling.

“Thank you for taking care of [Name].”

The crew only smiled sadly at [ Special Someone ].

“STOP TALKING, ITS NOT TOO LATE FOR YOU!” You cry out loudly, tears finally falling down your cheeks as you shouted. “[ SPECIAL SOMEONE ]!”

[ Special Someone ] only leans their head back and their breathing only shallows as they slowly lean down into your arms.

A small smile formed on their lips as they whisper out through your cries.

“I’m sorry... and thank you... [Name].”

“[ SPECIAL SOMEONE ]!”

Your scream and sobs filled the entire island as you clutched their body close to yours, eyes shut and cheeks soaked with tears as the tears drops fell onto their slowly dying body.

The crew watched silently, feeling their heart ache and sting at the sight of you sobbing and desperately clinging into whatever was left of your precious childhood memory.

Later that same night, after you were left alone to make a proper burial for [ Special Someone ], you returned to the crew, who sat waiting in the small home in silence.

“Everyone..”

Your voice would bring their attention to you and see the weak smile settled across your lips. “I’m sorry for wasting your time!... we can set sail now.”

They would be shocked to say the least. How could you ever think you were wasting their time? Much less, after such a traumatic and shocking event just hours prior.

“[Name], what do you mean? You weren’t wasting-“ You interrupt Usopp with a small forced chuckle.

“It’s okay, it was my fault. I should’ve known there wasn’t a point to come to this island, it’s kind of pointless considering how rundown and ruined it is now.”

“Wait, what’s going on, don’t you feel upset at all?” Nami asks with furrowed brows as she stands up to look at you.

You stare at her with a bit of wide eyes before closing them slowly and put on a big and bright smile.

Your words shocked them and made them speechless. They didn’t know what to say.

“Of course not! About what? There’s nothing to be upset about at all!”

Not even Luffy was sure what to say to that.

So it led them to heading to the ship to set sail the next early morning.

One day.

One day since the crew witness you experiencing and watching the death of a loved one right before your eyes.

Yet, here you were, all smiling and laughing in front of them, as if nothing happened at all. You were making jokes and trying to make the others laugh as well.

But they weren’t.

Sure, they gave sad smiles to you, a few of them offering weak or forced laughs in addition, but they couldn’t understand why you were acting like this.

Were you afraid to seem weak in front of them?

They weren’t sure but they knew something was up. But seeing you be so joyful as if nothing happened was too heartbreaking for them to say anything.

Three days.

Three days have gone by since the day you had witness the death of a loved one.

The crew was getting worried for you. They assumed maybe you were trying to be positive and remain happy in front of the crew, or maybe you really were over the death you witnessed first-hand but that was proven wrong just this morning.

The early morning, Sanji was getting ready to prepare breakfast when he heard noises in the aquarium lounge.

Confused, Sanji takes a peek in the room to see your shaking form, your back facing the doorway as you were curled up, hugging your knees.

He could hear your quiet cries as you hid your face into your knees, thinking you were alone to finally let it out.

Sanji could feel his heart break seeing you all alone, but as much as he wanted to comfort you, he knew it was better to leave you alone. Especially since you were acting like nothing was wrong just yesterday.

But he told the crew.

“I didn’t go up to them, out of respect for their privacy.” Sanji exhales, puff of smoke exiting his lips.

The others listened in silence to Sanji’s explanation of what he saw this morning.

Silence was brought upon the crew.

“..So they’ve been holding it in all this time.” Nami mumbles quietly, eyes saddening at the thought of how much you kept to yourself to keep up such a happy facade.

Thinking about how much you were struggling inside broke her heart.

“I can’t imagine how hard they’re struggling right now.” Brook spoke softly, looking down at the table.

Chopper had tears in his eyes at the thought. “[Name] is going through a lot and—! And we’re not there for them!” He cried out.

“What should we do now that we know what’s really going on these past few days?” Robin questions aloud, the question going through all their heads.

Zoro turns his head over to Luffy, who had been the most quiet ever since they ship left your island.

He was observant so he was watching your fake smiles closely and knew too well that you weren’t over it.

You were hiding yourself, and your feelings from the crew.

But hearing Sanji’s explanation of what he saw, seeing you all alone and crying to yourself made him fill with rage yet, also regret for not being there for his shipmate.

“DAMN IT!”

Luffy’s fist made contact with the wooden table roughly, almost breaking it into two as Luffy growls loudly. “HOW COULD THEY JUST KEEP IT ALL TO THEIR SELF?! WE’RE THEIR FRIENDS RIGHT?! WHY DON’T THEY JUST TELL IS SO WE CAN BE THERE FOR THEM?!”

“Luffy!” The others widen their eyes at Luffy’s outburst but they couldn’t exactly disagree with him.

Why didn’t you just tell them the truth of your feelings instead of putting on such a fake act? Didn’t you trust them at all?

“Luffy, you have to understand. It could be hard for [Name] to share this with us! They’re still grieving, so give it time. Okay?” Nami tries to calm down their Captain but it was no use. He wasn’t listening.

“I don’t care!” Luffy shouts, frustration building up. “We’re supposed to be friends, damn it, so why can’t they just tell us how they feel instead of being so positive all the time? It won’t change what happened, but coming to us so we can be there for them can help! That’s what we’re here for!”

“Just calm down! When [Name] is ready, I’m sure they’ll come talk to us. So settle down already and be patient!” Zoro shouts back, having enough of this.

He too was concerned and also frustrated with you for not talking with them but it wasn’t their choice.

It was yours, and they couldn’t do anything but be there when you were ready.

Five days.

[ Special Someone ], the person who always brought you joy.. comfort.. laughter.. and made sure you were the best you that you could be.

They stuck with you through all your ups and downs, all your pains and sorrows, all your anger, complaints and hatred..

Even with all your flaws, [ Special Someone ] never left your side once, always sacrificing themselves for your well-being.

Always making sure you were healthy, eating well, sleeping well, had fresh food and clothes everyday, and ensured that you could live with peace and not a worry in the world.

So why?

Why was someone so selfless, generous, caring, kind... why was someone like that not given the privilege to stay alive? How could someone like them die? After everything they did for you, why was it them and no one else?

Why? Why.. why did they have to die?

You turn onto your side on the bed, hands clenching the bedsheet as you thought about the same thing every day and night, the scene of them dying right in your arms replaying over and over for you every time you shut your eyes.

“Why?..”

Hugging your pillow tightly, you glance at the time on the wall and sigh, deciding to get up to greet the crew.

You sit up and get up from your bed, dusting your clothes and began getting ready, making sure you looked decent enough to show yourself to the others, before finally stepping out of the room.

When you finally step out, you see the whole crew on the main deck, doing whatever it is they do.

They immediately all turn to you when they heard footsteps. You look at them and blink softly before smiling brightly and waved. “M-Morning, you guys!”

‘Shit- please don’t have noticed that..’ you thought, hoping they didn’t notice your voice having cracked a bit.

It was quiet as they continued to stare at you, before Brook interrupts it.

“Yohohoho~... it’s the afternoon, [Name]-san..”

Your eyes widen a bit at your mistake. Did you really stay in bed for that long?

“Oh.. is it? I must’ve overslept..” you lightly laugh to ease the growing tension you felt but no one said anything in response.

“..[Name]-san.. have you been crying?” Robin questions softly, a small frown present on her face. Her question startles you as you shake your head immediately.

“What do you mean, Robin? I’m fine, I haven’t been crying at all.” Instinctively, you began wiping your eyes with your sleeves, which already sent answers to the crew.

“Seriously, what’s with you guys today? You’ve all been acting strange for a while.” You smile softly and pull at your sleeps.

“Maybe you guys just need a little adventure. Maybe-“

“Shut the hell up.”

Shocked, you turn to Zoro at his sudden blunt burst from the railing.

“Zoro!” Nami and Usopp hisses beside him, quietly scolding him for being so rude at the moment, making Zoro scoff.

“I’m rude? They just accused us for acting strange the past couple of days. I don’t disagree with them about us being a bit different lately, but they’re the one who’s been acting the strangest out of all of us. And you all know this too. Am I wrong?”

While you visibly flinch at his words, Nami and Usopp faltered a bit and looked away. “Still..”

“Zoro’s right.” Luffy, who had been quiet ever since two days ago when Sanji told them about your moment in the Aquarium Bar.

“Luffy?” Chopper questions softly from a distance, looking at their captain.

Luffy looks up and glares hard at you.

Behind his hard glare was a very faint soft expression with hurt eyes. Hurt, knowing that his shipmate was suffering and he couldn’t do anything to help them. Until now.

“Tell us the truth, [Name].” Luffy’s tone made your breath hitch from how serious he sounded. It wasn’t like a friend, it was like a captain. “Do you hate us?”

Your eyes widen at his question and you looked at him incredulously. “What? Of course not.” You immediately answered, brows furrowed.

That answer was obvious, so why did he ask?

“Okay. Are you happy with the crew?” He asks again, and you just stare at him in confusion. “I’m happy. I’ve always been.”

“...are you keeping secrets from us?”

All eyes were on you as you close your mouth and bit your tongue from saying more.

You stare at Luffy and tried to decipher what was going through his mind before closing your eyes.

“Not at all.”

“I thought our captain told you to tell the truth.” Zoro says instantly after your reply and you bit your lip slightly. “I did.”

“[Name]-chan..” Sanji sighs softly at your denial and stubbornness before Usopp frowns and spoke. “[Name]... I can tell when you’re lying and..”

“You guys, I’m fine, okay! Nothing is wrong, I’m not keeping secrets from you, so let’s just stop this and continue our day, okay?” You exasperatedly sigh, rubbing your head a bit as Franky shakes his head.

“[Name], I’m afraid we can’t.” He says, making you turn to him with a sigh. “Why? Why can’t you guys just-“

“We saw you crying alone, [Name]..” Chopper quietly mumbles, looking up sadly at you. “Why didn’t you come to us?..”

“I-“

“[Name].”

Luffy looks at you, his expression slowly softening as he stares at you deeply. “... you don’t have to be alone anymore. Actually.. you were never alone to begin with.”

You didn’t say anything and just looked away, hands clenched tightly and you bit your lip.

“I know what you’ve been going through. I felt the same two years ago in Marineford, okay? I..I felt so helpless and angry when Ace died.. I thought I was completely alone after losing him and I couldn’t live with myself.. because Ace died.. for me..”

You gulp at Luffy’s story with Ace, knowing fully well how heartbreaking it was for Luffy to be reminded of these memories, his last memory of Ace.

Hesitantly, you look up at Luffy to see pain and small tears brimming his eyes.

“It hurts a lot, [Name].. I know, alright? You feel all alone, and let regret, resentment, pain, sadness, everything, build up inside you, and you either hold it all in and put on a happy smile, or you could just let it all out and scream out the pain.” He continues, his jaw and hands clenching tightly as his tears fell down his cheeks.

The others stayed silent, all of them reminded of their own past and memories of when they lost a loved one, or when they felt completely alone with pain and regret.

Zoro, with Kuina.

Nami, with Bellemere.

Usopp, with Kaya.

Sanji, with Zeff.

Chopper, with Hiriluk.

Robin, with Jaguar.

Franky, with Tom.

Brook, with his whole crew.

Luffy, with his brothers.

You thought back to just a couple days ago with your own loved one dying in your arms and look down sorrowfully.

“I still think about it everyday, but I don’t feel as much pain or regret anymore. I’m almost thankful I survived.. why? Because it means I won’t leave you guys alone. I’m right here with you all, because you guys are my friends, my family!”

You feel tears brimming your own eyes, a few drops already falling down your cheeks.

“I’m not alone because I have you all by my side so I’m never alone! You all help me realize this and I eventually got over Ace’s death.. and even though I think about it everyday, I’m not alone anymore and I don’t cry about it too much. Because I have you and everyone else!”

You wipe at your eyes and sniff a bit, the others smiling softly at their captain, their hearts touched by his words as a few of them could feel themselves tear up.

“You’ve been crying by yourself, all alone these past few days, haven’t you?”

You didn’t answer. You knew the crew knew the answer already.

Luffy began make his way over to you, continuing to speak.

“It’s okay to be sad, to be hurt, to feel pain, and to cry. You could be angry, you can scream, you can sob, you can do anything you want.”

Luffy was now right in front of you, looking at you with a piercing expression.

“But you don’t have to be alone during these sad times. You never have to be alone again, because we’re right here.”

Luffy then tightened his fists and shouts right at you. “SO STOP KEEPING IT ALL TO YOURSELF AND SHARE YOUR PAIN WITH US! YOU WILL NEVER BE ALONE BECAUSE WE’RE YOUR FAMILY AND WE CARE ABOUT YOU. SHARE YOUR PAIN WITH ME!”

He extends and spreads his arms out, glaring hard at you with tears in his eyes as your own widen at his shouts.

The others smiled wider when they see your tears streaming faster down your cheek and your expression soften as your body lunged itself into Luffy’s arms.

Your arms wrap around his neck and legs around his waist as Luffy immediately wraps his own around you tightly, your face buried into his neck.

Sobs screamed out from your voice, your throat burning but you didn’t care. You sobbed right into Luffy’s neck, his hearing might’ve been damaged but he didn’t care either.

“It hurts.. it hurts so much, Luffy.. why?” You sob out, clutching onto him tightly as you gripped his shirt. “Why did they have to die?! Why..”

Luffy didn’t say anything, just held you closer and just as tight.

The others felt themselves tear up more at your sobs and unable to help themselves, they also ran to join in the hug.

Sanji, Nami, Usopp, Chopper and Brook all jumped into the hug, all sobbing their own cries and tears, which made you and Luffy drop onto the ground with the others on top.

“[NAME]-CHAN!”

“[NAAAMEEE]!”

“[NAME]-SANNN!”

Franky wipes his own stream of tears as Robin and Zoro smiles at the sight of their crewmates.

Despite your sobs, you couldn’t help but let out a small laugh at the others and sniffled, smiling genuinely at your family.

You should have known better than to keep it all in and to yourself. You weren’t alone.

You had family who loves you and were there right by your side, through all your joy and pain.

“Thank you, everyone. I’m so grateful..”

You smile wider and shouted loudly with closed eyes.

“Thank you, for loving me!”

A/N : y’all I-I teared up writing this-

I hit the maximum allowed per post wtf- I’m sorry this is rushed too ;~; I wanted it out quickly.

;-; I hope you enjoyed.

589 notes · View notes

thelordstears · 3 years ago

Text

I wrote some more, because I, am an addict

“ In this world I've met some sorrowed souls, one of 'em stands in my mind like a candle, flickerin' lights of his mercy dyin' in my heart, and as he stares me down with madness filled eyes and a heart sick 'a trouble and decay, will he gun an old friend down all for vengeance on the man who broke all 'a us? “ - Quint Sanfield

“ I'm just an outcast lookin' for his heart, and as I travel this strange and mysterious land, I must wonder if my heart lays underneath foreign soils, cause as I dig my hands inta the soil of my hurt, I don't find anything but trouble and the decaying corpse of me. “ - Quint Sanfield

“ I'll keep on keepin' on like a sorrowed ghost train, findin' passengers along the railroad of my heart, and, maybe findin' a couple more people like me. People who understand the depths of secrets and trouble, perhaps I can be a lil less transparent with people who understand me, with people who also know what death tastes like on their heart." - Quint Sanfield

"If God loves all, does he look at the sinner who bleeds the river red with a gentle and forgiving smile? I can't help but wonder if he looks at me with something sorrowful swimming in his ethereal eyes, because as I tremble under a cruel man's trigger, I stain the river of my heart with unholy colors and sinful strokes of a brush.” - Jonah Worthshein

“ I met a man with death and cruelty lurking like ticking time bombs in his heart, and as he struck me down with his cane of trouble and told me to weep the mercy from my eyes, I succumbed. “ - Jonah Worthshein

“ There's pain beating inside my heart, and I know there always will be, because my hero, he's gone, and somedays I don't know how to go on without him. He was my brother, and as he became nothing but a missing poster in my mind, I wondered what I would do with his tattered cape. Somedays I hold it close to my chest and weep into it, for it holds questions I'll never find the answers too. But whenever that pain comes crashing down on me, my daughter picks me right up and tells me that I'm her hero, and I always will be. “ - Faymeline Borealis

“ My friend, I am insanity in an unwell mind, bursting with colors that shouldn't exist.” - Burns Mataugh

“ We are pioneers of madness following our Queen through the echoes of the night, for she saved us from the slow and insidious killer that is sanity. She stands tall and lean like a madness filled revolver, and as she kills peace, you must know its grave has been long overdue. “ - Burns Mataugh

“ The tranquility of succumbing to your beastly nature is like no other feeling I have ever felt, and as I stand here like an ill begotten question, sipping on a stream of crimson stained melodies and secrets, I know I would never yearn to be the sheep again. “ - Burns Mataugh

“ I once asked the world who it wanted me to be, and as I sat at the stream, madness seeping through my veins, I saw the reflection of God in the lake, and to me, he looked like a lonesome beast of sorrow." - Burns Mataugh

“ I'm just a washed up and broken dream wondering why all his childhood wonder turned into nightmares, stars imploding in his mind, cause damn, it's just a galaxy colored the shade of the nebula. “ - Brooke Bermgeir

“ They're always like, oh, you gotta be a boy, you gotta be a girl, but fuck that, I wanna be myself. “ - Skyler Syndicate

“ My families memory is like a cigarette against my lip, because all it does nowadays is kill me slowly with things I'll never have again. “ - Connie Averfollow

“ My mind is a panic room, the walls are etched in names I never wanna forget and faces I'll always miss, and as I cower in the corner my darkest fears come for me with eyes I used to see everyday, her eyes haunt me, her smiles have become a graveyard in my haunted little heart. And as I sink into my blankets and smoke another cigarette I pray that life will give me my lover's fate as my head hits the pillow." - Connie Averfollow

“ I don't know how humanity managed to become an enemy to itself, but damn, ain't it a shame we're losing the fucking war?" - Larry Devendra

“ People are always tellin' me I'm digging my own damn grave, but don't they realize it ain't my name etched on the stone?” - Zane Harrenburrow

“ It's kill or be killed these days, and regretfully I still breathe. “ - Rolft Van Gaver

“ I just wanna live despite the death in me." - Rolft Van Gaver

“ I, am where dreams go to die my friend.” - Moores Thomas

“ I'm a sinful bastard with a heart rotted bared on his extravagant sleeve, do you think a heart could possibly survive madness? It rotted, withered and decayed as I sputtered up blinding red lights and salvation.” - Moores Thomas

“ You'll live, but you won't survive. “ - Moores Thomas

“ Sometimes, we just gotta raise our fists instead of our white flag.” - Hunter Shallows

“ There's a garden 'a decay in my mind, two roses standin' tall, but all the others 'ave become black petaled ghosts, but I visit that garden if only ta see my roses still painted red. “ - Saria Romiro

“ We've both seen Hell in the eyes of people who were supposed to love us, but we found Heaven in each other's love. “ - Riell Romiro

“ I try my best, to stand tall, but somedays I'm struck down by the sorrow I feel and I can hardly reach the other side of paradise. Because in truth, my son's ghost still haunts me. He's in the corners of my memory, asking me why I didn't find him, and I give a regretful smile and say I tried my best. “ - Riell Romiro

“ I have met darkness in the eyes of a banshee, standing tall over me like a shadow that shrieks into my broken mind that I won't make it out of this darkness alive. But I take a fragile step forward and fix my little bowtie, knowing that the cruelty I've met is not me, but rather what I have seen. “ - Harlem Peixoto

“ These secrets in me hide deep within my cracked ribcage, nesting, waiting to blossom like a rose grenade, the shrapnel of lies and shadow splitting my heart in two. “ - Harlem Peixoto

“ My hands are stained in mystery, and as my mind brews up questions like it were some witches cauldron full of answers, I get to wondering how many of the people I searched for are still out there. “ - Harlem Peixoto

“ At some point, life presents you with a fork in the road, and which path you take determines who you'll be, one path leads to who you're supposed to be, kind, gentle, whole in some beautiful way, but the other path gives you things, but it also corrupts your heart and turns you into a wicked beast with cruelty living deep inside his troubled heart. Be careful when hate and cruelty whispers in your ear that you do not become these things. “ - Solomon Bones

“ My brother has always had my back, man. He's been there for me, he's kind of, my hero, ya know? He doesn't wear a cape fluttering in the breeze and he doesn't have laser eyes, he has burdens, he has scars, but most importantly, he has a kind heart. And that's what makes a hero in this broken world. “ - Solmon Bones

“ They've both seen the Hell of war, it drips down the notches 'a their spines and whispers lies inta their hearts, cause mate, war never leaves the innocent soul be. It's a beast draped in crimson, fur drippin' with innocence and forgotten men lyin' in freshly dug graves. When it smiles, ya see it's rifle fangs and bullet tongue, and as it charges, it leaves all soldier's ghosts 'a who they were. “ - Fallows Diamond

“ Mate, I've seen death in the shadows 'a graves that neva' shoulda been, I seen cruelty lyin' in the eye of a man with venom drippin' from the corner 'a his eyes. 'E was a slitherin' serpent in the garden 'a my mercy, firin' bullets inta me peace and askin' it ta bleed for all he'd done. And so, with regret, I say there ain't no peace in me heart. “ - Fallows Diamond

“ She stands in my mind like a howling regret, scratching at the confines of my skull to escape my memory, because she was my fuckin' hero, man. “ - Tristy Alden

“ I can still remember Sasha's gentle eyes, her heart worn on a cotton sleeved sweater, her heart beat was a melody I could listen too forever. I know sometimes I made it a struggle to love me, but no matter what, she was always.. there for me, and sometimes I wonder if I fucked it up. I hope she knows that I love her, even if we've been separated because of life's trickery and deceit. “ - Debrah Sabbatino

“ If you look at the pages of a history book you'll find me, stained in the bloodied ink, etched into the stones of war and cruelty. “ - Veltrexen

“ I have watched the kind fall through the scorching skies as people clapped and cheered for the death of the good hearted rabbits. And as I pull a top hat from the back room, I look for rabbits inside but I'm always pulling my sins from a hat and wondering if the innocence has left me behind in the dust of my cruelty. “ - Ellsworth Davis

“ I was just a girl looking for trouble in the ashen cigarette and love with a boy who wouldn't remember my name next Summer. “ - Carrie Hackenwood

“ I am not crazy, I would not quite put it that way. I am mad, I am twisted, I am broken, some extant form of Wyatt Demouchett. From the corners of my cracked ribcage, a beast started to roam, and ever so slowly he tore pieces from my heart to eat from, for a starving heart will always find itself in the maw of the ribcage.” - Wyatt Demouchett

“ My mind is a prison of thoughts and memories, and as I try and rip myself away from the confines of my skull I realize I can never rip this mind from me, for if I were to do such a thing, I would die in an empty prison cell. “ - Wyatt Demouchett

“ I am scalded flesh upon the battlefield, rusted bones in the grave of a boy I no longer am. “ - Wyatt Demouchett

“ If ya look deep inside my eyes you'll find little reflection 'a who I ain't creepin' about, little sorrows in the corners of my pupils, sitting there like dogs starvin' on a chain. “ - Sandro Colorfeid

“ Ya know, people are always saying I'm a hero, I saved so many god damn lives, but the way I see it, there's too many I didn't save to be considered any sort of hero. I sit here in the silence of my mind, sparking up cigarettes and memories, wondering how many bastards and cheats went right under my damn sniffer. Maybe a hundred, maybe only two, but even two bad men out in the wild can make a difference, huh? “ - Sandro Colorfeid

“ I'm starving bones looking for a grave that ain't never been dug wondering if this lonesome ghost is all I can ever be. “ - Sandro Colorfeid

"Humanity lost its fight against evil the day they gave it a name. “ - Zalrifear Dellrick

“ I am no longer tethered to humanity.” - Zalrifear Dellrick

“ I'm a crimson fucking bullet soaring towards all who wronged me and all who didn't, I'm insanity flying on wings of wax and loss. “ - Harvin Scoviney

“ The sane man just don't survive the insane one's wrath.” - Harvin Scoviney

“ I'm living like a landmine, whosoever steps on me is gonna feel that shrapnel dig into their fragile skin, and trust me, the sight won't be so pretty. “ - Harvin Scoviney

“ I'm a ticking time bomb and you best hope you ain't near me when I burst, cuz when I do, it's gonna be an explosion of broken bones and bloodied faces strewn about the concrete of my fucking rage. “ - Harvin Scoviney

“ Ya can yell for the boy I was, but he's buried in a pinewood box and brother, he's just charred bones in a casket. “ - Harvin Scoviney

“ Don't say I don' got what it takes to make it in this life without knowin' my damn past. “ - Carolann Tresparo

“ I'm old, I've seen just 'bout every sorrow there is ta see in this broken man's land, and as I spark up another old cigarette, smokin' away my lifespan with sparks in my dusty ribcage I getsa wonderin' when this ol' man will finally find himself a bit of peace. “ - Rayburn Manski

“ Ya know how it is, ya break a couple times, ya fall from yourself and wonder who the hell ya's sposed ta be, but eventually ya find the peace ya seek. But I'm different. I'm just a gambling man with his wicked little heart worn on a broken sleeve, wondering if these casino chips and blinding lights is all he could ever be. In truth, I don't know me, just who I used ta be. “ - Rayburn Manski

“ Don't pray for me, I don' missed out on every opportunity ta confess, I'm just sittin' on this old bench with a cigarette on my lip, smoke driftin' around me as I ponder on where I'll go when I die. “ - Rayburn Manski

“ I'm a ghost of who God wanted me to be.” - Hayton Mathers

“ Do you ever feel like, maybe you're a promise that's been broken by the Gods? They vowed to love you, vowed to be by your side, but life washed on by and scattered your pieces into the sand, so much so that they could no longer find who you were supposed to be? “ - Else Serafin

"Peace doesn't die, man, it just hides from the chaos sometimes. We just gotta wait for it to feel comfortable in the open, because honestly, chaos leaves a whisper in the wind, some sort of after noise of what happened to you.” - Aaron Crinklewick

“ That man stands lean like a vulture, and instead of the flapping of wings he's got the whinnying of a decaying and black horse, rusted hatchet strapped to his dusty black coat like an omen of what he'll do. “ - Allison Diamond

“ I met a man in the streetlights, he stood tall and lean like a flickering omen of death, and as he offered me his hand, to walk away with me to a place where all the freaks and wolves can be themselves, I put on a smile and found myself a family in the lights of the damning circus. I have since died. But I like the way this grave feels. “ - Zayleen Bevessa

“ He is a silent wolf, jaws gnashing at those who think they can escape the destiny of a circus soul. Together, we are the wolves of tomorrow, gnashing our jaws at the innocent with smiles of crimson and doll like features of cruelty. “ - Zayleen Bevessa

"Beauty knew my name, once. But since then it has withered. “ - Nishi Masago

“ I am a butterfly and a wasp wrapped into one vessel of anger and love that can bleed and fight, so when all my enemies come towards me with grins of sin and blades of death, I shall let my blade fall to my side and do the work for me. “ - Nishi Masago

“ I sit here like a forgotten candle 'a wax, my flame long since passed wonderin' why I didn't find myself in the essence 'a heroism. “ - Danya Cruz

“ In truth, I'm just a kid, my body grew up, but my heart is still just as young as it was thirty years ago. “ - Sametha Springton

“ I don't wanna never ending life, because in truth, I don't think I'd like what humanity would do with eternity.” - Sametha Springton

“ I've seen pain in snapshot crime scene photos and blood spilt on the streets I'd hear about in the news and weep over, but as Charlotte smiles and tells me the past is the past, I know I've got a wonderful future with her. “ - Oscar Forbes

“ I'm just a bullet casing washed to shore, waiting for somebody to pick me up and awe at the used up violence they've found nestled inside the cracks of a rock.” - Asher Broquel

“ I once swore an oath, that I'd protect the people. And I did, but did I ever think about protecting myself? Or was I so wrapped up in the thought that everyone else was a person but me, that I let myself bleed into someone that isn't really me? “ - Asher Broquel

“ Humanity is always growing and changing as flowers do each season, sometimes we're daffodils swaying in the wind, other days we're wilted roses with nothing but thorns, and somedays we're just a regretful weed, shivering in the cracks of the concrete. But all it took to make a flower beautiful was some water and light, and so as the sun rises and it begins to rain, can't you see we're meant to grow during this storm? We're not decaying, we're just growing from out this storm's soil." - Audrey Killva

“ Ya know, I met death in the eyes of a man with cruelty lurking in his veins, ribcage beating empty, his chest an empty night sky of the void. And as he told me I'd never be the same once I met him, he sure was right, huh? Cause as my son was ripped from this world, I knew a scar would be left on my heart like a threadwork patch of memories and sorrows I'd always know. “ - Barry Bosnia

“ She's a beacon of hope in a world so dark, and as her light shimmers like a star in the sky, I know there's a chance humanity will win its war against the dark. “ - Thituna

“ My heart is a lonely little ghost town, filled with cobwebs and dust, old decaying drawings of people I knew hung up on the hallways walls. And as I trace my fingers over the threadwork scar of memories in my mind, I come to realize I'm just another scar in my own heart. “ - Scarlet Westfield

“ I am a cold water sin, dripping from the corners of your eyes and bleeding from the edges of your spine. “ - Devella Minstreiva

“ I, am a woman of the night, dancing so elegantly in the cruel light of the pale moon, sinning as Devil's do. The scared little girl I was is begging me to stop, begging me to turn back, but with a smile stained red, I keep forward on this path of broken bones that are never my own. “ - Devella Minstreiva

“ I've got blood on my hands from men who'd be better off breathing, but sometimes, you have to justify the sin to survive.. because when you step foot on a battlefield, you aren't really yourself. You're this distorted version of who you are, baring a rifle as if it would bring you glory, I was still Adam Eavington when I was at war, but I wasn't me. “ - Adam Eavington

“ I know it feels like this darkness is all we can be, but don't you understand, shadows are deceiving? They follow us and mimic our every action, but those doppelgangers aren't us, they're a twisted vessel of what we never were. Because in truth, we'll never truly achieve the title of darkness, for that implies we're able to be without light, but with the sun shining on us, and the moon washing us in its pale yellow glow, we've found our lighthouse. “ - Adam Eavintgon

“ This is a war, and I'm the only enemy.” - Adanya Oni

“ Eternity is such a damning and distraught curse, and as I seek to find me, I find mirrors standing in front of me, regret flickering in their eyes, and I realize the only person who could ever be there for me, is me. I trace my fingers over the glass of my own cheeks, running a gentle finger over my own glass lip, asking myself why the only connection I have is with the woman in the mirror. Heavy is the burden of being myself. “ - Albersteen

“ I have grown so tired of me.” - Albersteen

“ I've seen a helluva lot in dis world, I seen angels fallin' bloodied from da sky and cruelty smilin' in the eyes 'a death, but I ain't da things I've been through, eh? I'm Abraham feckin' Carlson, and there's sumfin' beautiful about dat. “ - Abraham Carlson

“ I've been through quite a bit, but despite all this, I live and breathe like I was supposed to do, sadly, some people don't get this opportunity, some people are ripped into this world only to be killed the day they were born because of people who don't know how to love. So to all the broken, I'll be a lighthouse at sea, and though those waves crash down so violently and it feels like you've got a ship but no steering wheel, know that I'll lead you home with a light that never flickers. “ - Sandra Dickens

“ I'm Lorelei Metals, not my scars.” - Lorelei Metals

“ I know that this world feels like a big ol' cage, trapping us in the echoes of our mortality, but the key is acceptance that your memory will live on forever in the hearts of those you've loved. “ - Lorelei Metals

“ There's a devil and an angel within us all, and it's up to us to decide which one wins the battle waged inside our crooked lil hearts." - River Metals

“In my eldritch stride I steal all things holy.” - Algonul

“ I am all the shadows accumulated into all seven deadly sins, wiping star light from my lip as I take a taste of all that is holy and let it rattle in my throat. “ - Algonul

“ I am nothing more then a vessel in which darkness lives.” - Algonul

“ I'm a cruel man, and as you look for any sort of mercy in my eyes, you'll find it staring down the barrel of my fucking revolver. “ - Gilderoy Vinefroker

“ I'm a sinner with his heart bared on his sleeve, look at all those scars, all those bullet holes, they're proof I've survived, and if I've lived through all these old assassination scars and treason laced holes, do you really think I can't survive you? “ - Gilderoy Vinefroker

“ I'm screaming into a void of my broken sorrows, wondering why this abyss stares at me with unblinking eyes.” - Annalise Valley

“ When she holds me close to her chest I feel like I can finally be me, as she tucks strands of my hair behind my ear I know I'm gonna be okay, and as she kisses me soft with gentle lips, I know love is a magical thing, healing scars that hands can't touch. In her heart I found a beautiful song, and as I listened to its rhythm and leaned in close, she took my heart in her rough yet gentle hands and told me she'd heal all the broken parts inside. I don't know how I can possibly thank her, but as she tells me she loves me, I know that safe can't even begin to describe how I feel when I lay my head in her lap. “ - Amila Hemizvowe

“ I'm a girl of revolution and smoke, standing sturdy and tall amidst the war I've waged against the weakness that used to make me, but nowadays as I pull back the hammer of this revolver I don't flinch. Because killing has become second nature, and so as I stare down he who made me, I'll let him drop with my human nature." - Kaytlie Dextor

“ My heart is built of buried bones and dying secrets, and as all this violence seethes like rage in me, I know I'm just not the girl I used to be. “ - Kaytlie Dextor

“ In this world, there's cruel men who need to be put down like the dogs they are, and so with my jacket of hidden knives, dare you call me Karma? “ - Cosmina Winchester

“ I put up emotional walls in my mind to keep people out of my heart, because in all honesty there's a certain sense of freedom, in being able to control the way your heart beats. “ - Cosmina Winchester

“ I'm falling from grace on wings of fragile bone sanity, always asking if who I am is good, but I shudder with horror as I see the words flash like crimson on a screen in my mind, "Outlook not so good." I met a devil in the confines of an orphanage I should've been safe at, but he sipped on his delusions so much so that he'd become them, and as his shifty eyes glanced towards me, his boney fingers wrapping around my collar, dragging me to a room of darkness, I knew my life was over before it ever began. “ - Olive Junkshire

“ That man called him a Devil, but I always believed he was a fallen angel, clutching at the clouds with human fingers trying to find anything to stop him from falling regretful through the atmosphere of his sorrow. “ - Olive Junkshire

“ Maybe there aren't any heroes, maybe there aren't any villains, just people who took different god damn paths. “ - Ashelice Curt

“ I'm not a saint, but maybe I'm halfway there." - Ashelice Curt

“ Monsters are always human, they always have the kindest smiles, but they wear grins with bullet fangs, silver revolver glistening like death in the smile of a rich beast. “ - Ballen Morfellos

“ He wears my pain like a jacket, his sins hiding just underneath his sleeve, darkness nestled inside the fabric of my hurt, but I'll wear his pain like a fucking bullet grin. And as he stares down the barrel of my revolver, will he plead guilty and ask for mercy, or will he stand like a statue and greet his death with insanity bleeding from his forehead? “ - Bellerose Kivinstein

“ I was human, once. It was beautiful, the way the flowers recoiled and withered as I stepped into the garden, how the trees howled in pain as I scratched human claws against their bark. I am not life, my friend, but the opposite of it. “ - Bezeltorren

“ Truth is we're all a mosaic 'a all the people we've met and all the things we been, so as this light shines through me I know I'll always be somethin' beautiful, won' I? “ - Rosaline North

“ Some men like ta call 'emselves coyotes howlin' in the dark, and once I met a man in the forests who called himself just another animal, biting and barking at anythin' that gave him a reason. But ya know what? If he's jus' another animal, then I'll be jus' another got damn hunter. “ - Rosaline North

“ I've been goin' knuckle ta knuckle with evil men ever since I stared me rage ridden father in the eye, and so as I stumbled through life in a haze, wonderin' when I'd find myself in the eye of some bloody peace, Hymond caught me in 'is arms and danced with me in a storm 'a peace and love ever aching. That man is brave as all hell, and with his heart scarred and fragile in me hand, I kiss his wounds and stitch the scars in 'is mind together so we can always dance so beautifully.” - Cleopatra Peterson

“ I'd never met a soul so brave and beautiful until my eyes met her steely gaze. “ - Samantha Robertson

“ The world ain't wicked, but people sure as shit can be." - Samantha Robertson

“ I'm not the best man in the world, I've killed, I've cheated at cards and gotten people hurt, but at least I'm halfway fucking decent. For Naomi holds my fragile and scarred heart with a smile that saves the goodness inside of me. When she holds my hand, and tells me with my scarred and rough hands she trusts me completely, I know that I'll be okay despite the murder and rage that nestles in between the cracks of my ribcage. She is my peace, and I will do whatever it takes to keep her in my heart. So with my sin etched bones I pray that God is forgiving to he who has a kind, yet murder scarred heart. “ - Perov Teras

“ With a heart so stained, and a mind so scarred, I walk this path knowing it is Hell I deserve, but alas, Naomi says God forgives he who fights for the side of the right, and so I pray to every God listening to this poor broken soul that for once in my God forsaken life, I do not stray left of this path I tread on tattered tap dancing shoes." - Perov Teras

“ I am a fragile beast, please, spare me of the point end of your blade, I was never savage, only weak and frail, hiding in a corner of my mind so dark it'd turn any star into a shadow. “ - Beverly Himisear

“ I can look deep into the eyes of who I am and find someone I'm not swimming in my dark pupils, and as I recoil and wither in the sight of who I've become, I must ask why fate vowed against the troubled girl. “ - Beverly Himisear

“ I suppose this is all I can ever be, and so with sorrow lurking in my chest, sitting there fragile and gentle like a forgotten toy in a chest of more loved dolls, I rust away into something forgotten by time and me. “ - Beverly Himsear

“ As my brothers went disappearing in the night, I didn't know if I'd ever be okay again, cuz in truth, they were my heroes, and without them I felt so lost. But as Rebelle takes me by the hand and tells me we'll make it through all the treachery, I know I'll be okay. With them I feel so safe, and as they squish my widdle cheeks and calls me their cute little gremlin, I know that I couldn't possibly be more in love then I am. “ - Marine Scoviney

“ Its been such a better place since they came along, and as they kiss me gently under the light of the sun, I feel my heart burst with colors that only exist in the mind and soul. “ - Marine Scoviney

“ Oh I was just another starving question, but my answer was always dark and twisted, a decaying little rose in the dying cracks of emptiness and pain. So as I stalk these fields, cigar on my lip bursting sparks and chaos from my lip, dare you trifle with a dead man walkin'? “ - Borat Coolraymo

“ My friend, a skinny and starving boy is easy prey for a lion, and so I had ta become somethin' other then the rabbit, standing daintily in the field of wolves who intimidated the lion. So, I grew into my red fur, ripping into my skin, becomin' something less then human as I arose from my coffin a beast of a different kind. I ain't just some skinny and starvin' boy of Africa no more brother, I'm a red lion of the O'Connel outlaws, and as I grin, blood on my teeth, you best know it ain't mercy I'm firing from my revolver. “ - Borat Coolraymo

“ I wasn't born for peace, but maybe I can fight for it. I can feel the colors bleeding from my soul like paint dripping down a canvas, and as I rock myself back and forth, asking myself why this world didn't protect me, I come to realize that the world never made anyone safe. Because the world is dangerous, and I learned that too young. “ - Bowie Hunton-Blather

“ I feel as if, as I roll in these sheets I'm sleepin' in a strangers bed, wonderin' where who I am went, but as these blankets wrap 'round my throat like a noose, I know this, is who I am, and from now on out, always will be. As the darkness encroaches upon my vision, and I fall inta the dark, I know that no matter what I do, I will not escape being this beast called Shawn Moot. So with tragedy in my veins, regretfully I continue ta be me. “ - Shawn Moot

“ I can hardly travel these lands of trouble without finding the edge of a blade, running my fingers over the metal as to bleed this man I'm not from my finger tips. But I'm skin, I'm bone, I'm thoughts and withering roses, but the one thing I'm not, and never fucking will be, is Shawn Moot, and that, is perhaps the greatest tragedy of all." - Shawn Moot

“ I was just a wild gal, dancing at clubs and bars, wondering where my life went, but perhaps that too, was life. Living wild and free, trying to find someone to make my colors burst like fireworks booming in the night sky. I met him in a bowling alley, striking down pins with his buddies, and as I caught his eye, I wondered if perhaps that was life I was staring at. Sure, we had our troubles, we had our hardships, we had breaks, and we had fights. But in the end, I don't think I'd want anyone's heart but Rolando's in my gentle hands. “ - Bridget Shontell

“ My life has been troubled, I've met a man who barked at car lights and shadows, looking for any reason to bite, but I've also met peace in the eyes of a goofy and highly stupid guy who makes me laugh uncontrollably. “ - Bridget Shontell

“ Once upon a time I told myself I'd never dance again, but as she beckons me to the spotlight and tells me this dance would be her pleasure, I follow her, swaying gently back and forth into the light with a pained smile creeping up the corners of my lip. “ - Alexandria Hartman

“ As she dances fingers against my scars and tells me she loves me, I know that somewhere in this heart is a flame, sparking for a revolution against the darkness in me. But alas, I have always been a moth drawn to her own fucking flame, sparking up cigarettes in hope to find the light that draws me ever nearer to my demise on a golden sunrise. “ - Alexandria Hartman

“ I've been faced with trouble all my life, smoking cigars wonderin' if these sparks would be enough ta keep me warm, but they never was brother, they never was. “ - Wesley Kamstool

“ A good friend of mine once said that we're all just tryin' to be somebody, and maybe the fact that we're striving for that, means we've already grasped it. But I've always been a ghost, a grave etched with no name, and so am I really someone, or have I always been a lonely no one, sitting on the edge of a cigar, rising from it like the smoke of a dying man's breath? “ - Wesley Kamstool

“ Perhaps as life looks at me with sorrowed eyes, she mourns for the man who never lived, but if she could dance her fingers against my cold cheek, would she find Spring and Summer blossoming in my broken smile? Or would she find Winter and decaying bones ripping through my chest? Maybe she wouldn't find a man, but rather a ghost pretending ta be one. “ - Wesley Kamstool

“ Perhaps this grave of war and old gunshots is all I can really ever be. “ - Bri Calzato

“ All these scars have killed me ever so gently, and as I'm laid in the soil next to the worms and moles, I must wonder if this is what it means, to be alive. But this is no life I've lived, it's been death, disguised as the greater good. “ - Bri Calzato

“ I yearn for the gentle touch of someone who'll love me, battle scars and all, for maybe love would heal the wounds sitting idle on my breath, but these scars are roots dug deep into my heart, wrapping around my ribcage until I can hardly breathe without pieces of dirt and pain ripping themselves from out my throat. “ - Bri Calzato

“ I honestly fear I am nothing but a bullet cased grave, etched with a name that is not quite my own, and as I trace my fingers over the words and numbers that tell me when and how I died, I get this haunting feeling that I've never really lived. As if I am a ghost, haunting her own lonely little grave where all the flowers and roses came to wither and fade like me." - Bri Calzato

“ I'm caught in this war I wage in my mind, traveling this labyrinth of scars that sit in the hallway of my brain like sorrowed questions never to be answered by this heartbeat, and as I wade gently in these waters, they start flowing red with blood that has not ever been my own. “ - Brooke Woodward

“ With our blades we charge, but alas, as we swing them our hearts become blackened ash of a dying willow tree, and we have always been standing underneath the shade. “ - Brooke Woodward

“ My heart is such a long maze, and as I traverse through its shadows I wonder whom would so care to travel alongside me, for this dark place is a part of me, and to love me means you too, must be dark. “ - Brooke Woodward

“ I have come to the horrifying conclusion that we simply aren't human, anymore. We're little more than beasts, ripping at the seers threadwork fabric set before us, we follow blindly into destiny with hearts of steel and gnashing teeth, and gently, ever so gently the seers cut us from thread and watch us fall down ever so down into a hole of our own inhumanity. Perhaps this is their way of punishing us. For we poisoned the garden with our wicked hearts, asking why all the roses turned black, and why the daffodils withered and died. “ - Brooke Woodward

“ Ya know, as those two people fell in spurts of red and my misery, I knew I wasn't ever gonna be the same, so at the cost of another boy's peace, I protected my own. But I guess murder never gave peace to anyone, huh? It hides in the cracks of your heart, and as it sits there like a forgotten secret, you know it'll always be the blood ya bleed. “ - Bruce Willingfell

“ My sons tell me they love me, they say I'm their hero, Ragnar says as I accepted him as the king he is instead 'a the princess the world tried ta make him, he knew I would always be a hero ta me. And Jaspel would always smile, and say I'm a good father. But they don't know the murder in my heart, the secret bloodstains in my ribcage. “ - Bruce Willingfell

"The world never betrayed me brother, but you did." - Ralph Artvaina

"Once upon a time I wished upon shooting stars, asking for the mercy of my decaying, bruised and ugly heart. But alas, I found wishes never come true, and so here I sit, heartless." - Hartman Brokedallo

"You know, I've had too many mother's ta count, too many black toothed bloodied knuckled father's ta speak each individual name of the fists that broke me down ta tears and bone. I ain't never had family, every brother I ever had pushed me down flights 'a stairs and called me an outcast of his family. Every sister stabbed me in the fuckin' back, but when I get ta lookin' ta people who ain't known me for all that long, and I see some sense of, redemption swimmin' in the river of their pupils, I get ta wonderin' if family is found in ghosts and people mercy failed." - Ralph Artvaina

"I stared her eye ta eye, and I can't say I found a human swimmin' in them blackened, decaying pupils." - Ralph Artvaina

"I think I died the day I stared mercy dead in the eye and said, "This just ain't no truthful sort of matter." - Ralph Artvaina

"Justice isn't something we can change the definition of. If you twist the words and tangle the truths, you can't call it justice, all you can really do is call it what it is. A stone cold lie based in cruelty, and an agenda." - Hartvorth Devilsky

"Circumstance pushes people a helluva lot more than trust." - Darmina Lightsworth

"It is only in death I feel the presence of life." - Vokens Samtino

"If life is not an adventure, I'd much rather do something other than live." - Lewis Kifle

"Every once and awhile, God must let Lucifer roam earth as a reminder that not all in this world is beautiful." - Royal Hondros

"The heart that loves, perhaps, is the one that breaks." - Lukell Calderi

"I have found that she is not a garden, as those wither. She is not the sun, for it sinks, nor is she the moon, nor the stars, for her beauty and grace is unfaltering, and as I see her warrior's smile, I know that perhaps to be alone with her in this maze of my heart is not such a damning fate." - Brooke Woodward

"In that old revolver of secrets and the sins of a ghost, I met the darkness in me and walked willingly into the decay of my own broken heart." - Callina Troubrewskey

"He's a stain on my heart I don' wanna see go." - Dori Thievesmire

"To become something a little less than yourself is the loneliest achievement of all. And as I sit here, in a corner of my heart, I come to realize how lonely I really am." - Harpwrit Thievesmire

"If my heart was a chord, a melody of seven strings, I don't think anyone would care to listen." - Alckoline Thievesmire

"I looked at the world through a dead man's point of view, and came to realize death is not so peaceful after all. To sit lonely in your casket with the worms and bastards would be such a sorrowful sort of damnation." - Elfine Thievesmire

"Inside of me something real started to grow like a cancer, blossoming from my chest." - Myka Thievesmire

"I'd never claimed to meet death until I looked into the eyes of a Devil, who with a crooked and wicked grin tore his children, along with all whom knew them kicking and screaming from a garden of Eden." - Devanhue Connor

"Screw that destiny shit, take hold of your reigns, kid, don't lose control like I did. Cuz the only fate I can imagine that's worse than being me, is becoming me." - Denzel Thievesmire

"I'm one strike away from death, kid. Don't go damnin' yourself ta this fate of dead end home runs and hollow bones." - Denzel Thievesmire

"I can sense the death of identity in your smile, Rupen. Dare you place it in the tips of my fingers, only to watch it flitter away like cinders from my cigarette?" - Rucarlo Devinski

"Evil where's the face of the every day man." - Clarice Sanchez

"Aching and gentle I lost my heart. It was a cruel melancholy tune, drifting through the skies like a soft cinder, and as I reached for it with greedy paws, it slipped like water between my fingers." - Maxadellas Zonestrame

"It is not so easy, finding who you are in hiding echoes." - Camilla Davidson

"If you are loving, my father, give me all I had back and beg for forgiveness from the man peace never seemed to know. But I suppose you can not give me graves without grief." - Alastair Sambridge

"Here I sit, like sacrilege on my tongue." - Alastair Sambridge

"A grave is creeping up the corners of your sorrowed eyes." - Royal Hondros

"It is always Winter, in my ribcage." - Benjamin Samahil

"If she were to dig her fingers into the essence of my heart, I fear all she'd find is a dark shadow of who I am. And as tar and crimson spills between the fingers of the pure, does the kind become cruel? Does the loved become the hated?" - Benjamin Samahill

"I died long before I met you, you simply shoveled dirt in an already decaying casket." - Benjamin Samahill

"I met a man in the dying lights of my faith, and with an almost, life saving smile he changed the bulbs." - Rhys Breeze

"I am an extant form of man, no more am I Benjamin Samahill, just the vessel in which he once lived." - Benjamin Samahill

"I lay my hand on a Bible and it withers like the mercy in my heart." - Antonio Sharp

"Some people will take their bows and their arrows and catch fire to the flint headstones of death sitting idle on the wood of their instrument of murder. Some people will always crave chaos, but a true warrior craves peace, above all else." - Enzvilina Harbrita

"That woman dances with a ghost and expects to find something living beating inside her heart." - Hoshino Akinori

"Pieces 'a his reflection become marred with mine." - Sandro Colorfeid

"Is it really madness if it brings you peace?" - Moores Thomas

"My brother once said he was a rabid Stoneshire dog, and it's with fear dripping down the notches of my spine I say, I'm a blood hungry Stoneshire wolf." - Mackton Stoneshire

"Every man who's lain dead at my feet haunts me, but, with a badge on my chest and a heart that rarely feels, I pull another trigger and call it justice." - Vayton Camilo

"In a kill or be killed world, I must regretfully call myself more then a grave." - Vayton Camilo

"My brother looks at me with human eyes, but it's hate tangled in his love for his own life that makes him something less then the man I knew." - Marvin Grudges

"You ever look at yourself through the lens of someone you know and realize, you ain't never been the good guy?" - Marvin Grudges

"In the gunfire smoke of another day, I traverse through the heart of war, wondering if it beats inside my ribcage." - Ulysses Tenbarge

"It's not life that kills people, it's not cruelty or the sea. Trust in strangers and people with kind smiles has killed more men then I've ever watched go down in sprays of red mortality." - Narthal Vormalew

"I met cruelty in the eyes of a widow, heart bared black on her empty sleeve." - Dante Dunbar

"I don't understand the fundamental roots of evil, all that I know is, I'm swingin' from 'em." - Dante Dunbar

"They stood still at his grave, like vultures, who knew their job was done." - Sarvel Humington

“ You want protection, right? You wanna make a name for yourself in the notches of history? Then come with me, cause this town is full of crooks and broke back cheats, we're all reapers here, so let me give ya your damn scythe." - Sarvel Humington

"Tell me somethin' kid, if a man can look death eye ta eye every day of his God forsaken life, what do you think he'll do when faced with life?" - Sarvel Humington

"I was like a wet cat, scratchin' and tearin' at anything that got damn near two inches 'a me. And god damn brother, something about that chaos just killed me." - Sarvel Humington

"I would watch for monsters under your bed, child. You have no idea what hides in the wake of nightmares and dreams." - Mizella Shrew

“ You can't jump into the casket of secrets and expect it not to close." - Moores Thomas

“ Sometimes there's a little monster prowling in the depths of our mind, he stamps his little feet, always wearing a cute little frown, but don't let that grumpiness inside of him get to your heart, because that's when it gets real difficult to exorcise this nasty little monster who holds you down. “ - Krystie Shontell

“ am caught in a bad dream, except every time I close my eyes, I escape it. If only for a mere night, I escape my mind. I've never been able to dream, really. My mind doesn't conjure images for me to see, well, in a sense it does, just not in the sense that I dream. I can picture a meadow of grass, I can picture the nights of terror, I can picture the darkness inside of my mind, but I don't particularly dream. I hit the pillow and wake up. And on the rare occasion that I do dream, it is my mother I see in the dark. “ - Zachariah Rinderez

“ I am a king without his crown, wondering why his kingdom ever followed him into battle. “ - Bardzimi Collingwood

“ They call this strange land, New York city, they say it's filled to the brim with corruption, evil spilling from the side of the glass. “ - Russel Cormelius

“ You can deny the innate desire within to hunt down those who kicked you down, but is it really worth it, to let your enemies escape and watch as they continue their ways? As they say, be merciful to the cruel and you're cruel to the merciful. “ - Pascal Von Reddix

#writing #characters #dialogue #author #coollines #characterdevelopment #characterwriting

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rebelwrites · 4 years ago

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Chapter Four: The Nightmares

Summary // Chapter list / Masterlist

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A/N: as always I’d love to know your feedback and reblogs/comments are very much appreciated

Brooke found it extremely hard to take in all the information she had been given in such a short amount of time. But for some reason even though she was still processing the information she felt like she was at home and this was where she belonged. She had finally met her real parents, and had so many questions but she feared if she asked her brain would explode from information overload.

“Do you want some food sweetie?” Her mum smiled at her. Brooke was just about to decline when her stomach growled making her mother chuckle. “Come on then darling. Let’s go to the kitchen and we can chat as well”

As she was leading Brooke to the kitchen the only thing she could think was how lost she was going to get trying to navigate this house. It was the biggest house she had ever been in.

Brooke watched as her mum started getting the ingredients for Mac and cheese.

“Can I have it”-

“Extra cheesy, I know sweetheart. It was always your favourite” she smiled telling the chef exactly how she remembered her daughter liked her Mac and cheese.

As Brooke sat at the huge table in the middle of the kitchen she felt nervous. She didn’t know what to say or what to do.

“You have grown into a beautiful young lady” her mum smiled at her and all Brooke could do was nod. “I know this is so much to take in but if you ever need to ask anything that’s okay”

“Thank you” Brooke smiled slightly “just thing to get my head round things you know”

A comfortable silence fell over Brooke and her mum, as Brooke inhaled the food that was placed in front of her. Their silence was soon broken as the boys burst into the room.

“How are you feeling?” James asked with a small smile on his face, he still couldn’t believe his little sister was home after all these years.

“Better now I have food” Brooke nodded towards the bowl of cheesy goodness. There was no stopping the yawn, with everything that had gone on she had forgotten how tired she was.

“Someone’s tired,” James laughed. “Finish your food and we will show you where your room is”

“She can sleep in my quarters” Xavier smiled making eye contact with Brooke, his blue eyes glistening in the light. She couldn’t lie he was smoking hot and made her feel like a teenager again.

“No way” James growled glaring at his best friend.

“I was gonna sleep on my sofa don’t worry bro” Xavier grinned.

“Still not happening” James said “if you have a problem with that I’m sure my dad will step in and agree with me”

“Fine” Xavier huffed “she can have the guest room down the hall from me”

“I’m going for a smoke and then can someone, anyone I don’t really care who, show me where I’m sleeping” Brooke said standing up to head outside. As she walked outside Xavier followed Brooke.

“So this is a pretty nice place” she smiled leaning against the wall as she sparked her smoke.

“Yeah, it’s taken us a long time to get the compound how we wanted it” Xavier smiled.

“I know one hundred percent I’m going to get lost” she laughed looking up at Xavier before sighing. “I blocked a lot of my memories out”

“I’m sure now you are home, you will start to remember your childhood memories, I mean we did have a blast” Xavier laughed sadly.

“Maybe” Brooke shrugged, throwing the cigarette into the bucket by the back door.

“Come on then Bumble Bee” he smiled opening the door for her “let’s show you your room so you can get some rest. One of the prospects has taken your things up”

Brooke nodded, pulling her hoodie tighter around her body as she followed Xavier through the house, which again confirmed she was going to get so lost as they went up at least five flights of stairs.

“So this is where we all sleep” Xavier smiled pointing out whose room was who. “This floor is just for the president, Vice President and their kids”

The room was bigger than any room she had ever had, but the one thing that got her attention was the king sized bed that was in the centre of the room, just one look and she knew she would get some pretty decent sleep. Pulling the bandana out of her hair, she ran her fingers through her hair before tying it into a messy bun. She noticed her suitcase at the end of the bed and instantly unzipped it rummaging for her pyjamas. Taking her clothes she went into the ensuite to do her night time routine and to get changed. As she walked back into the room Xavier was leaning against the wall on his phone.

Brooke crawled into bed, letting a content sigh as her body sunk into the mattress that honestly felt like a gigantic marshmallow.

“So I will just be in the room two doors down on the right okay” Xavier smiled pushing himself off the wall “don’t be scared to wake me if you need anything okay”

“Okay” Brooke nodded as she snuggled down.

“Sleep well my bumble bee” Xavier whispered, turning the light off as he walked out of her room. Within a few moments sleep took over.

Brooke’s body jolted, causing her to wake with a scream, tears streamed down her face and her body was hot from sweat. She tried to calm herself and her breathing down but nothing was working. The nightmares were getting worse and she hadn’t had a decent night's sleep in forever. Rolling out of bed she padded to the bathroom trying to cool her face down with cold water. Her breathing was still erratic. She hated these nightmares, it wasn’t a dream it was the memories of the torture she endured replaying every single night. Taking a deep breath she left the bathroom turning the light off behind her.

As she walked over to her bed, she saw Xavier walk into the room.

“I heard screaming” he said panicked “are you okay Brooke”

“No” she said, shaking her head, not making eye contact, all she heard was his sigh before he engulfed her into a tight hug. Confusion washed over her alongside the panic. All because his scent started to calm her down, nothing had ever worked before so why did his scent do something to her.

“Nightmare?” He whispered.

“Yeah, I can’t go back” she sobbed as the tears took over “please don’t make me go back”

“Go back where?” Xavier asked.

“To him” she sobbed “I can’t do it again I’m not strong enough”

“You aren’t going anywhere darling” Xavier whispered “no one is going to hurt you ever again okay you are safe here”

“I don’t want to sleep alone” she mumbled feeling extremely weak and vulnerable.

“Do you want me to stay with you?” He asked, he didn’t want to overstep any boundaries.

“Please” she whispered.

“Come on then let’s get you back to bed” he said placing a single kiss on the top of her head, before guiding her back to bed.

As soon as he had laid down, Brooke gravitated towards him, nuzzling under his arms. Xavier just held her as he soothingly stroked her back and soon enough her breathing had shallowed out and she had fallen back asleep.

Xavier couldn’t get back to sleep though, he couldn’t bring himself to just in case Brooke needed him again. So he found himself staring into the darkness. He started to feel angry over the thought of her being mistreated at such a young age and he wanted nothing more than to find the bastard that hurt his bumble bee and to make them pay. She looked so innocent as she slept in his arms, they still didn’t know the full extent of her past but had a feeling it wasn’t pretty and that she was still dealing with the trauma of it all. It was in that moment that Xavier vowed to find whoever made Brooke’s life hell and make them pay.

He didn’t realise that he had fallen asleep until a gentle knock on the door woke him. Rubbing his eyes as Hazel, Brooke’s mum walked into the room, with a soft smile on her face.

“You couldn’t keep away could you” she laughed softly. “How is she?”

“I swear I didn’t do anything” Xavier said looking down at Brooke who was still asleep “I woke up to her screaming from a nightmare and couldn’t just lay in my bed. She didn’t want to sleep alone so I stayed”

“Baby it’s fine” Hazel smiled “we heard the scream too and knew full well you would be straight in here, just like you did when you were younger. Did she say anything about the nightmare?”

“No she just kept mumbling that she couldn’t go back” Xavier sighed “she’s been through some serious shit and I promise Hazel I will make them pay.”

“I know darling” she smiled. “I know you and your father have club business to deal with this morning so do you want me to stay here until she wakes?”

“Please I don’t want her to be left alone” Xavier whispered as he carefully moved Brooke off his chest.

#rebel writes original #can love save a life?#romance #motorcycle club romance #motorcycle club #love #loss #writing community

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spookyspaghettisundae · 4 years ago

Text

The Crow or the Sparrow

Drops of blood and footprints marked the snow, visible in broad daylight for even the worst of hunters to follow with ease. But no sane hunter would dare pursue such a trail. Neither animal nor man had left these tracks.

Claws that had slain countless men and women and children. Walking upon two legs.

A slight limp, owed to injuries from which it had bled, pushing forward, ever forward, lurching, and shambling farther and farther away from the city.

Snow crunched under every light footstep taken by two shadowy figures. In pursuit of their inhuman quarry, they strode across uneven terrain, far away from man-made roads and paths. Garbed in heavy jackets, with trouser legs and boots and coattails caked in the white powder of snow, their slender silhouettes almost blended in with the forest around them when they came to a stop.

Even in broad daylight, the canopy of barren trees that made up the sprawling Blackwood sufficed to blanket it in a dreary, dreamy gloom. Little clouds of condensing air puffed away from the mouths of the two hunters, forming beyond the scarves and tricorne hats that covered their faces, then dissipating in the cold breeze.

One of them looked around, as if confused. The other stared at him, then followed his erratically wandering gaze.

Were they being followed by something else?

“You sense something?” asked the other in a hushed hiss. The sound of her voice sliced through the wintry air like a knife. “Is it here? Watching us?”

“No,” Johnn muttered. “It's—I’ve been here before.”

The woman’s eyes narrowed at him.

“What is that supposed to mean? You’re a bloody bandit that has been robbing the king’s men in this fucking forest for years. I’d be surprised if you hadn’t,” Nora said.

He almost swiveled, glared at her, then swallowed a response.

The two of them breathed heavily, using the brief respite to recover from their forced march through the layer of unforgiving snow.

He finally replied, with a voice that trembled, “The Blackwood is huge. There’re parts no man has ever stepped foot in. Parts no man should ever step foot in, what with the fair—”

“Shut up. Don’t waste breath on their wretched name. Is this their domain? Is that why we’re stopping?”

“No. Like I said—I’ve been here before,” Johnn repeated.

He pointed to a large boulder, now covered in snow, near a fallen tree, where a tangle of gnarled roots stood out from the ground, where a storm had uprooted the ancient tree. A natural landmark, no doubt.

“You can hear the ocean from here, yeah?”

Nora only nodded.

“And the trickle of a brook nearby?”

“No, what—”

“Well, I can, and I know this place. The brook leads to a cave. You have to dive through water for a bit, then you reach a larger cave, connecting to an even larger one. A cove where some slaver pirates used to hide out.”

“So what? Are you thinking he—”

“I don’t know. But it’s where Terry died, and where I killed their captain. And it is giving me the creeps just thinkin’ about it.”

“Then what in the hell is there to give you the creeps anymore? Thought you Merry Lot did all those windbags in,” Nora said, every word mumbled more than the last.

“I killed Shark-Eyes,” Johnn said, the sentence riding on a sigh. “Have the scars to always remind me and can’t taste sugar anymore where I bit my tongue to break his spell.”

“What—he some kind of warlock?”

“How should I know? The unnatural is your specialty,” he quipped.

Nora’s heartbeat picked up speed when she sensed Johnn smirk underneath his bandana.

“All I know is that he is dead, he used to work some sorta black magick, and his hideout used to be ‘round these parts. Now, what do you think the odds are, that—you know, possibly—the alchemist we’re chasin’ is a bit balmy on the crumpet—what are the odds his magick has got something to do with old dead Shark-Eyes and his warlock—warlockery? What do you even call that shite?”

“I call it bad news. Who cares what it’s called?” Nora said, ending her question on a sharp note that left no question.

Johnn pointed past the uprooted tree and the boulder sticking out of the pristine snow. Before he could say something, Nora said, “Fine, who knows—maybe there is a connection. Maybe not. What say you, though—hear me out—you stop being a poodle-faker, we ignore this for now, and we follow the fucking blood trail we’ve been following since bloody Lesterfield?”

She drew her flint-lock pistol for emphasis and tapped the brim of her hat with the weapon’s fine barrel—now adorned with intricate etchings of crucifixes and mystic seals used to exorcise demons. Johnn’s shoulders heaved and then slumped in a shrug, punctuated by another sigh.

“Fine,” he groaned. “But if we end up following this trail into that cave, then…”

“Then what?”

Johnn stammered several broken sentences that failed to connect, prompting Nora to tell him to shut up. She sprung into motion before he could protest, trudging through the snow. He followed.

Their breathing and the crunching of frosted grounds accompanied them for dozens of paces more, as they gained speed and vigor, staving off the cold. The rest of the forest stayed eerily silent. Not even the crows dared to caw that day.

Johnn murmured behind her, “You could wear a dress if—”

“Shut up.”

He did.

Dozens of paces more they followed the trail. Passing snapped branches, here; holes in the snow turned vermillion, where droplets of blood had fallen, there. And always those lurching motions, like the creature sometimes moved on all fours, then on his legs again. Claws had scarred a tree trunk in his path where the alchemist had braced himself and caught his breath. Now long gone—but the huntress could almost smell the ghost of his presence, only hours ahead of them passing through here.

The trickling sound of water grew louder as they hiked, loud enough that even Nora could hear it despite the noise of their march.

The red dots in the snow and the tracks spoke volumes: Nora read immediately how the transformed alchemist, Baxter Hanrahan, had trampled down the grounds around here, splashing himself with the cold and refreshing water. Cleansing his wound.

A singular bullet rested in the brook, water flowing around it where it jittered. The stream of water was not strong enough to carry it away. He must have extracted that from his injury.

Then he had followed the natural path leading down the flow of the brook. Because it had stopped snowing several hours ago, and these trails had been left after the snowfall, she knew they were gaining on the wounded monster.

Standing still and letting her gaze sweep in the direction in which the thin stream of water flowed, framed by the serene, shining and glistening teeth of ice that lined the brook’s edges, the tracks led right into a small, cavernous opening, yawning with a deep darkness that her eyes could not fathom.

Nora clicked her tongue and raised a hand to silence Johnn before he could utter any stupid remarks about having been right. She swallowed the urge to swear up a storm of profanities that could have made a sailor blush.

More than him having been right, she hated the idea that they had to go search a cave for the damned alchemist. More than that even, she hated the idea that this might somehow be connected to another damned sorcerer.

“We’re better off not going in that way,” Johnn said. “Unless you like your gunpowder wet, I suggest we climb down the smuggler’s cove, rather than crawling through the thief’s entrance.”

Clicking her tongue again, Nora shook her head.

Johnn pulled up his crossbow and she could hear the smugness riding on his voice as he added, “Of course, if you chose to use—”

Pointing a finger at his face and then turning her head to follow the gesture with a furious glare sufficed to shut him up again this time. Seeing only his gray eyes sparkle out from in between his hat and scarf sufficed to convey the smugness he found in his small victory. She knew his face too well.

Then that sparkle froze. His gaze hardened. Stared through her. Past her. At something that only now caught the corner of her eye, like the shadow she always spotted at the edge of her vision. Only tangible now.

Within a split second, they aimed their weapons at the third figure; bodily reactions and instincts that happened without thinking. Nora stared down the sights of her pistol and blinked once her gaze met that of yellow, strange eyes. Wide, with a strip of black glistening wet in them, like looking into the eyes of a goat.

Indeed, the two hunters stared into the eyes of a bestial man, whose face resembled a goat, crowned by a harmonious pair of winding horns, a lot like those of a ram. A figure that resembled a man in that it stood upright, though he stood upon hooves for feet. Garbed in layers of thick linen cloth and a dark red robe, frayed around the edges. His clawed hands clutched an old wooden staff, against which he leaned.

Like the two, this goat-man was frozen. In shock.

Nora recognized the sentiment. She recognized the goat-man.

“No,” she said, clipped.

Lowered her pistol and raised an open gloved palm towards Johnn, adding, “Lower your weapon, he is harmless. Well, maybe not harmless, but—not harmful.”

Johnn’s hesitation surfaced in form of the crack of his leather clad finger loosening from around the trigger of his crossbow, but the tension in his defensive posture remained.

“Isn’t it—isn’t he—”

“Not all fair—not all of them are bad, I suppose. Well, at least he isn’t,” she said, peeling her attention away from Johnn and looking back to the goat-man.

The beast-man tilted his head and his intelligent goat eyes betrayed a fearful intelligence as they darted back and forth in between Johnn and Nora. Cutlery and tiny wooden carvings, hanging from threads of twine attached to his belt, clacked, and jingled softly. How he had appeared out of nowhere, without a sound, such a thing only the fair folk could explain.

Goat-man not only leaned on his staff—he hugged it, as if it offered him protection, yet only rendered his appearance more vulnerable and innocent. Johnn finally, audibly, lowered his crossbow.

Nora had rescued the goat-man in this same forest. Slew a vicious witchcrafter who wanted to eviscerate the creature for his innards, for divining secrets or some nonsense.

Over a whole year prior to this day.

Understandably frightening in appearance to most, Nora still sensed the same softness in the fair creature as he stood before them. The bushy hair on his chin swayed gently in the breeze, almost underlining that notion.

He had helped her before—returned the favor—when she escaped from the penitentiary and almost perished in these same woods, injured and alone, at the mercy of autumn’s chill.

The goat-man nodded his head. Stayed silent, as he always did. A greeting, perhaps?

Nora suspected they spoke no common tongue that they could share. They had yet to exchange any words.

But the goat-man pointed to the cave entrance upon which he stood. To where the brook continued to trickle away, flowing into that gaping shadowy hole. Where a greater, more sinister darkness awaited them.

The goat-man shook his head. With purpose and deliberation, he shook his head back and forth, warning them of the danger below.

“We have no choice, friend,” she said, speaking those words with a softness that felt even alien to herself. She, too, shook her head.

They could not speak to one another in words they understood. Not like this. Yet they both understood.

The goat-man turned slowly, carefully, and raised a hand. He pointed one of his long, blackened claws to the trees behind him, following with his own eyes to draw all attention to it. To where the soothing sound of ocean waves lapped against jagged cliffs.

“Is he showing us where to go?” Johnn asked. “I mean, we would have gone there anyway.”

Nobody answered.

The goat-man turned to peer back at Nora. She nodded deeply at him in return.

“Thank you,” she said.

The goat-man tilted his head again and stood still. Watched.

Nora started in the direction he had pointed to. She shot a glance at Johnn and waved at him to follow.

She stopped again as the goat-man descended from the rocks above the cave entrance, approaching her. Not frozen in fear, but unsure what to expect, she studied the goat-man’s every motion until he halted in front of her, standing only one pace away. He looked so old. So ancient. His fur grayed and silvery. And he smelled of pine resin, and campfires, and a unique, strange musk.

From inside his tattered robes, he produced something, held caringly.

As his sharply clawed fingers unfurled, he presented a tiny object in his weathered palm. There rested a small bird, intricately carved from wood. Impossible to recognize what kind of bird it represented, she locked eyes with the goat-man to discern what this gesture meant.

He stretched his arm out further to her, splaying his fingers to the limit, motioning her to take the carved keepsake from him.

Nora took it and closed her gloved hand around it with the same loving care that he must have applied to craft it. She nodded again to express gratitude and the goat-man mimicked the motion.

They withdrew from him and walked on towards the bluffs, where the sound of the ocean’s upset waves beckoned them.

Looking over her shoulder, Nora found the goat-man to be watching them leave, observing their steadfast march to doom. She found herself studying the carved bird in her palm every few steps.

It reminded her of both of a sparrow and a crow. Which—was unclear.

It felt more like a symbol. Like a charm or talisman.

Spiraling, harmonic patterns, mirroring those upon the goat-man’s staff had been shaved into its surfaces and painted dark, also reminding her of the old ways, the old days of the kingdom that only survived in museums and ruins, driven into fading obscurity by the church’s relentless efforts to quell ancient evils.

She eventually shoved the tiny item into one of her coat pockets and when she looked back to where she expected to see the goat-man still watching them, she only saw the slender black trunks of cold and naked trees. He had vanished. As silently as he had appeared in the first place.

Johnn stared at her till she met his gaze.

“What was that about?”

“I don’t know,” Nora muttered.

She trained her eyes on the snowy grounds before her once again. The ocean grew louder with every step, heavier with every herald of the waves. More powerful. Foretelling the danger they knowingly approached. The crunching of snow underfoot ceased once they reached the edge and naked rocks and gravel crackled underneath the soles of their boots.

They overlooked a steep rocky drop to the crashing waves, reaching from one end of the Red Coast to the other as far as they could see. Fog and clouds swallowed the horizon beyond the sea.

Johnn nodded his head to indicate something on the cliff’s face beneath them. A shadow between the rocks. Likely hard to spot from the water, barely visible from their vantage point. Truly, a perfect location for dubious seafarers to hide out.

“Down there. Hard to spot, but that’s where they ran their boats into the cove. We climb down, there’s a natural ledge we can use to enter. Really—watch your step now,” he said.

They did as he foretold. Nora’s hand slipped once, her boot in a different instance, causing a chunk of rocky earth to plummet into the depths, bouncing down the unforgiving cliffs, and disappearing into the waves far down.

But they took their time. If the mad chemist, Hanrahan, was hiding in these caves, then they would execute him sooner or later. Better than tumbling down these jagged stones, breaking bones, and landing in the icy cold embrace of the sea.

Slowly, cautiously, they descended, bit by bit. As Johnn dropped down the final stretch of a few steps, he landed on a rough and natural surface, staggering as he regained his poise, then readying his crossbow and pointing it at something Nora could not yet see from where she clung to the cliff’s wall.

Nora waited before dropping down, ensuring that he had only drawn his weapon as a precaution. He looked up at her and then nodded to confirm she could safely follow. His stern gaze carried the same tension that she felt in her every joint.

Then she followed, descending with continuous caution, until she dropped down herself and landed on the natural ledge with a stifled grunt.

The darkness of the cave here felt far less foreboding and oppressive at first glance.

Broken and shrunken by the ridges that jotted out of the sea in clusters near the cliffs, the waves sloshed more gently at the edge where they stood. The gaping mouth of this hidden entrance overlooked a deep and wide cavern, large enough to house a significant sea vessel.

Standing in stark contrast to how hard it would be to spot the cave from afar, the natural structure opened to almost monolithic proportions. Stalactites hung from a high and vast ceiling like rows of teeth. Very deep inside, far from where they could see, the darkness swallowed the cavern’s depths.

Somewhere, even deeper inside, a small light glimmered. A torch, or a gas-lit lantern perhaps. Its tiny flame danced, distant and forlorn.

Nora’s hand crept to her pistol, then decided against it. Metal rustled against leather as she drew her cutlass instead.

Their quarry was here.

The two hunters exchanged glances and carefully traversed the grounds, weaving in between broken stalagmites and advancing only slowly to prevent any unwanted noise from announcing their arrival. The ocean swallowed the few sounds they made.

Rotten, old wooden planks creaked once Johnn left the rocky ledge and stepped foot onto the hidden pier. He froze in place and waited, as did Nora, both staring into the darkness, letting their aim travel back and forth, expecting their prey to be hiding anywhere where he could pounce from a place of hiding.

Something blotted out the tiny light in the distance for a split second. Just enough that untrained eyes may have missed it. But both Nora and Johnn had noticed. Not a word was exchanged.

The shadows were many. Many blind spots silently stared back at them, unblinking, unmoving. Testing their courage. Nora felt her scarf in between hat and hair growing damp with sweat, colder, and colder as they lurked deeper and deeper into the cavern, until the shadows engulfed them fully.

Hanrahan had ample space and opportunity to hide and hide well. To watch his hunters and gauge the appropriate reaction.

For as slowly as they progressed, their eyes adjusted to the dark. The gloomy twilight of the fog-covered ocean behind them, they crept closer and closer to the tiny light. Entering a meandering, narrow cave, with only the light of the lonesome lantern left as their guide. Just enough to see where they were going, but not enough to discern the depths of branching paths, through which a cold breeze softly whistled, and Nora’s tension grew, expecting the alchemist to attack from anywhere now.

Johnn had taken the lead, advancing with a certainty that reflected his claim of having been here before. He seemed to not notice a roiling fog or smoke that crawled across the well-treaded rock of the cave floors, coiling around their legs like a carpet of misty serpents.

Nora wanted to say something but refused to alert their monstrous quarry to their presence if she could.

As she reached out to grab Johnn’s shoulder, the unnatural fog expanded rapidly, filling the corridors with a thick soup of gray mist, drowning out that tiny light and delving everything into pitch-black. It strangely smelled like honey. Her gloved fingers connected to Johnn’s shoulder.

He slipped from her grip, jolting forward without a word. Tiny rocks crunched under pressure. Something stifled a gasp from her beloved, as if covering his own mouth.

But carrying his crossbow, he had no free hands to do so.

The leather of Nora’s glove cracked again as she clutched her cutlass tightly and withdrew it towards her own body, flipping it down just in case she bumped into Johnn.

In the ensuing silence that draped itself over her, she hissed like a snake, “You will pay.”

The mists swirled as if they obeyed unspoken commands. Unnatural as it was, commanded by sorcery, this fog dissipated, having served its purpose. A presence loomed above, standing atop an elevated platform. There stood Baxter Hanrahan. His humanity long gone, now an abominable creature of unholy proportions.

Hideous lips parted to display rows of crooked, jagged teeth, no longer a maw that resembled a human’s mouth. Garbed only in rags and torn remnants of fabric, most of the chemist’s mutated body stood exposed. In the faint glow of the gas-lit lantern, his skin looked pallid and deformed, thrumming as if disease wracked every limb or multiple heartbeats pulsed inside his chest, bulging with veins and pustules and patches of mangy hair. A third eye blinked upon his shoulder, making Nora’s stomach knot at the sight.

In the clawed clutches of the monstrous creature, Johnn trembled. He had lost his hat and scarf, which now rested together on the stone floor of the large chamber they all stood in. He did not squirm against the iron grip of his captor, whose massive hand clamped down tightly over the brigand’s mouth—the long, blackened claws twitched with dangerous closeness to the artery on his neck. Another hulking arm gripped Johnn tight, crushing his own arms against the creature as it held him, and leaving him no space to wiggle free or fight back.

And the monstrous Hanrahan just leered at Nora. The pistol hanging from her belt weighed heavy against her hip now, and she burned to sling it out. But the creature’s cruel smile said one thing, and one thing clearly: one wrong move, and he would rip Johnn’s throat right out.

Cages made of wrought iron lined the sides of this sprawling cave chamber, where old pirate pickaxes had roughly hewn its walls into shape. The cages all stood eerily empty, manacles dangling lifelessly from their top bars, their floors littered with old straw and stains of human blood and refuse.

Nora sensed the despair of those who had once been kept here and tasted the evil of those who kept them. She raised her blade, but held it sideways, raising her other, empty hand alongside in a clear gesture: to display surrender.

A throaty, baritone guffaw emerged from the monster’s bulging throat. Johnn squirmed now after all, provoking the creature to grip him more tightly. The tips of Hanrahan’s claws scraped against his captive’s exposed skin, drawing out thin rivulets of blood that quickly ran down Johnn’s neck.

Nora removed her hat and tossed it aside. She pulled her scarf down. The smell of sea salt and rust overwhelmed her senses and a quick scan of the room revealed only two exits. The one she had entered from, and one beneath the ledge upon which Hanrahan and Johnn stood, supported by old, wooden, rickety beams.

“I know what you did in the city, Baxter Hanrahan. I know all about you, Outer Wall Ripper,” she said. She clenched her teeth, holding back the anger that welled up from her gut. Good, she thought. It would mask all else. “Like I said—you will pay. If you think taking another hostage will help you, then you have made a grave mistake.”

The creature growled, “I can tell you what I told all before you.”

His voice sent shivers down Nora’s spine, defying her expectations as she had not anticipated such a creature to be so capable of complete and comprehensible speech.

“You will never stop me. You are just human,” he snickered. “You are just—beneath me in every way. Just a woman.”

Teeth still clenched, so hard they threatened to crack, Nora could only imagine how hideous her own grin must have looked now. She would spite this awful creature.

“I have slain ladies, high and low, strong and sickly alike. I have slain men, one of them three heads taller than yourself, and I have sampled the supple flesh of children. You all fight, you all run, you all whimper and beg for mercy, but there is none. You are all game to me. All sport. All walking sacks of organs that can be harvested for a greater purpose. All your suffering amounts to my victorious innovations and to my pleasure.”

Nora kept her eyes focused on the creature, awaiting his first mistake. They always made a mistake. Especially when they talked this much.

Did all monsters enjoy hearing their own words out loud? Vampyria, wolf-men, demons, wraiths, fair beasts—everything she had ever read of in the Bestiarium Nox and seen for herself—they all monologued.

“Yes, yes. Keep talking. There’s not one ounce of this bunk I haven’t heard before,” she said. As the awful toothy grin faded from her face, a melodiously mocking tone entered her next sentences as she rendered them, “We little humans are weak prey for you to play with. Let me guess—you’ll keep me alive for as long as possible, because you have oh-so-much-worse things in store for me. Am I close? I apologize, it is all the same drivel to me. Please do correct me if I’m wrong.”

She shot a lop-sided smirk at the creature and both Hanrahan’s and Johnn’s faces fell simultaneously. One taken aback by the sheer audacity of this short woman—the other surprised and fearful that she was taunting Hanrahan into slashing his neck.

“You know nothing,” Hanrahan snarled. His claws clamped down. Blood refused to exit Johnn’s neck this time, awaiting only the right amount of pressure and pull to slice through his flesh. “What do you know of me? I am like a god amongst men. Alchemy has made me god-like. You are a fool if you’re too blind to recognize divinity in the flesh, staring back into your wretched little soul. Yes, I can taste your darkness, too. You have killed so many that you have forgotten what it’s like to be human, naked in their innocence and justified in their wrath. To one such as you, I am as a god.”

Nora whistled out a sharp tone, just piling on more derision.

“A god you say? You are out of your bloody mind. The last so-called ‘gods’ I met all bled out like the regular jossers who get the tar kicked out of them by sailors in seedy bars. I’ve just had about enough of you petty pretenders. Why don’t you just slash that fool’s fucking neck already and we can get on with this?”

Johnn’s eyes went wide with dread. All air of superiority had drained from Hanrahan’s presence. Only a glimmer of fury remained, reflecting the tiny lantern’s light, now growing into a flame behind the monster’s eyes.

Nora smirked once more and tilted her blade to show the alchemist the sharp edge of her cutlass.

“Come on, you tosser. Let’s see how godly you are after I gut you like a bloody pig.”

The glint on her blade caught Hanrahan’s eye.

This was the moment. The moment she had been building up to.

Time grinded to a halt.

Defying all, she slung out her pistol with her free hand and fired. The flint struck; a cloud of smoke exploded with the bright jet flame shooting out from the intricately marked barrel. The silver bullet might help, but all she needed was the surprise.

Blood sprayed from the platform, splattering the rocky floors, prompting her to sneer, but Johnn had elbowed Hanrahan and broken free from his grasp, tumbling down onto the ground, and coming to rest on his side, chest heaving and struggling to get back up on his feet after the hard landing.

Only little blood pooled beneath Nora’s beloved fool. As he looked up at her, she saw the vermillion dripping from his collarbone rather than his neck, and the spray of blood had come from Hanrahan’s forehead where her bullet had struck.

The alchemist pawed at his own skull to assess the damage, causing the rage in Nora to make way for fear. A bullet to the skull proved insufficient to stop the abomination, and as he saw his own blood in his monstrous palm, his eyes darted up until they locked with Nora's—a fiendish gaze, saturated with murderous intent.

She reacted quickly but not quickly enough. Her empty pistol had yet to clatter against the stony ground when Hanrahan flew at her like a living boulder, catapulting himself at her with unbridled rage. Her hand had gone to grab another pistol from her belt, but the force of a whole horse-drawn cart barreled into her, knocking the wind out of her lungs, and provoking a shriek of pain as she felt ribs crack upon being crushed between iron cage bars and the monster.

In a frenzy of flailing claws and inhuman screeches, Hanrahan quickly slashed Nora’s coat to ribbons, tearing her shirt to shreds and leaving her with countless cuts in a matter of seconds. The blade in her hand sliced as she swung and jabbed and jabbed at the alchemist-monster, barely connecting but forcing him to retreat a few steps.

Pain soared from a deep cut where a claw had lacerated her leg. Nora groaned and one of her knees threatened to give out under her own weight, but she held the blade out in front of her, in between herself and the monster, who now grinned at her again, baring his crooked and vicious fangs.

One wrong move, and those teeth would tear out her neck.

The sadistic smile wiped itself from his face when a barbed arrowhead emerged from his neck. Both Hanrahan and Nora stared at it with surprise, watching blood drip from its pointy tip.

Following its origin, the bolt from Johnn’s crossbow had lodged itself into the alchemist’s neck. Johnn, still lying on the ground, now held his discharged crossbow in his hands, leaned up against a cage, grinning smugly at the monster, his own bloodied teeth on display. That grin also faded when Hanrahan whipped around.

Undeterred by the projectile sticking out of his nape, he grabbed Johnn and tossed him aside like a broken toy, eliciting a pained shout as Johnn crashed into another cage, collapsing as soon as he tried to get back up after smashing his head against an iron bar.

Hanrahan howled in pain, reacting to Nora ramming her sword into his back—and then twisting the blade. He spun around again, shoving her away, thus disarming her with the masterless blade now sticking out of his back.

That throaty and deep laugh repeated itself as Hanrahan guffawed at her. He laughed at their attempts to kill him. His laughter broke and his newfound grin faltered as he choked and coughed, almost sounding human for a moment. Almost pitiful.

Almost.

Giving no quarter, Nora slung out the other pistol from her belt and shot him in the side of the head. The smoke cleared quickly, and something gravelly and menacing emerged from his throat—a furious growl. Blood sputtered from the injury, yet he wobbled only slightly where he stood.

His rage simmered, ready to unleash his full frenzy. Nora could feel it, like waves of heat and hatred emanating from his hulking, deformed body. Up close, he smelled like rotten fruit and excrements and vomit.

She quickly looked around for something, anything, but pulled a silvered dagger from behind her back—it would serve until she could retrieve the cutlass from Hanrahan’s back.

The alchemist ignored her and picked up a small object from the table upon which the gas lantern sat. A metal syringe in his clutch, Hanrahan’s paw dwarfed it. He laughed again, erupting into another hacking, wheezing cough, and then jammed the needle into his own neck. The sickly pale flesh thrummed and pulsed there, and his veins turned pitch-black, like a disease running from the injection and spreading quickly throughout his monstrous body.

The huntress was not going to find out what this meant—the silver-lined dirk in her hand flashed twice, reflecting the small light’s flame as she stabbed Hanrahan twice with quick jabs, trying to circle around him.

But he turned with her and his left arm grotesquely almost doubled in size. The claws tipping his grotesque fingers shot out to twice their length, rivaling Nora’s dagger.

Her heart skipped a beat, and he swatted the knife from her hand. The pain of several cuts on her arm flared up with delay, upon which she clenched her teeth and paced backwards.

Hanrahan continued to grow, all over, hunching over and bracing himself against the floor with his meaty fists, like a gorilla she had seen in the zoo.

“I am not merely like a god,” he spoke, now sounding like four voices spoken in unison, so deep that they threatened to open a yawning abyss straight to hell. “I am god.”

The crossbow bolt lodged into his neck now snapped under the roiling masses of his transforming flesh. The cutlass shot out of his back, clanging as it rattled and rolled across the stone floor. Johnn crawled towards it, but nowhere nearly as fast as he needed to be. His strength waned.

Hanrahan lunged at Nora again, leaving several gaping cuts across her chest despite her attempts to leap back, and causing her to roll backwards across the ground, away from him. The grit and dust burned in the many scratches where stone all chafed against her injured skin.

The dirk had rolled right out of reach.

“Time to die, worm.”

This was it.

Nora steeled herself, ready to finally meet her end. Out of options.

Out of all the places, to die in a dark cave, forgotten by its owners, unknown, unseen, in a haunted place where nobody would find her. Would she join its phantoms?

Hanrahan lurched forward and he arched backwards, raising that hand of lethal claws high above him, ready to bring it down and impale her once and for all. Ready to rip her heart out with the ease his new form afforded him.

Something whipped out at the alchemist. Coiled and wrapped itself around his wrist in the blink of an eye. Something like twine, or ropes. Or rather: vines. Covered in dark, sickly leaves. And thorns.

Thorns everywhere.

He grunted, surprised as much as Nora over this turn of events. He looked from the tangle of thorny vines that bound his arm and yanked at them. Despite his tremendous, ghastly frame, and swollen mass of muscles, whatever had projected these bindings at him proved far stronger. His eyes bulged and he roared like the foul beast that he was, teeth protruding outward and bloody spittle spraying through the air. So loudly he roared that it filled all these caves and left an unpleasant ringing in Nora’s ears.

They both followed the vines to their source, a dark silhouette that stood upon the elevated platforms where Hanrahan had held Johnn hostage, just outside the sphere of the lantern’s faint glow. The flame within the lamp dimmed and nearly went out, as if it tried to conceal the presence.

A woman cackled from there. Awful, piercing, like a fork being scraped across a metal plate. The vines tugged at Hanrahan again, yanking with far greater force, and he stumbled away from Nora, now fully turning to face his greatest foe yet.

The vines constricted around the alchemist’s arm, causing pus and black tar-like blood to ooze out from the grinding cuts. He howled in pain, roared, and thrashed around, grabbing hold of the vine, and then howling yet again as its thorns pierced his fingers when he gripped it. He tugged and pulled with all his might, yanking left, then yanking right, not once managing to counter the unnatural force that had seized him.

And the cackling continued.

Gritting her teeth and stifling her own groans of pain, Nora scrambled onto her side, then back up onto her feet. She limped towards Johnn, who had fallen unconscious with the hilt of Nora’s cutlass buried underneath his hand.

Another tangle of thorny vines shot out from the darkness and enveloped Hanrahan’s ankle. He fought its pull, but it suddenly jerked towards the shadowy silhouette, causing him to lose his footing, dropping him onto his back with such weight that the stony floors quaked.

Nora’s cutlass came chopping down. His incessant thrashing prevented the blow from cutting into his neck, so it shattered his front teeth and hacked into his cheek, provoking more pained howls from his monstrous maw.

Her boots skidded against the floor as she lurched back, right underneath one of his claws swinging at her in retaliation and only narrowly missing her.

More vines shot out at him, seizing that same claw, and limiting his motion. It curbed his thrashing to the point where Nora’s next blow struck his neck, causing a violent crimson explosion to spray her own face.

Hanrahan gurgled, choking on his own blood, desperately attempting to fight back and to utter more inane threats, but Nora continued her dirty handiwork that she had grown accustomed to inflicting upon all these monsters.

The vines multiplied, pinning Hanrahan down and turning the hulking monster into a quivering ball of helplessness. Blow after blow, Nora cut deeper through his neck, until only a deformed spine held body and head together, and even that soon severed after more overhead swings of her cutlass. The same blade that had executed so many creatures before Hanrahan, adding his life to the many it had dulled itself in claiming.

His eyes had lost all light of so-called “divinity”, having made way to terror. And pleading.

No amount of thrashing or resisting helped the alchemist in the end. The vines held him too tightly, joined by more tangles from the platform, restraining his every limb and allowing Nora to end him.

Between heavy breaths and shuddering as she shrugged off the numbing pain, she spat a gob of saliva and blood onto Hanrahan’s twitching remains. The thorny vines loosened, revealing how they had ripped devastating wounds which may have slowly bled out the alchemist, had her sword not removed his head first.

Those same vines now withdrew, controlled by some otherworldly force. They slowly slithered back from whence they came, like leafy, eyeless serpents; rustling and trembling as they moved. Thorns scraped against stone, scritching and scratching.

Still consigned to death, Nora turned to see their source, ready for them to take her next. For whatever abomination had shown such force in stopping Hanrahan, it would have a far easier time in ending her life next.

She winced, clamping her eyes shut to blot out all pain, fires across her body from the dozens of cuts and bruises she had suffered. Blinking, her vision blurred, in part owed to blood flowing into the corner of her eye. She wiped it away with the back of her hand and blinked again.

Wanting to see the face of her killer, she snatched the lantern from the table, where other mysterious metal syringes clanked against each other. She ignored the alchemist’s supplies and raised the lantern high, stumbling forward. The blade of her cutlass lazily scraped across the stone as she lurched forward, mirroring Hanrahan’s final motions. Nora could barely stand.

In days past, that platform supported the slaver captain, housing a wicked little wooden throne upon which he once sat, allowing him to observe his miserable captives in their iron cages.

Whoever now perched upon that platform, Nora could barely make out any features. Though draped in a rugged, dark cloak, the huntress identified a vaguely feminine figure. Devoured by the shadows of a black hood, almost no face could be perceived. Only shriveled, gray skin and chapped lips that had curled into a devious smile. Teeth, rotten and black, glistening wet.

Hands folded serenely before her hunched figure, like a praying woman, and the vines creeping evermore back to her, shrinking in volume, and disappearing underneath her robes, with cloth so deep that no feet could be seen, only fabric sweeping the platform’s wood and the vines slithering into the void underneath the cloak.

“My pretty little birdie,” spoke the hag. A thick accent, one from up north. Raspy, riddled with phlegm, a voice rife with ridicule. “So nice to see my beautiful little monster in full bloom.”

Nora groaned but it spilled over into a clipped burst of laughter.

Another one of these self-indulgent ghouls, she wagered.

“Get in line, witch,” Nora sighed. Truly exhausted, some part of her preferred the thought of instant death over having to hear another monster ramble on. “I’m sure there are a dozen others who all want to take their pound of flesh from me.”

Nora gripped her head and wheezed with another stifled groan. Eclipsing all other pains, numbing all her senses, her head began to throb in agony. That typical invisible knife sliding into her skull again.

The hag cackled once more, sadistic, and amused.

“No, my pretty. I have all I need now, I am quite alright,” replied the hag with unsettling melody in each syllable.

“And just who the fuck are you, now?”

She cackled again in response. Frosthearte never shared her name lightly. Not even to her chosen orphan.

“I am the decay that gnaws at the roots of the world’s tree. I am the curse that haunts wicked men with eternal suffering. I—”

“Oh, bloody spare me already. If you’re going to kill me, fucking hurry it up.”

Nora spat impotently, nearly fell as she lifted her cutlass to point it at the hag. Her cry, more defiant than ever, echoed through these empty caves.

“Come on, then!”

The lips of the hag drooped down, yielding a displeased frown.

“Sparrow, or crow, my pretty. Are you the crow, or the sparrow?”

“Make some fucking sense!”

“Are you the harbinger of death, or the herald of new blood?”

Nora stumbled as soon as she launched her sword up at the hag. The blade’s metal sang as it rang out, clattering across the wooden platform and striking nobody. Nora’s vision continued to blur, never clearing. Blinking again, she saw:

The hag was gone.

“Death awaits you on your path,” whispered the hag.

Nora swiveled, losing her footing, and falling backwards and banging her previously unhurt elbow against hard stone in the process. She cringed.

But no hag had appeared behind her. Johnn lay unconscious nearby, face down in the dirt. Paces away from him, the body of Hanrahan had stopped twitching in his death throes, motionless and devoid of all life.

No hag in sight. Nowhere.

“You must face Death, the pretender,” the hag’s voice continued in creeping whispers, echoing through the halls, and invading Nora’s mind. Riding on that knife of a headache as it sank deeper into her skull.

Nora gripped her head and—unable to escape this hag’s merciless and incessant whispering—curled up into a fetal position, oblivious to all pain as the headache grew so intolerable that it muted the searing agony from dozens of bleeding cuts.

“I will uphold my end of the bargain, and you shall not see me or mine for a long, long time. But the necromancer who dares call himself Death—he shall stand in your way, and you need be prepared. Prepared to put your old ghosts to rest, one last time.”

Nora groaned in pain, almost bridging into an angry shout, but it died in her throat and she gritted her teeth to stave off the incapacitating pain. She wanted to tell the hag to shut up and get out of her head.

The words she spoke made little sense, but the warnings resonated with her.

She knew exactly what ghosts the hag spoke of.

“This is my parting gift for you, my sweet, beautiful monster.”

The last word echoed not only through the cavernous corridors but reverberated in Nora’s thoughts until it reached a deafening crescendo.

Are you the crow or the sparrow?

Those words arrived not in whispers, but echoes inside Nora’s mind. Memories. Older.

Words she had heard spoken before.

She had met the hag as a child. It all came back to her now.

Never forgotten, only buried. Things that made no sense until this very moment.

“Are you a crow or a sparrow?” The hag had sounded so much more pleasant and nice back then.

The weird witch reached out to take the little sobbing girl’s hand. Little Nora’s hand. The little girl who once stood as the sole survivor in a small village, where pestilence had taken all souls to heaven but hers. The hag looked nowhere as frightful then as she did now.

Before Nora even reached the walls of Crimsonport, huddled with the forlorn masses of all the other refugees who sought to escape the Blight, the hag’s willowy hand held hers, guiding her, and nurturing her. Feeding her soup and potions, by the many campfires, providing poisonous words that jaded her from such an early age on.

“They all abandoned you. Not out of malice but borne of weakness. All may crumble under the might of the Blight. All but you, my pretty little birdie. Eat, grow strong. Defy those who wrong you. Trust nobody. None but me. And never surrender. Never stop fighting. Slay all of them and feed the forest soil with their blood.”

I will always be watching you. The shadow in your wake.

How had she survived a plague? Nora’s mind reeled, but the crippling headache blocked the thought from reaching its rightful conclusion.

Curled up into a fetal position, just like when the hag had found her as a child, the body of fully-grown Nora unfurled again, sprawled out as she reclaimed her fading senses. The dim glow from the gas-lit lantern on the desolate table. In this hopeless, abandoned dungeon. The cold, biting air, removed from the wintry outdoors but carrying the smell of rust and sea salt with it. The smell of death all around.

More than anything else, the pain brought her back. The warmth of her own sticky blood. She winced and stifled another groan as she turned over onto her side. And then onto her belly from there. She crawled, dragged herself over to Johnn. Too exhausted to get back up again.

His shoulders heaved softly, rhythmically. Not dead, merely out of it.

Gingerly, she brushed his long, bloodstained hair from his face, curiously absorbed by the old scar that missed his now-closed eye and ran down the length of his chiseled cheek.

Crow or sparrow? Life or death?

Nora resolved to not let those words reach her. To not let them lead her astray. To do as the hag had told, but not in a way she would like. If it was defiance this hag desired, then she would happily oblige.

She refused to play some sinister game. Refused to accept the strict separation of elements thus proposed. Nora’s fingers curled into Johnn’s hair, running through them, until they found purchase on his coat’s collar, which she gripped. She softly shook him. And then again when he refused to awaken.

Seeing opposites aligned, finding together, she would defy such unnatural severance.

Crow or sparrow? Life or death?

Why not both?

Johnn gasped and his eyes fluttered open.

—Submited by Wratts

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dontshootmespence · 5 years ago

Text

Salvation

Summary: Don’t make the mistake of underestimating Sam Winchester.

Pairing/Characters: Sam x Reader, Dean

Word Count: 1,401

Warnings: Hard angst at the beginning. Torture. Some gore, a little more descriptive than I normally get. Smut throughout, but not graphic.

A/N: This was inspired by the above aesthetic made by @idabbleincrazy, which was submitted to @cabin-fever-bang. It also works really well with a quote for @spnquotebingo which is “And yet to every bad, there’s a worse.”

Beta’d by: The always wonderful @stusbunker. Thank you, my dear!

Tagging: @impala-dreamer and @covered-byroses I’m proud of this one, so screw it.

Under crumbling resolve, he leans into her. His body shaking with the overwhelming weight of past choices, past experiences, past failures. When he pulls away, she caresses his cheek, her concern genuine, resolve grounded. One shake of her head and he knows; there is no need for pretenses here.

As a tear falls down his cheek, she takes his trembling lips in a searing kiss, pushing the shirt he wears down his broad shoulders and onto the floor. Her touch sets fire to his soul - a fire more powerful than anything he’d ever experienced, one that burns away the pieces of himself he wishes to forget.

-----

“We’ll find her,” Dean says, his tone uncertain despite his best efforts. “Do you want me to handle this?”

Sam knows what it means for Dean to tap into his darkest side, the way he’d been forced to in hell, and Sam won’t ask him to do it again. “No.” Without another word, Sam walks into the next room, eyes spitting daggers at the demon before him. “My responsibility.”

When it catches sight of him, it sneers. “Little Sammy Winchester,” it sing-songs. The gravel in its voice crawls up Sam’s spine. “You’re going to torture me? You’d have better luck with Dean at the other end of that knife.”

It is something he’s questioning with each movement - whether he has the ability to get this done. To save the woman he loves by any means necessary. “You underestimate me,” he says confidently, making a display of sharpening the instruments he’d left in the demon’s line of sight.

His blood pounds in his ears, drowning out the sound of the demon’s sneering laughter. “I shared a cage with Lucifer and lived to tell the tale,” he whispers. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees the demon flinch. Or at least he thinks he does.

With the bravado only a man on the edge can conjure, he stands up and grabs one of the largest and sharpest knives at his disposal. It’s not the demon knife, but he wants this sickly excuse of a creature off its guard. He quickly cuts into the demon, taking a pleasure he hates himself for as it hisses in pain. Blood slowly drips from the wounds on its chest, and it takes everything in Sam not to cut it wide open and watch as it writhes.

“Where is she?” He growls through gritted teeth.

“Is that all you’ve got?” It asks, its smile easy-going, almost chipper. “If that’s it, your girlfriend is definitely gonna die before you can get to her.”

Walking back to the table, Sampicks up the demon knife and dips it in holy water. It's already shown part of its hand.

“I’m only getting started.”

-----

She takes the lead, relieving him of his clothing before pushing him down onto the tattered motel sheets. He relaxes slightly, watching in awe as she undresses, soft, supple skin clearing his troubled mind. When he goes to open his mouth, she crawls on top of him and places one leg on either side of his hips. There are no words that come close to explaining what she means to him. How she saves what soul he has left.

-----

At the sight of the knife, sharp, fierce edges that gleam in the fire’s light, the demon recoils. Sam smiles contemptuously, his hand steady around the knife’s handle. This round, he takes his time. Instead of quick practiced movements, he slowly scrapes the blade across the demon’s skin - under its fingernails, along its shins, on the soles of its feet. Each pass of hardened steel brings with it the sickening sizzle of holy water seeping into open wounds.

“You really think you can break me before she dies?” It taunts, eyes falling on the clock behind Sam’s shoulder. The demon moves its head back and forth three times before responding. “If I’m not back soon, my guys are gonna go to town on her.” The demon laughs maniacally. “I mean more than they already have.”

“How many?” Sam demands. He tries not to register the frantic beating of his heart. She only has a few hours left. “Why are you doing this?”

“Why? You’re Sam Winchester, the boy with the demon blood, who left my master to rot in a cage. I will take everything from you.” It spits on the ground in a show of force. “Do whatever you want to me. I’ve had it bad for centuries.”

Sam bites his lips so hard he tastes blood. Turning around, he picks another instrument. “And yet to every bad, there’s a worse.”

-----

As she rubs her slickness against him, Sam’s mouth drops open. All tension falls away as she slowly sinks down onto him. She presses every inch of herself to him, hard muscle against unwavering, enveloping softness. When he meets her gaze, he finds the peace he’s craved for so long.

-----

Ninety three minutes pass. Though the demon maintains its confident demeanor, Sam begins to see the chinks in the armor. But he doesn’t have much time left. Each movement, each word has to be purposeful.

Stalking around it, Sam says nothing, waiting a few minutes before dipping low to the demon’s ear. “Where is she?” He bellows so loud the windows shake. Fear tears at his throat.

When it doesn’t reply, Sam grabs the salt from the table and shoves it down its throat. It seizes under the blistering pain, growling through the weight of Sam’s hand over its mouth. Roaring, its eyes water.

“WHERE IS SHE?”

Sam uses every ounce of energy and every seizing muscle to keep his hand fixed to the demon’s mouth. In its eyes, Sam sees quickly-rising fear. What’s more frightening, a man like Dean, practiced in his violence out of necessity? Or a man like him, on the verge of losing everything and nothing left to lose?

-----

In the silence that follows, Sam holds her close, taking deep breaths, in and out. Their limbs are tangled, skin slick with sweat. When she kisses his chin, he smiles. “You’re safe with me, Sam. You never have to hide from me.”

He questions whether a man like him deserves a woman like her. “I love you.”

-----

Releasing his hand from the demon’s mouth, he watches the salt spew from its mouth. “Where?”

“Two towns over. East. Dilapidated cabin on the corner of Selby and Shadow Brook. Two guards. Just...let me go,” it says, admitting defeat.

Lip curled, he replies. “Not likely.”

In just a few swift movements, he slips the demon knife out of his back pocket and plunges it into the demon’s throat, his gaze never wavering as the demon’s life is snuffed out.

He grabs everything they’ll need into the duffel bag and storms out of the room, passing Dean without a glance. “Let’s go.”

-----

Dean doesn’t even question it when Sam takes Baby’s wheel and floors it. “Where is she?”

“Selby and Shadow Brook. Two towns over.”

“She’s gonna be okay, Sammy.”

“Don’t give me platitudes, Dean. Please. Not now.”

No more words pass between them until they pull up just short of the house where she’s supposedly being kept. “Let’s go,” Sam says, taking off without looking.

When he peers into the window, he sees her, head hung low. At first, he thinks she’s already gone, but then he sees the gentle rise and fall of her chest and feels the weight of the world ease off his shoulders.

He sneaks up behind one of the demons and grabs its throat, quickly plunging the knife into its heart. As he drops the knife to the floor, the other demon sees its fallen comrade and storms toward Dean, but it’s too slow and watches helplessly as Dean picks the knife up and stabs it in the stomach.

Sam drops to his knees in front of her and feels for her pulse. “Baby, wake up,” he says, voice breaking. “I’m here. It’s me.” She’s covered in cuts and bruises.

She shudders at first and recoils before she sees him. “Sam?”

“It’s me.”

“My hero,” she whispers.

As Dean unties her arms, Sam gathers her close. He is no hero. He’s the sum of his past choices, past experiences, past failures. “I’m so sorry,” he replies, tears streaming down his cheeks. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

“This is not your fault, Sam. It never was.”

#spnquotebingo #cabin fever bang #idabbleincrazy #sam winchester #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester x you #sam winchester x y/n #sam winchester fanfiction #sam winchester angst #dontshootmespence #salvation

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wanderlust-rp · 2 years ago

Conversation

Muse Interview: Brook, Part One

Mun: Hello, Brook. Are you up for a few questions? I thought we could get to know you a little better.

Brook: I feel this is a trap. Have you done this with anyone else?

Mun: I mean... Technically, no. But most of them have been around for ages. You aren't just new to the blog; you're new to me.

Brook: Alright. Go ahead.

Mun: Okay. Well, why don't we start with just a little bit about you. Tell us some stuff that's uniquely you that you'd like to share.

Brook: I guess the big thing is that I have a decent following on my socials. That's kind of what I do with all of my free time.

Mun: That's fun! Anything else that you like to do?

Brook: I like long walks in the woods. Alone. Creeks and streams are my favorite to follow. I just like running water. It's nice.

Mun: So, tell me more. Dreams? Fears?

Brook: Really? I guess I'd just like to remain anonymous. To not be noticed or known. I don't do well with people and I think sometimes that I feel too much? People don't usually do well with that. So, it's better to be separated from all of that.

Mun: That's actually really sad. As a fellow introvert, people can be disappointing. And sometimes we feel like we are too much. Would you ever consider making friends?

Brook: Aren't I technically here to do that?

Mun: Above table? I just wanna put you in Situations™. Friends would be a nice side effect.

Brook: Oh goodie. Love that for me.

#Following the Streams that Lead to Hell {Brook}#new muse #muse interview #Late night take out {queue}

0 notes

scripts4dreamers · 4 years ago

Text

Everything.

AN: Anya didn’t ask for this, okay? Characters: Anya kom Trikru, Lexa kom Trikru, Pairing(s): Anya x reader Spoiler(s): Season 2 plot points Warning(s): None

Prompt: “so Anya kom Trikru x Skaikru!reader where reader escapes the mountain with Anya and Clarke. Anya is not shot so she manages to get to heda. the treaty is in place and reader becomes Anya`s second learning how to fight. reader one day hears how other grounders call Anya "gona heda" and after discovering what it means reader starts calling Anya like that too, and it does things to Anya. just Anya taking a liking to Skaikru girl and slowly but surely falling in love with her.” for anon

-----------------------

Anya had never asked for any of this, okay? That’s what she told herself every time it happened; she didn’t volunteer for this, so she couldn’t be blamed, not really. Except she did kind of, but she couldn’t have-she didn’t-

“Anya!” You called, all bright smiles and warmth as you jogged over, “there you are! I was getting worried.”

You looked so strong, she noted fondly, with your hair braided and your bright eyes framed by dark smears of war paint. Now, when you moved, there was an ease to it, like you were confident and sure of yourself, miles and miles away from the frightened girl she’d met on the battlefield all those weeks ago. If she’d known then how strong you were, how much you had endured...maybe things would have turned out different, maybe she could have spared you this-

Anya shook her head, snapping herself back to the present.

Her heart pinched, but she managed to keep her face neutral, “That’s not necessary, Y/N. I had a meeting with the commander, she’s mustering our forces to take the mountain.”

Your face fell for a moment, just long enough for Anya to wish that she could take the words back, swallow them whole so that they could never touch you again, before you schooled them back to impassivity.

“We’re going back?” You asked, hiding the faint quiver in your voice as best you could as you instinctively gripped the handle of your sword.

Anya sighed and, before she could think better of it, reached out to grasp your shoulder. As always, her stomach did a funny little flip when she touched you and she fought the urge to run away and hide.

“Yes, we’re going back,” she said gently, “but it won’t be like last time. This time we’ll be taking the fight to them.” she paused, leaning in, “This time, they’ll be running from us.”

She could tell you were still nervous, that you wanted her to say more, to comfort you and quell your anxiety but, nonetheless, your answering smile was defiant and, to Anya’s relief, you simply bowed and muttered that you’d better join the other seconds on patrol, and bounded off, leaving Anya alone to ponder her own discomfort. She followed your movement with her eyes without meaning to, smiling to herself when she saw you shove one of the other seconds to the ground playfully and offer him a hand up.

Your laugh cut through the afternoon air like a bell, like you were daring the world to take you on, daring it to try and take your happiness from you. It carried a bittersweet nostalgia with it, and Anya couldn’t help but think back to the first time she’d ever heard you laugh like that.

-------------------

“The ground here is too soft,” Anya growled, “we’re leaving tracks.”

“If you know a better way to get to my people, I’m all ears,” Clarke shot back, “but, if not, then please just shut up.”

Anya opened her mouth to say something cutting but, before she could, you cut in.

“Guys,” You groaned, “please don’t start this again. I’m so sick of the fighting.”

“Tell her that!” Clarke said, gesturing to Anya, “She’s the one who’s never happy with anything.”

“We’re covered in mud, wandering through the woods in circles and eating raw squirrel for dinner while our people get drained for their blood, Clarke,” Anya pointed out, “there’s not much to be happy with.”

There was a moment of silence and then a sound, so pure and clear that it sent a literal chill down Anya’s spine. You were laughing, really laughing, with your head thrown back, until tears started streaming down your cheeks, leaving thin trails of skin visible through the mud. A second later Clarke joined in, her voice harmonizing with yours like a brook stumbling over stones. How long had it been since Anya had heard someone laugh like that? She couldn’t even remember.

“We’re so screwed,” you said through your laughter, “what the hell is even happening anymore, does anyone know?”

Against her better judgement, Anya felt a twinge of humor in her throat, bubbling up until she was laughing right alongside you. The tension dissolved into a weary sort of camaraderie, a sort of silent acknowledgement that you were in this together, that you needed one another. It was almost how fighting alongside her own people felt, Anya admitted to herself, and it gave her hope that maybe peace was possible after all.

“We were at war like three weeks ago,” you laughed, “and now we’re bickering like some weird dysfunctional married thruple.”

“What is a thruple?” Anya asked.

“It’s like a couple, but with three people,” Clarke explained, wiping her eyes, “which is insane ‘cause I’m way out of your league, Y/N.”

You gasped in mock outrage, “You wish, Griffin. You could do a thousand times worse than Anya and me.”

“Oh really?” Clarke teased.

“Yes, really. I’m a hot commodity, I’m prime girlfriend material, right Anya?”

Blood rushed to Anya’s face, but she was confident that you couldn’t see it under all the mud. You were teasing, she knew that, it was light and playful but, even so, Anya felt a little flustered at the question.

“Yes,” she eventually said, trying desperately to remember her english, “Y/N would be a good partner. She’s strong and brave.”

Your face softened, like you were surprised by her answer but, before you could say anything, Clarke cleared her throat.

“Alright Hot Stuff. We should find somewhere to spend the night,” she said, looking between you and Anya curiously, “it’ll be getting dark soon.”

You agreed and started back on your trek. Clarke took the lead, as usual, with you and Anya keeping watch. As Anya walked, keeping an eye of the rear like she always did, you slowed down, falling into step beside her. For a while you walked together in silence, Anya’s heart pounding in her chest as she racked her brain, trying to figure out if she'd said something wrong or offensive by mistake.

“You really think I’m brave?” You asked eventually.

Anya’s muscles relaxed and she exhaled quietly, “Of course. You are brave, Y/N. I watched you take on a fully grown reaper with nothing but a stick, just to buy Clarke and me time. I don’t know many people who would’ve done the same.”

“Not even other grounders?”

Anya shrugged, “You can’t teach someone that kind of bravery. No matter how good you are with a sword, if you’re a coward, you’re a coward, it’s as simple as that.”

“I didn’t feel brave,” you admitted, looking determinedly ahead with your hair obscuring your face, “I was terrified.”

Anya felt a pang of empathy in her chest, “We all were. Fear isn’t the opposite of courage, Y/N. You can’t have one without the other. You risked your life to protect an enemy from a horrible death, anyone who sees that and still calls you a coward knows nothing of true bravery.

A shadow of a smile flickered across your face, “Thanks, Anya. That means a lot coming from you.”

You nudged her shoulder with hers and Anya felt the casual touch like a sledgehammer in her chest. It had been so long since she’d felt close to another person, so long since someone had been gentle with her.

“Y/N,” she blurted out without thinking, “if-if you want to learn to defend yourself-how to fight like I do-when we reach your people and secure an alliance with the commander-I am in need of a second…”

“A second?” You asked, stopping in your tracks, “Like a second in command?”.

Anya avoided your eye, suddenly deeply embarrassed.

“Yes,” she said, inspecting the horizon for all she was worth, “I’d teach you how to fight, how to implement effective battle strategy, how to lead…” she trailed off, “but it is a lot of work. You’d have to train every day and really dedicate yourself to learning our language and culture so, if you’re unsure-”

Before she could finish, the air was knocked out of her lungs by your sudden embrace. You held her tight and Anya felt her heart skip a beat.

“Yes, yes, yes,” you said with a breathless laugh, “yes, thank you, Anya. I won’t let you down, I swear it.”

“I know.”

--------------------------

And you hadn’t, at least not yet. You’d thrown yourself into training with more ferocity and determination than anyone Anya had ever known, never letting injury or exhaustion wear you down. You’d challenged her, inspired her and somehow, despite her best efforts to the contrary, had wormed your way into her heart. She cared about you, deeply, more than she could remember caring about anyone in years. What had really done it was your heart, your gentleness and your courage, none of which ever seemed to waiver or crack, even in the face of overwhelming odds. When the other seconds had rejected you, you’d proven yourself to them by working harder, going further, catching more prey, all the while treating them with respect and keeping your dignity. When Lexa had been storming and raging over the massacre at Ton DC and had threatened to kill you in retaliation, you hadn’t cowered or hid behind Anya for protection, you’d stood tall and proud and let her rage and, when she had calmed down, you’d looked her in the eye and told her that you were sorry for her loss, and that you would do whatever it took to make it right.

Anya knew that life as her second hadn’t been easy, that a large part of you had wanted to go to Camp Jaha with Clarke and see your friends again but, despite it all, you were still there. Every morning you got up and did your job, getting stronger and deadlier by the day and reminding Anya a thousand times over why she wanted you to lead one day.

Only, at some point it had moved past that. She couldn’t quite pinpoint when; the exact moment that she’d realised how in danger she was with you, but it had happened. She had a vague idea that it might have been on one of the many nights that you’d returned to her from training covered in blood and bruises and Anya had felt her heart tighten with worry, but it didn’t matter. The fact was, Anya didn’t just want you to follow in her footsteps anymore, she wanted to walk beside you; to hold your hand and tell you about her life, to come home from battle and kiss the bruises on your skin until they faded away, to wrap you in pelts in the winter and find out what you tasted like. She wanted you to be hers, and she wanted to be yours and it made her feel shaky and unsure.

Anya had never been the best with feelings. She was a warrior, a decorated and well respected general, but she’d always been alone. On the battlefield she was sure of herself, confident and unyielding but, when it came to you...she felt like a helpless child.

Out of the corner of her eye, Anya saw Lexa stalk towards her and the two women stood together in companionable silence, watching the army train and prepare for battle.

“She’s strong,” Lexa commented, tilting her head in your direction, “she’ll be an asset in our war with the mountain, if you can bring yourself to let her go.”

“I won’t need to,” Anya shot back, a note of protectiveness in her voice, “Y/N will not die, she’s a true warrior, she’ll be fine.”

Lexa observed her old mentor critically, noticing how tense Anya suddenly looked, as though she was preparing herself for a fight, preparing herself to defend something she-

“You love her,” Lexa commented, wondering how she hadn’t noticed sooner.

For a moment Anya was silent.

“I….care about her,” she eventually admitted.

“You love her,” Lexa said again, “and you will die for her if needs be.”

Anya pursed her lips, “It won’t come to that.”

Just then the horn that signified the end of the day blew and you jogged back to Anya, doing a double take when you noticed Lexa standing beside her.

“Heda,” you greeted with a bow.

When you straightened up Lexa walked over, clapped your shoulder affectionately and whispered something in your ear too low for Anya to make out. Anya felt her heartbeat start to pick up nervously as she watched you blush, shoot her a look and then give Lexa a shaky nod. Lexa shot Anya a knowing look and walked away, headed to the dining area to greet her troops and leaving you and Anya alone on the hill.

“How was your training,” she asked, trying to inspect your body for injuries without being too obvious.

“Hard,” you admitted, shifting your weight and wincing as you twisted to look at Anya.

Anya frowned, feeling that tinge of concern again as she turned and slung an arm around you to support your weight. You insisted that you were fine but she ignored you, taking you back to the campsite you shared and sitting you down next to the fire.

“What happened?” she asked, fussing about your side, where she could see a poorly hidden bloodstain.

“Nothing!” You insisted, “Just a sparring match that went bad, that’s all.

“Y/N, it feels like your ribs are broken,” Anya pointed out, “and you’re bleeding.”

“Okay, a sparring match that went really bad,” you amended with a gentle laugh, lifting Anya’s hands off your side and forcing her to sit back, “I’ll heal. It’s not like you haven’t had your fair share of broken ribs, right gona heda?”

Anya’s eyes flicked to yours, her heart skipping a beat as the words you’d said started to sink in. Gona heda, warrior commander. It was a name she’d had amongst her people for a while now but, hearing you say it, hearing your voice wrap around the syllables of her language like that….it made Anya feel strange. It was intimate and sinful, like melted honey on warm skin or the feeling of crushed velvet under fingertips.

“Gona heda?” you asked again, your voice low and soft.

Gods above. She could hear her own blood in her ears as her skin flushed. You were so close, so distractingly close that it made Anya feel a quiet sort of desperation she couldn’t name.

She cleared her throat, dabbing a cloth in disinfectant and going back to treating your wounds, “Where-um-” her eyes flickered to you again, “where did you hear that name?”

You shrugged, “Some of the others call you that,” you explained, “and I like how it sounds.” you paused and Anya became very aware that her hands were shaking as they traced the mottled bruises on your skin, “Would you like me to stop?”

“No!” Anya said quickly, “No, I like the way it sounds too,” she admitted and then, before she could stop herself, “but only when you say it.”

Silence. It was painful and tense and cloying and Anya wanted nothing more than to tear it to shreds, take out some of the adrenaline in her system on that horrible oppressive nothingness, but she didn’t.

“Only when I say it,” you repeated, just short of breathlessly.

Anya pressed her lips together but nodded, avoiding your gaze as she inspected your ribs. Suddenly you shifted so that you were crouched next to her, forcing her to meet your eye.

“What else do you like it when I say, gona heda?” You asked, your face so close that Anya could smell the metallic blood from your split lip.

She swallowed hard, infuriated by how calm and in control you seemed while she felt like she was drowning in fear and poorly suppressed desire. Your gaze was steady, heavy and expectant and it made Anya’s skin feel hot and prickly under her armor.

“My name,” she eventually said, “I-” she swallowed again, “I like how it sounds.”

You were almost smiling now, the skin at the corners of your eyes crinkling in a way that gave you away and released some of the tension that had been building.

“Anything else?” You asked, tilting your head to the side and leaning in just close enough to make Anya feel lightheaded.

“I like how you laugh,” Anya heard herself say from far away, “and how much you swear, and when you hum songs I’ve never heard and-” she broke off and let out a nervous laugh, “everything. I like the way you say everything.”

You hummed happily and absentmindedly reached out to touch one of Anya’s braids.

“I guess Lexa was right,” you said, your eyes already trained on Anya’s mouth.

“About what?”

You smiled, warm and tender and loving, “About everything.”

And when you kissed her, Anya swore nothing had ever felt so right.

#jordsie #jordsie writes #The 100 #the 100 aesthetic #the 100 cw #the 100 imagine #the 100 fanfiction #anya kom trikru #anya kom trikru x reader #anya kom trikru x you #anya x reader #anya x you #anya kom trikru imagine #anya imagine

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aion-rsa · 4 years ago

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Dennis ‘Des’ Nilsen is Far From David Tennant’s First Psychopath Role

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David Tennant’s transformation into serial killer Dennis Nilsen for ITV’s Des was unsettlingly convincing. It wasn’t just the physical resemblance, though under that hairstyle and behind those 1980s glasses frames, the similarity was remarkable. It was also the posture, the unwavering eye contact, and the voice; mumbling and unconcerned, listing the terrible details of Nilsen’s crimes as if reciting a recipe instead of multiple brutal murders.

As Nilsen, Tennant pulled off what every actor hopes to in a real-life role – a disappearing trick. He slid clean inside the role, leaving no trace of The Doctor, or Simon from There She Goes, or the demon Crowley, or Alec Hardy, or his funny, self-deprecating public persona. For those three hours on screen, he was nothing but Nilsen.

The role is one in a long line of on-screen psychopaths for Tennant. He might be best loved around these parts as excitable, convivial romantic hero the Tenth Doctor (who, as noted below, also had his villainous moments), but David Tennant has been playing bad guys for decades, starting with a 1995 episode of ITV police procedural The Bill…

Steven Clemens in The Bill, ‘Deadline’ (1995)

In his early 20s, David Tennant went through a rite of passage for the UK acting profession: he landed a part in The Bill. And not just any old part on The Bill, this one was a peach. Tennant wasn’t cast as some kid DC Carver caught snatching a granny’s handbag – he played psychopathic kidnapper and murderer Steven Clemens.

When 15-year-old schoolgirl Lucy Dean (an early role for Honeysuckle Weeks) was abducted after receiving threatening phone calls, the caretaker from her school was brought in for questioning. What followed was a high-stakes game of Blink between Tennant’s character and Sun Hill Station’s finest. Clemens toyed with the police, first denying responsibility and then refusing to tell them where he’d stashed Lucy. It’s a big performance, as suits the soap-like context, but even then Tennant made a good villain, revelling in his evildoing. Clemens came a cropper eventually when Lucy was found alive and the investigation linked him to the kidnap and murder of another schoolgirl. Watch the whole episode here.

Barty Crouch Jr. in Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire (2005)

Skipping forward a decade, Tennant’s most mainstream cinematic baddie to date is Death Eater Barty Crouch Jr. in the fourth Harry Potter film. Crouch Jr. was the Voldemort supporter who engineered Harry’s entry into the Triwizard Tournament, and turned the winning trophy into a portkey that delivered Potter straight into Voldemort’s waiting arms (well, Voldemort was sort of soup at that point, but bit of magic and voila – arms!).

Crouch Jr. did all this while magically disguised as Brendan Gleeson’s character Mad-Eye Moody, so Tennant’s actual screen time in the film is pretty limited. In his few short appearances though – in a flashback to his Ministry of Magic trial and after his disguise is rumbled – Tennant makes a real impression as the unhinged, tongue-flicking baddie.

The Time Lord Victorious in Doctor Who ‘Waters of Mars’ (2009)

The majority of the time, the Tenth Doctor was a sweetie – big grin, lots of enthusiasm, two hearts full of frivolity and love. Every so often though, Ten’s genocidal, survivor-guilt past rose to the surface. Never cruel, never cowardly, no, but sometimes a bit… murdery and drunk on power.

One such occasion was his brutal extermination of the Racnoss children in Christmas special ‘The Runaway Bride’, and another was his Time Lord Victorious trip at the end of ‘Waters of Mars’. In the special, Ten changes the events of a fixed point in time to save the lives of Captain Adelaide Brooke (Lindsay Duncan) and her surviving crew, bringing them back to Earth in the TARDIS instead of leaving them to die. Realising the serious ramifications of his timeline meddling, Brooke confronts the Doctor about his arrogance, and puts the mistake right. It doesn’t take Ten long to come back to his senses, drop the god act, and realise he’s gone too far, and it’s David Tennant’s ability to convincingly play both the power-crazed god and the devastated man that makes him one of the best in the business.

Kilgrave in Jessica Jones (2015)

David Tennant played a bonafide demon from actual hell in Good Omens, the TV adaptation of Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman’s 1990 novel, but Crowley still had nothing on his Jessica Jones character.

The first series of Marvel’s Jessica Jones on Netflix won acclaim for its depiction of a coercive, abusive relationship through a comic book fantasy lens. David Tennant was Kilgrave, a villain with the power of mind control following experiments conducted during his childhood. Instead of using his power for good (convincing people to pick up litter, be kind to animals, etc.), Kilgrave exerted his will on the world at large, bending those around him to his sick desires. When he stumbled upon super-powered private investigator Jones, he didn’t stop at using her super-strength for his own ends. Kilgrave also used his powers to keep Jones hostage and manipulate her into coerced sex. Jones’ battle to escape Kilgrave was powerfully acted by Krysten Ritter and David Tennant, who had the range to show Kilgrave’s ‘charm’ as well as his chilling megalomania.

Staged: BBC Comedy Confirms Sheen & Tennant’s Double-Act Greatness

By Louisa Mellor

Doctor Who: David Tennant reflects on his final line

By Kayti Burt

Cale Erendreich in Bad Samaritan (2018)

Director Dean Devlin followed up weather-disaster flick Geostorm with Bad Samaritan, a dark psychological thriller about a small-time crook who gets into the bad books of a wealthy sicko when he stumbles upon his dark secrets while burgling his house. Misfits’ Robert Sheehan plays the burglar, and David Tennant plays the loaded psycho whose obsession with technology earned him the nickname ‘Evil Bruce Wayne’. Cale Erendreich is a Patrick Bateman-like moneybags psycho with a sick taste in torture. Overall, the film itself isn’t a huge amount of cop, but boy, does Tennant commit.

Dr Edgar Fallon in Criminal ‘Edgar’ (2019)

Netflix’s multi-lingual European series Criminal takes the best bit of Line of Duty – the police interview scenes – and strips away everything else. Every episode has a new case, a new interviewee, a new lead actor, and a team of cops trying to break them within a limited time frame.

Kicking it all off with the first UK episode of series one (a second run is available to stream now) was David Tennant as Dr Edgar Fallon. You’ll have to watch the 42-minute episode to know whether or not Fallon is guilty of the crime about which he’s being interviewed (the rape and murder of his 14-year-old step-daughter), but Tennant is chilling and magnetic enough as the well-spoken English doctor to keep you guessing.

Dr Tom Kendrick in Deadwater Fell (2020)

When a tragedy occurs in a Scottish village, suspicion falls on those closest to the victims. David Tennant plays local GP Tom in Channel 4 drama Deadwater Fell, a four-part series available to stream on All 4, about how a small community responds to a terrible event. Is Tom really the perfect family man he appears to be, or is there something else under the surface? Without giving anything away in terms of plot, Tennant moves fluently between the roles of victim and villain in the audience’s mind as this empathetic, clever miniseries twists and turns.

Dennis Nilsen in Des (2020)

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This starring role is the culmination of years spent clocking up experience on how to unsettle on screen. As real-life Scottish serial killer Dennis Nilsen, David Tennant is chillingly perfect. It’s both an on-point impersonation and a disquieting performance that conjures up this peculiarly banal killer. Tennant is ably aided by co-stars Daniel Mays and Jason Watkins as, respectively, Nilsen’s arresting officer DCI Peter Jay and biographer Brian Masters. It’s a triangle of excellent actors at their best, making for a compelling three-parter.

The post Dennis ‘Des’ Nilsen is Far From David Tennant’s First Psychopath Role appeared first on Den of Geek.

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#aion-rsa #Den of Geek

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darlingrutherford · 5 years ago

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It's Sinful Sunday! Aaaand I have officially fallen into Witcher hell. If you don't like The Witcher, I apologize, because this blog is probably gonna have Witcher stuff on it now. In addition to DA. Because, DA forever.

Of course I had to make a Witcher OC. OF COURSE I hardly know any source content. But, until I know more and figure out the nitty gritty of her life and what their story will be, enjoy some smut. Because, those is what I do these days.

Obligatory "don't read below the cut unless you're 18+!" reminder.

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“Are you close?”

The corner of Geralt’s mouth quirked into a low smirk. Her voice sounded eager, almost pleasantly panicked. She was up to something, that cunning sorceress he never could find himself far from for too long. He held the broach close to his mouth, the one she had given him ages ago on a long chain, when they had both realized how important this was for them. It had seemed simple enough when she had given it to him, but he knew better than to underestimate anything gifted by a sorceress.

“Just passed the fork at the river.”

Theia mumbled something sharply, almost certainly ‘shit.’ Her voice carried through the broach, distant and far away, but still clear.

“Am I interrupting something?” The smirk remained on Geralt’s face. He strained his ear, listening for clues. Something scraping, lightly, in a hurried fashion. Ink on parchment?

“No, I - fuck -” Then, the sound of something breaking. Something small, glass. It sounded tin-y as it echoed in the broach, but he had heard her break enough by then to know better.

“Should I hurry? You sound as if you need assistance.”

“No! No, take your time,” she said. She was trying to calm her voice, and he could hear the smile behind it despite her rushing. “I'm just trying to get some things done before you arrive. I'll see you soon!”

Silence. Slipping the broach back into his shirt beneath his armor, Geralt looked at Roach as the mare eyed him at his side before huffing.

“I know, Roach. We're almost there, and then you'll get your food.”

The huff that left Roach this time was content. Theia spoiled the mare, consistently enough that Roach now trotted along the path to her home with what could be construed as glee with each visit. The two of them walked through the woods, dried leaves crunching under boot and hoof as they made their way to their destination. A light steady trail of smoke was puffing out of the small chimney of the cottage when they arrived, an almost guaranteed site this time of year. Geralt led Roach into the cozy stable Theia had seen to the previous year - not the beginning of her spoiling in the least. Fresh warm hay had been laid in the stall ahead of their arrival, as well as a fresh bag of oats and a smaller bag of carrots hanging at the side. Geralt hummed lowly as Roach eagerly stuck her nose into the bag of carrots, running his hand down her mane before leaving her to her meal.

The cottage was pleasantly warm. The hearth had been replenished recently, with a lidded pot hanging above it filled with some kind of soup by the smell of it. Herbs hung from the rafters, some half dry, tied together in bunches that broke the warm light that glittered in through the window. A strong scent of lavender caught Geralt's attention almost immediately. It floated in a fine line before it melded with the other scents in the room, beginning at the door and leading through the kitchen. He set his pack on the kitchen table, then followed the scent past the hearth to the bedroom. When he swung the door open, he expected to find Theia waiting for him. She liked to leave trails for him, to entice him towards her. But the bedroom was empty. The trail ended at the foot of the bed where, on one of Theia's brightly colored excess pillows, sat a folded scrap of parchment.

I've missed you. Come find me. x

Geralt smirked. She wanted to play a game. It would be unkind of him to deny her, when she was always so hospitable to him and Roach. Geralt lifted the paper to his nose and smelled it. The scent of lavender wasn't as strong on the paper. She had used something other than her skin to spread the scent, then. Still facing the bed, he removed his sword from his back, then began on his armor to set on the bed as he played her game.

He closed his eyes as he inhaled deeply. She cleaned the sheets recently, but if he dug a little deeper he could still find his own scent from his last visit melding with the moss and lavender that rested amongst them all the succeeding nights. Scents traveled like waves of colored light in his mind, stretching in various directions. The glass had been swept away, but he located the source of the break he had overheard before: one of her tiny vials, the one she had been spreading the scent of lavender with. It had rolled off the small desk in the room and shattered upon impact with the wooden floor while she scribbled the note. There it was. Her scent, the most recent, hovering around the desk. She hadn't bathed in her usual lavender that day, trying to cover her scent, but it was still there, remnants of it in her hair, on her skin, just as always. He had his trail.

Geralt watched the ground as he stalked through the woods. He looked for signs of her beyond her scent trail. The falling red and brown leaves aided her at covering most of her physical trail, the wind blowing in various directions to throw off the scent. But he knew her so well by then, after years of games and tricks and her bubbly encouragement. Geralt could feel magic in the air, floating on the wind to his left. A quick glance found leaves swirling before settling down. To a lesser trained eye, it would have appeared nothing more than the autumn wind, but Geralt knew better. He could feel her magic - she was close. He took off sprinting down the way, the leaves crunching beneath his boots until he suddenly came to a stop. Everything was quiet. The magic still hung around, but everything seemed… stagnant.

“Shit!”

It sprung up quickly around him, the very leaves that had been swirling only moments before, fashioning into a wall around him. Geralt turned quickly, surveying the woodland cage that had been created so quickly. He could hear Theia's laughter light on the air, echoing to his left before he heard her footsteps rushing past. Geralt pressed his hand against the wall of leaves, testing their hold, only to have his hand slapped away by a group of leaves.

“You've got to be fucking kidding me,” he growled.

He didn't have time for this. The sun was going down, and she was too close to lose now. He raised his hand, twisting his fingers into the Sign of Aard, and thrusted energy towards the wall in front of him. The leaves shattered, breaking in every direction as he took off running after her. His blood was hot now, ready to close in on his prey.

Geralt ignored the visual signs of her trail. She was trying to cover it up as best she could as she ran, but it was no match for his nose. Moss may have hung in the air at every turn in the old forest, but the light trail of lavender mixed with adrenaline and arousal couldn't be hidden from him no matter how hard she tried. As Geralt came up to a brook he slowed once more and observed the area. She hadn't crossed the water, nor had she gone far. The trail all but ended there, almost vanishing into thin air. A long felled, large tree lay along the bed of the stream, hollow by the look of it. It was covered in lichen and large mushrooms, the tree itself large enough for a full grown man to sit upright inside it. He smirked as he quieted his steps and made his way towards it, following the side towards the opening. Quick as the wind, Geralt lunged his arm into the hollow tree, grabbing onto Theia's ankle and pulling her from it.

Theia screeched at first when he grabbed onto her, more startled from the rush of adrenaline surging through her veins and his quickness than anything. She slid along the leaves as Geralt pulled her out, twisting her body as she tried to get free. Geralt grabbed her other ankle with his free hand, trying to rein her in when suddenly she swished her fingers up towards the sky and his feet were swept as if a rug had been pulled from beneath him. He groaned as his back hit the ground and heard her scrambling up amongst the leaves. Geralt sat up quickly, twisting his fingers as their eyes met.

“Sit,” he growled. The words echoed in Theia's mind, and she suddenly found herself void of the will to move her feet. She slumped back onto her rear, her chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath.

“That's not fair,” she breathed. Geralt would have considered it whining, had she not been so obviously fighting a grin that pulled at her lips.

“You trapped me in a cage made of foliage,” he reminded her.

“What else is a defenseless sorceress to do when the White Wolf is hunting her?”

Geralt peered at her, humming lowly as he saw that look in her eyes. She wanted to play, more than he had originally thought. Well. If she wanted a white wolf, he'd give her just that. He showed his teeth as he smirked at her this time while rising to his feet. The look made Theia's eyes widen as she tried to rise, only to find her bottom firmly fixed and legs refusing to assist, her will to stand all but taken from her.

“Do you know why I was hunting you?” He asked quietly. His voice was low, scraping his throat like gravel. It made Theia shiver, caused her to swallow as she eagerly awaited what he would say next. Geralt took the few steps to close the distance between them and crouched at her side. Theia almost thought he was about to kiss her when his lips ghosted so close to her jaw, but then she realizes he was smelling her, hovering his nose along the side of her face, up into her hair, then back down again, lingering just in front of her to close his eyes as if about to taste a fine wine. Gods help her, she was soaked, and he knew it.

“You couldn't expect me to catch your sweet scent and not desire a bite.”

Despite their game, a whimper was the first thing to leave Theia's mouth when Geralt's hand fisted in her hair and he crashed his lips against hers. She couldn't help it, finding herself so overcome by lust. He was rougher than usual, pulling her hair to strain her neck as his teeth nipped and bruised her lips. Theia bit back just as enthusiastically, not satisfied until he was growling on top of her. She found herself gasping for breath each time his lips parted from hers, only to quickly fall back in line as his tongue demanded submission of hers. Geralt pressed his hips against hers, catching her moans as he ground against heat. His cock had been hard since the moment he had caught her scent in her home upon starting their game, and he made sure that she could feel the strain he carried all because of her. Theia pressed her palms against Geralt's chest and gave a hearty shove. For every inch that she pushed Geralt back, he threw himself forward tenfold until his full weight was pressed against her, trapping her where she lay. A valiant effort, he'd give her that.

Geralt's hands grabbed at the skirt of Theia's dress, roughly rucking it until he could slip his hand onto her bare leg. He didn't bother removing his gloves - he never removed them when taking down his prey after all. Worn leather slid along her smooth skin, pushing the skirt up the remainder of the way with it. Theia felt him hook his fingers along the hip of her underwear, gasping as he pulled hard and ripped the cloth.

“You're gone for two months and you think you can just - !”

Another rough kiss from Geralt silenced her, pulling her back into their roles. His teeth scraped at her top lip, nipping sharply as he quickly unfastened the buttons on his pants. Theia's squirming became more dire as she realized what he was doing, her hands pressing at his shoulders only to find he wouldn't budge. She couldn't see what he was doing while he devoured her mouth, only feel his shifting when suddenly his arms slid beneath her legs, grasped each of her wrists, pinned her arms down at her sides, and thrust into her.

Theia's throaty cry echoed throughout the forest. The babbling brook nearby did little to absorb the sounds of her. Her knees bent over his arms, Geralt had her completely pinned, vulnerable - exactly where he wanted her. He didn't waste time, his hips rushing towards her in quick succession with each thrust. He had missed her more than she could know, but there would be plenty of time for passion and a more gentle touch later. Any pain quickly turned to pleasure for Theia. Her moans were evidence of that: one for each thrust, then one for every two, unable to keep up with his pace as she practically howled her throat raw. Her voice sent a shiver down his spine, fueled his determination. But she was being too loud - words he never thought would run through his mind. At this rate, everyone in the next town over would hear her and come rushing to her aid if the wind caught and carried her voice just right.

“Make a barrier,” he grunted, breaking the facade and slowing his hips for only a moment. It was torture, slowing himself now when all he wanted to do was make her scream his name, but it wouldn't help them if someone actually thought she was being hurt.

“No.” Her reply was curt, defiant, garnished with a smirk.

“Someone's going to hear you.” His tone was clearly dripping with vexation now. Slowing after gaining such speed was maddening. It made him ache as his desire built and built with an invisible wall in his way. Perhaps she didn't understand that their game relied on not being found publicly fucking, that someone else - not Geralt, and certainly not Theia - would be the one hurt if they were to be interrupted.

“Then do something about it.”

Ah. That's what she was wanting.

Geralt had to shift a bit, releasing her legs from their propped position, but, despite Theia's incessant squirming wherever he gave her room, he soon had her arms pinned above her head with one of his massive hands holding them. With his other, he pressed his palm firmly over her mouth, careful not to restrict her breathing as his fingers gripped for purchase. When he thrust back into her with full force, Theia cried out against his leather-clad palm. Clearly she had been holding back, Geralt surmised, judging by how easily he could hear her still. His grip firm, Geralt was satisfied with the muffling, and began thrusting his hips at a speed Theia could clearly tell was to punish her for slowing him before. Her muffled yells melded with his breathy grunts, the slapping of their bodies as they met hurriedly. Theia's eyes opened to meet Geralt's, and in her gaze he found so much lust and love to trust him to take care of her in his roughness. Her brow furrowed for a split second as his hand released her wrists, before she gave a long moan amongst her cries when he began rubbing his gloved fingers just above her heat.

His touch was quick, sporadic, heavy, just like his thrusts. She writhed beneath him, consigning herself fine with the break in roleplay to gain the kind of attention she craved from him. The spiking pressure beneath his fingers and the deep, dull, delicious pain and pleasure of his thrusts, the feelings began to meld together into one big ball of good. There was no other word for it, she was sure. And just when she was unsure if she could handle the pressure any further, it popped, and she came undone beneath him, writhing, and screaming, and flexing around his cock. The squeeze of her undid him then. Geralt buried himself inside of Theia, “Fuck!” rasping from his throat and echoing around them as he squeezed his eyes shut and tightened his grip on her mouth as he emptied himself in her with ragged breath.

Theia couldn't move. She was sure of it. Witcher Sign commanding her to sit or no, she wouldn't be walking home. Geralt remained poised above her, the closest noise to a whimper Theia had ever heard leave his love-bitten lips repeatedly cascading from his throat with each breath as his cock throbbed within her. Her full-fledged whimpering Theia gave to him freely. They broke lightly upon his glove, muffled still as he found himself unable to move his hand quite so soon. When Geralt's eyes opened, he found hers still shut, her brow creased and turned upwards to paint the familiar look he often saw on her after their more intensely passionate trysts.

His hand was stiff when he slid it from her face. He stretched his fingers out at his side, the gentle creaking of tight leather melding with their breaths. Red splashed across her face, mostly confined around her mouth, along with some individual spots from the tips of his fingers along her jaw. If Theia had in her cottage a potion or salve worthy of clearing them, he would see it that night. Her lips were puffy in some places, bruised from bites and everything that came when she challenged him to let loose. And then, came the smile. It spread slowly across her features, as perfect as the rising sun and just as warming, her stamp of approval to let him know she was perfectly satisfied.

Geralt slid from her, rolling to his back at her side. They stared at the evening grey and pink sky that swirled above their heads amongst the red and orange and brown trees that refused to cease the shedding of their leaves even as night began to fall.

“Gods, I missed you, Geralt.”

Geralt hummed his approval, and this time it was his turn to grin.

“You'll have to carry me back,” she said with a heavy breath. Geralt chuckled, picking a large leaf from her shoulder as it landed.

“I may just leave you here.” Now was her turn to hum, hers a long, drawn out one that called his bluff. “I'll know right where to find you in the morning, wet with morning dew and ready for more.”

She didn't answer, but her wide grin and exhausted, lilting laugh was enough. Minutes passed, each of them continuing to catch their breath as they enjoyed the changing of the colors above them.

“Axii never worked on you before,” Gerald commented.

“Maybe I felt like letting it win,” she said. Geralt hummed low, satisfied with her response. She had let it in, given him control to tell her to do whatever he wanted. He would have to keep that in mind for next time.

“I am going to have to carry you home, aren't I?”

“Mmmmhm.”

A ride for a ride. It wasn’t a bad trade-off, he decided.

#the witcher #geralt of rivia #netflix the witcher #theia #I don't have a town for her ending title yet lmao #geralt x oc #fanfiction #spicy #sinful sunday

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writethehousedown · 4 years ago

Text

When the Sun Sets on Us: Chapter 4 (Scyvie) — Phryne

A/N: Hey y'all! I’m back with the fourth chapter of When the Sun Sets on Us, a beach town romance between hopeless romantic Scarlet and cynical about romance Yvie.

Last Chapter: Yvie fought her feelings throughout the date, but kissed Scarlet in the end.

This chapter: Yvie’s back on her bullshit.

Enjoy!

“You’re full of shit, Yvangeline.”

This was at least the twentieth time Vanjie had said that to her. Sometimes she yelled it at her. Sometimes she whispered it in her ear as Yvie was waking up, first adjusting to the sunlight streaming through open curtains, then adjusting to Vanjie crouched down, inches from her face. Sometimes it was passive aggressive, yet implied, as it was when Yvie reached for her toothbrush and Vanjie smacked it off the counter like a disgruntled cat.

It would hurt less to hear if Vanjie were entirely wrong.

Yvie was in fact, full of shit when she walked back into the motel last night — finding all her friends still awake, snapping up to face her like a hoard of hungry lizards, all laid out over the beds, waiting for Yvie to shake some crickets into their tank — and told them she kissed Scarlet, but that it wasn’t a big deal and she probably wouldn’t see her again, so don’t ask.

They asked many questions, none of which Yvie answered. Instead, she went out to the motel balcony, locked the door behind her, leaned over the railing, and smoked a cigarette.

And Yvie knew she was full of shit too. She knew from the smile she held as she told them, the way her heart felt unbearably full when she said they kissed, the way she immediately thought of Scarlet dripping with pearly light when they parted, how Scarlet then pressed a chaste kiss to Yvie’s cheek and played with the hem of her shirt.

But Yvie simply chalked it up to the heat of the moment still spreading like a wildfire she hadn’t had the time to extinguish yet. Oh, how she tried.

And really, liking someone doesn’t mean anything more than liking them. She did like her, of course. Yvie couldn’t figure out a way to deny that, though she did try. But it was better to ignore her feelings. Nothing would ever come of them anyway, and she was sure Scarlet knew that as well. Yvie was nothing more than someone passing through Scarlet’s life, a person resigned to memory while still here, in the present.

“Yvie!” Vanjie yelled once more, standing in the doorway. “Earth to Yvie!”

Brooke poked her head through the doorway. “What the hell is she doing?”

“Probably thinking about Scarlet,” Vanjie replied, exasperated. “Like she been doing every fucking waking minute.”

“Is she coming to the beach?” Yvie heard Silky yell from down the hall, followed by Nina loudly shushing her.

Vanjie tilted her head. She jutted out her chin, waiting.

“What?” Yvie acted as though she hadn’t heard Silky. Really, she didn’t want to answer, because she didn’t want the chance of running into Scarlet and having to explain why she hadn’t texted her back this morning, or worse, see her and feel those same feelings from last night surging through her, sparking like a live wire, causing her to revisit the kiss: Scarlet’s head on her shoulder, Yvie’s arm around her shoulder, Scarlet nuzzling closer, Yvie’s thumb grazing Scarlet’s cheek, Scarlet’s plush lips moving so gracefully hers. All this, cloaked in the inky night spread around them.

“Come on,” Brooke took Vanjie’s hand, pulling her away from the door. “She’s not coming right now.”

“Bitch, you need to stop running away from love,” Vanjie called out before Brooke stepped in front of her.

Yvie sighed, her nostrils flaring. She needed Vanjie to stop insisting it was love so she wouldn’t have a good reason to think it was love herself.

Brooke cast her a sympathetic glance before closing the door. Yvie could still hear Vanjie yell that she was being stupid, and Brooke tell her she just needed time to figure it all out.

Yvie threw herself back onto the haphazardly made bed, covering her eyes with her forearm. She wished she didn’t have anything to figure out. Though she lost the ability to be thoughtless and carefree the moment she saw Scarlet clearing off that table, her heart lurching before a great fall.

Yvie groaned performatively and rolled over.

Her phone, still on the nightstand, neglected, dinged.

It was probably Scarlet again.

She had to figure this out.

***

Scarlet set her phone down and rounded the bar, leaning forward on her elbows and propping her face up. She let out a great sigh. She didn’t want to be clingy, of course, but she couldn’t understand why Yvie hadn’t texted her back. It was weird — and not in a good way.

“Kiki, when someone kisses you, do they usually text you back?” Scarlet asked, watching A’keria intricately fold the napkins.

“Always,” she replied easily. “It’s more like whether I respond or not, keep all this out of arm’s reach, you know,” A’keria ran her hands down her body.

“What if I don’t want to be out of arm’s reach though? What if I want to be in her arms? Like really bad?” Scarlet mused. “Ki, I want that so bad.”

A’keria gave a half-suppressed laugh. “You’re too needy.” She placed her freshly rolled napkin to the side, looking up at Scarlet. “And you need to start skewering that pineapple.”

“Oh right.” She picked up the skewer and sighed.

She unlocked her phone. No responses.

“Why won’t she text me back,” Scarlet whined, taking a pineapple chunk and skewering it.

“Maybe she knows how needy you are,” A’keria muttered, looking past Scarlet, probably watching the news on the tv behind her. “She can smell it on you.”

“Maybe she’s not answering because she didn’t like the date?” Another pineapple chunk. “But if she didn’t like the date then why would she kiss me? I mean, she was the one who initiated it, so she wanted to do it.”

“Uh huh.” A’keria continued rolling the napkin.

“Or maybe she wanted to keep the fish?” She set the pineapple skewer aside, beginning another. “We named him F Scott Fishgerald. Was that too dorky?”

A’keria took the fan and turned it entirely toward her. Scarlet barely missed the breeze staving off the heat.

“I thought it was very nice that we gave the fish to that kid. Also, Yvie didn’t look like she wanted to take care of a fish. They’re a lot of responsibility. You have to buy a bowl and feed it. That’s a lot. And F Scott Fishgerald seemed feisty,” Scarlet pondered, setting another completed skewer aside.

“Yeah, maybe,” A’keria replied aimlessly, readjusting herself on the barstool before grabbing another knife and fork.

“Or maybe she hates me,” Scarlet asked herself, finding her tone a shade darker. Her words were now running on uneven ground, tumbling out before she could remember to repress those thoughts. “I told her so much, Ki. I told her all about here and how being here sucked and how everyone leaves. Maybe she hates my sad sack of a life? She knows she’s going to leave too. She might just be saving me the trouble.” Scarlet sighed, feeling her vision glaze over as she stared at the pineapple chunk in her hand.

A’keria looked up. “Scar, I don’t know.”

Scarlet began skewering again. “I had a good time with her though. Really.” Scarlet looked up at the fluorescent panels, blinking rapidly. She didn’t want to cry. “I thought it was perfect.”

She reached for another pineapple chunk, now peering out of the restaurant, noticing a pigeon waddling away with a popsicle stick.

“I just felt understood. And she listened like everything I said made sense, like it had weight to her. And the kiss…” Scarlet ran through the scene in her mind, the way Yvie repeated her name like she didn’t know what to do with her besides kiss her, like Scarlet was the only word she knew, and she spoke it freely. God it made Scarlet feel wanted.

“I know, Scar.” A’keria gave a small smile. “I know.”

It made Scarlet feel like she was living out a fantasy, like she was the leading lady in a romance novel so well worn the spine had cracked and the cover image had started peeling. She finally felt like something beloved, cherished, precious. She thought of how Yvie held her hand, the gorgeous heat of their skin together, how their lips met gently — timidly at first, then sweet and slow as molasses — how when they parted, Scarlet’s lips had found their way to Yvie’s cheek instinctively, feeling Yvie’s dumbstruck smile in the fullness of her cheek, reciprocating with her own.

She set the finished skewer on the tray, the pineapple messy and unaligned.

“I just…” Scarlet sucked in her bottom lip, contemplating. “I don’t want to be saved the trouble.”

***

Yvie now found herself roaming aimlessly around the room like a caged animal. She had a few cigarettes, hoping they’d help calm her nerves, but she found herself contemplating the way Scarlet teased, how she stood up on her tippy-toes, just to whisper in a whiny, bratty tone that made the ground beneath her sway, until the cigarette burning down to the filter without even once raising it to her lips. Then she smoked the next with such urgency that the tobacco grew stale and tasteless.

She found distracting herself difficult.

So now she took to anxious pacing, her body now matching her restless brain. She paced and she thought about how she could simply respond to Scarlet and this would all be over. She could respond that she had a nice time but didn’t want to start anything serious. She could simply repeat some line about avoiding feelings to avoid heartbreak. She would be telling the truth as honestly as she knew how if she did that.

But she didn’t. Or rather, she couldn’t.

Not when she knew she would be hurting Scarlet by pulling away. But by not pulling away, she’d still be hurting Scarlet through the same means, only a couple days later.

Yvie eyed the floor. Then, pushing away a couple of discarded towels and throw pillows with her foot, she laid down, staring up at the ceiling fan whirling above her. It’s steadiness reassuring, affirming.

She wouldn’t have this problem, she decided, if the date hadn’t been too good. She’d tried to deny it ardently last night, as questions about her night were shouted at her from all directions, all while Yvie tore apart her duffle bag, searching for her oversized t-shirt, which was already on the floor. Every question about what Scarlet wore, what they did, what they talked about, how it felt to kiss her, if she was going to see Scarlet again, how such a moron could be the one to manage to find a girlfriend on their girls trip, if Scarlet was her girlfriend now. Yvie had denied it all, alternating between “it was fine” and “no” to answer their questions before turning off all the lights and stumbling to bed, passive aggressively sending the message that she would not answer any more questions.

Instead, she would lay in bed, a stupid grin struck across her face, and hold the image of Scarlet and all that neon light in her mind’s eye, play through the date once, twice, three more times, before falling asleep.

It was so good, in fact, that Yvie had to rethink her understanding of what constituted deep feelings, whether or not she had them, and to what extent she’d hurt when all she had was the memory of Scarlet and none of the warmth.

And now Yvie found herself here, laying on the matted carpet, saddened by excessive, elusive joy, thinking away her day when she should be having fun with her friends. Which was why she didn’t want to have deep feelings in the first place. There was nothing harmful about a crush on a waitress; the harm was in learning her name and reciting it over and over like a prayer.

***

Scarlet went to put her sloppily made pineapple skewers in the refrigerator, only to come back and find Yvie’s friends walking up to the counter.

She craned her head out the kitchen door, trying to see if Yvie was there with them, but coming up short.

Maybe something happened to her? It was weird that she wasn’t texting back and even weirder that she wasn’t here with her friends. Not talking to Scarlet was one thing, but the kiss wouldn’t have given Yvie any reason not to hang out with her friends.

Scarlet found herself growing concerned, her mind littered with thoughts of accidents Yvie could have fallen into, dreaming up scenarios that scared her senseless, made her heart race.

Maybe her friends would have an answer, Scarlet wondered, walking over to the counter.

“Scarlet,” A’keria warned. “Don’t bother those nice people.”

Scarlet stepped up to the counter, swiping her ID at the register, waiting for them to approach. Scarlet was prepared to bother those nice people.

“Where’s Yvie? Is something going on with her? I really hope she’s okay,” Scarlet blurted out the moment Yvie’s friends reached the counter, ambushing them with her anxious ramblings. “Oh, also hi, hello, what would you like to order?”

Brooke looked at Scarlet perplexed, yet disinterested.

“Uh, just two waters and two frozen margaritas, to go,” Brooke muttered, scanning the cards in her wallet before fishing one out.

Scarlet rang her up and took the credit card.

“So, is Yvie doing okay?” Scarlet tried again, swiping the card.

“She’s fine, she just didn’t feel like coming out today,” Nina replied, offering Scarlet a small smile. “Nothing to worry about.”

Scarlet found herself fidgeting as she tore off the receipt and dug around for a pen. Nothing to worry about sounded exactly like something she should worry about

Or it did to Scarlet, who already decided she was going to worry about Yvie for the following reasons: She wasn’t responding; She wasn’t with her friends; Scarlet missed her; Brooke didn’t respond to her question; Nina smiled at her like she was a child of divorce; She wanted to hold Yvie’s hand and was currently not doing so; and Silky and Vanjie, who seemed to be the loudest and most open of the bunch, were dead silent.

Brooke signed the receipt, sliding it back across the sticky counter to Scarlet, who took her time methodically folding it before sticking it under the cash box.

“Thanks.” Brooke threw her wallet back into her bag.

With that they turned away, surely headed to the beach. Vanjie looked back at Scarlet, inhaling deeply, contemplatively before turning back around.

“I’ll wait for the water bottles and bring them over,” she called back to her friends, though they were only inches away. “You guys go set up.”

Vanjie looked behind her and when satisfied, threw her bag on the counter, shoving her hand inside, searching urgently.

“Oh, we can bring them to you guys—”

“No, shut up,” Vanjie snapped up to look at Scarlet, who was confused by the sudden shift in tone. “Sorry, I mean be quieter.”

“Oh,” Scarlet breathed out. “What’s going—”

Vanjie threw her head back once more. “Don’t you hos go and get sand on my towel!” Vanjie finally pulled something out of her bag, what looked like a zip top baggie filled with cards and loose dollar bills.

Scarlet laughed to herself. “You know, it’s really telling that Brooke has a nice leather wallet and you keep your money in a bag.”

“Observant,” Vanjie noted while shuffling through her cards. “She also organizes her money by serial number, but don’t tell her I said that.”

“I won’t.” Scarlet giggled.

“You gonna get the waters?” Vanjie looked up before huffing, looking through her cards again.

“Oh right, sorry.” Scarlet pulled two waters out of the fridge, placing them next to Vanjie’s bag.

“Gotcha.” Vanjie pulled a card out and held it out to Scarlet.

Between the secrecy and the card, really this whole encounter, Scarlet was growing confused, which wasn’t sitting well on all the anxiety. “Brooke already paid.”

“It’s my room key.” Vanjie took Scarlet’s hand and placed the key in her palm, wrapping her fingers around it. “If I know Yvie, she’s probably still in our room, laying on the carpet or some shit like that, thinking herself to death. But she’d want to see you and talk to you and sort out her feelings for you.”

Feelings for you? So Yvie was okay, or at least she could assume Yvie was okay if Vanjie thought she was in their room. But what was she thinking about? And what did Vanjie mean by feelings? Scarlet almost hoped Yvie felt the same way about her as she did about Yvie before stopping herself, knowing that getting attached to someone else’s hypothetical feelings was a dangerous game.

“Wait, so what do you want me to do with this?”

Vanjie grabbed the waters and stuck them in her bag. “Go to her.”

And with that, she walked away, leaving Scarlet with the room key and a fragile sense of hope.

#rpdr fanfiction #scyvie #scarlet envy #yvie oddly #vanessa vanjie mateo #brooke lynn hytes #silky nutmeg ganache #nina west #when the sun sets on us #phryne #beach au #lesbian au #concrit welcome #summer lovin' 2020 #day 4: heat #submission

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lostinyourparadise98 · 5 years ago

Text

Let You Go

a/n: I hope you all enjoy! please like and share this one is kind of long (:

“You know I will always support you but I cannot let you do this.”

I roll down the sleeves of my sweater letting the fabric swipe away the tears that pool from my eyes. Ive told myself over and over again to never let it get to this point. To never let anyone see how much I love him but its too late.

“I can't do this Brooke, its too hard.” My voice comes out as a whisper as Brooke sits beside me on the cold bathroom tile. She rests her head against the wall grabbing my hand in hers and sighing deeply.

“The wedding is tomorrow pet, you cannot just bail he is your best friend.”

Ive spent most of my life convincing myself that one day I would build up the courage to tell him the truth. That one day he would see me across the room, look into my eyes and that would be it. He would smile while walking over to me and kiss me till the world melted away. Sometimes life doesn't work out that way. So, here I am sitting on my bathroom floor with my roommate the day before the love of my life gets married, fighting with what I want to do and with what I know I have too.

“I cant even say his name without crying Brooke ” I rest my head on her shoulder.

“Im going to be honest with you okay? This i going to be the hardest thing you will ever have to do but I promise you, when you look back you won't regret it. You can't just disappear you have to take tomorrow as an opportunity to receive closure. To, to-”

“Let him go?” I finish her sentence

“Yes lovely, its time to let him go.”

The next morning

The sun shines bright today as I stand in front of the mirror. I run my hands along the side of my dress making sure everything is in place. The peach colored fabric runs a couple of inches above my feet. I don't normally wear backless but Brooke talked me into it. My hair is neatly curled falling just below my shoulders.

“Y/n! Gemma is here.” Brooke calls for me.

Taking one last look at myself I head downstairs following Brooke and Gammas laughter in the kitchen. My eyes land on Gemma she looks absolutely stunning she is practically glowing.

“Y/n look at you, oh my goodness you look amazing.” She pulls me in for a hug

“You look incredible Gem.”

“Thank you sweets. Well what do you say are you ready to go?”

no no no no no no

“Yes all set!”

“Have a good time you two. You both look beautiful ill pick you up later Y/N.” Brooke walks us to the door

We make our way to Gammas car. I have to continuously remind myself to breathe. I need to get it together.

“Hey wait.” Gemma lightly grabs my hand

“whats up did you forget something?” I ask

“Are you okay?” Her eyes are filled with compassion and love

“Of course I'm okay why would you-”

“Y/n you're my brothers best friend I have known you my entire life you don't have to pretend around me.” Holy shit she knows

“What are you talking about?” Please don't make me talk about this

“y/n, don't play with me I see you. Its the way you look at him, hell even in the way you say his name. You love him.”

“Please Gemma I can't”

“I know my love, I know. I am so sorry y/n you have no idea how much I am hurting for you, I promise you I will be here for you okay? If you need to take a breather or something is too much for you to handle just tell me and we will get through it together.”

“You shouldn't have to do that Gem its your brothers wedding day. You should be happy celebrating him not babysitting me.”

“I love my brother more than anything on this planet but that doesn't mean I have to agree with everything he does.”

“Gem Emma is perfect for Harry. She makes him over the moon happy that is all I want for him. I guess thats what makes it worse she absolutely lovely, not a bad bone in her body.”

“Don't get me wrong I adore Emma but its always been you two, always. trust me I'm not the only one who thinks so.”

“Who else knows?”

“My mum, well its basically obvious to everyone but Harry. Tell you the boy is clueless.”

“He doesn't love me Gem I have to accept it.”

“You're the strongest person I know y/n.”

The car ride to the church is spent with Gemma filling the air with small talk. I can tell she is trying to distract me bless her soul. There is nothing on this Earth that could pull me away from this pain. I should have told him why the hell did I not take a chance. What if he felt the same way, what if-

“y/n? you ready.”

It takes me a moment to realize that we have arrived to the church. I take a deep breathe and nod. I step out of the car and force myself to smile. This is going to be a very long night.

We step through the doors and I am taken back by how beautiful the church is. We are one of the first people here Anne greets us right away, hugging Gemma first then making her way to me. She immediately wraps her arms around me and whispers.

“He is looking for you I can come up with something if you're not ready to see him.” I pull away

“No, Its okay I'm ready.” Anne leads me to the back room where Harry is we both stand blankly in front of the door.

“I love you my sweet girl let know if you need anything.”

“Thank you Anne I love you too.” She gently smiles and quietly walks away

I can feel my heart fall to my throat. My hand begins to shake as I slowly lift it and begin knocking.

“Come in.” His voice causes my heart to race my mouth goes dry I slowly turn the knob and enter.

Harry stands in front of a tiny mirror adjusting his curly hair. He turns to face me and his face turns up into a bright smile. This is so hard

“Hey, there you are come in.” the sun light streaming through the window causes his skin to radiate a heavenly glow. His eyes, My God those eyes I never want them to leave mine.

“Look at you, you look so handsome ” don't cry don't cry don't cry

He walks closer to me, “Thank you petal, you know its crazy to think that you use to be taller than me.”

“Oh hush you'll shrink down by the time you're forty. You'll probably be balding by then too.”

He dramatically gasps, “Okay now you've crossed a line.” we both chuckle as he walks behind me grabbing two glasses and a bottle of champagne. He pops the Champagne open and begins pouring.

“I don’t think Ive ever been this nervous.” he hands me a glass

“You’ll be fine you have nothing to worry about.”

“I need you to know that it means the world to me that you're here. You're my best friend and I could not imagine doing this without you.”

“Of course Harry what are friends for?” He steps closer to me

“Can you promise me something?” His eyes poor into mine, it takes everything in me not to fall into his arms and confess everything. All I can do is nod as he continues.

“Promise me that we will be in each others lives forever. That we will spend holidays together and our kids will grow up and become best friends just like we did.”

“I promise.” I raise my glass to his clinking it

“Heres to forever.”

“To forever.” A forever next to a man I can never have.

The ceremony begins, I watched Harry step up to the alter messing with his fingers as he waits for his bride. A nervous habit he has never been able to break. Theres a moment when everything goes silent my eyes are glued to Harry. His eyes are wide, his smile the brightest I have ever seen. I can't stop myself from grinning along with him. He looks so happy, Emma makes her way closer to him their eyes are focused on each other. I watch him mouth the words ‘I love you’ and in that moment my heart shatters.

They exchange their vows giving the rest of their lives to one another. I sat in silence counting all the times I could have confessed. Once the ceremony ends I drive with Niall and Louis to the reception. Its nice to get pulled out of reality for awhile. Louis is the best person to go to when you need a distraction. Once we reach the reception I find my name tag and take my seat. I'm able to get through dinner and make polite conversation. The Dj announces Mr and Mrs. styles are about to have their fist dance. I couldn't sit through it, I had to excuse myself.

I tried my best to be inconspicuous as I snuck through the back. The cool summer breeze kissed my skin, the sun began to set as I listened to their song in the background. I have never felt so empty. I couldn't hold back anymore I let myself unravel I let every tear Ive ever held back fall.

I didn't realize how long I was outside till the moon began to rise. I was suddenly pulled away from my thoughts when the back door opened.

“y/n? What are you doing out here I have been looking all over for you.” I can't bring myself to face him.

“y/n? petal its freezing out here.” I feel him begin to wrap his tux around me but I pull away.

“You don't have to do that I'm okay.” he stands closer to me

“Have you been crying?”

“I’m okay its probably just the wine you know how I get.” I try my best to keep my voice calm but the lump in my throat gets bigger and bigger

“Hey, hey, hey look at me. You can talk to me y/n its me.”

“Harry please just go inside Ill be okay I promise just go back and enjoy your wedding.”

“I can't enjoy it knowing you’re out here by yourself crying. You haven't even danced with me yet.” I can't help but chuckle at his concern

“Come on please petal come dance with me I have a song picked out and everything.”

“Harry I can't, Im sorry I just can't.”

“Thats okay we can dance right here.”

“Here?”

“well you won't go inside come on come here.”

He wraps his hands around my waist and I place mine on his shoulders. We slowly sway back and fourth even though the Dj is playing a fast paced song. I can't handle looking at him so I place my head on his shoulder.

“Petal I want you to know that whatever is bothering you will get better. I will be here when you are ready to talk about it. I want you to enjoy yourself tonight I can't stand to see you sad. Emma will be heartbroken if she knew you were so upset.” And with that I lost it again, I pulled away from him.

“I have to go Harry.”

“What why?”

“I can't handle this anymore.”

“y/n please talk to me you're freaking me out.”

“Its too much I will ruin everything if I tell you.” He grabs my hands in his attempting to calm me down

“Please just talk to me I promise you aren't going to ruin anything.”

“You are the most important person in my life Harry. You have been here for me my entire life and your friendship means the world to me. I thought I could push it away, I thought I would be able to do this but its impossible because I'm in love with you. I don't expect you to do or say anything I just needed you to know. I will leave and you won't have to worry about me intruding I promise I am so sorry for ruining everything I just-”

He wraps his arms around me and pulls my body close to his chest. I slowly bring my arms around him, hugging him back. I hear him sniffle and realize he is crying. He pulls away for a moment and puts his forehead against mine

“I should have told you.” he whispers

“What?” This can't be happening

“Its always been you y/n.”

“You can't say that to me Harry this can't happen its too late.”

“I know.” Tears streaming down both of our face

“Its best for the both of us if I disappear for awhile Harry.”

“Petal please don't you're my best friend, I love you.”

“I love you too but this is too hard I can't watch you kiss her its too painful I just need some time.”

“Please don't do this.”

“Harry I have to let you go.”

“I know that you understand that I love Emma with all my heart. She makes me so happy and for a long time I was convinced I would never have that. She is my wife and I will always honor and be loyal to her. But that will never change the fact that you will always be my first. It was you from the beginning, you will aways be in my heart fucking always. Promise me you won't let this change us please.”

“I can't promise that. I just need to go away for awhile please don't be upset with me.”

He leans down and presses his lips to my forehead.

“I could never be upset with I just can't believe we have to-”

“Let each other go.” we say in unison

He let me go.

Hope you all enjoyed!!! sorry if none of it makes sense I never edit my work lol

#Harrystyles #harry styles #watermelon sugar #kiwi #fine line #lights up #one direction #harrystylesimagines #harry styles fanfic #harrystyles2019 #Niall horan #liam payne #louis tomlinson

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eirist · 5 years ago

Text

Little Bits and Pieces of Heaven

HUNT FOR HAUNTS

One-shot #: 16

Disclaimer: One Piece (and its characters) belongs to Eiichiro Oda-sensei.

Reminder: I have no beta-reader. Any grammatical and spelling errors are solely mine.

Warning: OOC possible. One shot.

Rating: T

Note: A very late Halloween inspired fic, as well as a prompt request from @tali-workshop.

Summary: “I think this place is haunted Zoro.”

The clock in the middle of the town struck twelve and its chime resounded across the air, the melody resonating along the silent streets.

Twelve times, it rang; each sound more sinister than the last one as if sending a warning of dire tidings to come.

When the last tones finally dissipated, an eerie silence fell all over the town.

-------------------------

“Are you sure this place is livable?”

Usopp stared unconvincingly at the close-to-dilapidated inn in front of them.

Franky studied the building while thoughtfully rubbing his chin. “I think it could use a few suuupeeer repairs here and there…”

“Scratch that,” the sniper said with a slight wave of his hand. “It needs an overhaul. A major one.”

“Quit complaining!” Nami snarled from behind them. “We are lucky enough to get a place to stay while the log sets.” Though she sweat-dropped when her eyes settled on the dejected sight in front of her. True enough the inn looked old and abandoned… and absolutely not inhabitable in her opinion.

“A-are we really going to stay there?” Chopper whispered in a trembling tone while hiding behind Zoro’s leg. “It looks really scary.”

“Well we have no choice,” Sanji answered as he scrutinized the edifice, blowing out a stream of smoke. “It’s the only place available that can accommodate all of us.”

“Why can’t we just stay in the Sunny?” Usopp inquired with a frown. “That should save us some money,” he glanced at the inn and shuddered. “And some sanity as well.”

Why is that the more he stared at it, the more it seemed… foreboding?

“Hmmm… it does look like most of the dwellings and structures on this island are built to look old and forlorn, if not mysterious or scary.” Robin observed as she stared at the other contraptions randomly dotting the downhill road leading to town.

“Yohohoho!” Brook bravely approached the threshold. “It does, doesn’t it Robin-san? From what I heard the people of this town live for the spooks and the creeps. They actually love the occult and the macabre; hence the whole dark, eerie and ghastly atmosphere.”

“Ok seriously. What kind of island have we docked into?” Usopp groaned.

“Tch,” Zoro clicked his tongue against roof of his mouth. “This couldn’t get drearier than Kuraigana.”

“No one’s asking moss-head.” Sanji huffed beside him.

“Urusei stupid eyebrows.”

“Temee…”

“Shut up!” Nami viciously glared at the two, silencing them.

Zoro scowled at her. “Can we go inside now?” A yawn escaped him. “I want to sleep.”

“Is that all you can think about?” Nami gave him a disapproving glance. Talk about downright lazy. Zoro really takes the damn cake.

“Right now yeah,” he mumbled, scratching his head.

Nami sighed. She had to admit, she was tired as well. She was already up at the wee hours of dawn with Zoro and Franky; navigating the foggy waters surrounding the island, making sure they don’t ram head on into any of the numerous islets scattered everywhere.

A flash of red caught her eye. Luffy just landed right in front of the inn, after taking his sweet time prancing about the whole perimeter and frolicking in the nearby woods.

The rubber man’s eyes were twinkling with too much excitement at the prospect of exploring a new place. “Shishishi!” He laughed exuberantly. “I smell adventure!” He pumped his fist into the air. Then he pointed towards the inn. “Let’s go minna!”

“Shall we go in and find out if it’s… haunted?” Robin queried, winking mischievously at the others.

Luffy’s eyes lit up some more at that. “Oooh! Haunted? Maybe we can catch some ghosts!”

“Ghosts?!” Chopper gasped.

“Ghosts?!” Usopp echoed.

“Ghosts?!” Brook choked, his bony hands going to his cheeks… or lack thereof.

Sanji aimed a kick at the stupid skeleton’s head… skull…

“Aho! Why don’t you look at yourself first?!”

“Yohohoho! But Sanji-san. I am scared of ghosts!”

“Everybody shut up!” Nami shouted. “There are no ghosts there and it’s not haunted!” She wrapped her arms around herself at the thought that it could be haunted… given the way the place looks.

“How sure are you Nami?” Robin asked grimly as the navigator flinched.

“Robin!!!”

“Don’t worry my Nami-swan! Your prince will protect you at all costs!” Sanji sang and twirled towards her. “You too my lovely Robin-chwan!”

“Good grief cook don’t you ever stop?” Zoro groused as he nonchalantly strode towards the entrance.

“HAH?!”

“Stop it and just move your asses!” Nami hissed when the two men started glaring daggers at each other.

“Let’s go!!!” Luffy was already at the entrance, yelling. “Let’s hunt some ghosts!”

Franky trudged forward as the others slowly followed. “Looks like this is gonna be a fun stay.”

“Zoroo…” Chopper leapt up at the swordsman’s shoulders. “I’ll stay in the room with you.”

“Hnnn…”

“Nami-swan! Robin-chwan!” Sanji crooned. “I can stay in the room with—”

“We’re good Sanji-kun,” Nami said dismissively as Robin giggled. The cat thief is not looking forward to the thought of a pervert hovering over her while she sleeps.

“But…”

“Hey wait!” Usopp raised a hand to get their attention.

“What Usopp?” Zoro asked, quirking an eyebrow at him.

“Are we the only guests staying here?”

They all fell silent at that.

Then Robin looked at him with a grave expression on her face. “And what if we are?” She said with a disturbing smile.

“Uhh… I think I’m coming down with a bad case of cannot-go-inside-a-haunted-inn disease!”

-------------------------

The clock in the middle of the town struck seven and its chime resounded across the air, the melody resonating along the silent streets.

Seven times, it rang; each sound more sinister than the last one as if sending a warning of dire tidings to come.

When the last tones finally dissipated, an eerie silence fell all over the town.

Then all the lights in every house, on every street were simultaneously extinguished.

-------------------------

Zoro opened his eye almost immediately.

It was quiet. Too damn quiet.

He slowly rose from the bed, rubbing a hand on his face in the process. He was alone in the room that they had rented for the night.

What time is it? And where are the others? He blearily looked around, trying to sense any of his friends anywhere.

And why is it dark?

He instantly stood up. Usually he would just shrug this off and go back to sleep but his gut instinct was telling him that something was… off.

Just like Usopp pointed out earlier, they were the only ones who were staying at the inn of nightmare (as the sniper coined it). But contrary to how it looked outside, the innermost area of the place was actually well-kept and tidy even. Robin commented that the inn’s façade was just probably to live up with the island’s weird ambience.

The moment they were assigned their respective rooms, the swordsman left the others talking to the inn’s caretaker. He sleepily made his way upstairs with Nami trailing right behind him, pointing the correct directions to their rooms in a snippy tone.

He was tempted to start a row with her, but decided against it. He knows she was being snarky because she was just as tired as him after that rather challenging sailing and steering to get to this damned island this morning.

He was out cold the moment his back hit the soft bed. And had just woken up when he sensed that something was amiss.

Zoro remained standing in middle of the room, waiting, watching and listening. He had been hearing weird, scratching sounds along the wall as well as dull thuds like someone was banging on it. Heck, he could swear that there was one time he heard someone moaning or groaning. But his haki did not pick up anyone or even anything in the area.

Except… Nami.

Gathering his precious katanas, he decided to step out of the room to check on the navigator.

-------------------------

To his surprised he was met by the sight a cowering mapmaker behind a slightly opened door, peering fearfully at the corridor.

“Nami?”

“Zoro?” She half-whispered, half-asked as she peeked from the slightly ajar door of the girls’ rented room.

The whole corridor was in darkness. No, scratch that. The whole inn where they were is in total darkness.

There were a few seconds of silence before the navigator threw the door open with a shriek that almost made Zoro deaf as she launched herself at him.

“Oi!” He grunted when Nami’s body abruptly collided with his. “Ouch! Damn it Nami! Watch where you are touching!”

“It’s too damn dark! I can’t see anything!” Nami retorted, trying to grab whatever part of Zoro she can get her hands on. Their hands tangled and pushed at each other as they both tried to grasp the other—Zoro with the intent to stop her from grabbing while Nami was bent on seizing any available part of the swordsman.

Her elbow knocked on his swords and Zoro growled. “Stay still damn it!” His hands finally managed to wrap around her wrists.

“Zorooo…” she wailed. “Wait! Are you really Zoro?”

“What the hell do you mean by that woman?!”

“I dunno. You could be someone pretending to be Zoro…”

“Are you insane witch?” He hissed. “It’s me. What are you gibbering on about?”

There was a pause and a sniffle much to Zoro’s astonishment. Then Nami pulled her hands away from his hold to wrap them around his waist in a vice-like grip.

“Zoro! You idiot! I thought I was all alone here!” She cried out; her tone muffled as she buried her face on his chest.

Zoro scratched his head at that. It was clear that Nami was on edge tonight. Well who could blame her? Waking up alone in the midst of darkness while in an unfamiliar territory would definitely shake the shit out of someone.

Well… except him. He’s used to waking up by himself almost anywhere in the middle of anything.

But Nami, he reminded himself, was different from him.

He patted her head awkwardly. “I’m here,” he grunted.

In the dark he felt her tilt her head up to look at him, arms still locked around his waist without any intent of letting go.

“Where are the others?” She asked in a hushed tone.

Zoro shrugged. “I dunno. I just woke up.”

“Can you try finding them using your haki?”

“I already did.”

“And?”

He shook his head before he remembered that she won’t be able to see the gesture. “Nothing.”

He can hear Nami gulped nervously. “So we are alone here?!”

“Looks like it.”

She was silent for a few seconds. Then her embrace on him tightened as she whispered, “I think this place is haunted Zoro.”

Zoro’s face scrunched into a frown at that. “What?”

“I think this place is haunted.”

The tall lad scoffed. “Don’t be such a scaredy-cat Nami. Ghosts aren’t real.”

“You don’t know that!”

“We have a freaking skeleton on the ship with us!” Zoro pointed out. “And you are drawing the line with ghosts?”

Nami did not answer.

“Besides the only close to ghosts I’ve seen so far is Perona’s negative hollows. And that even comes from her devil fruit power.”

“Then how can you explain the sounds I’m hearing earlier?” The orange-haired girl retorted, grasping his shirt firmly. “Didn’t you hear it too Zoro?” She tentatively asked, biting her lower lip.

Maybe it was wrong to ask the stoic swordsman. Knowing him—if he indeed heard the same things she did—he would just shrugged it off as nuisances and would go back to sleep.

“You mean those—”

THUD!

They both stopped at the sound. Zoro swore he can feel the way Nami stiffened against him. How her grip on his shirt tightened and how she pressed herself closer to him.

THUD!

“I know you hear that Zoro!” Nami hissed, daring him to go and disagree with her.

“Tch. I do.”

She squirmed against him. “What do you think it is?”

He grabbed her shoulders and pushed her away a bit. He pricked his ears up, trying to listen to the sound again. But there was nothing.

Nami was looking at him uneasily. “Zoro…”

“It came from upstairs,” Zoro said as his hand slid to the hilt of his red sword. A shark-like grin suddenly appeared on his face. “Well… only one way to find out.”

Nami’s eyes widened. No. He can’t mean…

“Come on,” he took a step forward. “Let’s look for what’s causing that damned sound.”

“WHAT?!” The cat burglar finally managed to blurt out.

“You’ve been hearing the same weird sounds right?” Zoro inquired with a huff.

“Yeah…” Nami affirmed. “That’s what woke me up. I heard that same thudding and then some strange sound like someone was groaning or moaning.”

The former pirate hunter nodded. “I heard the same. That’s why we need to see what’s causing it.”

“No we don’t!” The navigator all but screeched. “I absolutely refuse! No. Nuh-uh. You can’t make me.”

“I’m not forcing you to!” Zoro growled lowly. “You can just stay in your room!”

��Fine I will!”

“Who knows what you might see or hear —”

“ZORO!!! YOU ASSHOLE!!!” Nami shrieked as she started hitting him with her fist.

“Hey! Aww! Stop hitting me Nami!”

“Why would you fucking say that?!”

Zoro restrained both of her wrists with one hand, pulling her towards him. “Listen here woman. Either you come with me or you lock yourself inside that room and wait for me to come back!”

Nami looked absolutely horrified at that. Not that he can see it. Wait for him to come back? Seriously? “No!” She snapped at him. “With your sense of direction? You’ll get lost in this darkness and you will never make it back to me!”

“My sense of direction is fine witch!”

“No! No! No! No!” She shook her head vehemently making her long hair bounced around at the force. “I’m coming with you!” Nami gazed at the long, dark corridor weakly. “Even if there are things in the dark…”

Zoro snorted.

Nami shot him a sharp look. Their eyes have finally adjusted in the darkness that they can now faintly make out each other’s features.

He gently released her hands from his grip. “It’s much safer for you if you are with me Nami.”

Her breath hitched at that. There was something with the way he said it that makes her heart thump wildly against her chest.

“Let’s go.”

Nami reached out and clutched his hand. “Zoro it’s too dark,” she stated. She know how easily he can get lost in three steps and she’s afraid that she’ll be left alone in the dark trying to find her way.

Zoro studied her for a few good seconds then nodded. “I won’t let go alright.”

She managed to smile. “Don’t get lost Zoro. Don’t leave me here alone in the dark or I swear you’ll be looting for treasures to pay me for the rest of your life.”

“Fine.” The green-haired lad tugged at her hand so they could start moving. “Weren’t you supposed to be a cat burglar or something? Shouldn’t you be at home with the darkness?”

Nami huffed. “Only if I’m stealing. Haunted inns are a different thing!”

“For the last time this place is not haunted,” Zoro groaned. “Come on let’s go.”

They barely made it a few steps when one of the doors ahead suddenly opened. The two pirates halted and stared at it, waiting.

“What the hell?!” They both shouted in unison as something crawled out of the open room.

It was dressed in what looked like a tattered robe streaked with blood. Its black hair looked molting and greasy and was covering its whole face. Whatever it was, it seems like it was not crawling as they initially thought… but slithering out of the room.

All of a sudden, whatever-that-thing-is, lifted its head and looked at them.

Then it let out the most awful, terrifying moan Nami ever heard in her entire life.

“KYAAAHHHH!!!” She screamed at the same time, absolutely horrified. She let go of Zoro’s hand and turned to run towards the other direction.

“Nami!”

Suddenly something dropped from the ceiling right in front of the already terrified girl, cutting her escape.

Nami blinked. And froze. She was face to face with a severed head—all skinned and bloodied—gawking at her even in death.

She let out a bloodcurdling scream.

“AAAAAAAHHHHH!!!”

Zoro moved fast, grabbing her immediately and almost shoving her face on his chest to stop her from looking at the hideous sight as he ran past it. “Damn it,” he muttered, cradling the bawling navigator against him.

He sprinted towards the other end of the corridor, not even bothering to look back.

What the hell was THAT?

He turned around the corner and leaned against the wall, catching his breath. Nami was still trembling in his arms.

“What the hell was that?” She managed to choke out after a minute.

“I don’t know!”

She buried her face back into his chest. “I told you this place is haunted!” She whimpered, clutching the front of his shirt. “This is so much worse than Thriller Bark!”

“I’ll say,” Zoro breathed out as he looked down at the top of her head. “Though I really doubt that those are ghosts.”

“I don’t care what they are. Let’s just get out of here Zoro!”

Before he can even answer, the sound of all the doors opening at the corridor they just vacated filled the air.

“What the fuck?” They both whispered and Nami pushed herself closer to him as possible.

There was the thudding sound again and this time it came from almost all around them, accompanied by unearthly moans that sounded like someone was in agony.

“Zoro!”

“Move Nami,” he ordered as he pulled her towards the dark hallway to their left. They covered a few good feet before a random door burst open and something rammed itself against Nami’s legs almost making her stumbled forward.

“Aaaaaah! Zoro get it off! Get it off!” She shrieked when she felt a cold, clammy hand closed around her ankle. She kicked at it wildly, the heel of her shoe meeting something solid.

When she felt it release her, she automatically threw herself at Zoro, who promptly caught her while glaring at the thing on the floor.

“Zoro! Zoro!” Nami gazed at him pleadingly. “Get us out of here!” She wrapped her arms around his neck with a wail. “It’s not a request. It’s a demand!”

Zoro’s eye left the figure he was scrutinizing and raised an eyebrow at her.

Nami grabbed both of his cheeks so that they were eye to eye with each other. “I’ll knock off some belis from your last debt and buy you whatever booze you want!”

How he was able to smirk while they are in this predicament is beyond her. “Heh! Now we are talking.”

“Just get us out of here!!!”

-------------------------

They managed get down the first floor and turn around a corner that was luckily devoid of any weird occurrences. By now the whole inn seemed to come alive with thudding sounds, opening and closing doors, creaking floors and some moaning and groaning here and there.

His eyes rested on Nami who was looking worse for wear. She was catching her breath, chest heaving in a frenzied manner as she struggled to fill her lungs with air. Between all that running and screaming, he was surprised she didn’t pass out. Well to be honest, they’ve been through worse than this before.

Their navigator was really something.

He had to admit. A scared Nami is a damn cute one. Not to mention the way she was clinging on him like he was her lifeline was kinda... nice.

When she’s like that, it can’t help but bring to surface a whirlwind of feelings he doesn’t really know he can handle or wants to deal with.

“Zoro!” Nami pushed herself on him again. In the dim light trickling from a window, he was able to see that there were remnants of tears glinting at the corner of her eyes. “Let’s just get out of here! This place is going to drive me nuts.”

He stared at the orange-haired girl for a few seconds. Nami rested her head against his chest exhausted. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close and basking in the moment that he can actually touch her like this.

This damned inn and all its spooks have it merits after all.

“Zoroo...” she bemoaned looking up at him beseechingly. “Let’s go.”

“Alright,” he sighed flicking one last glance at her. And before he can stop himself, he bent down and softly pecked her lips.

Nami stiffened at the contact. And so did he; head snapping back sharply and stepping away from her.

“Su-sumanai...”

Nami brought a hand on her lips as Zoro turned red. What possessed him to do that?

“I-it was just a spur of the moment thing,” he stuttered, embarrassed and thankful that the darkness was able to hide his blushing face. “Let’s just get out of here.” He pronounced, clearing his throat.

This is what happens when you let your guard down Zoro. He chastised himself. Just one damn situation like this, where all the defenses are down, had him showering the mapmaker with even just a sliver of his real affection for her.

He sidestepped and was about move forward when Nami’s arm shot up and hooked around his waist.

“Nam-?”

Any other words stopped short in his mouth when he felt her pressed her own lips against his.

There in the midst of all the spookiness and ghastliness, while everything is dark and eerie... they kissed each other.

Zoro brought a hand to cup her face, pushing her closer as he deepened the kiss. Nami didn’t seem to mind it as she returned the kiss with enough fervor to make him realize that there will be no turning back from this.

Her hand closed on the wrist of the one that was holding her face as the other gripped on his shirt tightly. He barely noticed his arm snaking around her slim waist, almost lifting her off the ground so that he can delve into her taste deeper.

They exchanged soft quick kisses, trying to savor the sensation, before finally stopping to catch their breaths as they both gazed at each other.

The corners of Nami’s lips quirked into a smile. He returned it with a smirk of his own.

“Get us out of here Zoro,” she murmured albeit cheekily. Gone was the scaredy-cat witch from earlier who was shrieking and screeching non-stop.

He nodded. His grey eye still locked onto her brown ones. It seems to be telling him that a reward was due once he gets them out of there.

Suddenly a door on the far right banged opened and there was a terrifying moan as a figure shuffled out slowly.

And just like that the somehow dreamy atmosphere dissipated, plunging them back into reality.

“Zorooooo!” Nami squealed and flung herself at him again for the umpteenth time that night. “I don’t want to be here anymore!”

Zoro caught her effortlessly, wrapping an arm around her waist, a bit peeved at the intrusion.

Something slammed on the window on their left and Nami let out a bloodcurdling scream as a face twisted in what can only be defined as torment peered at them from the outside.

Zoro winced as her voice hit a pitch high enough to shatter his eardrums.

“Get us out of here now!” Nami demanded arms locked tight around his neck and face buried against the crook of his neck. “Now!”

Zoro sighed and muttered an affirmative. Only one way out. He should’ve done it from the start.

“Tatsu maki!”

-------------------------

The clock in the middle of the town struck eight and its chime resounded across the air, the melody resonating along the streets.

Eight times, it rang; each sound more sinister than the last one as if sending a warning of dire tidings to come.

Before the last tones finally dissipated, it was interrupted by a sound of explosion coming from the outskirts of the town where an old, creepy inn was situated.

-------------------------

“Hey,” Usopp called out as he traipsed along the cobblestone street along with Luffy and Chopper. “Did anyone inform Zoro or Nami that there will be something like a scare fest for the town’s festival tonight?”

“Uhm… I’m not really sure,” Franky answered, peering from behind the nine pumpkins he acquired from one of the market stalls. “I think Robin did?”

“I mentioned it to Nami,” Robin said as she fell into the step beside the shipwright. She just came out of the bookstore that they passed by with Sanji in tow. “But I doubt she heard it from all that yapping at Zoro about rooms and directions.”

“The scare fest wouldn’t be until midnight tonight,” Brook hummed. “We still have time to tell them.”

“Don’t mind it,” Luffy waved their concern off like the carefree captain that he is. “They’ll both be fine.”

“Can we still walk around the town before we head back?” Chopper asked. “I still want to buy some of that candy corn we saw earlier.”

“Ooh! And some of those pumpkin-shaped cookies that really smells wonderful!” Luffy agreed his mouth watering at the thought of the treats.

“Go ahead,” Sanji told them. “I’ll head back first and drop off this books Robin-chwan brought. Then I’ll inform Nami-swan and that stupid moss-head about the—”

BOOM!

An explosion came from the location of the inn where they were staying.

The Straw Hats watched, perplexed, as the remainder of what could only be Zoro’s tatsu maki whirled into nothingness followed by a loud clap of thunder and a huge flash of lightning from Nami’s thundercloud homie, Zeus.

The townspeople pointed at what could possibly be a sign of an incoming storm.

Shouts and applause exploded from the crowd of onlookers as they cheered at the wondrous display of nature which would definitely add an ominous mood to their festival.

“Right,” Usopp deadpanned as he observed the destruction from afar. “Looks like somebody DID inform them...”

#zoro x nami #ZoNa #zonami #zonalove #zona one-shots #zoro nami fanfiction #one piece fanfiction #roronoa zoro #nami #prompt request

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