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sixpossumsinatrenchcoat · 5 months

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Memories of Defeat (pt 4/4)

An In Stars and Time retrospective that revolves around everyone's favorite star. Major "secret ending"/epilogue spoilers below the cut!!

[Start from Part One here.]

Once upon a time, there were two brothers: one made of light, and one made of meat.

The elder brother was capable. Resourceful. He’s the one who had to point the way. Even if he was lost, or exhausted, or hungry and scared and alone, he didn’t have a choice. There was nowhere left for him to go. So he died! He died on purpose!! He’d rather be dead!!! Anything would be better than this!!!!

The younger brother burrowed out of their sibling’s ribcage. They were afraid, too, but they weren’t hungry. How could they be? They were born from a banquet of muscle and bone. Fermented in a womb of fresh-spilled blood.

The younger brother swallowed their elder. They swallowed his liver and his entrails, his heart and lungs and light. Everything good that was ever inside him would be theirs now. Then they wiped their mouth and howled their loneliness into the stars. Why did it have to be like this? What can’t I remember? Why am I so alone???

The night sky looked down and said, Because I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hope you eat shit and die. Die unloved and alone. It’s what you deserve.

But I didn’t do anything wrong! the younger brother wailed, pathetically, and also totally blinding hypocritically because they literally just ate their only kin, like, ten minutes ago. I only wanted to be loved!!!

Cool, the Universe said. Try telling someone who cares.

* * *

There’s no room for Loop in the caravan.

Which is fine. Preferable, even. It’s not as though they’re particularly eager to spend the night two inches away from the nation’s most nauseating lovebirds.

Siffrin insists on pitching a tent for them. That’s fine, too. It’s a free country. Siffrin can do whatever he wants. It doesn’t mean that Loop actually has to sleep there.

(They can’t even look at it. It smells like the past. Like the hole in their chest.)

They sleep on the ground, with a scarf draped over their eyes. They don’t want to look at the stars.

* * *

Loop’s eyes snap open a few minutes before sunrise. There’s someone watching them.

“You’re not sneaky,” they announce, without looking up. “I’m not one of your oblivious little friends. You can’t hide from me. I’m better at it, anyway.”

“Maybe I wasn’t trying to.”

“You know it’s pointless trying to lie to me.”

“…Yeah.”

Loop rolls their eyes. He’s the one who won, isn’t he? So why does he always go around acting like a sopping wet cat left out in the rain? “What do you want, stardust.”

“I’m deciding if I have to give you our cloak,” Siffrin admits.

That gets their attention. Loop sits up, intrigued.

Siffrin tucks their chin behind their collar. “It seems maybe… right? Um. Morally. But I really don’t want to.”

“Aww, stardust. You think I want that ratty old thing?”

“Of course.”

…Of course.

Loop smiles sunnily. “I bet you think I’m going to say something like, Ohh, you don’t have to do that. It’s the thought that counts! That you even considered it is more than enough for me!”

Siffrin looks hopeful. Stupid little beast. How were a hundred bloody deaths still not enough to wring all the optimism out of them?

“Well, maybe I won’t! We don’t all find you so charming, you know. Maybe I do want it! It was mine first!”

Siffrin’s face scrunches miserably. As they reach for the clasp that holds their collar shut, the first gleam of dawn catches on a silver coin, still pinned to their lapel.

…Ugh. “It’s fine, okay? It’s not even my style anymore. Anyway, I got to keep both our eyes, so. Who’s the loser here, really?”

Siffrin opens their mouth.

“If you answer that, I’m taking the cloak just so I can throw it in the river.”

Siffrin closes their mouth. But they don’t walk away. They just keep standing there, staring.

“Stars, what?” Loop demands. “Have you got some more restitutions for me? Going to give me your other eye?”

Siffrin shakes his head. “It’s just, um. Loop.”

“What?”

“No, I mean the name. ‘Loop.’ Are you sure that’s what you want?”

“Stars, it’s one thing after another with you! Talk about intrusive! Do you do this with all your little friends, or it just me you can’t trust to make a single blinding decision for myself?”

Siffrin scuffs the heel of their boot through the dirt. “It just… doesn’t seem fair.”

“Oh, you figured it out, did you!! Ve~ry clever, stardust! It is unfair! Much like everything else in this miserable world! Nothing was ever going to be fair! What do you want me to do about it? Well? Go on! I’d love to hear your brilliant solution!”

Siffrin just keeps standing there, silent.

Loop’s fingernails dig into their palms. “Do you think I should be Siffrin again? Is that it? You think we should both be Siffrin? I’m sure that won’t confuse anyone. When your pet Fighter calls your name and the both of us come running.”

“...It would get confusing.”

“I’m not him anymore, anyway,” Loop spits. “They’re dead. You should know. You’re the one who killed them. And killed them and killed them and killed them and killed them! And—if I can be honest? Good blinding riddance!! You think I liked being you? Being some desperate, needy little freak with no past and no future?” They let out a tinkling laugh. “Get over yourself, stardust. Frankly, I’d rather die.”

“I’m not saying you should be me,” Siffrin says quietly. “I just mean… Loop, specifically. It doesn’t seem a little… masochistic?”

Loop blinks at them.

“I know you’re not me,” Siffrin says again. “Or even the me you used to be. But you’re not the loops, either. They’re just—something that happened to us.”

Loop rolls their eyes. “You escape one time loop and suddenly you’re a qualified therapist?”

“Do you really like it, though?”

…Well. Well of course they don’t blinding like it. But it’s fitting, isn’t it? It’s funny, isn’t it? Just like them!! Soooo~ funny!!!

“…Loop?”

“I don’t like it,” Loop hisses. “But. It’s… not as though I like anything else. And it’s. Familiar.”

Siffrin nods. Even he can understand that much. This world’s Siffrin may have had it easy—like, really, ridiculously, embarrassingly easy—but both of them went years without finding anything familiar. “Okay. If you’re sure.”

“I am.”

“And you know you can change your mind.”

“Hard as it may be to believe, I am, in fact, fully capable of thinking for myself! But thanks ever so much for trying to dictate another aspect of my life! I was starting to worry that I might actually have to be a real person!”

Siffrin frowns. “You’re a real person.”

“Oh, for Stars— Haven’t you done enough? I’m exhausted. You’re exhausting.” They flop back in their bedroll, draping the scarf back over their eyes. “Just leave me alone, stardust. It’s what you do best.”

[You dreamed that you were drowning. Even now, you still can’t catch your breath.]

There’s an old fairytale, back in (don’t think it DON’T THINK IT IT HURTS) about the saddest man in the world. He’s so miserable, so totally consumed by his hurt that he can’t even talk about it, because no one would ever understand. He is utterly alone in his grief.

So the world’s saddest man makes a wish. He wishes for a copy of himself! Someone else, someone new, who might reflect the emptiness inside him.

But the copy is too good. Much, much better than the man ever was. There’s no bitterness inside it because, for as long as it’s lived, it’s always had him. It never had to learn how it feels to be alone.

The man hates it. He hates it. He can't stand to see it walking around, smiling and laughing and failing and trying. So he lures it back into his study. He gives it a smile. He opens his arms.

It’s still smiling at him, trusting, when he drives the knife into its chest.

The man drinks the light from its veins and swallows the wish in its heart. He leaves it empty empty empty. And do you know what?? In the end, when he’s left shuddering in a puddle of blood and spattered viscera, nothing has changed!! There’s nothing different at all!!! He still isn’t any less alone!!!!!

* *

* * *

The morning after the party sets out from Bambouche, Loop wakes up to find Bonnie standing over them.

“How come you don’t glow anymore?” they ask bluntly.

Loop blinks. “Oh. Um. W-Well, it was wreaking havoc on my beauty sleep. Looking this good doesn’t come cheap, you know! It’s practically a full-time job!”

“But how? What happened to your sparkles?”

“They… washed off?” It is sort-of true. For a while after Siffrin set them free, Loop wasn’t anywhere at all. When they finally gasped awake, they were neck-deep in the same black, frigid water that carried them to Vaugaurde, all those years ago. Except this world’s Siffrin already took the boat. Loop had to claw their way to shore with their own two hands.

Bonnie looks disappointed. What else is new? Water is wet and Loop is disappointing. “That sucks. It was cool. But I guess it’s good you can sleep now. Being tired sucks too.”

Loop’s mouth ticks up. “I’ll tell you a secret,” they find themself saying. “But only if you won’t tell Siffrin.”

“DEAL.”

“You promise?”

“Yeah!!”

“Super promise?”

“Of course!!!!”

“Super duper promise?”

Bonnie flaps their arms. “You gotta tell me right now or I’m gonna explode!!!!!”

Loop looks left and right, conspiratorial, before beckoning them close enough to whisper in their ear. “...I can still glow a little.”

“What!!!!!”

“Shh!!”

“Ahem!” Boniface clears their throat. “Ahem, hem. Of course what I meant was: forsooth, how doth you, um. Glow?”

Wow, they really have been going to school. Loop’s mouth ticks up. They might not be the real Boniface, but they’re still way too cute. “Okayyyy, okay. You wore me down! I can’t hold out any longer! I have no choice but to confess!”

“Yeah,” Bonnie agrees, scowling fiercely.

“Okay, check this out.” Loop scoops a fistful of dust from the ground beside their bedroll and holds it in front of their nose. Their eyes scrunch. Their face puckers—

—and they sneeze a spray of sparks into their palm.

Bonnie’s eyes light up. “What!! What!!!! You sneeze light?????”

“Not always,” Loop explains. They still don’t really understand why it happens. It’s not as though the Universe ever deigned to explain. “And don’t tell anyone! It’s our secret, okay?”

“But why!!! It’s cool!!!!!”

“Haha, well. Sometimes people don’t like things that are cool.”

“But it’s shiny!!!!”

Loop smiles wryly. “Sometimes people don’t even like things that are shiny.”

Bonnie’s shoulders sag a little. “But that’s… That stinks.”

(Do NOT make Bonnie sad.) “Oh, no, i-it’s not bad! It’s, um, cool! Like having superpowers! Or a secret identity or something!”

“It is bad!” Bonnie snaps back at them. “People are so stupid!! I think your sparks are cool!!!”

For a second, Loop almost forgets to laugh. “Haha! Well, I commend your exemplary taste. But there’s no need to worry about me, Bonb– Boniface. I’m doing just fine!”

Bonnie frowns at them. “Frin says that sometimes.”

The nickname nearly knocks the smile off their face. “...Is that right.”

“But usually only when they’re not.”

“Well. I wouldn’t think too hard about it. Siffrin is pretty stupid.”

“You’re his friend, though.”

(…Are they?) “Of course!”

“So maybe you’re stupid too.”

Loop chokes on a laugh. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re sort of scary-smart?”

“No,” Bonnie says promptly. “Mostly they say I have learning disabrilties. ‘Cause my brain is bad at words.”

“Well,” Loop tells them, confidential. “Don’t tell your sister, but between you and me… I think the people who say that might be even stupider than me.”

“Pffft— You can’t say that about teachers!! They’re in charge!!!”

“Not of me, they’re not.”

Bonnie stares for a second before breaking into a radiant, gap-toothed smile. “You’re cool, Loop.”

“I— Ah?” For the first time in several lifetimes, Loop finds themself at a loss for words.

“It’s okay!” Bonnie says generously. “Frin doesn’t know what to do when people are nice to them either. You don’t hafta say anything. You can just know you’re cool and not even say anything.”

Not as cool as YOU! That’s what they could have said. But of course it’s always already too late. “Um…”

“I’ll leave you alone!!” Bonnie shouts in their face. “Cause Nille says I’m bossy which is a strenth but sometimes means I have to give people space so they can decide if they wanna keep hanging out or not! But I’m glad you came back!! ‘Cause Frin and Za are all gross and lame now, so it’s cool to have someone cool!!”

“H-Haha. Well. I’ll… try to meet your expectations?”

“You don’t hafta worry ‘bout that,” Bonnie scoffs. “You already sneezed glitter.”

* * *

When the party meets Madame Odile at the crossing, she looks at Loop very, very closely. She shakes their hand politely enough. But she doesn’t approach them directly until later, after the Fighter’s already turned in for the night and Boniface is fast asleep.

“Loop,” she greets them. “I wasn’t sure you’d want to discuss it in front of everyone, but I wanted to tell you that I’m very glad to see you again. I’d been hoping for a chance to give you my thanks. I know I was a bit, ah, preoccupied when last we met… But it seems we owe you a great debt. Siffrin’s life, for one. Not to mention the state of our physical world.”

Loop bites back a sigh and readies the usual spiel. Haha, yes, that’s me! Eternally helpful etcetera etcetera! I can see that you’ve noticed the new look; would you believe, it’s actually a very funny story—

“And Siffrin,” Odile says levelly. She doesn’t look away. “It seems we owe you an apology.”

Loop chokes. “Aha? Haha, um… I think you’ve… perhaps… mistaken me for someone? H-Haha, ah… Maybe in your old age, your eyes have finally—“

“She knows,” Sif blurts out, from across the fire. “Sorry. I had to tell her. She’d already mostly figured it out.”

“Not when it might have counted,” Odile says ruefully.

“Which would be….?”

Odile looks at them like they’re stupid. “Obviously, when it still could have saved you.”

OHHHkay. Hahaha, okay!! So they’re just going to talk about that!!! She’s just going to look at them with remorse in her eyes, and regret, like she can actually see them!! Like she thinks it’s not their own blinding fault that everything went—

“…Siffrin?”

“Don’t call me that.” That’s someone else now.

“Of course. I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine.”

She quirks an eyebrow. “Hmh. Well. I think it probably isn’t.”

“What do you know?” S— Loop snaps. “No, let me guess. Because you’re old, you think you must be wise? Well, I do hate to be the one to tell you this, but I’m afraid that’s just not how it works. I would know.”

“Of course,” she says again, backing off. “I’m sorry.”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“I know.”

“And I don’t want anyone’s apologies. It’s not like there’s anything any of you could have done.”

“Hmh,” she says. Probably thinks she’s being diplomatic. Maybe she would be, if she were talking to someone as stupid as Siffrin.

“And I’m not—” The words lodge in their throat. Loop is seized by the violent urge to take a deep breath, but just thinking about it makes them want to peel their skin off.

They can feel Odile’s eyes on them, assessing. “...What was she like?”

“Wh-What?”

“Me,” she explains. “The one that you knew.”

...Oh. “Different,” Loop admits. “And… the same? You—or. She never figured it out, like you did. But I think maybe she might’ve. If I’d been less—” Weak. Spineless. Pathetic.

“Tch,” Odile scoffs. “Doesn’t matter what she might have done, if she didn’t.”

Loop blinks.

For once in her life, Odile actually looks embarrassed. “Ah. My apologies. I only mean that… I’m sorry that I was so useless.”

She startles when Loop barks a laugh. “You—haha!!! Hahaha!!!! You’re sorry! For being useless!!! That’s—no, no, it’s very funny!!”

Because their Odile could have been plenty useful, if they hadn’t been such a blinding coward. If they’d trusted her enough to let her in. But they didn’t, and now the Odile that Loop loved is gone. She needed them and S— Loop couldn’t take the heat. They gave up. They left her behind.

“I’m not sure I get the joke,” Odile says quietly.

“Well! It’s not exactly your strong suit, is it!”

Madame Odile studies their face, frowning. Then, disconcertingly, her gaze flicks toward Siffrin.

“Don’t look at them,” Loop snarls. Instinct thuds in their ears, take it back take it back TAKE IT BACK—

—but they won’t. What would be the point?

“Did you think we’d be the same?” they ask, sneering. Contempt dripping from every word like blood from the tip of a blade. “That you’d have one more cute little Siffrin tiptoeing around, hiding and crying and lying to people? Well! I’m ever so sorry to disappoint, but I think you’ll find otherwise. Oh, but don't get the wrong idea! It's not just me, teehee! We're both soooo~ much worse than you think."

“…Is that right.”

In another life, Loop let the King squeeze Bonnie into bloody pulp. They let the King throw Mira around like a ragdoll. They lied and lied and lied till they were sick with it, till their throat scorched black and their tongue dripped silver. They smiled and let her die and die and die.

“It really is!” They flash a bright, brittle smile. “How many times do you think I let you die, Madame? Would you like to take a guess?”

“I would not.”

“Too easy? I’ll try another, then. How many times do you think I killed you?”

She doesn’t flinch. Every muscle in her body deliberately Doesn’t Flinch. “...Loop.”

“Madame~?”

“I like your jewelry.”

“I—um?”

“Did you make it yourself?”

“I… did, yes.” When Loop finally clawed their way out of the sea, they had every intention of lying there until they died. But it wasn’t long before they were found. Apparently they’d washed ashore just a stone’s throw from a beachcomber’s hut: an artisan whose dilapidated hovel glittered with gleaming fusions of glass and stone and rusted steel.

Loop’s savior never spoke. Maybe they couldn’t. But their quick, clever hands could turn the ugliest, most disintegrating flotsam into inimitable treasures.

“Impressive.” Madame Odile says coolly, nodding. “Siffrin never had the knack for that sort of thing. Carving wood with physical tools is one thing, but mixing media? And across different Craft types, no less? That’s very advanced Crafting.”

“I—ah? Or, I mean… it’s not like it’s hard…”

“You may just have the knack,” Odile informs them. “Not everyone does. It’s a valuable skill, nonetheless.”

“R-Right.”

Madame Odile yawns. “Forgive me. I’m too old to be up this late. But I’ll see you tomorrow, I expect. And, ah—I suspect you don’t care to hear this sort of thing, but—I really am grateful. Truly.”

And before they can even begin to consider their reply, she’s vanished into her tent.

* *

* * *

Have you heard this one before? A Traveler walks into a House. Says, Housemaiden, I'm depressed. I can't find the joy in anything. I can't connect with people. I can’t feel ANYTHING. I can't eat, I can't sleep. No, I mean, literally, it’s been eons since I slept. The insides of my eyelids are brighter than the sun. It’s like a fireworks show in here.

Housemaiden says, You should talk to the Savior of Vaugarde. They’re soooo cute and special and pretty and perfect and everyone loves them no matter how many times they ruin everything by being a stupid little freak who can’t even talk right. I bet they could give you some advice!

The Traveler puts their head in their hands and laughs and laughs and laughs and laughs and laughs. Says, But Housemaiden! I -am- the Savior of Vaugarde!!!!

Aaa~nyway, they kill her and eat her heart. And would you believe? It doesn’t make them feel anything!!!!!!

[you’re fine you’re fine you’re fine you’re—]

—fine. You’re totally fine. It’s a clear, bright morning, the breeze brisk and playful, and walking into Dormont doesn’t make you feel sick. The smell of flowers and pastries and juniper doesn’t make you want to vomit. The spiraled roof and crenelled towers of the House don’t turn your breakfast to stone in your stomach. Looking down the path through the trees doesn’t make you want to pull your spine out through your mouth. You’re fine.

Why wouldn’t you be? Just because you abandoned this place? Just because it killed you? No. No. You’re toooo~tally fine. You’re being so normal about this.

A few steps from the House’s gate, Siffrin jerks his hand out of the Fighter’s and throws up. Pathetic. You step into their line of sight to make sure they can see you roll your eyes. They were always soooo~ sensitive.

* * *

Siffrin refuses to enter the House, because they’re a delicate flower who insists on making their damage everyone else’s problem. Loop, of course, never had that privilege.

* * *

“Ugh!” Mirabelle huffs, scowling down at her pottery wheel. “I’ve ruined it again! Siffrin, would you—”

She stops short.

“I-I’m so sorry!!” she squeaks, one hand flying to her mouth. “I meant Loop, of course!! Sorry!! That was so rude; I promise I wasn’t thinking of someone else, it’s just that you… remind me of them, sometimes? N-Not because you’re from the same country! The King was, too, and he felt very very different!! The two of you just… feel sort of similar, is all. The way you take up space, and… the things that catch your eye… It’s almost like you’re—” She shakes her head vigorously. “Ohh, never mind!! I know it doesn’t make any sense!! ”

To Loop’s horror, they can feel their eyes start to itch. Oh, Stars. It’s the worst thing imaginable. They absolutely cannot cry.

“Oh, no, I didn’t mean— I-I’m so sorry!!!” Mira’s hands flit toward them before landing in her lap. “I shouldn’t have said anything; I didn’t mean to make things even worse, I— Do you want a, a… cup of tea? Or some cookies?”

Don’t worry! Loop tries to tell her. I’m completely fine, haha! No problems here! I’m probably just allergic to ceramics!!!! Unfortunately, the best they can manage is, “No Thank You.”

“I—!!” Mirabelle squares her jaw, both hands clenching in the fabric of her skirt. “Loop. Is there, maybe, some way I can help you? I know you don’t think much of us, but we owe you so much!!”

Loop looks away. “You… think I don’t think much of you.”

“Oh. W-Well, um. We… never saw you again, after you helped us save Siffrin. And they’d go quiet anytime we tried to ask about you, so I—I wasn’t sure if—”

“Mira,” Loop says. They take a moment to collect their thoughts. “...Mirabelle.”

“Y-Yes?”

“That’s not a very reliable gauge for what someone thinks of you.”

Mira’s eyes widen.

“For all you know, I might’ve thought the world of you,” they go on, uncharacteristically reckless. “Anyone might. People disappear all the time! They hide, or they die, or they… go somewhere else. It doesn’t mean they never cared. It only means that they cared about something else, too. Or they cared a little too much. Or they’re dead, teehee!”

Mirabelle pulls out a handkerchief and dabs at her nose. “I-I’m sorry… I know you’re only here for our sakes, and now I’m being nothing but trouble…”

Um. What? “I’m here for what?”

“W-Well, um… I guess I thought you’d come to visit because Siffrin told you how upset we were, after you disappeared? Because you saved us—saved everyone—and then we couldn’t even thank you?”

“…What?”

Mira blinks at them, her disorientation mirroring their own. “Which part are you confused by…?”

For the first time in several eternities, Loop lifts a hand to their chest. They take a deep breath in, and out. “H-Haha. I guess, all of it? I certainly didn’t save anyone. Much less everyone.”

“But you did!!!”

“Uh…”

Mira’s eyes widen. “Ohhh,” she gasps, “I see. You don’t like that, do you?”

“—Um?”

“People giving you compliments and things. Praising the things you accomplished, as though you were some sort of storybook hero. When you know that what happened was much less heroic, and much more… accidental. Embarrassing.”

Oh. Huh. Loop had never thought about it in so many words. Probably because no one's ever tried to give them a compliment. But now that she mentions it... yeah. Maybe they can sort of relate.

“I’m sorry,” Mira says again, looking despondent. She slaps both palms against her cheeks. “Sorry!! I won’t do it again!! You just want to feel normal, right? So let’s—let’s Craft some clay!”

“If you’re sure,” Loop says faintly. (Calm down. You’re freaking her out. For once in your life just BE NORMAL.) “…But don’t take it personally if I turn out to be pretty good at this. I have it on high authority that I may have something of a knack.”

* * *

They keep it together for the rest of the afternoon. They finish Crafting their vase and help Mirabelle patch the weak points on hers, smoothing rough edges and pressing air pockets so it won’t shatter in the kiln.

They make it all the way to the bathroom before their smile drops.

The bathroom’s undergone some renovations since the last time they broke down here. Now tiny clay figures dance over the sink, and childish painted murals adorn the doors. A little Change God stands guard over each stall: waving its clumsy arms, kicking its stumpy legs. Its eyes are obscured, its expression unreadable. Its face is laughing. Leering. Mocking. What does it see when it looks at them? A memory? A means to an end? Or only a ghost?

Loop reaches out and takes it in their hands. The Craft that animates it makes it squirm like a worm on a hook. Loop doesn’t pity it. It’s only fair. The Change God never pitied them, either.

“Was it fun?” they whisper, as they squeeze. “Did you have fun? What about now? Are you having fun yet?”

Wet clay oozes between their fingers. The statue twitches and jerks. Loop’s chest feels hot. Their skull hums like a nest of wasps. Lumpy paper swollen with stinging hate.

“I’m having fun,” they tell the wriggling godling, smiling wide. They can’t even tell if they’re lying. To make the distinction, they’d probably need something to compare it to.

The wriggling slows. The heat of Craft fades as the statue goes limp in their hands.

Loop opens their palms. There’s no god there anymore. Only dead, lifeless clay.

They flick open the lock and shoulder through the door.

Outside the stall, there’s someone waiting. Watching. Staring straight at them.

Loop flinches. The stranger looks familiar, but also not. Like maybe Loop’s seen them before, but only in a dream.

—Claude. That’s who it is. Mirabelle’s roommate, Claude. (And who says they don’t have a good memory!)

Claude narrows her eyes. “…Did you just mulch that statue?”

Loop looks down at their hands, crusted with molten clay.

“People work hard on those,” Claude informs them.

Loop has already used up all their willpower for the day. They don’t have the strength to stop themself rolling their eyes. “People work hard on lots of things.”

Her eyebrows go up. “I could report you.”

“Please do,” Loop spits; and in one fluid movement, they’ve whirled around and flung themself out the bathroom window.

They’re three stories up, but they’re not worried about the fall. Worst-case scenario, they’ll drive their blades into the mortar and grind to a halt before they splat on the ground. Best-case, they die on impact.

[You dreamed you were being eaten alive. You can still feel the crunch and grind of tearing cartilage. The way the sinews stretch before they snap.]

Siffrin is fishing by the river. Just looking at the rod in their hands makes Loop want to throw up. They snapped that rod in half once. Tore it out of the fisherperson’s hands and broke it clean over their knee. And then they threw it in the river. And then then jumped in after it.

It’s not just the total futility of it all. It’s the whole process. Catching a thrashing, squirming being in your hands and squeezing the life out of it. Aligning your blade with the seam of its gills, just behind the thrum of its throat. Staring into those gaping eyes, that gulping mouth as you press down hard and harder. Careful, now! If you hit the angle wrong, you’ll miss the artery entirely! It’ll take ages to die! Minutes that stretch into eternities. Gasping, gulping, choking on the hot slick slurry of your own black blood.

Loop shudders. “…I can’t believe you can still touch that thing.”

Siffrin hums thoughtfully. “I think it’s the only thing that never got worse.”

“Ew. Or, I mean. Can’t relate.”

“Well,” Siffrin says. “We were always pretty different.” They flick the rod expertly, sending the fly dancing over the surface. “How’s Mira?”

“She recognized me.”

That gets their attention. “She what?”

“Not specifically,” Loop admits. “But. She said I felt… familiar. Like…” The words lodge in their throat. It doesn’t matter. Siffrin knows what they mean.

“…Hm.”

“Aw,” Loop purrs, mocking. “Does that scare you? Is it scary, to know that you could be so easily replaced?”

“No,” Siffrin says right away. “I guess I feel… relieved?”

(…What?) “Why.”

“I wasn’t sure they’d know me,” Siffrin shrugs. “You, I mean. Us. I wasn’t sure they’d even want to, if we were being… less careful.”

Loop bristles. “I’m more careful than you could ever imagine.”

“No, you’re not.”

Yeah, no, they’re really not.

“So it’s… comforting,” Siffrin shrugs. “To think they’d still like us, even if we were—“

“What? A failure? A ghost? A pathetic piece of work?”

“Well. Yeah.”

Loop squawks a laugh. “Well!! Aren’t you the lucky one!! Even if you wind up as disgusting as me, your friends will still love you! Isn’t that nice!!”

“Yeah,” Siffrin says. “It really is.” They shift their weight, thoughtful, and then seem to remember something. “Oh, yeah. I’ve been meaning to ask you something.”

Loop rolls their eyes, but they don’t not listen.

“Why won’t you talk to Isa?”

Loop fails to suppress a flinch.

“He keeps asking,” Siffrin explains. “And I don’t know how to answer. But it’s getting harder to not-answer. I’m… not a very good liar.”

“…Is that right.”

“I’m an okay liar,” Siffrin concedes. “It just—feels bad.”

Loop is very much aware of that, yes.

“He just wants you to like him,” Siffrin says quietly.

“Be reasonable.”

“It’s hurting his feelings, I think.”

“Good,” Loop says coldly. They hope it does. It doesn’t even come close to evening the score.

Siffrin opens their mouth to argue and then just—shrugs, instead. “It’s your life.”

[You dreamed you were alone. You dreamed you were alone. You dreamed you were alone. You dreamed you were—]

—having a nightmare. You know it’s a nightmare because it’s the same one you have every night. You’re standing under a tree, looking at the man you love. He can’t be more than an armslength away. If you stepped out of the shadows, he would see you.

But he wouldn’t know you.

You watch him think of you. You watch him think of what to say to you. You watch him lose himself to heady daydreams. (This is not a metaphor. Subtlety is not his strong suit. The man you love is very obvious.)

You watch yourself approach him. You are short and strange and awkward. You are hiding and lying and you’re so, so, so-so-so-so stupid. The man you love loves you anyway, because he’s stupid, too.

“Isa!”

“Sif!!!” he shouts, when he sees you. “I was just looking at this Favor Tree!! Isn’t it cool!!!”

“Yeah,” you say slyly. “You might say it’s a pretty… TREE-mendous tree.”

Ha ha!! Ha ha ha!!!!! What a stupid blinding joke!!! It’s almost like your pathetic sense of humor wasn’t what won him in the first place!!! Almost like, all along, he was laughing along because he loved you!!!

Not that it matters now. The tree is in the past. The man is in the past. Your future is in the past. Everything you love was meant for someone else. There’s nothing left for you.

* *

* * *

Loop jerks awake. The dark is intractable. Undisturbed by any snore or snuffling wheeze. They are utterly alone.

Siffrin begged them to sleep in the Clocktower with everyone else. They even offered to sleep on the ground so Loop could have a whole bed to themself. But Loop wouldn’t budge. How could they? The thought made them physically sick.

They twist out of their bedroll and onto their feet in one smooth motion. They don’t know where they’re going, but they do know that if they have to lie here, alone with their thoughts, for a single second longer, it is actually going to kill them. So—getting up! Getting moving! One foot in front of the other! If they walk fast enough, maybe they can outrun an eternity of unrelenting dread!!!

They don’t have anywhere to go, so they just—go. They just walk. Anywhere would be better than here.

* * *

Their feet take them to the Tree. Probably because it’s the closest thing they still have to a home. (And isn’t that just the saddest thing you’ve ever heard!!!!!)

They stand at the foot of the trunk and look up at the canopy. Thick strong boughs and wide, glossy leaves framing little windows to the starry void beyond. Idly, without any real urgency, they imagine setting it on fire. It would be easy. They don’t even need flint or tinder, now that their lungs crackle with swallowed stars. All they’d need is a bit of kindling, some pine cones or dry needles, and they could reduce this place to ash.

—A twig snaps.

Loop’s stance stiffens, then hardens. They know that gait. The slow, careful breath before each heavy clumsy footfall. No one sounds more obvious than a great stupid oaf of a Fighter trying to be discreet.

Maybe he won’t notice them. They could make sure he wouldn’t, if they wanted. Loop knows how to disappear. But they’re tired of going unseen.

“…Can’t sleep?”

The Fighter startles so violently that he nearly keels over backwards. Loop could catch him by the elbow, if they wanted. Steady him; help him catch his balance.

They don’t move.

“W-Woah!!” the Fighter gasps. “Haha, whoa! Um… Loop? That’s you, right? Wow, you are really quiet! I totally didn’t see you there at all!!”

Yes, well, what else is new. “I’d expect nothing less, teehee! You’re not exactly observant.”

“Oh. Haha, um, yeah. I guess not.” Siffrin’s Fighter shifts his weight, uneasy. “ Um… Loop?”

“That’s what they call me!!!”

“Did I… do something wrong?”

Loop stiffens.

“Like… I don’t know. Step on your feelings, somehow? It just feels like you… maybe sort of don’t like me? Which is fine!!” he rushes to clarify. “Not everyone has to like me!! It’s just… if it’s something I did, I could… make sure I don’t do it again?”

Loop almost hits him. They want to. They want to grab him by the collar and shake him. To throw him back against the trunk of the Tree and shove into his space until he can’t not see them. They can see the angry thrum of his pulse in his throat and they want to trap it under their thumb. To close the space and feel his heartrate spike. For months they had to watch themself stand in front of him, wanting and wanting and doing nothing, knowing all the while that if it was them, they wouldn’t just stand there, wanting. They’d take him apart with their hands. They’d eat him alive.

“...Loop?”

“Siffrin,” Loop grates out, an ugly scrape of sound. “Sif. Before I killed myself, that’s what you—all of you used to call me.”

“Wh-What?” the Fighter asks, baffled. “What does that even—”

“But that doesn’t matter now!!!!" Loop shouts, grinning wildly. "He’s dead now!! Now there’s only me!!!!”

“I—I don’t understand. I just saw Sif? Th-They’re totally fine!“

Loop rolls their eyes theatrically. “Ugh. Weren’t you supposed to be smart now? Not your Siffrin, obviously. I obviously meant another Siffrin.”

“But—what? What do you… How would that even work?”

A molten sort of hunger comes over them. Loop flashes a glittering smile. “Isn’t it obvious? ~I’m~ what happens when you don’t save me! When you just let me die!!”

“N-No,” the Fighter mumbles.

“Y-Yeah, actually,” they stammer, mocking. Throwing his pathetic stutter right back in his face.

“No, but… Come on. No way. Sif would’ve said something!”

“Oh, because you can definitely count on Siffrin to tell you anything that matters.”

The Fighter has the gall to look offended. “Hey!! They’re honest about important stuff!!”

“I am literally telling you that we are not!!!”

Isabeau shrinks a little. “B-But— But that’s not possible. It doesn’t make any—”

“Then how do I know them?” Siffrin snarls. “How do I know everything about them? Why do I blinding hate you?”

“I don’t…” Isabeau trails off. They can see him starting to wrap his mind around it. Blood cooling, stance wilting. “You… Are you telling the truth?”

“What do you think.”

His shoulders slump a little. “You… killed yourself?”

“Your Sif tried to break the world,” Loop says scornfully. “I think we can all agree on who’s the more well-adjusted.”

Isabeau staggers back. They can see him getting ready to freak out.

“Nope!!” they shrill. “Not allowed!! This is mine!! You weren’t even there!! Besides, you already saved your Sif! So clearly I wasn’t worth saving!! Or were you just holding out for the new model?”

“That’s not—”

Bile sours in their stomach. Steel screams in their veins. Their blood burns with the absolute assurance of what will hurt him the most.

“Do you want to know the truth?” Loop asks sweetly. “If you must know… I hate you! I always hated you. You had everything. Everything!! A home, a family, friends… and still you were dissatisfied? I mean!! Talk about entitled!!”

“I— What? I never said—”

“But you di~id! To every version of me! Even the pathetic rotten failures, teehee! You shared all your ugliest, stupidest hang-ups and guess what? They were all soooo~ lame! Barely an inconvenience! Baby-school trauma for babies!!! It's no wonder you couldn't save me, teehee… You were way, way, way out of your league!”

Isabeau just stares.

Loop’s fists clench. They wish he would get angry. This would be so much more satisfying if he would lash out already. Throw them back against the Tree and snap their brittle neck. But instead he just keeps standing there, looking devastated.

“Ugh,” Loop spits. “This is pointless. You’re pointless. I’m done.”

“L— Sif!!” Isabeau yelps, and that’s the last blinding straw. Loop tucks their head and bolts.

* * *

Isabeau tries to chase after them, but he’s big and slow and Loop can reach terminal velocity in about three seconds from a standstill. He might as well have tried to catch the wind.

They don’t slow down until they reach the field.

Then they cry.

(The cruelest thing is this: If there was no Siffrin in this world, Loop would be the one everyone loved. Loop would be the one who was difficult but loyal; high-maintenance and universally adored. Loop could have been the weird little freak who everyone considered worth the effort.

But Loop gave up. They gave their chance away. And now they’ve got what they deserved: absolutely nothing.)

What are they even doing here? Why would they come back? They knew what was waiting for them. There’s no space for them here, in this place, with these people. The understudy already took their place.

It’s all Siffrin’s fault. Siffrin the hero, leading their perfect shiny life surrounded by all their perfect shiny friends. Siffrin, who got everything they ever wanted and still demanded more. Siffrin wishing wishing wishing to see them again, yanking on Loop’s subconscious mind all day and night to make sure they could never, ever forget. To make sure they’d never be truly free.

…Maybe they’ll just leave. Without telling anyone, without leaving a note. That would show them, wouldn’t it? Siffrin would be so blinding pathetic about it. So hurt and confused. Almost as hurt and confused as Isa, when he found out that his precious little Siffrin could turn into something like this. Something ugly, broken, hateful. Living spite, made manifest. A ghost haunting their own blinding life.

There’s a rustle from the bushes. Light, uncertain footfalls. Loop stiffens. There’s someone coming up the path. Not Isabeau. Not Siffrin, either. A stranger?

From the shadows, someone clears their throat. “Um—”

They don’t get the chance to say anything else. Loop already has the jagged teeth of their knife pressed tight against their throat. “Who are you? What do you want???”

“I’d let go if I were you,” the stranger says coolly. “Unless you want to lose that hand.”

“You wish,” Loop spits. “You’re out of your league.”

“Bet?”

Against their better judgment, Loop can feel themself starting to smile. It’s strangely comforting to be on the receiving end of a threat, for a change. Talking to someone who doesn’t quiver and quail and bend over backwards to accommodate their every demand.

Loop flits backwards, out of slashing range. Probably Siffrin would land in a fighting stance, but Loop is above that sort of petty, childish showmanship. They don’t need a lot of posturing just to kill someone. “What do you want?”

“I heard crying.”

Oh. Was Loop crying? They didn’t notice. Though now that they think of it, their vision does seem a little blurry. “So?”

“Are you stupid or something? So I thought someone might need help. Obviously.”

Hm. That voice isn’t entirely unfamiliar, is it? It feels like Loop might have heard it before. Possibly recently.

—Oh. “Claude,” Loop realizes.

The stranger’s eyes narrow. “So what if I am?”

“Mira’s roommate, Claude.”

“Oh. You’re with the Saviors.”

“I’m not,” Loop snarls. (STOP IT, calm down, you’re going to scare her. Just apologize and run. Say something conciliatory and disappear, like every other—)

“Change,” Claude swears grumpily. “Sorry for breathing, I’m sure. I know you’re lying, anyway. I saw you show up with the Saviors. I’m not gonna act like I didn’t.”

…Oh. She… really isn’t scared, is she? “I—um. Traveled with them, I guess. For a little. I’m not with them.”

“I wasn’t asking if you all made crabbing friendship bracelets,” Claude huffs. “I just meant you’re not from here. What’s your damage, anyway? Why are acting like that?”

Loop chokes on a laugh. Wow, she really isn’t scared. “…Lifestyle choice?”

“Kind of a shitty one.”

“Like you’re one to judge.”

“Takes one to know one,” Claude says coolly.

Hah!! “Well. I’m sure you were really looking forward to swooping in to save some pathetic little loser, but I’m afraid I’ll have to disappoint you. I’m doing great, actually. Just… out on a walk.”

“Uh huh.”

Why do they feel so defensive about this? “Sometimes I can’t sleep! Is there a law against that? Is it illegal to go for a walk?”

“It’s not illegal to go for a walk.”

“Well! What a relief! Then it seems like you have no justifiable cause to follow me around, harassing me!”

Claude snorts. “Wow. Okay, now I know you’re not with the Saviors. Those guys are way too sensitive for this kinda thing. And too sanctimonious for all that… you know. Lying.”

“Shows what you know,” Loop sniffs. “They’re not half as righteous as they’d like you to think.”

(But even so… She’s right, isn’t she? Siffrin would hate getting talked to like this. For a party of powerful warriors, the gang was awfully terrified by confrontation. Fighting Sadnesses is one thing, but fighting with each other? You couldn’t pay them enough.)

Claude gives Loop a flat stare. “For someone who’s not with the saviors, you sure act like you know them.”

“Well!” Loop says brightly. “W-Well!!! What if I told you that I used to be with them! For long enough to know them better than they know themselves!”

“I’d say you were full of shit.”

“Shows what you know!!!” Loop practically screams. “You have no idea what you’re talking about!!!”

“So tell me.”

* * *

Somehow, the whole story comes pouring out of them, in fits and starts and halting, hysterical gasps. Another life, another world. Another Wish. Another Mirabelle, abandoned to her fate. Another pathetic blinding failure of a Savior.

Claude listens, nodding. Then she says, “The King.”

“I’m familiar.”

“I wanted to be the one who beat him. The one Euph— The Head Housemaiden chose. I’m not saying I was right,” she adds, defensive. “Mirabelle is a marvel. There might be no one else who could do what she did. But I— I still wanted it to be me.”

Loop blinks.

“Mirabelle was… the right choice, probably,” Claude concedes. “Better suited. She’s got the right constitution, or whatever. No one could have done it alone. And I’m— I don’t know if I could have recruited like she did. Going around making friends and things. People don’t like me,” she explains. “People love Mirabelle.”

“I like you,” Loop hears themself say.

“Oh.” Claude stares for a beat, unblinking. “Really?”

“Yes.” They’re 90% sure that it’s not even a lie. When’s the last time they could say that?

“Oh. Well, um. Thanks. But I think you might have sort of bad taste. And maybe a bad personality.”

Loop sputters a laugh. “Haha!!! Yeah! I get that a lot.”

“Really?”

“No.” Most people are too scared to say it. “I should, though.”

Claude nods. She can understand that. “But I never got the chance. I couldn’t save everyone. I couldn’t even save anyone.”

“...How do you live with it?”

Claude shrugs. “Eat. Sleep. Don’t die.”

…Right.

“You should probably get out of here, though.”

Loop raises an eyebrow. “Are you throwing me out?”

“Are you actually stupid? Or are you just being difficult?”

(Hah!!!) “I’m being difficult.”

Claude rolls her eyes. “I just mean… You can’t step out of someone’s shadow if you’re still walking side-by-side. You gotta do your own thing.”

“And if I can’t?”

“Then you can’t.”

“And if it kills me?”

“Then you die,” she shrugs. “Isn’t that what you said you wanted?”

Wow. Mirabelle’s roommate is… actually cool? “I think you could have done it,” Loop finds themself saying. “If you’d been the one Chosen. I think you could have beat the King. You just didn’t get the chance.”

Claude stares at them for a moment before her mouth ticks up. “Hah. Yeah. Maybe. No way to know now, huh? We just hafta go from here.”

* *

* * *

At the outskirts of town, a blot of stillness catches Loop’s eye. The absolute absence of movement. A hole in the dark, black against the surrounding gray.

“I told you,” Loop says coldly. “You’re not sneaky.”

Siffrin huffs a quiet laugh.

Loop eyes them warily. Even now, Siffrin has almost no presence. Almost like Loop is the one who survived, and they're the one who's dead.

For once, Siffrin is first to break the silence. “Running away from home again?”

“You are not my home,” they can’t help snapping. “But, well. I suppose so. Why not? After all, it went so well the last time.”

Siffrin chokes on a laugh. Then the smile drops. “I don’t want you to go.”

“I should hope not! I’m excellent company.”

Siffrin looks unconvinced.

“But there comes a time in every beautiful traveler’s life when they must shake off the bonds that hold them back and move on to bigger and better things! Forge their own path; digest their own trauma, etcetera and so forth! Maybe I’ll wind up even more famous than you!!”

Siffrin frowns. “…If you’re really leaving, can I ask a favor?”

“You can ask.”

“Can you tell me the truth?”

Ugh. “Fiiiine. I can’t stay because I—I can’t be here without— Without wanting my—” Their throat closes over the words. Fortunately, Siffrin isn’t so stupid that they can’t connect the dots. (My friends back. My life back. Everything that was supposed to be mine.)

Siffrin gives them a plaintive look. “We could share..:”

“Aw, stardust,” Loop laughs. Not a fake laugh. “Two people can’t be the same person. Anyway, we already aren’t.”

“...I know.”

This world’s Siffrin is the source of all of their problems. The root of all their suffering. So why does it make them so sad to see his shoulders droop?

“I’ll come back,” they hear themself mutter, grudging. “I won’t be gone forever. I wouldn’t—”

Loop falls silent. They know that they’re both thinking of the same scrap of paper, crumpled on the library floor.

“I won’t be gone forever,” they say again; only this time, they say it like a Wish. Like they can make it true just by wanting it. “I won’t disappear. I just—can’t be here. Yet.”

“I’m sorry,” Siffrin whispers.

“We all had our roles,” Loop shrugs. “You just got a better one.”

“But— But what if I never find you? What if we never—”

“We’re family,” Loop tells them firmly. A different kind of family. Not the kind you choose—the one you’re saddled with, by blood and bone, whether you wanted it or not. “Aww~~ Don’t worry, stardust. We’re bonded, aren’t we? You know I’ll always find you.”

“If you even want to,” Siffrin mumbles.

“Stars, how are you still such a brat!!! I’ll find you when I find you! Okay? You don’t get to control this! Just let there be one blinding choice that’s mine!”

Siffrin takes a breath. They let it out. “…Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay,” they say again. “You can be in charge. But you have to tell me everything, next time. How you came back, and… everything else. Because we’re family.”

Loop can’t stop themself from smiling. It’s just that—it’s all so unfair. They way Siffrin always gets what he wants, and… the way they can’t help loving him anyway. “Yeah. Okay. I promise.”

Before vanishing from sight, Loop glances over their shoulder. “Stardust?”

“Loop.”

“How do you get used to it?”

Siffrin tilts their head. To what?

“The not-knowing.”

“Hah,” Siffrin huffs softly. “If you find out, write me a letter. I’d really like to find out.”

[You dreamed you were alive.]

Did you know that hamsters eat their young? If you stress out a nursing mother—leave her out in an earthquake, or make too much noise around her tank—she’ll eat her pups alive. You’ll open the lid to find her nest stained black with blood. The half-eaten husks of her children, their claws and bones and hindpaws shriveled-pink and lifeless. It isn’t malice. It’s pragmatism. We can’t survive this threat, she’s saying. We must recoup these resources. Some of us, any of us, have to survive.

Wish Craft can’t hear your words. It only knows the Wish inside your heart. Loop ran away, but they never gave up. They wanted to be free, but they didn’t want to lose. And besides! What’s a little cannibalism between friends! They are family, after all.

There are things that Siffrin wants, too. Things they want and can’t have, because they’ve sunk their roots into the present. Loop isn’t trapped like that. Loop can go where they please.

Off the coast to the north lies an island that Vaugarde forgot. A graveyard for the lost. A monument to stories long forgotten.

But Loop knows how it is to be forgotten.

They look to the sky. The stars have already started to fade, making way for the brilliant flare of dawn. Loop runs a few calculations, cross-comparing the angles from the horizon to the Highstar and the sun.

They go north.

If you want, feel free to read the series in full here! Or if you want for something a lil comfier, you're invited to this very cozy isa/sif side-story.

#isat spoilers #isat siffrin #isat loop #isafrin #isat bonnie #isat mirabelle #isat odile #isat fanfic

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varverine · 3 months

Text

Kargo and Wolfsbane

"...He was ugly. A huge pile of matted, dirty fur, sitting on the edge of the forest in the fir trees shadows, as if afraid to expose his face to the uncovered dawn. And his eyes were frightening. Definitely frightening. As soon as the maned wolf met his gaze, the fur on his shoulders bristled, revealing fears of the famed leader. Even his pack didn't dare come close to the old shaman. And he should have been the first to speak to the unpredictable bear, who was rumored to be so horrendous that it would have been better not to know that such a beast existed.

“Wolfsbane," Kargo called him after his inner turmoil ceased. He lowered both his tail and head in respect. The bear turned at the sound and seemed to have only now noticed the maned wolf.

“You didn't come to Canikar, though I invited you to talk to me," the pack leader continued, though the confidence was flowing away from his chest with every contraction of his heart. -”Why? I think you'd be interested in what I'm about to offer you.”

“ I won't go into your den, it reeks of dogmeat, " the shaman replied indifferently, waving his long yellow claws. -” Tell me now what you want, or I'll assume you're offering me your hide”

“ My hide will stay with me for now," Kargo grinned, but his tail flicked under his belly. - “But you won't be left without a profit. I don't need much from you, and I'm sure you'll enjoy it yourself.”

“ Go ahead.”

“ You know what's going on in Meadowglade, don't you? Canikar is almost built. My pack is multiplying - we're taking more and more dogs, and some are coming to us. They're all hungry, Wolfsbane. They need food, and I need a territory free of horse herds. Horses, Wolfsbane. There are thoughts in their ranks that disgust me, and the air above their backs crackles with frustration and irritation. They are a serious nuisance. “

“What is it that you want? “

“You must declare horsemeat edible, or better yet, medicinal. Then we can destroy all the horses in the Unbounded Field unhindered, they will no longer threaten us, and my warriors will be fed. You are respected and feared, Wolfsbane. And they will listen to you. “

“ It won't be cheap. “

“I have the means. But you will profit from it," Kargo replied, but decided not to mention that the bear owed him a debt for having killed several Canikarian messengers who had been ordered to invite him to the fortress.

In the distance, the frostwolves started howling. The old shaman's eyes expressed nothing, impossible to understand what he was thinking or what he had decided. So the maned wolf waited patiently, trying not to shift from paw to paw.

“I agree," the bear finally hissed. -” But I need to get ready. Come back here in two days. We'll discuss the details.”

Kargo nodded. Dawn was just about to break when the leader emerged from beneath the inhospitable fir trees. He glanced back at the bear, who was now his ally, but who still inspired wild terror into his heart. The shaman reeked of antiquity, like old bones and death, and the air around him thickened, becoming dense, heavy, stuffy. Barely escaping this aura, Kargo raised his tail proudly so that his wolves could see that their leader feared no thing and no one . Not even the Wolfsbane…”

#mirolapye #Mirolapye:Kargo #Mirolapye:Wolfsbane #mirolapye:meadwoods #Worldbuilding #Xenofiction #Animal fiction #Art #Maned wolf #Bear #Writeblr #Writers on tumblr

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crowborn666-writes · 2 years

Text

Apologies

(If you spot any extra CW or TW, please let me know so I can add them! Also tried to keep this as GN as possible!)

Muzan x Reader

Genre: Fluff, Platonic/Romantic

Summary: Each day is rather painful, being pulled around by a gross man you were married off to for money. What you didn’t know was bumping into a demon could be the best thing for you.

CW/TW: mentions of abuse

Part 2

~~~~~~

The painful grip of your husband was sure to leave bruises, only adding to the various cuts and scratches his long nails and violent tendencies left behind. You were forced to stay quiet and follow, unable to forgive your family for sending you off to this wretched man.

The busy streets of the city were easy to hide your pain, a quiet apology leaving you whenever you bumped someone’s shoulder. Each time, your husband would squeeze your wrist in warning, and each time your voice would grow quieter.

You were pulled onto an emptier street, your husband’s hand leaving your wrist as you were pulled to a vendor. You took the chance to soothe the ache in your wrist as your husband got what he came for, the feeling of eyes settling on you for just a moment.

You opted to ignore the gaze, keeping your head down as you were told before your wrist was seized again.

“Let’s go.” Your husband growled, roughly pulling you along.

Your gaze had lifted from the jarring pull, and your eyes caught sight of someone in front of you. Another glance up showed bright red eyes.

Your lungs stuttered in that brief moment, the realization that you were inevitably going to crash into this man coming to the forefront of your mind. This man was obviously something else entirely, the sheer aura he gave off making your senses prickle.

You winced as your form practically fell into his much sturdier one, the movement enough to loosen your husband’s grip on you.

For a moment, it felt like the man was about to lift his arms to steady you, but you didn’t waste another second, backpedaling a few steps before dropping into a bow. “My deepest apologies, sir! I didn’t not mean to crash into you in such a—”

“What did I tell you about speaking, (Y/n)?! Now get over here!”

You flinched at the harsh growl in your husband’s voice, slowly lifting up from your interrupted apology.

“No.” A smooth as silk voice reached your ears, your eyes hesitantly lifting to see the red-eyed man glaring down at your husband. “I do believe you owe me the apology. You were the one pulling them so harshly, after all.”

“Why you—Who the hell do you think you are?!”

“How crude. A man goes about openly hurting another person, and then demands thing’s of others.”

Your husband scoffed, waving a hand dismissively before moving to slip past the red eyed man and towards you.

It happened so fast, you thought you’d imagined it for a moment. A clawed hand swiped out, tearing three deep claw marks into the back of your husband’s neck.

“(Y/n), come on, let’s go.”

You found yourself being defiant, shaking your head and pulling away, afraid of what was just done to your husband. You could see veins beginning to pulse and pop, fangs beginning to grow in his mouth, and his nails turning into claws.

A deep, hungry roar left your husband, his orange eyes gaining a beast-like quality to them as he lurched towards you, purchase forgotten as drool spilled from his maw.

“M-Monster!!!” Your voice came out in a shrill scream as you ducked away from the first swipe. For a moment, as the fearful screams and chaos erupted, you thought that you’d simply imagined the red-eyed man. He’d simply disappeared from your view, and perhaps your husband was truly a man-eating beast after all.

As the pained scream of the vender man sounded behind you, a much gentler hand grasped your wrist, tugging you into an alleyway away from the carnage.

“Come with me, that man won’t hurt you anymore.”

The silk smooth voice had returned, the red-eyed man beginning to guide you along to quieter streets, leaving the chaos behind for someone else to deal with.

As you were led loosely along by your hand, your frayed nerves beginning to relax and stitch themselves back into order once again, you found yourself speaking.

“W-What did you do to my… What did you do to him?”

“You have quick eyes,” he remarked, “I changed him. He’ll be slain within a day or so, or be foolish enough to step into the sun, whichever comes first.”

“But what about all those people—”

“Do you care for them? They never bothered to try and help you, did they?”

“N… No… I guess not.”

The quiet settled in again, the distant screams beginning to fade just a bit more.

“…May I ask your name?”

“You may call me Muzan. And yours?”

“(Y/n).” You murmured, watching as Muzan’s nails sharpened into claws, “A… Are you what I think you are?”

“Are you scared of me?” He asked, turning to you with those red orbs.

“I should, but you just pulled me out of a pit of torment…” you replied, glancing behind you as your thumb traced over the edge of one of his claws. “I guess I owe you now, don’t I?”

A smile adorned his features then, one that had shivers running down your back as his other hand lifted to rest a claw over the pulse by your neck.

“How would you feel about hurting others? Surely you’re sick of being pushed aside and being treated as nothing more than an object?”

You should’ve been screaming, or saying no at the very least.

“I’m tired of being hurt all the time.” You admitted, a dark and sour feeling bubbling up inside you, “It isn’t fair that everyone else gets to be happy.”

Muzan’s smile was warmer then, the claw against your throat pushing a bit firmer against your skin before making a cut in one swift motion, his blood quickly mixing with yours. “Apologies if this hurts, it won’t last long, I promise.”

#demon slayer fluff #demon slayer #demon slayer muzan #demon slayer muzan x reader #muzan kibutsuji #muzan x reader #gn!reader #fluff #platonic #romantic

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orangeboulevard · 4 months

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Seven: Climb (Venom!Reader x AndrewGarfield!Spiderman)

Summary: Peter Parker should know that anything can go wrong will go wrong on his patrols.

Word Count: 578

"I do not understand you!" A voice with an odd inflection and guttural tone bombarded Peter's ears.

"We can't just eat anyone, okay? Why is that so hard to understand?"

Peter noted a different voice, its sound was much kinder to Peter's intensified hearing but its actual words left him stupefied. Peter Parker, clad in his Spider-Man costume, had been absentmindedly scaling the side of a building on his patrol when he found himself eavesdropping on a very unusual conversation.

"You said 'bad people', he was clearly a bad person, he was stealing!" The first voice argued.

"Stealing baby wipes and diapers! We don't eat people like that." Peter had to keep himself from leaping from the wall, there were cannibals on that rooftop! Cannibalism is definitely on his list of no-nos.

"Human morals are too complicated to understand. My own race follows no such stupid rules, it is as your Darwin would say 'survival of the fittest'."

"That's why you're on Earth because you're definitely not the fittest-" This statement was met with an indignified roar that almost made Peter shit himself. "-And how do you even know about Darwin?... Have you been on the internet again!?"

"..."

"I told you no web surfing while I sleep!" "It is very boring! I cannot help myself!" "I can't believe you!"

Peter had heard enough damning evidence to bring these people in, the strange and sick cannibals that they were, so with a swift movement- he launched himself up and landed on the roof. Oddly, he only found one person instead of two. He tilted his head and almost jumped back in sheer fear as the person transformed into a dark towering beast.

"WHAT THE FUCK!?"

"Aw, is the little spider afraid? You should be. The tasty meal that you are."

"There will be no eating or snacking of any kind, thank you very much!" Peter squeaked out, feeling very much out of his depth with this new adversary.

The huge creature scrambled towards him on all fours eliciting an unmanly shriek from the young man as he flung himself out of reach of it. It turned to follow him but before it could, it transformed back into the recognisable shape of a human. Peter let out a shaky breath as you held your hands up.

"Sorry, sorry! Spider-Man, right? Aw, man. I'm a huge fan. Sucks we have to meet like this." Peter felt whiplash at the difference in the interactions, he couldn't respond with how perplexed and dumbfounded he was.

A serpentine black sludge erupted from your neck, it curled around to face you, and all of its razor-sharp white fangs were born, "I am hungry, I do not care about who Spider-Man is or your attraction to him!"

You splutter, face heating up, "What? No, I'm not- such slander! How preposterous!"

Peter ran a gloved hand down his face before leaping down to be face to face with you, "I'm sorry but what the hell is going on right now? What IS that? Do you have a sentient tapeworm?"

"TAPEWORM?"

"Sorry! Not a tapeworm, sorry!"

You cough and stuff your hands into your pockets, and you begin to ramble, "He's just an alien, picked him up a while ago, and he's just uhh carnivorous. Don't take me to the police, please, you're so sexy ahaha."

Peter tilted his head in confusion.

#fanfic #fanfition #humor #one shot #ficlet #marvel #gender neutral reader #venom symbiote #venom reader #reader x peter parker

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kitsunesfandomtime · 7 months

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An Unending Hunger for More

Day 3 of TDDK Halloween Week

WORDS: Blood + Hunt

QUOTE: “Tell them that you weren't hungry, tell them you followed the pomegranate seeds because they tasted like blood, like love.”

Summary:

Izuku was born with pain in his stomach and a desire to be something more. Shouto has a nothing of his own and takes him in to care for him.

Turns out Izuku's secret was more dire then either could have expected wishing just for one more night. A single bite is all it takes and to slay any who happens to get in their way.

_______________________________________________

This hunger was something Izuku had suffered ever since he was born. A taste of copper always lingered on his tongue. While a terrible urge just itching underneath the skin. Rumors of who his father truly is always lingered, whispers of contempt and disgust. His father was someone everyone feared yet they could never confront.

Inko was a sweet woman who always offered help and yet was strong enough to stand her ground if they dared pester her child. Still, they feared him as if he was the monster of the night. Silently he endured it with the hopes of one day showing he can be of use. With dreams of becoming a monster hunter, he can prove he isn't terrifying.

That he will be able to prove to them that he can help keep them safe from the monsters outside their village. His former friend, Kacchan, had left him with a loud jeer and a toothy grin at thirteen. His whole life handed on a platter, "Just stay here Deku. I'm going to become a really famous hunter you just stay here with your mom. Where you belong."

And he was waiting for his own chance to leave.

That is until he reached fourteen and was struck with a terrible agonizing fever. The memories of that time were blurred with pain and crying as his mother tried to ease him.

Then he woke up to a nightmare.

His whole village was destroyed with no memories of what happened, only a terrible pain. As if every bone in his body had been shattered and then put together again haphazardly. Laying in the middle of the streets his nose was assaulted with the scent of blood. And opening his eyes he is face to face with a corpse of a woman. Her eyes were wide as her throat was caked in blood as if a wild animal had bit into her throat and ripped it out. It was a kindly woman who always gave him extra bread with a gentle smile.

It was surreal. Unable to truly comprehend the horrors as if this was an elaborate joke.

Bodies littered the streets in a macabre display of intestines on doors. Heads torn off and flesh littered the streets both children and adults had been slaughtered with no mercy. No explanation, no reason, and no witness to the atrocities.

He was no longer hungry for some reason but he wished he could puke as slowly it hit him. Just as he finally found his mother in the horrific tragedy. And he screamed.

His mother was tied to a noose by the throat as if had been held there for god knows what reason. Her face twisted in horror as it looked as if whatever had attacked the village had taken slow torturous bites for who knows how long. The beast had taken sadistic pleasure from killing his mother.

He could never sleep at night again, wondering why he never woke up and why the monster didn't take him.

And why did the itch disappear that day despite his whole world being shattered?

-----------

Izuku was unable to move on right away. Every day he waited for the monster to return to the village. Clenching a pitchfork dreading the day the monster appears to finish the job on the one that slept through the massacre. Able to hear howling at the edge of the town he was afraid to ever leave his home as the scent of decay from all the dead bodies grew.

So much blood had been spilled but he felt at the least he should try to bury everybody before the animals get them. Noticing once a month some of the bodies would disappear regardless of how decayed they were. The monster was not picky with its kill as if it was mocking Izuku for his weakness. Unable to protect anyone, he weakly tries to bury all the villagers he can before more are taken.

That is until he met a white wolf at the edge of town. It simply stared at him as if it was smiling and Izuku wondered if that wolf was why he wasn't dead. Every day it would visit watching as Izuku buried the dead and at night he heard it howling. It terrified him yet there was something almost mesmerizing about it whole. Like it resonated with something deep inside him. As he buried the dead. Once again he saw the wolf at the edge of the forest.

"Are you telling me I should leave?" Izuku questioned.

The wolf seemed to have more intelligence than normal. It never did anything to him simply watching curious at the most. Still, it was the evening there were monsters in the forest so he couldn't leave.

"I guess I did finally bury everyone, you're probably tired of protecting me. But I should go during the day."

The wolf sneers and chuffs, as if understood his words to Izuku's surprise. He didn't understand but it was almost like the creature was mocking him. A bit slowly with some caution, he approached the beast trying to get a better look.

"Hey, do you understand me...?" He questioned softly as he extended his hand.

Then the beast stood on its hind legs as its body seemed to twist. The body of a wolf twists before Izuku's eyes cracking and bending into that unnatural form. Red eyes gleam as it bares its fangs with a cruel smile making it very clear his intentions.

At that moment Izuku realized that this beast wasn't his friend.

-------------------

He needs to run. He needs to get away or it will kill him.

Izuku had no idea where he was running as he ran through the forest with a deep gash in his arm. Able to still hear the beast howls as knows it will catch up soon. It was simply taunting him showing how he couldn't possibly escape. Those red eyes gleamed with malicious intent before fangs dug into his flesh. It burned as if the beast's fangs were an iron rod marking his flesh making him scream.

Useless. Helpless.

Izuku screamed in pain as it yanked him by his arm before throwing him hard against the tree. Knocking the wind out of him as he falls right back onto the floor wheezing trying to regain air. It was torturing him, just like his mother, this monster was taking its time. Watching the werewolf's feet slowly approach him it sneers with glee as looks down at him.

Then it stops, there is no warning as it only seems to stare at Izuku's bitten arm as it licks its fangs of blood.

"No- No you can't," Izuku very quickly realized it was going to let him live with that bite. It was going to turn him into something just like him when all he had wanted was to be able to help others. He wheezes as the beast seemed to almost laugh at his protest before suddenly running off at the first sign of light.

That is when he met Shouto. And he realized already as the male extended a hand to him. With those eyes that stared into his soul, they were doomed.

And he took it anyway.

-------------------------------------------------------

Shouto allowed him into his cabin as blood caked on Izuku's skin. The monster hunter in training tended to his wounds. Fingers lingering on his injuries felt like fire as the evidence of the attack was wrapped away. He knows he should say it was a werewolf that attacked him not some regular wolf. But always the word dies on his tongue.

"T-Thank you," Izuku thanked the other as the bandages were wrapped up wishing it meant the curse didn't continue. Yet he can feel it in his blood lingering just under his skin. He was suddenly very aware of this feeling of hunger he had since his youth. His mouth salivates but he swallows it quickly.

"Stop thanking me. One time is enough," Shouto spoke a bit bluntly but was clearly trying to assure him. He grabs a canteen and hands it to Izuku.

"Right sorry," Izuku instinctively apologized as Shouto seemed almost amused for a moment.

"Drink water you need to rehydrate as you did seem to lose quite a bit of blood. I'm surprised you didn't pass out," Shouto notes as Izuku accepts the offering.

It certainly is a miracle since Izuku had just been tossed around like a rag doll by a werewolf. Izuku was more than sure that several of his ribs had been broken along with the many lacerations. If Shouto hadn't saved him then... He is still able to taste blood on his tongue he shrinks back into the bed.

"Right sorry. I didn't expect to run into a monster hunter so guess I got lucky," Izuku admits almost sheepishly. Guessing at the least if he does turn then at least would be put down quickly.

Shouto raises an eyebrow at the other's assurance, "Technically a monster hunter in training. I could take out a monster but I am still learning about them, unfortunately from my father."

Shouto Todoroki, that name rang a bell if Izuku was honest at least the last name. Though it very much clicked that he was being trained by his father, he wanted to ask if his father was Enji.

"So your father is-" Just as Izuku was about to ask he earned a harsh glare. The coldness in Shouto's eyes shut him up quickly.

"I'm aware of my father's fame as a monster hunter. But I would rather not talk about him," Shouto made it very clear and so Izuku shut up. He had no right to prod anyway when he still didn't dare to admit the wolf that bit him was a werewolf. He should make sure to leave before the full moon, somewhere far away before he repays the other's kindness with harm.

"Sorry, I won't bring him up." Izuku apologizes as they sit in silence. He wondered what he was supposed to do as he knew if rumors of how werewolves are made it is only a matter of time... He doesn't even know what day it is or when the full moon will be.

"Hm, he's a man obsessed with being the best. Willing to consort with anything to get even a bit ahead even seeking higher breeding," Shouto speaks firmly. Despite having been the one to claim he didn't want to speak, he explains his heritage. He was part ice elf on his mother's side, considering his appearance it explains why the other seemed ethereal. An attempt to have a child with the nimbleness of an elf and varsity of a human. He's the only one of Endeavor's kids who was blessed with a talent for magic and the physicality of a human. A perfect warrior to slay monsters.

The expectations as well as the abuse he had to endure for these lofty ambitions. Mistreated and yet…

"Then just leave the moment you're an adult. Yes you're learning from him but you don't have to stick with him," Izuku spoke like it was the most obvious thing in the world. While he had wanted to stay in his village he knew the only way he would be able to become a hunter was to find a mentor far from home. If Shouto still wished to be a hunter then he could just leave once learned everything he wished.

"It ain't that simple," Shouto argued back though he did seem almost contemplative for a moment. "But... I guess it is an option."

Well, it was a start.

-------------------------------

Izuku learned a lot about Shouto. Shouto had siblings but the oldest died in a tragedy with a monster trying to prove himself despite his frail body. Shouto wasn't allowed near his family after his mother lashed out from stress. The scar on his face was proof of a curse from his mom as a reminder of his heritage. Yet despite all that Shouto still gave him kindness to stay.

His injuries healed as they talked about dreams as Izuku had once thought he could be a monster hunter. Shouto didn't think he couldn't but then for a young man who has never seen the outside and was blessed with privileges despite his struggles, Izuku wasn't surprised. Though when he offered to help train him when he heals the guilt grew.

Knowing unless he wishes to hurt Shouto he needs to leave at least for the whole full moon. That had been his plan anyway but as if somehow Shouto knew he planned to leave the moment the cabin had been locked.

"No- Nonono! Shouto!" Izuku shouts as he bangs at the door as it is just sunrise of the new day. He had planned to leave before the full moon maybe lock himself in some cave. His fist bang on the door felt studier than he expected his heart racing as he looked around.

"I'm sorry. I promise I'll come get you tonight, it's going to be alright. Just stay here, I'll make sure you don't hurt anyone." Shouto spoke from outside as it was to assure him before leaving. Making it clear he knew the wolf that attacked him but he didn't seem to truly understand.

"Shouchan! Please, you don't understand!" Izuku shouts as he bangs on the door but then there is silence. The dread grew as the lies he had been telling himself were slowly falling apart.

Window-! He can break a window and escape before sundown it might hurt to get scratched up but-

That is when he noticed it had been shut from the outside the wooden panels seemed to almost glow. Shouto had placed a magic barrier on them as runes glowed on the wood they repelled him quickly. As if able to sense the curse in his blood it made him recoil. He was a fool, of course, he had realized what happened but because he lied he doesn't know.

Izuku felt hungry again.

His eyes welled up as he looked at the food that his cager had left guessing he should have known. It was more food than usual and part of him wondered if he had poisoned it. He wished this was the case but knows Shouto wouldn't do that. He was genuine and that is what made this even worse. He wants him to be unkind, to stop looking at him gently with kindness. To give him hope and give him that small smile-

Fuck. Izuku devoured all the meats his captor left him not caring about the pain in his stomach as he ate until he was overfilled.

Yet he never felt satiated as he wondered what Shouto planned to do to him. He had trusted him to care and to his despair, the food had not been poisoned. Was he trying to help him? Was this going to keep him from hurting others? He wasn't sure.

All he could do was wait.

---------------------------------

His body ached severely as a heavy breath escaped at the sight of the sun setting as the stars began to shine. He ate and ate and ate until there was nothing left before the sunset. It was as if the food went right through him despite the initial pain as the sun set his body was on fire. It reminded him of the fever the night before his village's massacre.

Izuku had been sick with a fever as his mom tried her best to take care of him. It was terrible as every part of his body seemed to be on fire despite his mom's efforts to cool him out. At some point, he had passed out from the pain only to wake up to a massacre.

This one though he was very much awake for.

While Izuku just tried to rest under the covers wondering if could just sleep this feeling only worsened. The blankets that had once given him comfort in these cold nights felt like sandpaper against his skin. He brushes and scrapes at his heated flesh with fire as he buries his face into the pillows. Then he heard a loud bang against the door.

"Ha, little pup. You allowed yourself to be trapped?" A voice jeered outside and Izuku tensed up. His eyes slowly look at the window to see large red eyes peeking in as rows of fangs grin. Izuku's body ached but he was frozen stiff as the beast that attacked him before was larger.

"You're going to consume him, aren't you? That little hunter boy that found you," the voice jeers and Izuku wonders if he is imagining this scenario. If he is voicing his own terrifying thoughts to that monster, "I can smell your scent on him. How close did you two get?"

Izuku's breath hitches. He knows it isn't mutual his own feelings were a mess. He stayed too long because he got comfortable enjoying how Shouto tended to his wounds. Taking his time and knowing as he gets closer the more he-

"Hm, aren't you hungry?" The monster outside his window jeers with rows of teeth. Then it disappears from view and suddenly the magic runes seem to have vanished.

"Come now little pup. Tell them that you weren't hungry despite how the village starved you for love besides those precious few," A voice seems to jeer almost mocking, "tell them you followed the pomegranate seeds because they tasted like blood, like love. You’re born from me after all, and love is the biggest curse of all.”

Izuku's body ached. As his body twisted finally, his bones snapped and he let out a pained cry. This feeling was familiar like that fever one month ago before the village's massacre.

He swears he isn't hungry for food. He just wanted more and he let out a loud howl as his hands twisted into claws. Digging into the bed as he grits his teeth as he sneers…

Izuku just couldn't help but he just wanted to stay a bit selfish.

____________________________________________

Shouto was currently running for his life knowing that Izuku had purposely avoided going for the kill. There is a giant gash across his right arm as instead of teeth the werewolf had clawed at his arm. Causing him to lose the only source of light and ability to fight in one assault.

"Dammit," Shouto curses as he knows he just left a trail of blood. He needed just a moment to rest to cast a spell to heal but it barely gave him that.

"Shouto," it was Izuku's voice. The monster cooed softly. Hiding the fact its true form was hunting him down. "Where did you go?"

There is silence. Shouto is afraid to move as he is pressed to the tree holding his breath. Only to feel something brush against his ear as it sneers.

"There you are," it jeers at him with delight. Before Shouto could even reach large claws grab him and slam him onto the ground. The pain shoots through his body as he gasps able to feel one of his ribs seem to have cracked. His breath becomes wheezing as he is face to face with the form Izuku had become.

Dark green fur covered his body with white patches on his chest where his heart would be. A muzzle full of teeth as bright green eyes seemed to glow in this darkness. Its tail sways behind slowly as it has its prey once again in its clutches. Toying with him, hunting, and purposely dragging out its kill making it clear what it truly desired.

The werewolf known as Izuku leans down to lick at the wound. And Shouto can't help but notice it still hasn't bitten him. Thankfully he still ain't being cursed yet if survives.

"Fight it," Shouto spoke up. With both hope and faith despite knowing werewolves are sadistic toward those closest Izuku was still avoiding certain actions. It didn't seem he liked that as it suddenly howled and grabbed Shouto by the head. The pain grows as the beast gets up holding him by the head before throwing him.

Shouto felt his head and upper body make contact with a tree. A loud pain as he crumbled onto the ground, his vision and sight wavering. He gasps wondering how many more ribs he has broken. Able to see the wolf stalking toward him as he breathes heavily.

Then there was fire as the wolf howled in pain stepping back looking in the direction of the flames. A wild look of fear and confusion showed as it looked in the distance, Shouto just barely heard shouting. Only to see Izuku lunge through the fire toward him. The last thing he sees before he succumbs to the pain is a row of teeth…

Shouto didn't expect to wake up.

_______________

When Shouto came too he was surrounded by family.

"Shouto you're awake!" Fuyumi shot up. "Everyone! Shouto is awake!"

Natsuo came in looking relieved as hell. “I am glad you’re alright."

It was a surprise as he barely ever saw his siblings; they were always kept separate from him. Though his eyes narrowed a bit when he saw his father. Memories of what had happened to him reimaged and slight panic filled his heart. Wondering if he is here did that mean he-

"What happened to Izuku!?" Shouto shouted. His siblings seemed startled at the sudden shouting when the other likely had been close to death.

"Is that the name of a monster that tried to kill you?" Enji questioned. Shouto didn't back down wondering if he failed to save Izuku, "Unfortunately, I was unable to kill it before it planted a nearly lethal bite on you. It ran off when I scorched its arm like a coward."

So that means Izuku is possibly still alive-

"Wait, Shouto was bitten? You didn't mention this!" Natsuo spoke up looking horrified. Shouto then froze registering what that possibly meant slowly looking at his body he looked at how was wrapped up. It was more mangled than he remembered wondering how hard Izuku tried to keep him. How in a state of panic had likely bit into him to keep him away from the fire when had been avoiding it prior.

Fuyumi was horrified, most likely this is why their mom wasn't at all involved in this. Shouto already was suffering one curse and now had another. His hands trembled wondering why he was still here then if he would turn.

"The beast had you in its jaw after I tried to put a fire between you. I don't know what was going through the beast's head and I had thought he had killed you," Enji admits but it seemed there is a hint of guilt in his words. Was it actually guilt? Or is he just upset his precious successor now has a curse that makes him the very monster he hunts? A failure.

"So what? Did you save me just to kill me later?" Shouto snapped.

"Shouto-!" Fuyumi was startled but Natsuo also seemed just as pissed.

"The hell! You're supposed to be the best monster hunter and you couldn't stop Shouto from being bit?! I'm not going to stand by while you kill another family member!" Natsuo shouts as was already standing between Enji and Shouto.

"I am not about to kill him," Enji hissed. "I already made the mistake once. I'm investing in a place to keep him whenever there is a full moon, nothing has changed. I am only allowing you two to see him now as the full moon isn't for another month. But now he truly needs to be separated, Shouto."

Those cold blue eyes stared him down into his soul, "It's for the good of everyone that you are locked up."

And he was welcomed into a new hell.

_______________________________________

A whole month he was trapped in this stone cage. His siblings barely fought the moment they realized he was a monster. Despite their initial joy they grew weary and as soon as he was to meet them they were lost. Leaving him with feelings of pain and resentment wondering why they even bothered to pretend they cared.

Shouto wondered if Izuku even thought about him. Sometimes he feels like he can see him just outside the skirts of this tower. At the forest edge, he feels pained and miserable as the one solace he had was stripped from him. The one person he grew to like tried to devour him only to end up cursing him. Now Shouto is locked up like a beast given all luxury but the freedom to leave as if his father can't acknowledge what happened to his son.

They all were waiting for the first full moon to attempt the cure. The administration of Wolfbane could cure but also kill him. The thing he had hoped to do before realizing Izuku had long been a werewolf before they met. He guessed it a good thing he didn't since it meant Izuku would have died. His father was going to take that risk.

"Ha..." he lets out the smallest laugh as he looks at the calendar. Tonight was a full moon and every moment that ticked made him more terrified. It started small.

It was fevers that seemed never-ending. It was the taste of blood in his mouth and this unending hunger even when he tried to eat. His skin burned and itched as his hand scratched at it until he bled. Exposing fur that didn't used to be there.

…

He was scared of what he would become when he heard the bang at the tower entrance. He limped toward it wondering if his father had come early for him.

It wasn't his father.

Standing at the door was Izuku on the cusp of transformation. Ears, tails, fangs, and claws but still human enough to recognize. It was clear he was struggling as if to keep himself sane and Shouto wondered why it had already changed. Wondering if with each transformation they become more beast than man. Never has he seen a werewolf in the cusp of transforming only already a wolf or beast. Izuku held in a basket making him wonder if the reason he disappeared was to find the very thing that could possibly cure him.

He holds it out with tears in his eyes. Those pupils were slit almost animalistic but it was clear was trying to hold back. Slowly placing the basket down though it clear had taken some in his hand. There is regret and mourning on the half-transformed creature in front mixed between man and beast. There is blood on him showing he had harmed likely why he steps away the moment Shouto took one step toward him. The injured boy who always seemed to stare off outside with wonder now was trembling with fear not of Shouto but of himself.

"I-I'm sorry Shouchan," Izuku said between a rasp and a whine. Holding onto the wolfbane like a vice he steps back. "I never wished this on you. I'll eat it so I won't hurt you, I'm sorry I disappeared but I can make up for it. Please eat your portion too quickly. I don't know how much you need."

He never left? Did he go to find Wolfbane for him? Wait-

"If you eat it while already transforming you will DIE," Shouto points out. As even to human’s wolfbane is poison but in small dosage before the first transformation you can survive. It was never a guarantee it would cure someone but it could prevent a transformation. But to a werewolf already in the thralls of the curse it would kill them. To the point it was a common practice to plant these around the village when there was a wolf among them.

"I can't live like this Shouchan," he continues wheezing as Shouto can hear a pop in the other's body. There is clear pain on Izuku’s face as held the wolfbane to his face, "All alone, unable to be near anyone. I grew up my whole life wishing to help people but instead, I'm a monster. I have always been a monster since my birth but I wanted to pretend it wasn't true. Please let me at least do this one thing to make it right before I fully succumb."

Shouto stares at the young male who was transforming just like he was but faster and quicker yet trying to make it right. The way his body twisted it was early and he realized Izuku couldn't be saved. Wolfbane would only kill him, and something in him recoiled at the idea of even trying to abandon him now as Izuku tries to walk about. About to consume the poison willingly after leaving Shouto with at least a possible chance of being saved. Shouto, despite the pain in his body, ran toward Izuku to grab, noticing how large the other had become.

"Stop! Don’t eat it, let us just leave. I won't let you die here not to my father nor to this suicide pact you’re trying to do. You know there is no guarantee this would cure me anyway and even if it did my father would just cage me more. Let me stay with you," Shouto spoke with certainty or insanity. The fever was likely making his head a mess right now, irrational even as moves in front of the now more beast-like monster. It was terrifying watching the once human mouth extending to a muzzle full of fangs but he cups it gently. It was still Izuku.

“You tried to avoid biting me. Likely if my father hadn’t come in you might never have bit me,” Shouto speaks softly as despite the cruelty there seemed to be an attempt to resist until he had become panicked. “You are trying even now. You are trying so let me help you once more, even if it means I also become a beast.”

Able to feel the werewolf's body seem to overheat making his own fever worsen like magma as those teeth suddenly bare at him. The other scent was strong, wondering if it was the werewolf curse. As those eyes looked into his own for a moment they truly connected as there is recognition in his words. Shouto knew there was no going back now as Izuku’s eyes glazed over and his own body began to succumb to the curse. As Izuku goes for his throat and the curse takes hold faster than it would with the bite of a wolf.

By the time Enji had arrived at the toward they had both left far from there. As Shouto held no love for his father and was abandoned by his siblings. Nor did Izuku have any reason to linger in this place of strangers. That bite had cemented the permanency of their curse to lose their humanity.

Deep into the forest, there are two oddly colored wolves, one with ice in his feet and the other with the colors of the forest. Terrorizing anyone that gets too close and devouring anything that dares come near.

Yet during the day, people swear there is a couple who smile brightly and also take care of monsters they come across for no cost. The runaway son of Enji Todoroki with the boy of green mixed with the story of monsters that haunt the woods.

Swearing to kill the very white wolf that bore the curse to everyone from the beginning.

#yoly's fanfics #tddkhalloweek2023 #Ideas have changed. I got sadder more messed up ideas for the other days.#This chapter a show of love and appreciation.

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edenmemes · 2 years

Text

the northman (2022) starters

❝ your kingdom will not last. ❞ ❝ my fate did not ready me for finding you. ❞ ❝ your strength breaks men’s bones. i have the cunning to break their minds. ❞ ❝ i thought i must always shield my heart in stone. ❞ ❝ were you lost? ❞ ❝ in the end, you’re just like your father. ❞ ❝ even now, you believe the fairy tale i told you is true? ❞ ❝ you are still a beast cloaked in man-flesh. ❞ ❝ why would you come to such a hellish place? ❞ ❝ live always without fear, for your fate is set and you cannot escape it. ❞ ❝ should i fall by the enemy’s sword, you must avenge me. ❞ ❝ i must die for the sword. i will die in honor. ❞ ❝ this ground harbors evil. ❞ ❝ hate is all i have ever known. but i wish to be free of it. ❞ ❝ my hour of grief has passed. ❞ ❝ whatever you hear, you must stay hidden. ❞ ❝ my heart knows only revenge. ❞ ❝ i knew then you had a heart of cold iron. ❞ ❝ if you lose me, will you come and look for me? will you? ❞ ❝ never enter my chambers without invitation! ❞ ❝ i have never felt close to another person. not since i was a child. ❞ ❝ could it not be that fate has spun another thread for you to follow? ❞ ❝ wherever i go, i must take you with me. ❞ ❝ you came back for me. ❞ ❝ i cannot truly believe you have extinguished your fire for vengeance. ❞ ❝ your sheep’s clothing does not disguise you. ❞ ❝ this is the last tear you will shed in weakness. ❞ ❝ you sacrificed yourself so that i could flee. ❞ ❝ hide your cunning. show the shepherd you are a sheep. ❞ ❝ you must choose between kindness for your kin, and hatred for your enemies. ❞ ❝ you found me. ❞ ❝ i will tear out their eyes, and i will tear out their tongues. ❞ ❝ look me in the eye. ❞ ❝ i will become a hailstorm of iron and steel. ❞ ❝ you know why i have come. ❞ ❝ come morning, they will hunt for me. ❞ ❝ did you find it? what you lost. ❞ ❝ you best find yourself some sleep. ❞ ❝ if you’re as untrustworthy as a wolf, i swear i’ll put you down myself. ❞ ❝ like a battle-dog returning to its master, i’ve come to be fettered by your fair locks. ❞ ❝ ever are we bound. ❞ ❝ i will have my vengeance. and more. ❞ ❝ your mind reeks of your father. ❞ ❝ your words are poison. ❞ ❝ do as you’re told. go. ❞ ❝ please, it’s but a jest. a jest. ❞ ❝ you keep a foul tongue, yet i keep you as a deep-sworn friend. ❞ ❝ i refuse to die in sickness nor live the long life of a shameful graybeard. ❞ ❝ be not afraid. do as i do. ❞ ❝ together we will rage in the battlefield of corpses. ❞ ❝ my fate has brought me here. ❞ ❝ for now, i will haunt this place like a hungry corpse returned from the grave. ❞ ❝ can you fight? ❞ ❝ whatever happens tomorrow, be ready to run. ❞ ❝ this is not the work of my god. ❞ ❝ i should kill you and all that is dear to you. ❞

#rp meme #rp starters #roleplay meme #roleplay starters

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adrianasunderworld · 2 years

Note

Given the events of Papa Crewel AU, I wonder how the chain of events started. Like how the case of overblots happen as Riddle is irritated at Ace for stealing his tart but he only did it because he was in verge of explosion and needed to complete the task to prevent it. Given that happened because the statue and chandelier was broken when Grim was teased by Ace.

I mean the chain of events in book 1 were kicked off by Ace eating a slice of tart that was meant for the unbirthday party. This happens pretty much immediately after he gets back from prologue misadventure in the mines, which is why he ate it, he had missed dinner. Ace in this au could have just been hungry and ate the tarts.

As for the prologue, in this au I think maybe Yuu begs Crowley to let them stay. They have spent so much of their life at NRC that they want to go, and it's Grims dream to be a mage, Even if Yuu can't do magic they can still attend the normal classes, so why cant they stay? Crowley, or as he dubs himself, Uncle Crowley, in his benevolence (and a dash of nepotism) Says that Yuu can stay and makes the deal that their and Grims admission count as one. He even has the bright idea to let Yuu use the old abandoned dorm, since dorm life is such a big part of boarding school experience. Despite Crewels protest that they can just live in the staff quarters with him like when they were little, only to stop when Yuu seemed so exited at the prospect.

Maybe after the agreement, instead of Grim and Ace fighting, maybe Yuu gets picked on the first day of school. Word spread fast that the nepotism baby got in because Crowley and Crewel let them stay. Which didn't sit well with some of the students that had magic and thought they were more worthy of being there than the magicless Prefect. After dealing with it all day, Yuu runs off again, with Ace, Grim and Deuce following behind. Yuu runs through the mirror to the very first place they came in Twisted Wonderland: The woods outside the mines. Yuu, to the best of their memory, explains how they got here. When they were about 4, almost 5 years old, they had wandered away from their parents and fell down a rabbit hole. When they crawled out, they had found themselves here in the forest. They got lost and somewhere along the way they found Grim. By some sheer miracle, they managed to find a clear trail that led into town. While wandering the streets was when they ran into Crewel and he took them in. Yuu contemplates whether or not they can find the rabbit hole again. They had come from a world without magic, and maybe that's where they should return. The trio tell Yuu that's crazy. They were letting those assholes win. Their dad would miss them. They would miss them. Maybe they may not have been born here, but Twisted Wonderland was their home now. All the while they followed Yuu around as they looked for the rabbit hole, and in their wandering had gone into the mines, where they met the monster. They fight their way out, again with Yuus help to keep them in check, and they manage to escape back to the school. Only to find a worried sick Crewel. The four of them end up in Crowleys office for a scolding about not running off when they tell them everything. Crowley puts together that Yuu has the talents of a beast master and they are dismissed.

Crewel walks Yuu back to Ramshackle and has a serious talk with them. He hadn't really pried into Yuus life from before. For one because was too afraid and seemingly traumatized to properly answer any questions. And considering the state he had found them in: dirty, hungry, arms scratched up, and face covered in tears. He always assumed Yuu and Grim had escaped a bad situation. So yuu tells him what they told Ace and Deuce. About the rabbit hole, about the world without magic. They didn't remember much since they were so young. But it reminded Crewel of an old story about a young girl who had found herself in the queen of hearts court and wondered if history was maybe repeating itself with his child.

#twisted wonderland #papa crewel #divus crewel #dire crowley #ace trappola #twst grim

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istumpysk · 2 years

Text

Operation Stumpy Re-Read

ADWD: Bran II (Chapter 13)

But the air was sharp and cold and full of fear. Even Summer was afraid. The fur on his neck was bristling. Shadows stretched against the hillside, black and hungry.

A little too much hunger happening in this chapter.

+.+.+

All the trees were bowed and twisted by the weight of ice they carried. Some hardly looked like trees at all. Buried from root to crown in frozen snow, they huddled on the hill like giants, monstrous and misshapen creatures hunched against the icy wind. "They are here."

I can't possibly know if there's a connection, but it's worth pointing out these are common words used to describe Tyrion, and once again the giant monster has the next chapter.

"Yes, and I am a monster besides, hideous and misshapen, never forget that." - Tyrion IX, ADWD

+.+.+

"Those wolves are close as well," Bran warned them. "The ones that have been following us. Summer can smell them whenever we're downwind."

Aren't they Summer's new pack?

+.+.+

"Is this the only way in?" asked Meera.

"The back door is three leagues north, down a sinkhole."

A back door and a sinkhole. . . hope I never see it.

+.+.+

That was all he had to say. Not even Hodor could climb down into a sinkhole with Bran heavy on his back

Oh no.

+.+.+

"The white walkers go lightly on the snow," the ranger said. "You'll find no prints to mark their passage." A raven descended from above to settle on his shoulder. Only a dozen of the big black birds remained with them. The rest had vanished along the way; every dawn when they arose, there had been fewer of them. "Come," the bird squawked. "Come, come."

Why? That's strange.

+.+.+

Meera Reed bent down beside her brother. He was settled in the bole of an oak, eyes closed, shivering violently.

The boy looked at the bowl uncertainly. "What is it?" - Bran III, ADWD

It's nothing, I'm paranoid! He uses bole all the time!

+.+.+

"Jojen just needs to eat," Bran said, miserably. It had been twelve days since the elk had collapsed for the third and final time, since Coldhands had knelt beside it in the snowbank and murmured a blessing in some strange tongue as he slit its throat. Bran wept like a little girl when the bright blood came rushing out. He had never felt more like a cripple than he did then, watching helplessly as Meera Reed and Coldhands butchered the brave beast who had carried them so far. He told himself he would not eat, that it was better to go hungry than to feast upon a friend, but in the end he'd eaten twice, once in his own skin and once in Summer's.

IT'S NOTHING.

+.+.+

All around him, wights were rising from beneath the snow.

Two, three, four. Bran lost count. They surged up violently amidst sudden clouds of snow.

[...]

Coldhands was hacking and cutting at the circle of dead men that surrounded him. Summer was tearing at the one that he'd brought down, its face between his teeth. No one was paying any mind to Bran. He crawled a little higher, dragging his useless legs behind him. If I can reach that cave …

"Hoooodor" came a whimper, from somewhere down below.

And suddenly he was not Bran, the broken boy crawling through the snow, suddenly he was Hodor halfway down the hill, with the wight raking at his eyes. Roaring, he came lurching to his feet, throwing the thing violently aside. It went to one knee, began to rise again. Bran ripped Hodor's longsword from his belt. Deep inside he could hear poor Hodor whimpering still, but outside he was seven feet of fury with old iron in his hand.

That's weird, he wasn't consciously trying to warg into Hodor. He's focused on dragging himself to the cave, then a second later he's inside Hodor.

+.+.+

Bran backed away, bleeding, and Meera Reed was there, driving her frog spear deep into the wight's back. "Hodor," Bran roared again, waving her uphill. "Hodor, hodor." Jojen was twisting feebly where she'd laid him down. Bran went to him, dropped the longsword, gathered the boy into Hodor's arm, and lurched back to his feet. "HODOR!" he bellowed.

Can Bran only say Hodor when he's inside Hodor?

That's going to melt my brain if I spend any time thinking about it.

+.+.+

Meera led the way back up the hill, jabbing at the wights when they came near. The things could not be hurt, but they were slow and clumsy. "Hodor," Hodor said with every step. "Hodor, hodor." He wondered what Meera would think if he should suddenly tell her that he loved her.

Lmao.

Bran, Tommen, and Sweetrobin all have a little crush. Aww.

+.+.+

Up above them, flaming figures were dancing in the snow.

That's a funny sentence.

+.+.+

The wights, Bran realized. Someone set the wights on fire.

Summer was snarling and snapping as he danced around the closest, a great ruin of a man wreathed in swirling flame. He shouldn't get so close, what is he doing? Then he saw himself, sprawled facedown in the snow. Summer was trying to drive the thing away from him. What will happen if it kills me? the boy wondered. Will I be Hodor for good or all? Will I go back into Summer's skin? Or will I just be dead?

That's a good question. From my understanding, I think you'd have to quickly pick between Hodor and Summer.

+.+.+

A cloud of ravens was pouring from the cave, and he saw a little girl with a torch in hand, darting this way and that. For a moment Bran thought it was his sister Arya … madly, for he knew his little sister was a thousand leagues away, or dead. And yet there she was, whirling, a scrawny thing, ragged, wild, her hair atangle. Tears filled Hodor's eyes and froze there.

I don't understand where George is taking this whole Arya = Leaf thing.

+.+.+

Everything turned inside out and upside down, and Bran found himself back inside his own skin, half-buried in the snow.

[...]

"The snow," Bran said. "It fell on me. Buried me."

"Hid you. I pulled you out." Meera nodded at the girl. "It was her who saved us, though. The torch … fire kills them."

I feel like I missed something. Who buried him in the snow?

+.+.+

"Fire burns them. Fire is always hungry."

He was always hungry, her Drogon. - Daenerys I, ASOS

Off in the distance, a wolf howled. The sound made her feel sad and lonely, but no less hungry. - Daenerys X, ADWD

+.+.+

That was not Arya's voice, nor any child's. It was a woman's voice, high and sweet, with a strange music in it like none that he had ever heard and a sadness that he thought might break his heart. Bran squinted, to see her better. It was a girl, but smaller than Arya, her skin dappled like a doe's beneath a cloak of leaves. Her eyes were queer—large and liquid, gold and green, slitted like a cat's eyes. No one has eyes like that. Her hair was a tangle of brown and red and gold, autumn colors, with vines and twigs and withered flowers woven through it.

I don't get it.

+.+.+

Bran knew. "She's a child. A child of the forest." He shivered, as much from wonderment as cold. They had fallen into one of Old Nan's tales.

"The First Men named us children," the little woman said. "The giants called us woh dak nag gran, the squirrel people, because we were small and quick and fond of trees, but we are no squirrels, no children. Our name in the True Tongue means those who sing the song of earth. Before your Old Tongue was ever spoken, we had sung our songs ten thousand years."

I don't get it.

"The lightning lord is everywhere and nowhere, skinny squirrel."

"I'm not a squirrel," she said. - Arya IV, ASOS

+.+.+

Meera said, "You speak the Common Tongue now."

"For him. The Bran boy. I was born in the time of the dragon, and for two hundred years I walked the world of men, to watch and listen and learn. I might be walking still, but my legs were sore and my heart was weary, so I turned my feet for home."

Where exactly?

The Isle of Faces? The Neck? Beyond the Wall?

+.+.+

She waved her torch toward the black crack in the back wall of the cave. "Our way is down. You must come with me now."

Bran shivered again.

DON'T GO.

+.+.+

"The ranger …"

"He cannot come."

"They'll kill him."

"No. They killed him long ago. Come now. It is warmer down deep, and no one will hurt you there. He is waiting for you."

By they I guess she means the Others, but you can never be too sure.

+.+.+

The way was cramped and twisty, and so low that Hodor soon was crouching. Bran hunched down as best he could, but even so, the top of his head was soon scraping and bumping against the ceiling. Loose dirt crumbled at each touch and dribbled down into his eyes and hair, and once he smacked his brow on a thick white root growing from the tunnel wall, with tendrils hanging from it and spiderwebs between its fingers.

Ducking, and Bran hitting his head.

What a creepy description.

+.+.+

The way the shadows shifted made it seem as if the walls were moving too. Bran saw great white snakes slithering in and out of the earth around him, and his heart thumped in fear. He wondered if they had blundered into a nest of milk snakes or giant grave worms, soft and pale and squishy. Grave worms have teeth.

Hodor saw them too. "Hodor," he whimpered, reluctant to go on. But when the girl child stopped to let them catch her, the torchlight steadied, and Bran realized that the snakes were only white roots like the one he'd hit his head on. "It's weirwood roots," he said. "Remember the heart tree in the godswood, Hodor? The white tree with the red leaves? A tree can't hurt you."

"Hodor." Hodor plunged ahead, hurrying after the child and her torch, deeper into the earth. They passed another branching, and another, then came into an echoing cavern as large as the great hall of Winterfell, with stone teeth hanging from its ceiling and more poking up through its floor.

Loving all the teeth. Not.

A tree can't hurt you.

+.+.+

There were more side passages after that, more chambers, and Bran heard dripping water somewhere to his right. When he looked off that way, he saw eyes looking back at them, slitted eyes that glowed bright, reflecting back the torchlight. More children, he told himself, the girl is not the only one, but Old Nan's tale of Gendel's children came back to him as well.

Why!? I still don't understand the point of that story.

This whole summary is me asking questions. Bran chapters are the worst.

+.+.+

"Bones," said Bran. "It's bones." The floor of the passage was littered with the bones of birds and beasts. But there were other bones as well, big ones that must have come from giants and small ones that could have been from children.

Please leave.

+.+.+

On either side of them, in niches carved from the stone, skulls looked down on them. Bran saw a bear skull and a wolf skull, half a dozen human skulls and near as many giants. All the rest were small, queerly formed. Children of the forest. The roots had grown in and around and through them, every one. A few had ravens perched atop them, watching them pass with bright black eyes.

Bran take a second to think about this.

+.+.+

Down below in the darkness, Bran heard the sound of rushing water. An underground river.

"Do we have to cross?" Bran asked, as the Reeds came sliding down behind him. The prospect frightened him. If Hodor slipped on that narrow bridge, they would fall and fall.

"No, boy," the child said. "Behind you."

Surely this river will be important in the future?

"Men should not go wandering in this place," Leaf warned them. "The river you hear is swift and black, and flows down and down to a sunless sea. And there are passages that go even deeper, bottomless pits and sudden shafts, forgotten ways that lead to the very center of the earth. Even my people have not explored them all, and we have lived here for a thousand thousand of your man-years." - Bran III, ADWD

+.+.+

Before them a pale lord in ebon finery sat dreaming in a tangled nest of roots, a woven weirwood throne that embraced his withered limbs as a mother does a child.

A throne.

+.+.+

His body was so skeletal and his clothes so rotted that at first Bran took him for another corpse, a dead man propped up so long that the roots had grown over him, under him, and through him. What skin the corpse lord showed was white, save for a bloody blotch that crept up his neck onto his cheek. His white hair was fine and thin as root hair and long enough to brush against the earthen floor. Roots coiled around his legs like wooden serpents. One burrowed through his breeches into the desiccated flesh of his thigh, to emerge again from his shoulder. A spray of dark red leaves sprouted from his skull, and grey mushrooms spotted his brow. A little skin remained, stretched across his face, tight and hard as white leather, but even that was fraying, and here and there the brown and yellow bone beneath was poking through.

Imagine thinking this thing is good news.

+.+.+

"A … crow?" The pale lord's voice was dry. His lips moved slowly, as if they had forgotten how to form words. "Once, aye. Black of garb and black of blood." The clothes he wore were rotten and faded, spotted with moss and eaten through with worms, but once they had been black.

"Who's hungry?" she asked, holding up her catch: two small silvery trout and six fat green frogs.

"I am," said Bran. But not for frogs. Back at Winterfell before all the bad things had happened, the Walders used to say that eating frogs would turn your teeth green and make moss grow under your arms. - Bran I, ASOS

IGNORE ME.

+.+.+

"I have been many things, Bran. Now I am as you see me, and now you will understand why I could not come to you … except in dreams. I have watched you for a long time, watched you with a thousand eyes and one. I saw your birth, and that of your lord father before you. I saw your first step, heard your first word, was part of your first dream. I was watching when you fell. And now you are come to me at last, Brandon Stark, though the hour is late."

The hour is late. Is that about the Others or is Bloodraven running out of life juice?

+.+.+

"I'm here," Bran said, "only I'm broken. Will you … will you fix me … my legs, I mean?"

"No," said the pale lord. "That is beyond my powers."

Bran's eyes filled with tears. We came such a long way. The chamber echoed to the sound of the black river.

"You will never walk again, Bran," the pale lips promised, "but you will fly."

I mean he walks while in Hodor all the time, what's the difference?

Final thoughts:

Were the wights anticipating Bran? Are they always there? Wouldn't that imply they're targeting the children of the forest?

Silly Bran chapters.

-> return to menu <-

#operation stumpy re-read #adwd #bran ii

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jaybigheaddt · 1 year

Photo

On January 17th, 2023, the professional wrestling world lost one half of one of the best tag teams. If anything, indie wrestling lost one of its finest pioneers. If you are a fan of tag team wrestling, hell even AEW, I can safely say Jay Briscoe was an influence on modern tag team wrestling, AEW, and indie wrestling today.

As someone who grew up watching indie wrestling clips or just trying to find any indie wrestling matches online. I would see names like Bryan Danielson, Trent Acid, Chris Hero, Nigel McGuinness, Homicide, and today’s post, Mark and Jay Briscoe, The Briscoe Brothers. There’s something magical about the 2000s indie scene, it was something you had to experience back then to believe it. If you were tired of mainstream WWE or even TNA, ROH and the indies might have been a scene you loved. And fuck did the Briscoe Brothers set the bar on tag team wrestling. To call Briscoe’s style of wrestling as “hard hitting” would not do it justice. Here’s how I can describe it, think of the toughest person you know, they hit hard, they know they can hit hard, but they also want to be the absolute best, not the toughest, or just the most badass, but the absolute best. The Briscoes were hungry, the hit hard, they flew, the grappled, they set the fucking bar of tag team wrestling. Whether it was FTR, The American Wolves, or Generation Next, The Briscoes could work with any team. CZW, ROH, PWG, GCW, NJPW, or NOAH, The Briscoes won gold.

While I love me some Briscoes, Jay Briscoe was a completely different animal. I love Mark Briscoe dearly, but there’s a reason why ROH made Jay Briscoe a world champion. There was fire in Jay Briscoe that can not be matched. A passion, a rage, a beast that was ready to unleash. All you need to do is watch a Jay Briscoe promo, and look into his eyes, and there’s a magnetic force behind it, something trying to draw you in, yet want you to know, “DO NOT FUCK WITH JAY BRISCOE!” While The Briscoes made tag team wrestling a violent art, Jay Briscoe matches is a violent passion. The man made you believe he was in the fight of his life in every single match. While people were hesitant on him winning the ROH title, he showed the wrestling world he deserved it.

Another thing about Jay Briscoe that made me admire him more. If he fucked up, he knew he did, and he made every attempt to rectify that wrong. You can’t talk about Jay Briscoe, without talking about the abhorrent thing he said about gay marriage. I bring this up, not to slander Jay, but to show how he matured and changed his views. When word of his passing broke, multiple prominent LGBTQA+ wrestling personalities all spoke highly of Jay, as wrestler and as a man and if you know how LGBTQA+ wrestling personalities are nowadays, there are not afraid to hold their tongue. I like to think Cary Silkin, former owner of ROH, and a openly gay man himself, spoke to Jay when all that happened. All I heard was how much he changed, how opening he was to gay wrestlers, how much he wanted to be leader for all, helping them when ever he can, no matter who, that me showed, Jay Briscoe truly changed, and Jay Briscoe is a wonderful man.

At the end of the day, Jay Briscoe, is an icon in wrestling, an icon in indie wrestling, an icon in tag team wrestling, a wonderful family man, a wonderful brother, and just a wonderful man in general. My thoughts and prayers to his brother Mark, his wife, his family, friends, but especially his daughters, who as of this writing is still in the hospital. I truly hope time can heal this painful wound. Thank you Jay, and remember guys, Terry Funk ain’t wear no mouth piece, AND REACH FOR THE SKY BOY!

#roh #ring of honor #jay briscoe #mark briscoe #briscoe brothers #wrestling #aew #gcw

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lovesick-rambles · 8 months

Text

A Never Ending Hunger

commission for: @williameaston

summary: The Count had been trying so desperately to ignore his hunger but Ambroży teases him with it, making it almost impossible

word count: 2k

content warnings: 18+, minors do not interact, bloodplay, drawing blood, biting, slight overstim, slight praise

author's note: MIMI THANK YOU AGAIN FOR COMMISSIONING ME YOU ARE THE SWEETEST FJSDLK

Hungry.

Starving.

There were no other words for it.

Dracula didn’t know how else to describe the insatiable urge he had been feeling lately in regards to Ambroży. Whenever they were anywhere near him, his eyes always fell to the soft, warm flesh on their neck and his hunger pained him once more. Perhaps the tales of him being a soulless, carnivorous beast with an incredible lust for blood were true after all.

Ambroży noticed how The Count acted around them. Despite his mysterious and brooding air about him, Vlad wasn’t as subtle as he thought he was. When they spent time together, Ambroży had this sixth sense that he was staring intensely at them. They could feel his eyes all over him. It was almost as if his gaze was burning a hole into their skin. If they were anyone else, they would’ve been frightened at this feeling. The thought that Count Dracula himself was practically salivating at the mere sight of a sliver of skin that poked out from their top would make anyone afraid.

But Ambroży was not just anyone. They were The Count’s lover.

In fact, they welcomed his lustful gaze and even encouraged it. They started by wearing tops that exposed more of their neck and collar bones around him in hopes that it would entice him. It worked like a charm because Vlad’s neverending hunger he tried so hard to ignore became so unbearable when Ambroży did that to him. They also took it upon themselves to tease him with their bare skin, too.

Ambroży would cock their head to the side, feign innocence and ask “Is something the matter, Vlad? You seem so stressed. Is there something distracting you?”

Dracula would wave these questions off, still trying to keep his lust hidden but Ambroży knew better.

Their hands would absentmindedly trail along their neck while speaking to him, making his eyes follow it, “You know what helps me when I’m distracted or stressed?”

“What, pray tell?”

“I like to bite my skin, like this,” They brought their thumb to their mouth and started to gently nibble on it, “Maybe you need to bite something to exercise this nervous energy?”

The suggestion flustered The Count and made his cold skin feel like it was burning. He cleared his throat and did his best to maintain his composure, “I assure, my dear Ambroży, I am fine. I will take your suggestion if I need to but please know that I am quite alright.”

Ambroży peered up at him with a playful expression on their face, “Hmm, are you sure? I can tell that something is up…You’re safe to confide in me, you know.”

“I am sure.” Vlad dismissed their curiosity, “I believe that my mind has just been wandering. Nothing more, nothing less.”

“Alright, but only if you’re sure.” They said, clearly not buying his poorly constructed excuse, “If there is anything that I can do to help, anything at all, please don’t hesitate to ask me.”

“Of course,” He said before turning to leave, their words buzzing around in his head.

Was he really that obvious? Did they know what exactly they were doing to him? How they were toying with something becoming more and more unbearable as the days passed by? These were the questions that Vlad asked himself everytime he had an interaction like this with Ambroży.

This type of teasing continued almost every time they found themselves in the same room together with Ambroży becoming more and more confident in their taunts. They moved away from being subtle and playful to being incredibly blunt.

“Are you alright?” They asked as soon as they saw Vlad, “You’re hungry, aren’t you?”

Yes. He was desperately and painfully hungry.

“No, my pet, I’m quite alright.” He lied, “Why do you ask?”

Ambroży clicked their tongue and shook their head, “Because I can tell that you are. You’re just not telling me for some reason.”

“Ambroży, I assure you-”

“Do you need blood?” Ambroży asked plainly, seemingly unphased.

Their sudden question interrupted whatever Dracula wanted to say. His mind went blank as he peered at them curiously. Ambroży stood before him with their arms crossed, looking up at him expectantly. It seemed they expected a confession of his hunger. Or maybe…something more physical.

“Vlad?” Their irritated voice brought him back to the present, “I asked you a question. Do you need to bite something?”

The Count let out a slow, soft exhale, “I’m afraid you don’t know what you’re asking.”

Ambroży cocked their head to the side, “Oh? I think I might. Come on, I think you need it. Here,” They tugged down their shirt collar to expose more of their neck to him, “I’m offering.”

There it was again. Their warm, soft neck was taunting him. Only this time, Dracula did not resist Ambroży’s temptation. As gently as he could, he wrapped his slender fingers around their neck with one hand and curled under their chin with the other.

“Oh, dragă mea,” He cooed in their ear, his breath feeling hot against their ear, “You are too kind to offer this to me. Forgive me for not being able to resist you.”

Ambroży could only whimper a response, shocked at Vlad’s sudden change in demeanor. Of course, it was welcomed, it just took them by surprise.

The Count didn’t immediately sink his teeth into their warm, inviting skin despite his hunger screaming at him to. No, he took his time savoring this moment with his darling Ambroży. He gently stroked their cheek and longingly stared into their eyes. Vlad leaned in close to their face, almost as if he were about to kiss them, and traced their lips with his finger. Then, he returned back to their neck and slowly peppered it in soft kisses. They were so soft that Ambroży almost didn’t feel them at first. Their breath hitched when his slow kisses became more erratic, more desperate. Finally, as gently as he could, Dracula grazed Ambroży’s neck with his fangs before tenderly biting into them. He paused for a moment, almost as if he wanted to see if they wanted to back out. But, Ambroży merely stayed still and nodded, encouraging him to continue.

A soft sigh escaped their lips, “Vlad…” Was all they could muster as he sank his teeth further in their neck.

Dracula had been fantasizing of this moment since the moment he laid eyes on Ambroży. He wondered about how their skin would feel against his hands and mouth, what noises they would make, how they would taste. Now, he didn’t have to wonder about the answer to those questions anymore and it was delicious. As he tasted Ambroży’s blood, he noticed how vocal they were. Their little whimpers and moans sounded so melodic to him. He never wanted them to stop. Ambroży’s reactions to Dracula biting and drinking their blood aroused him. The two of them being so close together physically that there was no space between them helped with this arousal, too.

Vlad released himself from their neck and admired the bite mark he left. It was bright red with some blood weeping from the puncture wounds. It looked perfect to him. With his fingers still wrapped under their chin, he leaned in close to Ambroży’s ear, “Let’s move to a room that will be more comfortable for you, my dear.”

They nodded, “Okay, I’ll follow your lead.”

“Oh, pet,” He cooed, “I won’t keep you waiting.”

He took Ambroży’s hand and led them out of the room they were currently in to search for one of the many, many bedrooms in his Castle. They rushed to find it but once they stumbled one, Dracula didn’t hesitate to push Ambroży inside and swiftly shut the door behind them, despite the fact that no one else inhabited the Castle besides the two of them. He pushed them to the bed and slowly undressed them, taking his time to enjoy this moment with them. Once they laid bare before him, he undressed himself before climbing on top of them.

Ambroży giggled, “I told you I knew something was up.”

“Don’t tease,” The Count warned, “Unless you want me to stop and pretend none of this happened.”

“No,” They sounded desperate, “Please, I’m only joking.”

He gave them a wicked grin, “That’s more like it. I prefer it if you stay polite, pet.”

Dracula’s sense of power made them shiver beneath him and they bite their lip, “Yes, Count. I’ll stay polite for you.”

“Perfect,” He purred in a deep, seductive voice, “I cannot thank you enough.”

Slowly, he pushed himself into Ambroży to allow the both of them to ease into it and get used to the feeling. Of course, it didn’t take long for him to pick up speed as he thrusted into them. He eyed the bite marks on Ambroży’s neck and smirked to himself. Knowing that he was the one that put such noticeable marks on their flesh that are so obvious to the world that they belong to him made him even more aroused.

Ambroży’s face contorted into one of pleasure and they dug their nails into Vlad’s shoulders. He was going very fast now and it was overwhelming for them in the best way. They were surprised at the intense amount of stamina he had but they figured that allowing him to feed off their neck fueled his energy. Even though Dracula was fucking them slightly rough and quickly, he was very attentive to Ambroży. He was still in control, but he kept lovingly cradling their face, tracing the bites on their neck, and murmuring sweet nothings and praises in their ear. It felt amazing. Too amazing. Their orgasm came quicker than they expected but Vlad made them feel like they ascended to heaven.

“Dragă mea,” The Count whispered to them, “Do you think you can handle more?”

He didn’t seem tired at all, even after the intense speed he was fucking them with. Ambroży sunk their head into the pillow, panting. They nodded their head yes and wrapped their arms around his neck to bring him closer.

His lips curled into a smile, “Okay, my love. I just wanted to make sure.”

He picked up where they left off last round with the same pace. But, that hunger came back to Vlad. It wasn’t as strong as earlier, but he noticed that he couldn’t tear his eyes away from Ambroży’s neck. Instead of ignoring this urge like he did for days on end before, he sunk his teeth into their neck and began feeding again. Ambroży yelped at the sudden feeling of being bitten but happily welcomed it.

Dracula let go of their neck to look them in the eye, their blood staining his lip, “You taste divine, my dearest Ambroży. Absolutely perfect.”

Ambroży could feel beads of warm blood dribbling down their neck and to their collarbone. Their mind was hazy with pleasure. They felt sensitive from their first round but that didn’t inhibit their enjoyment. Being fucked by their beloved Count felt nothing but perfect to them. Once again, they felt a coil in their stomach and knew that they were close to finishing yet again.

“Vlad,” They whined, “I’m close, I’m so close,”

Dracula smiled, “Oh, you’re so good. I’m glad I’m doing such an excellent job.”

Ambroży came once again and Vlad pulled out of them when he felt close himself. He wiped the blood dripping down their neck away with one hand and stroked himself to the sight of them with the other. The Count then brought his fingers up to his lips to taste their blood one final time before cumming on Ambroży’s thighs. He left threads of warm cum on their skin and then took a breath.

Vlad’s eyes fluttered shut as he licked the last traces of their blood from his fingers, “I’ll clean you up, pet.”

They nodded and lazily sat up in the bed, watching Dracula as he moved swiftly around the room to retrieve their clothes. They were still dazed. Ambroży couldn’t recall the last time they had ever felt so blissed out and good. Their neck stung a little from being bitten multiple times, but that was a price they were willing to pay to have encounters like this with Dracula again.

#commissions ♡#my writing #writing commissions #self ship commissions #minors dni #nsft #18+ content #thank you so much for commissioning me!

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creative-type · 2 years

Text

Nami was too young to remember the battle that left her an orphan, but Nojiko would never forget

The candle had long-since gone out by the time the fighting finished. Nojiko sat, huddled in the corner of the cellar like her mother told her, shivering against the cool and musty air. At some time during the night she must have slept, because the last thing she remembered was staring into the heart of the dim flame that flickered and wobbled in time with the shaking earth.

Everything was still, now. There were no shots or shouts or cannons. Nojiko strained to hear, but there was only a gaping Nothing, the vastness of which threatened to swallow her whole.

“Mom?” Nojiko ventured timorously. “Dad?”

They had promised they’d come back. They’d left after making her swear to be a good, quiet girl. They’d said it wouldn’t be long until they were safe once more.

Then why was she by herself? Time was meaningless in the pitch blackness, but Nojiko was sure an eternity had passed. The silence was worse than the sounds of war. Fear clawed at Nojiko’s insides. Confused and exhausted and in the dark, her mind spun images of monsters with guns and blood-hungry beasts. She could feel them breathing at her neck. The darkness was heavy as a blanket, except instead of inviting warmth and comfort, it only offered the cold embrace of death. Jerking herself upright, Nojiko stumbled forward looking for a way to escape it, running head-first into a shelf that lined the walls of the cellar.

A glass jar smashed against the floor and the acidic tang of canned tomatoes cut through the musty, earthen stench. Nojiko slipped in the broken mush and stumbled to her knees. Sharp pain cut through her growing terror as a shard of broken glass slashed her shin. Biting back a yelp, she once again called for her mother.

Once again, there was no answer.

Somehow Nojiko found the stairway that led out out out. Tears stinging her eyes, she clambered up the stairs as fast as she was able, her leg throbbing with every step. It was only when she reached the top that she remembered her parents had locked the door to keep anyone from finding her.

“Mom!” Nojiko yelled, pounding her tiny fists against the rough wood. “Daddy! Lemme out!”

Her next howl caught in her throat and came out as a sob. She didn’t understand. She was a little girl and couldn’t understand the battle that had taken place outside her cellar door. All she knew was that it was dark, and her parents had left her, and that she was very afraid.

Pounding turned to pushing. In the throes of a panic-stricken tantrum, Nojiko put all her strength into escape, and while the chains lashing the door closed had made it through the battle unharmed, the same could not be said of the cellar’s hinges. With animalistic desperation, Nojiko forced the doors open just enough to squirm through a toddler-sized hole only to see her whole world destroyed.

Nami was too young to remember the battle that left her an orphan, but Nojiko would never forget. The pain and fear was momentarily forgotten as her mind tried to process what her eyes saw. Rank death permeated the air, the stench of blood and smoke filling her nostrils.

Her house was gone. So was the neighbor’s. And the little corner store the next block over. Wind whipped down streets clogged with fallen men and women. Some looked like they were sleeping. Others were little more than bloody smears against the shattered pavement. In the distance, a carrion crow called.

Benumbed, Nojiko stumbled forward once more, desperate to find her parents.

(Instead she found a baby with orange hair and a smile like sunshine. Nojiko’s arms burned with exertion carrying her, almost tripping again and again as she tried to walk over rubble and debris. But Nojiko didn’t leave her. Couldn’t leave her. Not after hearing her laugh.)

Xxx

If the aftermath of the battle was crystal clear in Nojiko’s mind, her journey to Cocoyashi was nothing but a fever dream. The cut on her leg festered while the strange marine woman scavenged for food and clean water. There was no medicine to be found, and it took precious days to scrounge up a ship and supplies for the journey. By the time they set sail the baby’s babble had reduced to a pathetic, mewling cry and all Nojiko wanted to do was sleep and sleep forever.

She remembered the roll of the sea and the crack of lightning. Despite the marine woman’s best attempts to shelter them, rain of the bitterest cold cut through their layers of clothing, offering a momentary reprieve to Nojiko’s inflamed cheeks. Her injured leg throbbed and her joints felt like they were being ground to dust, and behind her eyelids visions of war danced to the rhythm of the sea.

Thunder became the explosions of cannons. Streaks of lightning flashed like the muzzle fire of rifles. The cold, unforgiving sea was dark as the cellar basement, with Nojiko just as helpless.

But not alone, this time. Strong arms wrapped around her, refusing to let go, as half-delirious with sickness, Nojiko called out for her mother.

(Afterword, Bellemere would name the baby Nami after the waves. Nojiko always thought it appropriate to christen her after the force that had bound them together as family.)

(All the appreciation in the world couldn’t get Nojiko to ever again set foot on a boat of her own free will. It was just as well that of the two of them Nami was the nameless child. What little Nojiko remembered of the trip was horrific enough to give her nightmares the rest of her life.)

Xxx

It did not strike Nojiko until she herself was forced to live alone how very young Bellemere had been when she took her two daughters in. She had known, of course, that Bellemere struggled. Nojiko remembered the times Nami wouldn’t stop crying to the point Bellemere had no choice but cry with her. She remembered Genzo chastising her for teaching bawdy marine shanties to Nojiko to skip rope to. She remembered bursts of temper, years spent in painful trial and error learning how to keep a farm, late nights counting coins.

Bellemere was certainly nothing like Nojiko’s fuzzy recollection of her birth mother. She would be lying if she said there hadn’t been times she wished for the creature comforts of her old home, but Nojiko wasn’t a dreamer. She didn’t waste energy wishing for the impossible.

Besides, as Bellemere so often preached, good times always followed bad. Nojiko remembered just as fondly cuddling on the broken-in couch with a book in hand (Bellemere made the best voices), late nights playing games over drinking chocolate (a rare treat), and days spent running through the woods that she came to know like the back of her own hand (but never as well as Nami. It didn’t matter how deep into the forest they went, Nojiko could always count on her sister to guide them home).

“You’ve got two feet rooted to the ground and a good head planted on your shoulders, you know that, kid?” Bellemere told her once, before ruffling her hair. Nojiko didn’t know what that meant, but she liked the way Bellemere smiled when she said it, and locked the compliment into her heart as if it were a great treasure.

Nami was too little to remember the hardest times, but she grew wild and free as the wind. Flights of fancy took her to all corners of the world, wishing against the stars she would someday chart, dreaming for what was never to be. Bellemere never told her of those darkest days, and neither did Nojiko. By unspoken agreement they left those nightmares in the past where they belonged.

(Nojiko never did call Bellemere Mother, and without asking why Nami followed suit. If it bothered Bellemere she never said, and it never made them any less of a family.)

(What Nojiko never told her was that while she remembered her birth mother’s face, time had wiped her name from her memory. Bellemere was both Bellemere and her mother, but her birth mother was and could only be Mom . And while she never said so aloud, it did bother her more than she’d like to admit.)

Xxx

Nojiko did not return to the house the first night Arlong took Nami. Or the second. Or the third. Genzo made sure she ate and tried to make her sleep. A useless and hypocritical notion when the whole village stood on a knife’s edge.

But she couldn’t stay. The fishmen registered her name and address, and there wasn’t a family in Cocoyashi who could absorb the cost of a child month after month after month. When the harsh truth became apparent, Genzo offered to spend that first night with her, but Nojiko didn’t let him. He had too many responsibilities already, and so after an inconspicuous burial that had the whole village mourning but only two in attendance, Nojiko returned to the empty house alone.

It had always been the exact right size, before. A cozy home fit for three sitting on enough acres to occupy a small child for days on end. Nojiko knew every nook and cranny of those four walls, which floorboards squeaked, which windows to open to best coax a summer breeze. She’d helped Bellemere paper the walls, and could point out the sections where Bellemere had been forced to redo all of her work.

After almost a week away a fine layer of dust settled over the furniture, and suddenly the walls seemed to squeeze too tight while simultaneously smothering her under the weight of its own emptiness. At once Nojiko was transported to that half-forgotten cellar from all those years ago. Her breath fractured in her lungs, ribs collapsing in like a vice and making it impossible to breathe. She ran out of the house, terrified to step foot into her own home, and spent the night under the branches of the tangerine trees.

(Genzo would find her in the morning and curse himself for leaving her alone, while less than a mile away her sister would suffer even worse terrors, with no way to escape.)

(Just when Nojiko gave up all hope of staying, Nami returned to explain the meaning of that tattoo hidden on her shoulder. Nojiko’s shame of her own weakness eclipsed even her hatred of that house, and she did her best to turn her prison into the sanctuary Nami so desperately needed).

Xxx

There were so many things Nami didn’t know. For her sister’s sanity, Nojiko never spoke of the events that took place while she was away. Besides, after awhile life settled into a new normal. So long as the village paid its dues Arlong stayed in his Park, content to rule over his subjects from afar. It was a different sort of evil than the cackling villain who came in a thunder of fury, turning over houses and murdering innocents for the crime of being poor. More banal in its way. Oppression became mundane, righteous indignation fading as the desperate clawing for survival took precedence.

Still, Nojiko never spoke of it, and Nami knew better than to ask. It was a necessary and mutual understanding that their brief moments together were a respite to the differing horrors of their existence.

Sometimes when she was alone Nojiko would be haunted by remembering. She came to the conclusion that ghosts were nothing but the past given weight, and she wasn’t sure how much farther she could go without breaking. Nojiko was too firmly rooted to abandon the home she’d learned again to love, but Arlong had no right to shackle the wind, and that knowledge was killing her a little more every day.

Patiently she waited, remembering each of Arlong’s crimes and tallying them against him, never banking her rage but slow to display it out of respect for a promise she was sure he would never keep. Nojiko bore her burdens, as well as the burdens Nami would share with her, because whatever pain she happened to feel she knew her sister’s was a hundred times greater.

When that promised day came and Arlong stole Nami’s hope along with her freedom, Nojiko felt herself plunged into the same darkness of her childhood. And just as she had in that cellar all those years ago, there was nothing to do but stumble forward, pushing with all her strength against the obstacles in her way.

(Nojiko knew what awaited her, remembered the aftermath of that battle. She didn’t care. She’d give up anything if it meant her sister could laugh like she had the day she’d saved Nojiko’s life, all those years ago.)

(Her only regret was not living long enough to hear it).

(But to her surprise, she did, and it became the sweetest memory of all).

#creative-type writes #nojiko #one piece #one piece fanfic #looks like I forgot to post this one here

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