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storyhuntress31 · 16 days

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Irina's gaze fixed upon him, focusing and tried to made the slight blur she suffered from since her head hit that pipe, go away for a second. She wanted to see him as clear as possible, his eyes, his face...she felt the urgent need to engrave every single inch of him into her memory and never forget him. Her body, had other plans tho. As battered as she was, the blur on her sight should be the last of her worries right now. Her punctured lung and broken ribs reminding her through constant waves of excruciating pain, how critical her current state just was. Yet, her grab on Jean's sleeve gained some strength, relief filling her body at his presence, her will to fight and survived, reignited.

"But it may be the end, Kirschtein. I want to make it. I truly want...just don't know if my body will be so supportive of my will in this state..." A wave of pain rushed through her body and she trembled. "Anyway...why do you care...So...much? Aren't we just...rivals...?" She managed to ask. She noticed his composure breaks a bit. He was just as aware about how bad the situation had become.

Still, the firmness of his voice, sparkled resolution within her, the way his hand lingered on her cheek for just a moment, was just what she needed. She looked into his eyes and saw the tide of emotions rushing through him just like a tsunami. She then lifted her own hand, placing it over his, her eyes never leaving his. "Yes, Sir." She obliged.

This time, she was absolutely aware that his tone was not admitting a reply. He was indeed there to save her and knowing how extraordinarily stubborn and determined he was, after all the time they had ( forcefully or not) spent together, she knew it better than to contradict him in these occasions.

" You are still a terrible liar... You know that, right?" She remarked smiling weakly. " We should work on that once we get back to the headquarters....Kirschtein." She said, opting for truly belive what he was saying. That maybe this wasn't the end, that she wasn't gonna die. And that they would make it to the medical point. The way he lifted her up, mindful of all her injuries, still light as a feather, with the utmost care in the world as if she would break at any moment, truly got into her. It felt as if he truly, sincerely, cared for her in a way deeper that she had ever dared to think about. "Am I too heavy...?" She asks, her voice a low wishper as her breath shortens, sending pain all over her body. Exhaustion taking all over her making every little move she made like pure torture by now.

"Did you just made me a promise....?" She asks, trying to connect herself to the living world, trying to gain some time with him, a soft smile painting her face at the thought. " my sarcastic brain?" She looks at him for a second " the one that always counters back at you with... Smart replies you can't stand? That brain? Thought you couldn't bear it..." She admitted, nothing but sincerity coming out of her mouth, pain and will to survive leaving no room for filters or masking her feelings. "Why is it that you hate me so much as to expose me the way you did with all our friends...? That hurt like hell, Kirschtein. But I don't resent you... I just can't and I know I can't resent you...because it's you. That is the only reason. It's...it's that stupid? Why are u helping me now...?" She asked confused. "Both seeing who will become the best soldier sounds...just so good...I just want to understand why are you so mean sometimes...so caring and sweet others..." She forces herself to keep thinking and talking to avoid the knock out.

Yet, every single step felt like the worst of tortures. And at some point, her body just collapsed. She lost control of it, falling into the ground and trembling. She still managed to take a discarded smoke gun and fired a string of red smoke from their position, in hopes of them being seen from the medical area. She couldn't stand it anymore. Her body betrayed her in the worst moment. She needed answers....she looks at Jean, trying to calm herself. Being in his arms felt like heaven. " this...may be... Our last moment together... Jean... Would you just be so kind for once to give me some answers? Please..." She practically begs " If I have to go... Last thing I would want to take with me is your voice. So please..." Her trembling hands lifted to his cheek, in a desperate attempt to feel him closer, Craving his touch. "It's cold...it's really cold...." She mumbled, the metallic taste of blood filling her mouth, due to internal bleeding. " Please...I don't want to go...I want to stay with you..." She says, noticing how her consciousness slowly fades away, still, she tries to resist. She wants to stay by his side even if just for a few more seconds.

@shiiptowreck

#roleplay #aot #jean kirstein #jean kirschtein x reader

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fakefeltflowers · 3 years

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Howdy, I rewrote Sam's back story for something unrelated and though to put it on here. Sam's full name is Sam Orion and they live in a small town known for it's spooky happenings. Also, warning for animal death, namely chickens and cattle.

---

The Orion estate is a patchwork quilt of crops and fields for livestock, passed down from generation to generation, growing like a benign tumor.The estate itself was just about as old as Sarton itself and became a fixture of the community, for better or for worse, and with the estate came the hunters. Back when the estate was little more than a ramshackle hut that leaned at a 45 degree angle, there had been hunters. When Sam was a child, they only had a vague understanding of the family’s history and the rumors. They knew that ‘back in the old days’, whenever that was, their family had been known for being reclusive and cagey. The old family shot at any animal or person that had the gall to come too close to the fence that encloses the scraggly wheat fields or to the miniscule coup. But that was back then, not like that was something that happened now. Then Sam turned 16 and the chickens began to die.

During the dog days of that summer, Sam was supposed to take care of the chickens. As far as anyone could tell, Sam had done a fairly good job, they even managed to raise a few chicks themselves. You could understand why they’d be concerned at the sight of a dead chicken just outside the coup. Fearing the worst, Sam rushed to survey the damage, but instead there was nothing. The remaining chickens were stressed and refused to come out of the coup, but otherwise fine.

Confused, Sam went back to observe the carcass, eyes raking over claw marks and feathers matted with a sticky black substance that burned their eyes. There were bite marks but there wasn’t anything eaten. It wasn’t the kill of an opportunistic predator, it was too sadistic and there was too little eaten. But the other chickens were fine and the carcass was disposed of. Still, Sam couldn’t stop themselves from crying all morning.

“Kiddo, they’re just chickens. We still have eight of them left, just leave it be. I’ll take care of it,” said their father, Arthur. He said to himself that it would just go away on its own, of course he was lying to himself and Sam.

8 chickens became 7, 7 became 5, 5 became 2. The cattle followed suit, one by one their blood mingled with the poisonous black fluids and smeared a trail through the grass leading to the woods that stood on the edge of the estate. It was a mocking trail of bait made specifically for the impatient and the naive Sam. So, they resolved to fix the problem, like they would ‘back in the old days’. Armed with a hunting rifle that had been just a little too big for them, they clambered out of their bedroom window. Following the trail of dead grass to the entry into the Whispering Woods. Then Sam waited, refusing to let the tiredness that weighed their eyelids down over take them. Eyes glazed over, Sam watched the warm wind shake the leaves that obscured their forum. They watched bugs lazily flutter by. They watched the unmoving dark lines of trees. They watched and they watched and they watched-

Sam woke with a start at the sound of snapping twigs. The moon hung high overhead as they scanned the tree line for the source of the sound. Hidden among the towering trees, a shaggy beast with a pale face paced along the forest floor, it’s long body blending in with the tall grass that bordered the treeline. Of course, not that Sam was paying much attention because at that point Sam had fired the rifle in the woods, shattering the nighttime silence. In response the beast galloped into the dark of the night, a taunting laugh echoing behind it. The hunt had begun.

‘How long has it been?’ thought Sam, a thought that had at first started as a dim whisper that only grew louder as Sam’s legs began to protest and thorns had cut through their jeans, staining their calves a rust color. The trees had managed to weave together so that barely any of the moonlight was able to illuminate the forest floor. Sam’s knuckles were white from clutching the rifle, the cold steel of the barrel sapping any residual heat from their body. They realized that they had begun to shiver despite the warmth of the summer air.

‘It’s too dark out here. I shouldn’t even be out here, what was I thinking-’

“Sam?” a voice called out, cutting Sam’s clarity short. Who was that? It almost sounded familiar, but it was hard to make out.

“Sam?” the voice repeated. Sam unconsciously began to follow the voice, it was their father after all. They needed to go home, they were so tired.

“Sam?” the voice called out, even deeper into the woods.

“Sam?!” the voice became panicked, ‘He’s hurt,’ Sam thought as they started running. The voice repeated their name over and over, becoming shrill and panicked, to a certain point it barely sounded like Sam’s father, but at that point it didn’t matter. At that point Sam was too scared to rationalize, too scared to think of anything but home.

“SAM!” the voice called out one last time before it suddenly stopped. Sam found themselves at a clearing with a creek running through it that was otherwise empty. A dawning realization was replaced by fear as they heard the rustling of leaves above them, shortly followed by the sound of something heavy softly landing behind them. Sam whipped around and locked eyes with the beast, its hollow eye sockets swimming in a sea of dirty white canvas and sharp teeth. Sam knew that they were too close to aim the rifle but nonetheless the barrel belched out a wisp of smoke with a pop of light. The bullet that was haphazardly spat out whizzed by the beast and lodged itself into a tree just right of the beast. Momentarily distracting the beast, the shattering wood gave Sam enough time to twist their body so that the beast’s long claws only managed to graze the flesh underneath their sweater.

The icy water that soaked through their jeans would be shocking if the gun hadn’t slipped from their grasp. Then the icy fear in their veins was replaced by a burning hot pain that radiated from Sam’s chest. Their vision began to blur as Sam saw their blood began to oxidize into a thick black substance that burned their skin and eyes.

The beast began stalking towards Sam, that familiar mocking laugh fell out of a maw filled with sharp teeth as Sam began to choke on the taste of hairspray and apple seeds.

Suddenly, the maw of teeth shattered with a deafening gunshot, abruptly jerking the beast’s head to the side. Sam scrambled to their feet, grabbing the rifle and aimed at the beast, shooting wildly until they ran out of bullets. Then they realized that there was still another gun firing, attached to their father, who was entirely focused on the beast. Of course, at that point the beast was little more than a shadow of its former self, it’s jaw hanging loosely by a scrap of canvas and its fur was slick with the stinking black that seeped out of Sam’s chest. Eventually, Arthur’s gun had run out of ammunition, causing the beast to chuckle lowly and began to back away.

“‘I’ll take care of it,’” the beast said in Arthur’s voice, though that didn’t distract him from reloading. But before the shooting could resume, the beast had already disappeared into the woods.

---

The sound of fizzing hydrogen peroxide was the only thing disturbing the dense silence in the kitchen. Sam did their best to not cry out as Tayna gently blotted the reddish-grey foam off their chest, instead they hissed in reply.

“I’m gonna clean this out with some alcohol, this might sting a bit,”

“Fuck!” Sam jolted away as the throbbing pain sharpened into a stabbing pain, “just, lemme do it,” they said as Tayna muttered an apology. As Sam gingerly blotted away at the claw marks on their abdomen, Arthur stared them down with an indiscernible mix of anger, disappointment and something else Sam couldn’t quite place.

“What the hell were you thinking?” he said as Sam began to dress their wounds.

“Arthur-” Tanya began, but was cut short.

“No, really Sam, what the fuck is wrong with you? Sneaking out at night with a gun like a moron, I told you I’d take care of it!”

“But you didn’t,” Sam said, avoiding eye contact with their father.

“What?” The clock above the stove top read 3:52 am, but Arthur’s voice continued to rise, “You have no right to go out in the middle of the night like that. Not only did you disobey your curfew-”

“No, you don’t get to make me the wrong one here, you knew damn well that what was killing the animals wasn’t normal!”

“And it would’ve killed you-”

“What if it went after Jack?”

“Don’t you dare bring up your brother in this,”

“I can’t believe you hid this shit from me after refusing to do anything about this, you’re supposed to take care of us!”

“I can't believe you have the gall to come into my house after nearly getting your ass killed, acting like I’m the bad guy,” the two’s voices overlapped, escalating into a shouting match. At this Tanya has joined, attempting to be a peacemaker, but it only added to the chaos, eventually waking up the whole house.

Every family member that lived in the house stood in the kitchen, tired, angry and confused. Even littlest Jack, who was only 5 years old at that point, stood at the bottom of the stairs that lead into the dining room with bleary eyes. They all stared expectantly at Arthur and Sam, who was beginning to put their shirt back on so they could avoid making eye contact with anyone in the room.

“Listen Sam, we’ll discuss this in the morning proper. Go to bed, all of you.” Arthur finally said, and people began to filter into their bedrooms, with Sam being the last one to fall asleep at the ripe hour of 5:30.

---

The sound of croaking magpies woke Sam up the next morning, though at this point it was closer to noon. Every fiber of their body screamed in protest as Sam rolled out of their bed. Not to mention the feeling of their bedsheets clinging to their still sticky body as residual sweat and blood coated their body. Unfortunately, the shower and the new set of clothes did little to ease the nausea.

The rest of the morning was less a blur and more a haze of events, a confirmation of some rumors, a disproving of others. Some monsters were real and others were made up to sell t-shirts and keychains and others were a little bit of both. A vague introduction to a house on the edge of the estate, a bed, a wall of weapons. Something about never trusting strangers and that the monsters would keep coming.

“Are the monsters ever gonna stop?”

“No, Sam, they aren’t. But you have to try,”

#yeah the quality is low but that's okay #i'll also publish this on wattpad or something for archival purposes #so yeah this version is a bit different #I originally imagined Sam meeting Splendor right off the bat but I think it's more interesting this way #also sorry for the anti climatic ending I was getting really burnt out plus I was using this for a rp fourm backstory #crunch and all that #sam scraps #creepypasta oc #creepypasta au #eyestrain #kinda #red #oc #writing #animal death #creepypasta

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