#there's cartilage scrabbled all over it | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

underfell-crystal · 3 years

Text

~~Cetaphobia~~

Written for @kiokodoodles mermaid pirate AU! This one-shot will cover Harp's life from right before she got attacked by the orca mermaid to when she met Alkai.

TW: Blood, gore, injury, assault, being chased

'Don't stray too far from the island'

It was a simple rule, and one that had good reason behind it. There always seemed to be danger lurking around Seal Island, as Harp's home was creatively named. Harp was careful to follow that rule whenever she wanted to break off from her family while they were out searching for food.

But that was before Otaria and Mother had fallen ill. Father had to tend to Mother and Otaria, so that only left her and Hali. Hali was on the other side of the island where there were the most fish. Harp didn't mind. She knew she was quite absent-minded at times, and her sister was faster than her. Harp looked around, sighing. There were hardly any fish due to the currents this time of year.

Harp continued making slow patrols on the southern side of the island, her disappointment and frustration growing as several passes yielded hardly any fish. She only had two fish in her satchel, and it was making her anxious. What if Mother and Otaria didn't eat enough? She didn't want to think about that.

There.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw something move. She turned her head and her excitement skyrocketed as she saw several fish disappear into the distance. Harp gave chase.

Gosh, why were fish so fast?! She'd only caught two more out of.... at least a hundred. It was frustrating, but at least she HAD a food source for tonight's dinner. She lunged again, snagging a third fish from the group, making it five in total. She bit the fish just below its head, making it stop struggling. She added it to her bag and turned- then paused. Something big was moving in the distance. Perhaps a larger school of fish? She swam closer, curious. Twenty feet later, she stopped swimming forward. There it was, fifty feet away.

It wasn't a school of fish. It was a half human, half..... half....

'Black and white, Harp. Remember that. If you see those colors, you swim away as fast as you can.'

Half orca. Harp gulped. Both of her parents had told her about how dangerous orcas were on their own, but this one was even smarter. It had a human brain.

It was just... floating there. Staring at her. Watching. Was it hungry? Stars she hoped it wasn't hungry. But just in case..... With slow, trembling fingers, she opened her bag and pulled a fish out, tossing it to the side. The orca mermaid didn't react, just kept staring at her with a creepy, too-wide grin. Maybe if she went slow....?

She slowly started to swim backward, but a moment later, the orca mermaid moved. It was FAST. Harp gasped and turned, swimming as fast as she could back to the island, but she knew she wasn't fast enough.

She knew he was getting close. All the fish had vanished. The island was still so far away-

Her back suddenly exploded in pain, and she let out a strangled scream as the water turned red around her.

Stars, it hurt. Her vision was spinning and white at the edges, and every movement sent waves of pain down her spine. She did her best to keep moving, but it hurt so much. She saw something big and dark coming at her from below, and she wasn't fast enough to move out of the way.

Teeth clamped down on her back and tail, piercing the skin easily. She didn't think it could hurt any worse. She was wrong. Her vision went completely white, and she let out a scream she didn't even know she could make. Her hands scrabbled at the orca's head, and she dimly remembered that eyes were generally weak spots for animals. She raised her hand, and with a scream of pain, she slammed her hand into the orca's eye, her nails tearing skin and cartilage. The orca was stunned and in pain, loosening his grip on Harp's tail just a bit.

Harp seized the chance to plant her hands against his snout and shove, his sharp teeth tearing through the skin on her back down to her tail- but she was freed. She didn't waste a moment. She took off toward the island and could sense the orca coming after her, making her panic spike. She had to hide! She had to get away! She remembered the strange hole in the side of the southern part of the island- mostly covered by rocks- that she'd never explored. She could only pray to the stars that the orca wouldn't be able to fit.

Her dark eyes scanned the shore frantically until they locked on a dark hole- indeed, mostly covered by large rocks. She took a deep breath and dove down, squeezing past the rocks and going deeper into the cave. The cave narrowed as she went, which relieved her immensely. He wouldn't be able to fit down here even in his human form.

Harp spared a glance backward and saw a single black, beady, hunger-filled eye staring back at her. A moment later, the opening cleared. Did he think she was stupid? She wasn't falling for that!

The water slowly grew red around her. She whimpered and hugged herself.

'It was a very close call', her Father murmured as he applied a green paste to the cuts on her back. 'You're not allowed out there alone ever again.'

Harp was fine with that. More than fine with that. But she wasn't fine with how achy and sore her body was. The green paste helped a lot, but the cuts still stung and it was still difficult to move. She still saw that spotted pattern and beady black eye whenever she closed her eyes. Mother, Otaria, and Hali were resting- Hali had exhausted herself chasing down food. Harp flinched as a spike of pain shot up her spine, and her father murmured an apology, rubbing the skin next to the cuts. 'Be strong, little one. You are a survivor. Remember that.'

Harp sniffed and nodded, finally allowing tears to gather in her eyes, turning and burying her face in her father's plain white tunic. She didn't want to go hunting ever again.

The journey to their new home was long. It took over a week to get there. Father smiled and told them 'It'll be worth it. I promise.'

She still had nightmares that she'd wake up screaming to, certain that orca had come back to finish her off. She couldn't go back to sleep after that.

Their home was quiet. Too quiet. There weren't as many souls there as there should've been. But... That was okay. She still had Hali and Father.

Hali was screaming, something metal embedded in her tail. Father was trying to pull her back, but whatever the metal thing was attached to was way stronger. Well, actually, she knew what the metal thing was attached to. A boat.

Hali and Father disappeared above the surface.

There was nothing left for her here. Her family was gone. The nightmares remained. She knew her mother and father had left a chest of keepsakes back at their old island. She had to find it. It was all she had of their once happy family.

Hunting was still hard. The constant paranoia about orcas lurking around made her so hungry. Hungry enough that she became desperate and snuck onto a passing human ship. She was certain she'd be found and killed. She hugged her coat close, reaching for the crate of vegetables.

There was somebody odd on the ship. They weren't human, Harp knew that much. They looked human, sure- but they smelled like.... something else. She didn't know what it was. They had pretty brown hair and an affinity for shiny things. They looked surprised to see her- like she'd caught them doing something wrong. Were they... not supposed to be holding all that gold?

A shout of anger made her startle, and she ran to the deck and leapt off, changing back into her seal form and swimming away with her precious cargo.

She kept running into that person. Always on different ships. Always looking for gold and jewels.

"I'm not sharing any of my gold with you."

The brown haired person looked irritated. Harp nodded. "I know. I don't.... want... the treasure. I.... wanna be friends."

They stared at her. "Uh....... no."

Harp frowned slightly. "Why?"

"Nunya."

"What's.... What's Nunya?"

"Nunya business."

Harp blinked at them. "What's business?"

They stared at her. "...... Oh you're serious??"

"Um.... why wouldn't I be?"

They pinched the bridge of their nose. "Look, lady-"

"Harp."

"Huh?"

"My name. It's.... It's Harp. What's your name?"

They turned away from her. "Pat."

Harp frowned again. "Pat..... Anyway, um.... Why are you pretending to be a human?"

They froze. Slowly turned and looked at her. "What."

"I-I mean, you're obviously not a human... So.... why-"

They were suddenly directly in front of her. Harp yelped and stumbled back as they loomed over her. "How."

"H.... How what....?"

"How. Did. You. Know."

Harp gulped. "Um....."

"Don't lie to me."

Harp watched their hand drift to the scabbard at their side. She looked up at them with wide eyes. "I-"

Their hand was on her shoulder, touching her coat-

She jerked away. "Don't touch me!"

They stared at her for a moment before scoffing and turning away. "Get lost. I don't have time for this."

Harp obliged, scampering out of the room, heart pounding in her chest.

Another ship. Someone was tied to the mast- Pat. Their head was bowed, which made her approach easier. She climbed up the side of the ship, changing into her human form and throwing on her damp dress. She saw a dagger laying on a barrel and grabbed it, wasting no time in hacking at the ropes.

Their head shot upright, and they twisted to get a good look at what was happening. They made eye contact with Harp, gaze widening in recognition. "It's.... you... What are you doing here?"

"Saving you."

The ropes fell away, and they turned to stare at her in disbelief. Harp fidgeted in place. "Um...."

There was a shout from the other side of the ship. "OI!! GET BACK HERE!!"

They both turned and saw one of the crew members standing there, looking furious. Harp and Pat looked at each other and bolted for the railing, leaping over and plunging into the water together.

"Alkai."

Harp sat up and looked at her friend. "Huh?"

They gave her a small smile. "Alkai. That's my real name. Nice to meet you."

(Alkai belongs to @mochamashi )

#oc short story #oc oneshots #sea theives #sea theives my beloved #harp #alkai #harp my beloved #mermaid pirate au

36 notes · View notes

babbushka · 4 years

Text

Last Straw (12/12)

Newly married to your high school sweetheart Kylo Ren, the two of you move into Skywalker Ranch, a farm recently passed down after the death of Kylo’s grandfather. The place is charming, and the people seem friendly…but are they?

Content Warnings: Major Character Death, extreme violence, gore, mentions of cannibalism, satanic ritual, animal death mention

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

No, you decide, the house is too dangerous. It doesn’t make sense to go into the very place where murderers await you.

“We have to make a run for it, quickly!” You say, and Kylo nods.

“Whatever you do, do not let go of my hand.” Kylo says, before kissing you square on the lips, hard, passionately.

You kiss him back, needing the comfort, the reassurance. You had never been the best runner, but you had also never been running away from anything that really mattered.

Not like this.

The two of you bolt, and you latch onto his hand as you both run into the field.

This you find, is a grave mistake.

Behind you comes that awful sound again, the sound like rats scampering on hardwood floors, like a thousand bees swarming, like bones rattling, teeth chattering. You do not dare look back, do not dare spare a glance behind you, instead you run run run through the tall grasses.

Kylo’s grip on your hand is firm, is tight, but your hand is sweaty and slippery, you struggle to keep up. He very nearly rips your arm out of its socket, but you don’t care, you don’t fucking care because you’d rather be alive with a dislocated shoulder, than dead.

The noise echoes now, surrounds you, and you want to scream – how is it doing this? How are they fucking doing this?

Until you can’t think of anything at all, because Kylo has slammed into something, and you have slammed into him. You are stunned, the force of the impact enough to send you all to the floor, and when you feel wet sticky hands on your ankles, you know it’s not Kylo.

“No, no no no,” You can’t help but whimper as you kick and thrash, trying to get out of his grasp.

Teeth sink into your flesh and you scream, you kick upwards hard, hear the crunch of bone or cartilage, you can’t tell which.

Your blood pounds in your ears, and you hear a struggle, hear a fight, hear the pounding of fists on flesh as you search, search for Kylo’s hand.

You find someone’s hand, but it is not Kylo’s, it is William’s, and you scream again, but he only covers your mouth, shushes you gently.

“We shouldn’t – it’s – we shouldn’t ‘Tidge, this is wrong.” William cries, snivels and shivers, chattering chattering chattering in your ear. He smells foul, breath smells awful, like he had been eating something raw, his face and hands sticky, “There has to be another way, she’s so pretty, she’s so nice we can’t – ” William wails, and this makes your blood run cold.

Can’t what?

Can’t what??

“What do you want from us!” You scream, as you wrestle to get him off of you, wrestle to free yourself.

Suddenly there is a gunshot, and you scream again, as William is blown to bits off of you, as you aren’t so sure that you aren’t shot, and you don’t know how Kylo did that, because he is still grunting on the floor, still fighting.

Who is it that he’s fighting?

“Useless stupid boy.” You hear Brendol from just off to the left, and your eyes strain against the darkness.

Kylo must be fighting Armitage then, until he isn’t, Brendol shooting his second son. Thankfully, thankfully he misses Kylo, thankfully the bullet only goes through Armitage. It must have killed him quickly, because there is no crying or screaming from the spot on the floor where he lays.

Kylo is weak when he stands, but he does stand, and a great sigh of relief floods through you. He is badly wounded, Armitage must have had a knife, a cleaver, something sharp, because Kylo is cut to high heavens, is bleeding all over. You hope there are no stab wounds, hope and hope, because you could not carry him if there are, he is too heavy, too big.

“Please leave us alone,” You try, try reasoning, try begging as you help Kylo to his feet, as you let him lean against you. You don’t know where the shotgun is, it’s somewhere on the ground, but you can’t fucking see it’s so dark. “What have we done, what did we do to deserve this?”

Hot tears are finally starting to overwhelm you, and you shake, you shake and cry as Brendol steps closer, as he reaches out a sticky foul hand to caress your cheek.

“Oh sweetheart, you didn’t do nothin’, nothin’ except just being you.” Brendol replies cheerily, and when he smiles, his eyes shine, reflect the low light from the barn, or the moon, or whatever it is.

Kylo smacks Brendol’s hand away from you, lunges at him, even though he is still weak.

“Run!” Kylo shouts, but panic strikes you, strikes you deep.

“No! I won’t leave you.” You say, insistent, as you too drop to the floor in search for the shotgun, for the cleaver, for anything.

You can hear the scuffle but is sounds like it’s coming from all around you, the wind whipping up and making the tall grasses crash, the harsh whistle of the air as it sweeps across the farm. You begin to cry, because your hands keep coming up with nothing as you search and search and search, all to no avail.

“(Y/N) You have to run!” Kylo screams, and you sob, your eyes are clouded because you cannot help him, you can’t help him and that’s all you desperately want – to be with him. “I’ll catch up with you but you have to go now.” Kylo yells, and he’s yelling out in pain, yelling as he has found the cleaver, as he buries the knife deep.

You run.

You hate yourself for it, but you run.

The earth underneath your feet seems to shake and rumble, and you wonder if there is an earthquake, if earthquakes happened here. You can almost feel the earth shift under your feet, can feel it splitting apart, and you don’t know, can’t tell if it’s just a hallucination, if it’s just your imagination. You can’t tell anymore, but you don’t have the time to dwell on it, not now.

You run run run, chased by something.

You can hear the footsteps behind you, can hear the chattering, the chittering. Your eyes grow wide, you don’t dare look behind you, you’re not so sure you can face whatever it is.

You don’t know where he is, where Kylo is, but you know it’s not him behind you, you know because as you run far and far away, you hear a bloodcurdling scream, one that comes from a throat you know, a man you love.

“Kylo!” You stop in your tracks, turn around finally, and there sprinting towards you is the tormented, twisted face and body of William, of Armitage, both bleeding profusely, limbs bent and broken, huge gaping holes and gashes in their flesh.

They are disgusting, and you cannot hold yourself back from throwing up, choking on your vomit as the demented boys wrack their bones, as they shake and shiver in the cold.

“What are you going to do to me?” You sob, bent over, bracing onto your knees.

“We’re going to cut out your heart, and eat it.” Armitage says simply, easily, and then out from the depths of the darkness appears Brendol, who has blood all over him, all over his forearms, his face.

The screaming has stopped, you realize, and you can’t – you cannot believe what you fear to be true.

After a beat, the running continues, but this time it is back, back to the barn, you shove your way past them, try to find Kylo in this maze you have created for yourself. You can’t breathe, the air is too thin, it cuts your face, the tips of your fingers have gone so cold, have gone numb, but you can’t stop now.

You don’t see him, can’t find him, on your way to the barn.

But now that you are here, now that you have lured them to this place, you think that you might be able to use it to your advantage. There are so many candles, you realize, so many left burning still, that it would be such a shame, would be truly a shame if someone were to knock them over, were to let the flames lick up up up the walls of the barn, have it collapse in on itself.

The thing was full of dry hay, after all.

This becomes your plan, as you are out of breath, completely and totally fucking exhausted, as you wrench open the doors to the barn.

There are seemingly a thousand insects which have invaded the space. They screech upon your entrance, and you almost have to shield your eyes against them shield your gaze from where they swarm. You go to scream, but they only attack your mouth, try to crawl inside, and you spit furiously, for you don’t know what they are.

It is too dark to really tell, but this changes when you begin knocking everything over, when you begin dismantling this horrible, horrifying shrine to you which they have built.

“Stop!” Armitage screams, scrabbles to prevent you from removing things from the circle. “Stop! Don’t fucking touch that!”

But you don’t listen, you push him away, and in the process, you knock over a few candles.

“Shit – William!” Brendol barks, and the poor tortured soul cowers and bows to his father’s command, “Stop her!”

But William only looks at you with pain in his deep blue eyes, and does nothing, does nothing.

Despite it all, you look right back at him and your chest hurts, mouth a very small thank you.

The fire from the candles pick up, and soon, very soon, the four of you are trapped in the barn, insects screeching and hissing and chittering as they begin to scorch and spark. You search for another exit, search for something some way to escape, as the fire grows larger and larger.

It is blazing hot inside the barn, so fucking hot that you are sweating, sweltering.

“He’s alive.” William whispers, his eyes too wide, skin stretched too taut, as burns bubble up onto the surface of his flesh. “Go to him, go! I’ll keep them distracted!”

You do not thank him, do not look back, instead you run, your weary feet somehow carrying you out of the barn, leading you into the fields once again.

You trip, over him. Over Kylo.

“Honey?” You whisper, as shouts of brutal pain begin to sound from the barn, as the infrastructure collapses around the Huxes, as they are burned alive.

“(Y/N)?” Kylo asks, coughs, chokes, on what you aren’t sure.

You cry, sob right onto his face, because he’s so cut up, you can’t help but be reminded of his sister trying to kill him, can’t help but think of how he must remember that pain.

They’ve slashed open his scar again, the one that took so long to heal, that now has to heal again, all over again.

“It’s me, I’m here, I’m here.” You grip his hand, and give it a squeeze. “It’s time to get up now, okay? We have to get up. We have to run.” You say, and you’re struggling to push him up off the freezing cold ground, knowing the cold will kill him before anything else.

But he fights you, doesn’t help you help him. Not this time.

“I can’t.” He says, voice thick, eye welling up with tears.

They’ve blinded him, you realize, in the eye with the scar. They’ve sliced that retina thoroughly, nearly gouged it out. You cover that side of his face with your hand, trembling and shaking, hating what he means, what he’s saying.

“Kylo – ” You start but he shakes his head to the best of his ability, grunting and wheezing in pain, his breathing a low whistle.

“No, (Y/N).” He says, “I can’t.”

“Please, please don’t do this, I killed them, I trapped them in the barn. They’re dying, listen – can’t you hear them?” You’re frantic, pleading, begging. You’re begging him, you’re so close, you are both so close to making it, you can make it.

“I’m dying too.” Kylo says, and you punch the earth hard, beat your fist against it with a burst of panic induced fury.

“No you aren’t. You’re not!” You shout, realizing how loud you are and lowering your voice immediately, “You’re not.”

“I’m sorry.” He says, coughs, hacks up nearly his whole lung, before placing a bloodied hand on your face, with a, “(Y/N) please look at me. I’m sorry.”

“For what?” You ask, wanting to keep him talking, wanting to keep him with you just a little while longer.

“For everything.” He says.

And when he closes his eyes, you know he isn’t going to open them again.

You double over, a screaming sob wracks through you.

“Please,” You sob, “Please? Please wake up. I can’t – I don’t want to be without you.” You cry, cry and cry, tears staining his cheeks, but he doesn’t move, doesn’t say anything, because he can’t.

He can’t.

It feels like your world has shattered, completely and utterly shattered.

You’re alive, yes, but at what cost? What’s the point? You survey the area. The barn is up in flames, the screaming having finally stopped, the Huxes likely choked on the smoke, burned out.

You curl up, rest your head on Kylo’s sticky chest, hold his limp hand in yours, and through the blurred vision of your tears you wonder where it all went wrong. You can’t imagine it, you don’t know.

But you can find out.

Go back to the beginning and make new choices, see where the night will take you.

Will you survive? Or suffer a fate more gruesome than you could possibly imagine?

#reader insert #kylo ren x reader #kylo x reader #kylo ren/reader #kylo/reader #my writing #last straw #dead dove do not eat

47 notes · View notes

prince-noctisluciscaelum · 4 years

Text

Best Laid Schemes

This was supposed to be something for Ignis’s birthday, but I forgot about it and didn’t start writing until day of, and now it’s taken me a week to finish. So I guess happy Valentine’s Day instead?

Summary:

Ignis was already feeling the drain of an overly-busy week. The last thing he needed was a kidnapping attempt the night before the weekend.

Right?

“He should be alone with Noctis for a while after picking him up from school.”

“I’ll make sure he doesn’t go anywhere. Wouldn’t want him slipping away before we can grab him. Though he won’t be easy to get the drop on.”

“I’ve got plenty of experience infiltrating secure areas. Besides, we’ll have inside help.”

“How do we stop him from fighting? You know he’s feisty. I’ve seen him fight, and even if he’s not a match for you, it’d be easy for one of us to end up hurt if we’re not careful.”

“We can hold Prince Noctis at knife-point. He won’t risk injury coming to his prince. That should be enough to prevent any struggles.”

“That’s risky -”

“I’m willing to take that risk. It’s the best chance we have to prevent a fight. I want you to do it.”

“Me?! Why?”

“Because you’re the most suited for it. And you should grab him. You’re the one he’s least likely to recognize.”

“And what do I do?”

“Damage control.”

~*~

Ignis waited by his car outside the front doors of Noctis’s school for the prince. The last bell had rung a few minutes ago, but Ignis was well accustomed to the amount of time it could take Noctis and Prompto to meander their way outside. As pleased as he was that Noctis had found a friend outside of his appointed retainers, the addition of Prompto to Noct’s life had not increased his punctuality.

He normally didn’t mind waiting for Noctis, as long as he wasn’t unreasonably late, but it had been a busy week, and he had a small stack of paperwork awaiting him back at his apartment that he really should finish before the weekend. So Ignis was confused but pleasantly surprised to see Noctis among the first of the students out the doors. He scanned the crowd for the excitable blond that was the prince’s chosen friend, but didn’t see him.

“Is Prompto not with you today?” Ignis asked as Noctis approached.

Noctis shook his head. “He went home early. Sick or something.”

Ignis frowned, opening the passenger door of his car for Noctis. “I hope you didn’t catch anything from him. You know how weak your immune system is.”

“Nah, I think it was food poisoning,” he said. He slung his backpack off his shoulder and slipped into the car, dropping the backpack at his feet. Ignis closed the door behind him and rounded the car to get into the driver’s seat. Noctis continued his explanation as soon as they were both settled and he was pulling the car away from the curb.

“He had a salad, as usual, and probably just didn’t pay attention to whatever the latest recall on leafy greens was. Yet another excuse not to eat vegetables,” he said, a note of triumph in his voice as though that paltry bit of reasoning was enough to make Ignis stop trying to get him to eat healthy. Ignis sighed.

“Well, I can assure you that I am not lax when it comes to these things, so you shouldn’t need to fear food poisoning from any of my dishes.”

~*~

Despite the paperwork waiting for him at his own apartment, Noctis had managed to convince him to stay for a few hours before heading home. It hadn’t taken much, as Ignis was almost always amenable to keeping Noctis company, and when that was on top of Noctis asking for help deciphering the latest batch of Council meeting notes Ignis had dropped off… well. If Noctis was finally willing to study those, Ignis would do whatever he could to encourage it.

He headed to the kitchen to prepare a light snack for them while Noctis slipped into his bedroom to change out of his school uniform. He hadn’t even decided what to make yet when Noctis called for him, a slight note of panic in his voice.

He immediately dropped everything, grasping at his borrowed magic in preparation to pull his daggers from Noctis’s Armiger if he needed them before dashing across the apartment to the bedroom. The door wasn’t latched, so he pushed it open and froze at the sight of a knife at Noctis’s throat.

“Ignis,” Noctis whimpered, his breathing shallow and fast, and part of Ignis’s brain, the part that wasn’t focused on the blade to his prince’s throat, was telling him that he needed to calm Noctis down or he was going to hyperventilate and give himself a panic attack.

He shoved that thought aside and tried to break out of his tunnel vision. The person holding the knife on Noctis was just small enough to use Noctis as a full body shield. There was no way Ignis would be able to reach him without maneuvering behind them.

No one had moved since Ignis had opened the door, so he risked taking a step into the room, hands up in a placating gesture. Noct’s assailant tightened his grip on the knife, pulling Noctis a step back to keep the distance between them.

“Why don’t you let him go and we can talk about what you want?” Ignis said, keeping his voice low and soft, nonthreatening. There was a small tremble in the hand holding the knife; this was no hardened kidnapper. He was probably desperate, inexperienced, and had somehow been convinced, most likely by an outside party, that kidnapping Noctis would help him in some way.

Ignis took another step, and Noctis’s eyes flickered to the side just as hands grabbed him from behind, shoving him farther into the room, and the door slammed shut behind him. Ignis lashed out, fighting against the hands that held him. He threw his head back, both feeling and hearing the crunch of cartilage as his skull connected with his attacker’s nose. He grinned sharply as that drew a startled, pained curse from the man, and he managed to wrench one arm free in his distraction. But before he could do anything else, his wrist was caught in an iron grip as the third kidnapper stepped into view.

“Stop, unless you want something to happen to your precious prince,” he said, his voice clearly modulated by a device hidden in the black ski mask over his face. Smart, really, as there would be little for Ignis or Noct to use to identify him if they managed to get away.

He was the tallest of the kidnappers, about as tall as Gladio, actually, and Ignis desperately wished the Shield was with them now. Ignis could generally hold his own in a fight, but he could never match Gladio’s raw power, and the numbers were not currently in his favor, even if he had broken the nose of the man behind him.

Ignis nodded, his eyes flickering back to Noctis and the blade at his throat. Noctis was tense, his eyes wide and his breathing still far from ideal, and the knife at his throat was wickedly sharp. Ignis let the fight drain out of him.

“What do you want?” he asked.

“Your cooperation,” the third kidnapper said. Ignis assumed he was the leader. He released his bruising grip on Ignis’s wrist, transferring control of him to Broken Nose. His arms were pulled behind his back, and he didn’t fight as his wrists were bound, a little more gently than he would have expected.

“Any funny business and we take it out on His Highness over there, got it?” Leader said, jerking his thumb over his shoulder to indicate Noctis.

“Understood,” Ignis said, gritting his teeth. It was unusual for Noctis to be used against him, usually it was the other way around. He found he vastly preferred being used as the bargaining chip. He was going to have nightmares about that knife for weeks, no matter how this turned out.

Leader nodded, stepping closer to Ignis again to pat him down until he found his phone. He pulled it out, glancing at it before turning it off and tucking it into his own pocket.

“Can’t have you using any fancy emergency alerts, now can we?”

He sauntered across the room towards Noctis, pulling a small plastic bag out of his pocket. He stopped in front of Noctis and removed a damp cloth from the bag.

“Just to make escape a little more difficult for you,” Leader said, the smirk in his voice audible even through the modulation.

Noct’s eyes blew even wider than they already were, and he shifted on his feet, the knife at his throat preventing him from struggling more than that.

“No, please,” he whispered. “That’s not… that’s not necessary.” He started to shake his head, but aborted the motion with a wince.

Ignis surged forward on instinct, but Broken Nose grabbed his upper arms tightly, holding him in place. He made one attempt to shake him off before Noct’s attacker pressed the knife harder against the prince’s throat. Noctis’s breath hitched, and Ignis froze, forcing himself to relax into Broken Nose’s hold.

Leader pressed the cloth over Noctis’s mouth and nose, his other hand at the back of Noctis’s head to keep him from moving away. Noctis thrashed, screaming into the cloth, hands scrabbling at Leader’s arm for a moment before his struggles faded and he slumped down into the two kidnappers’ arms. The knife had been pulled away from his throat before he could cut himself on it, and Ignis found the presence of mind to be grateful for that.

Leader dropped the cloth and swung Noctis up into his arms, giving Ignis a clear view of Noct’s attacker for the first time. He was dressed the same as Leader, baggy black clothing and a black ski mask hiding any physical identifiers, aside from his height and general idea of build. Ignis was surprised that someone as short and slight as him had managed to overpower Noctis. He must have gotten the knife to his throat before Noctis had noticed him, effectively preventing any fight from happening at all. Perhaps he was more skilled than Ignis had originally given him credit for.

Shorty slipped the knife into a holster at his hip and pulled out a long strip of cloth. He stepped toward Ignis, and Ignis reared back, knowing exactly what that was for and wanting to avoid it for as long as possible. He stopped fighting when Leader cleared his throat, his head tipped meaningfully down towards Noct’s limp form in his arms. Even with Noct unconscious, they wouldn’t hesitate to hurt him to ensure Ignis’s cooperation.

He gritted his teeth and allowed Shorty to wrap the cloth over his eyes, tying it off at the back of his head. He hissed as a few strands of his hair were caught in the knot and yanked.

With himself bound and blindfolded and Noctis unconscious, it would be incredibly difficult to escape. He would have to fight his way out while hauling Noctis with him, and he didn’t think that would be possible. Any chance of escape would have to wait until Noctis woke up, and who knew how far away they would be before that happened.

Ice settled in Ignis’s veins as he realized that this was really happening. Up until now, it hadn’t quite set in, it had felt unreal, like the situation would turn itself around. Maybe the guards assigned to Noctis’s apartment would realize something was wrong and burst in, or Gladio would drop by, or the kidnappers would make a mistake and give Ignis or Noctis the chance to break free and fight them off. But now, as Broken Nose manhandled him out of Noct’s bedroom and through the apartment, guiding him just carefully enough he didn’t trip over anything, he was running out of time.

It would be so much harder for anyone to find them once they were moved to a secondary location, and Ignis shied away from the thought that they might be taken beyond the Wall. Insomnia was large enough as it was, so many places to hide, but it was still just one city, crawling with citizens, witnesses, even if not all would be willing to speak to employees of the Crown. Greater Lucis was so much larger, so much less populated, and with people far less likely to do the Crown any favors. And there was an Imperial presence outside the Wall, which frightened Ignis the most. If Noctis ever ended up in Niflheim’s hands… Ignis shuddered.

Navigating Noct’s apartment building while blindfolded was surprisingly easier than he had expected, even with the kidnapper’s hand on his arm. He supposed he spent enough time traveling the same path down the hallway, to the elevator, and down to the parking garage beneath the building. He was a little surprised, and concerned, that they had managed to get a car into the garage and somehow access Noctis’s floor of the building. Security on the building was supposed to be tight, considering the crown prince lived there by himself, and that opened the situation up to potentially involving an inside person. He wondered where the Crownsguard on duty were, and whether they were still alive or not.

Ignis was guided to a stop just as he heard a car door open in front of him. Broken Nose adjusted his grip on him to maneuver him into the car, one hand on the top of his head to prevent him from hitting it against the doorframe. He had a brief moment of considering making a run for it when the door was closed behind him and he wasn’t blocked in by any of the kidnappers, but there was no way he could, not when Noctis couldn’t run with him, not when he didn’t even know where Noctis was, and oh Astrals, what if they separated them?

He forced down the panic, it would do neither of them any good, and relaxed when the other backseat door opened and a weight that Ignis could only assume was Noctis was settled into the middle seat next to him, his unconscious body slumping over slightly to press against him. Ignis welcomed the comfort brought by his nearness, even if the circumstances were less than ideal. He wanted the blindfold gone, so he could see his prince, make sure he was uninjured and that they were not separated while he couldn’t see, wanted his hands free so he could run them through Noct’s hair to soothe them both. But he could do nothing more than lean his head to the side to press his cheek against the top of Noctis’s head, reassuring himself of his prince’s presence with the familiar brush of his hair against his skin.

A third person clambered into the backseat on the other side of Noctis, and both front doors opened and slammed shut. The car rumbled to life, and Ignis focused on tracking their route, comparing the time and distance between turns to a mental map of the area around Noctis’s apartment.

It soon became obvious the kidnappers were taking a convoluted, roundabout way to wherever their destination was. They had taken far too many turns that looped them back around, and unfortunately, the method was working. Ignis wasn’t sure at all where they were, only that they hadn’t gone nearly the distance their time spent in the car would imply.

Finally they stopped, and the sound of the car doors echoed like it did in the garage under Noct’s apartment. Another underground parking garage then, or a similar structure. Maybe a warehouse, and that thought sent a shiver down his spine.

Noctis was removed from his side, and Ignis bit down on his lip to stop whatever sound he might have otherwise made at the loss of contact with his prince. He didn’t fight as he was pulled from the car by the kidnapper he assumed was Broken Nose. He seemed to be the one in charge of handling him, and he didn’t see any reason they would have changed that up now. The grip on his arm was starting to feel familiar in any case.

Ignis was beginning to adjust to the strangeness of moving without his sight, though he was still grateful, as much as he could be, considering it was their fault he was in this situation at all, for the surprisingly patient help of the kidnapper at his side. He had yet to be jerked around, left to stumble or trip, or be allowed to walk into an obstacle for their amusement. It was oddly considerate, and it confused him.

He was herded into an elevator, if the ding of the door and the sudden sense of the closeness of the walls were any indication, which was confirmed by the following stomach-dropping upwards motion. The gentle elevator music made the whole thing feel like a scene from one of the bad action films Noctis and Prompto were so fond of. It was not a warehouse then, at least not a conventional one, and Ignis’s confusion only grew. They were likely being taken to an office space or an apartment, based on what he was currently able to gather about the building they were in, and he wasn’t sure what to make of that. Neither were conventional destinations for kidnappings, but at least he was confident they had not, at least yet, been taken beyond the Wall.

A short walk down a hallway and a keycard swipe later, and he was led into what he was now convinced was an apartment. Something about the layout of the building felt familiar, and though he knew most apartment buildings were similar, even the route he was guided through inside the apartment tickled the back of his mind.

Broken Nose pushed him down to sit on a couch then retreated as a new set of footsteps approached, too light to be Leader’s. Shorty’s maybe? Ignis tensed when they stopped in front of him, not sure what to expect now that they had apparently reached their destination, and he desperately wanted to know where Noctis was.

Gentle hands brushed against his blindfold before slipping behind his head to carefully untie it. The cloth was pulled away from his face, and he blinked up into Noctis’s blue eyes.

“Noct?” he whispered, confused.

“Hey, Iggy.”

“What…” He tore his eyes away from Noctis’s face to glance around at his surroundings and had to blink a few times before realizing that, yes, this was Gladio’s apartment. He was on the couch in Gladio’s apartment, Noct was conscious and hovering in front of him, Gladio and Prompto were behind Noct in baggy black, and good grief, was that Nyx Ulric? He’d broken Nyx Ulric’s nose?

“I must admit I do not understand,” he said, allowing confusion to be the dominant emotion. He would deal with the relief and anger after he understood exactly what had happened.

“We kidnapped you,” Noctis said, as though that explained everything. He looked uncertain and suddenly wouldn’t meet Ignis’s eyes. “You’ve been overworking yourself lately, and we know you never take a break unless you’re forced to, so we decided to… force you.” He was mumbling by the end of it, picking at the hem of his shirt in embarrassment.

“So you thought that ambushing us in your apartment and getting yourself held at knife-point in front of me would somehow reduce my stress levels?” he asked, firmly reining in his rising temper. It wouldn’t do to lose his composure at his liege.

“We may have gotten… carried away,” Noctis admitted. “It’s not often you get to set up your own kidnapping.” There was a hint of a grin in the prince’s voice, even if his face was still deliberately remorseful. He sat on the couch next to Ignis and leaned around him to untie Ignis’s hands. Ignis brought his hands out from behind him and rubbed at his wrists. Now the great care Nyx had taken with binding his hands made a lot more sense. In fact, all of the strangeness of the event now made sense.

“Haven’t you had enough real kidnappings to satisfy that particular urge?” Ignis asked, exasperated. “If you’re so desperate for them, I could set up a few as escape training exercises.”

Noct made a face. “That takes the fun out of it.”

“I don’t know. I think I would find watching you be held at someone else’s mercy a lot more entertaining if I knew you were perfectly safe.” His retort was cutting, and he took a moment’s satisfaction at the flinch Noctis gave in response. The pleasure was immediately followed by regret. He couldn’t stand seeing his prince hurt, and that was the heart of his issue with this prank.

He took Noctis’s chin gently in hand, tilting his head up to get a look at his throat. Not a scratch, and the rest of the tension Ignis hadn’t realized he’d been holding onto drained out of him.

“Well, at least Prompto had the control necessary not to cut you.”

“Nyx laid a shield spell on the knife. It was perfectly harmless.” Ignis snorted. Of course he had.

“And the chloroform?” he asked dryly, arching an eyebrow.

The grin finally broke through onto Noct’s face. “Just water. Was I convincing?”

“Scarily so, Highness.”

“Was it too much?” Noctis at least had the good sense to look ashamed as Ignis glared at him.

“Undoubtedly so.” Ignis pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger, reminding himself firmly that it would be treason to punch Noctis. He would have to content himself with making dishes with a much higher concentration of vegetables for the next few weeks in lieu of physical revenge for this stunt.

“I’m sorry, Iggy.”

Ignis sighed. It was difficult to stay mad at Noctis, especially when the boy was truly apologetic, but he wasn’t quite ready to let the whole situation go. Noctis was only one of four, after all, and each of them would need scolding. He ignored Noctis’s apology in favor of turning his attention to Gladio. Ignis had no problem being furious with him.

And himself, if he was being honest. He should have recognized the way Gladio moved, the feel of his grip on Ignis’s wrist. The two of them sparred often enough that they knew each other’s bodies as well as they knew their own. It had been smart to have Nyx be the one to handle Ignis, as he was the one Ignis was least familiar with save Prompto, but he, untrained as he was, would not have been able to restrain Ignis.

Yes, the whole situation had been very well planned, and if it hadn’t been at Ignis’s expense, in the guise of being for his benefit, he would have been impressed.

Ignis stood, relishing the flicker of uncertainty in the Shield’s eyes. He knew that outwardly, he appeared calm, perhaps appeased by Noctis and willing to let it all slide, but Gladio knew him well enough to distrust that. Remaining stoic in the face of highly emotional situations was an ability Ignis had developed early and thoroughly in his quest to be the best advisor and Hand to Noctis as he was able, and when his mask was up, even those closest to him had a hard time reading what he was actually feeling.

“Don’t think I’ve forgotten about your role in this fiasco,” Ignis said, a levelness to his voice that belied his anger.

Quick as a viper, he struck at Gladio, his fist connecting with his cheekbone with a satisfying crack. Gladio’s head snapped to the side, and he let out a breathy laugh as he rubbed at his cheek. Ignis shook his hand out, the sting in his knuckles worth it.

“I guess I deserved that,” Gladio said.

“You bloody well did,” Ignis snapped. “This was incredibly foolish. You all are lucky the only injury sustained was Ulric’s broken nose. And you,” Ignis rounded on the Glaive in question. “You should have known better.”

Nyx managed a sheepish smile, made much more garish by the blood that he had not yet had a chance to wash off his face and teeth. “I never could resist a good prank,” he said.

“Of all the idiotic…” Ignis trailed off, not sure what insult he was intending to go for. He sighed. “You’re not to use a potion on that. You’ll let it heal naturally, and let that be a lesson. Now go clean that blood off your face. You look a horror.”

“Yes, sir.” Nyx sulked out of the room in the direction of Gladio’s bathroom.

The Glaive cowed, Ignis turned his attention to Prompto, who had pressed himself into the far corner of Gladio’s living room, his body hunched in on itself and looking absolutely miserable. He glanced up at Ignis but quickly averted his eyes when he saw Ignis’s attention focused on him. Ignis’s irritation faded a bit at the sight.

“Prompto,” he said, waiting until the boy looked up at him before continuing, “don’t let Noctis drag you into anything this reckless again.”

He ignored Noct’s indignant protest in favor of watching the cautious relief spread over Prompto’s face. Witnessing the tongue-lashing the rest of the group had received had frightened him badly enough, and technically Ignis had no authority over the boy, as he was still merely a civilian and not yet an official member of Noctis’s retinue. He would leave it at that and hope it would be enough to discourage any other activities of this nature.

“Yes, Ignis, sir, I promise. Thank you, sir.”

Ignis nodded in approval and turned back to Noctis and Gladio, clearly the instigators and ringleaders of this whole mess, with his hands on his hips.

“Now, since you went to all that trouble to get me here, what were your plans to make up for all the stress you just put me through?”

~*~

Several hours later found Ignis relaxing on the couch in Gladio’s living room, Noctis on his left and Prompto on the other side of the prince. Gladio was sprawled across his preferred loveseat, already half asleep, and Nyx had left a while earlier, citing early morning guard duty. Ignis had stopped him at the door and pressed a potion into his hands. As much vindictive pleasure as Ignis would have taken from the man having to answer questions about just how he’d gotten his nose broken, the safety of the Crown they were both sworn to protect came first. And Ignis had broken his own nose in training before, and it really was an unpleasant experience. There was no sense in making the man suffer needlessly. That he’d been willing to comply with Ignis’s original demand of letting it heal naturally had shown his remorse over the situation, and that was enough for Ignis.

Gladio had apologized profusely and presented Ignis with an entire case of Ebony, and Astrals take him, but that man knew how to bribe his way to Ignis’s forgiveness. He had also agreed to work up a couple mock kidnapping scenarios with Ignis to better train Noctis on how to escape them, and that had finished mollifying him.

The rest of the evening had been spent pleasantly with the sort of mindless entertainment that Ignis rarely let himself indulge in but the rest of them loved, and all manner of junk food that was frankly appalling. But at least the delivered pizzas had spared Ignis from having to cook dinner. Not that he ever minded that particular task.

Now they were all about ready to call it a night. Gladio had insisted that they all stay at his apartment, and considering Ignis’s car was back at Noct’s and walking across Insomnia at night could put them at risk of an actual kidnapping, Ignis was highly amenable to that, even if it meant sleeping on the couch. The fussy nature of the scars on Noctis’s back dictated that he would get the spare bed if they didn’t want to risk a flare-up, and while it was large enough for two, it would be nearly impossible to extricate him from Prompto. Nor did Ignis particularly feel the need to.

The two younger teens were curled up together on the couch next to him, as they often were, arms around each other and their heads pressed together as they talked quietly about the movie that had just finished, or whatever new game it was they were currently looking forward to; Ignis wasn’t paying close enough attention to follow their conversation.

Ignis had long suspected Prompto had been touch-starved before he started spending time with Noctis, considering his absent adoptive parents, and Noctis, as cuddly as he was, had been perfectly willing to soothe that ache, though probably unknowingly. Now, years later, it was a habit to sling their arms around each other, or link them together as they walked, or curl up into a single ball with too many arms and legs on the couch. It was just a natural part of their friendship, built in from the beginning, and Ignis was glad for both of them. They were good for each other, filling in the cracks left by neglect, intentional or not, from others in their lives.

Ignis and Gladio did their best, of course, to step in when the king was too caught up in his duties to the kingdom to spend the kind of time he wished, and Noctis deserved, with his son. But what Prompto brought to the table that none of the rest of them could was free will. Noctis was far more than just a duty to Ignis, and he tried to make sure Noctis knew that, but that didn’t change the fact that Ignis was oath-bound to Noctis and had been since they were children. There would always be an aspect of their relationship that was laid down in contracts and paychecks and responsibilities. There was none of that with Prompto, and Ignis was glad. Even if he sometimes found himself jealous, though he would slit his own throat before he would ever admit that to anyone.

Probably feeling Ignis’s eyes on him, Noctis untangled himself from Prompto and scooted closer to Ignis on the couch until he was almost pressed against his side instead. Ignis tried to ignore the way Noct’s bright eyes were gazing up at him from under the fringe of his hair and failed miserably. Sighing, he wrapped his arm around Noctis’s shoulders and pulled the prince in close. Noctis snuggled up against him, resting his head on his shoulder with a contented sigh, and Ignis smiled. All was forgiven.

...But Ignis was still making Noctis nothing but vegetables for the next week.

#ignis scientia #noctis lucis caelum #gladiolus amicitia #gladio amicitia #prompto argentum #nyx ulric #final fantasy xv #ffxv #my fanfiction #my writing

18 notes · View notes

splat-dragon · 5 years

Text

Yellow Eyes and Bad Times: A Fear Justified

@whumptober2019

Everyone has animals they don’t like.

A lot of people don’t like dogs. Maybe they were chased by one as a kid, or bitten, or they just find them scary. John hates wolves for obvious reasons: he was mauled by them, held captive by them, and still bears scars from them. Hosea has an irrational dislike for foxes. Dutch hates birds because he fears being crapped on.

Arthur?

Arthur hates cougars. Or pumas. Or mountain lions, whatever you care to call them, he hates them.

And, well, it’s a rational hate. They’re large, and they’re strong, and they’re dangerous. He’s seen more than his fair share of men be killed by them, watched them kill more animals than he’d ever cared to.

He hates them to the point of avoiding Strawberry. Never goes near the Owanjila dam, despite the good hunting, as cougars are known to frequent the area, much to Dutch and Pearson’s grief and frustration.

Hosea and Dutch, though, knew exactly how to get him to do what they wanted. They knew that he’d never say no to going hunting with them and, so, when they invited him to go out hunting with them, he of course said ‘yes’. He had tried to ask where they were going, but they’d just said ‘here and there’, and he knew that meant they wouldn’t tell him, that it was a surprise, so he didn’t bother to question them any more.

He shouldn’t have been surprised, he supposed, when he realized they were heading towards Strawberry. Hosea and Dutch had only laughed at his complains, insisting that he couldn’t change his mind and that he had already said yes, and would he really just abandon his two dear old pa’s to go hunting in cougar territory?

Their amusement had been obvious.

Arthur was, understandably, tense as they rode out of Strawberry and towards Blackbone Forest. He guided his gelding with one hand, the other resting on the handle of his gun, ready to draw it at a moments notice.

“Careful, Dutch! Don’t make any sudden moves,” Hosea chuckled, looking back at him over his shoulder.

Dutch did the same, grinning as he took in Arthur’s battle ready position. “Same to you, Hosea. You’re an old man, now. Just imagine dying after all of this because you twitched wrong.”

The pair chuckled, and Arthur groaned, slowing his horse to a walk and allowing them to continue trotting ahead, not wanting to listen to their ‘good-natured’ ribbing. It was hard to listen for cougars (and wolves, there were wolves and black bears around as well) over the sound of their voices.

Then again, it was hard to listen for cougars, period. They were impossibly quiet, and tended to attack from behind. Your only warning came if they roared as they attacked, and even that wasn’t a sure thing: often, you only knew they were there when their teeth sank into your skull.

So he was, naturally, on edge. Listening for padded footsteps, low growls. Listening for, too, the absence of sounds, animals going quiet for fear of drawing a predator’s attention. Looking in the trees, in the bushes, for a flash of tawny fur, light reflecting off of yellow eyes.

But he could never have seen the attack, coming from behind, out of his line of sight. A streak of brown-gold launching from the trees, his horse rearing in terror, and he twisted, drawing his gun, but the puma was already on him. It struck him with the force of a moving train, nearly two-hundred pounds of pure muscle slamming into him as hard as it could, throwing him clear of the saddle and stomach down on the ground. His horse whirled, uncaring that his rider was in danger, and fled for the relative safety of Strawberry.

Arthur tried to scream, panicked and afraid, “Dutch! Hosea!” even as he scrabbled with one hand for his gun, the other reaching back to grab at the puma, trying to pull it away from him, its breath burning his ear as it moved, trying to adjust itself to try and bite again, but his face had been shoved into the dirt, mouth full of grass and soil, and sound died against the ground. He twisted, trying to buck the puma, but its claws dug into his skin, heavy weight pinning him, and it didn’t even bother to growl as it lunged, sinking its fangs into the back of his skull—he screamed, the sound dying in the dirt, tried to spit it out but his face was forced back into the ground—letting go to lick with its sandpaper tongue against the wound, flattening his bloodied hair, tearing at his skin, before lunging to bite again.

Arthur, stunned, lay still, and so its bite struck exactly where it aimed. Strong jaws drove impossibly sharp teeth through flesh and tendons, cartilage, veins, arteries and, finally, his spine. The man went limp, dead, and the puma gave a few, final shakes to make sure its prey wouldn’t fight back before letting go, shifting to grab him by the back of his shirt—it was just like fur to it, after all, and he would grab an elk or a deer by the scruff as well—before dragging him into the bushes, straining somewhat to haul the dead weight of a man that weighed more than he did.

Hosea and Dutch trotted on, none the wiser.

#whumptober2019 #red dead redemption #red dead redemption 2 #fanfic #fan fic #fanfiction #arthur #arthur morgan #hosea #hosea matthews #dutch #dutch van der linde #cw: graphic depictions of violence #cw: animal attack #no. 6 #no. 18 #dragged away #muffled scream #major character death

2 notes · View notes

veliseraptor · 6 years

Note

fix-it with bonus Angst(TM): Loki's back somehow and of course Thor's overjoyed, and after a giant hug he does the Thor thing where he puts his hand on the side of Loki's neck, EXCEPT WHOOPS that is now a massive trigger for Loki because of how he died, and he FREAKS THE FUCK OUT (and then possibly someone else has to talk him down from the flashback because Thor's too guilt-stricken and afraid of doing the wrong thing again)

breathe in, breathe out (exhale and inhale), 1.2k, post-infinity war loki lives obviously, semi-graphic descriptions of character death

why would I work on all my long-form actual projects when I can fill short whumpy angsty fix-it aus eh?

Fingers scrabbling at Thanos’s wrist, fighting for air, wasn’t the first time Loki had thought well, it’s over now.

It wasn’t the first time he was wrong, either.

His first thought on waking, exhausted and chilled to the bone, was Thor, what did you do. He stared up at the blue sky, not daring to try to stand, and focused on breathing slow and deeply, the euphoria of air moving through an intact trachea.

He still felt sick, and woozy. Coming back from death was never pleasant. He should know.

(Ha, ha.)

Thor, his sluggish thoughts informed him, prodding gently. You need to find Thor. Make sure he didn’t do anything stupid.

See his face again, in sunlight.

He staggered to his feet, taking a moment to balance himself when he almost fell. He could make out a smudge of what might be a city, or at least a cluster of buildings, on the horizon. It occurred to Loki that he had no idea where he was, or where Thor might be, but at least in some kind of population center there would be water, and his mouth was dry as bone. He started walking, taking it slow. Still processing the fact that he was alive. His thoughts kept circling-

Undying. You should have chosen your words more carefully.

Loki flinched, jerking his thoughts away. Think of Thor. Only that just brought memories of Thor on his knees, bound and muzzled, helpless. Screaming. He couldn’t breathe-

No, Loki reminded himself forcefully, sucking in a lungful of air. He could breathe. That was the point. He was breathing now, just fine.

He kept walking. Norns, he was thirsty. Was Heimdall back, as well? Was Valkyrie? The rest of Asgard?

He was distracted enough - out of it enough - that he walked into the barrier in front of him. He stared at it, frowned, focused, and walked through it. Then he sat down and leaned back against it to wait for whoever it belonged to to come looking. He hoped they were friendly - or at least indifferent. He didn’t particularly want to do any fighting right now.

Closing his eyes, Loki dozed.

He didn’t sleep so much as...drift, and he woke up fast and hard for the hum of an approaching vehicle. He lifted his head from where it was resting against the barrier and considered standing, but decided against it. He wanted to be as unthreatening as possible just now, and that probably meant looking as pathetic as possible.

Miserably enough, he didn’t think he had to try very hard.

Of course, then, while the vehicle was still some distance away, someone leaped off it and started running towards him. Loki could not quite keep himself from starting to smile. “Thor!” Someone shouted, but he ignored them entirely, coming to a skidding halt just inches away.

He had a right eye again, though it was brown instead of blue. The mismatch had a bit of a rakish effect. Thor reached out and caught himself, as though he was afraid to complete the gesture.

“Loki,” he said, and it was all Loki could do not to flinch at the way he said it, raw as an open wound. I’m sorry, he wanted to say, but they were both, he thought, too brittle for it.

He forced a smile. “Did you miss me?”

Thor made an incredulous, disbelieving noise and reached down, his eyes shining. “Yes,” he said simply, the one word cutting through every wall Loki could have thrown up, even if he’d wanted to.

He took Thor’s extended hand, watched his shoulders sag with relief when they made contact, skin to skin, like he hadn’t quite believed it until then, and then Thor was hugging him. Loki dropped his head against Thor’s solid shoulder, feeling him shudder once like he was trying not to cry.

“I told you, didn’t I?” He murmured, though at the time he’d meant it for a comforting lie. “You can’t get rid of me that easily.”

“Don’t,” Thor said, his voice almost vibrating, and Loki had to try not to flinch. “You don’t know - don’t you ever do that again.”

“I had to,” Loki said. “He was going to kill you--”

“And you thought you could beat him? With a knife?”

Loki bit the inside of his cheek. “I had other ideas,” he said. “But there wasn’t time. Thor - I’m sorry.” Because he needed to say it. Because Thor shouldn’t hurt like this.

“Don’t apologize,” Thor said after a moment, and Loki winced at how close he sounded to cracking. “Just...stay alive, this time.”

“Hopefully,” Loki said. Thor’s eyes tightened around him. “You know your friends are watching,” Loki murmured.

“And?” Thor’s voice was defiant. Loki couldn’t help another small flicker of a smile. “My brother is back from the dead. I think I deserve to have a few moments.”

All of them, Loki thought. As many as we can get.

Thor drew back, though, and if his smile looked like it hurt, his blue eye was full of relief. “Loki,” he said, and cupped Loki’s neck, his rough palm against the side of Loki’s throat, fingers curved over his spine--

Loki’s thoughts jerked. Stuttered.

The ship burning, Thor on his knees, Heimdall dead and the Hulk beaten and gone.

“Loki?”

He was shaking with fear but his voice somehow stayed steady, somehow he was moving, walking forward, speaking slowly and deliberately to give himself time to think but nothing was coming, nothing, stupid move, Loki, idiot, he couldn’t breathe couldn’t struggling like a rat in a trap, the crunch of cartilage buckling, red hot vicious pain oh Thor I’m sorry I’m-

“Head down,” someone was saying, far away, somewhere else. “Deep breaths-”

How, Loki wanted to say, but words wouldn’t come. How am I supposed to breathe like this with the Mad Titan’s fist around my damned throat-

(Damned, fine choice of words, there.)

“It’s fine,” someone said, sounding a little desperate. “Focus on…”

He recognized that voice. I’m not the one who’s out of time. Loki blinked. The real world - or rather, the current world - swam back into focus. He stared at Captain America, who stared back at him, looking like he had no idea what he was doing and would rather not be doing it. At some point he’d ended up back on the ground. His lungs wouldn’t quite cooperate with his attempts to inhale.

He looked past the Captain to see Thor, his face stricken. Loki couldn’t quite dredge up a smile. He remembered what had happened: that familiar gesture, such a source of comfort for so long, and he’d - panicked. Shattered.

Humiliation burned in his stomach. Worse, guilt, because Thor deserved better, Thor deserved something other than another burden to bear--

(There was a joke on the tip of his tongue, don’t be so distraught, you’ve been saying you were going to strangle me for years, but he didn’t think either of them could bear it.)

#thelightofthingshopedfor #loki #infinity war spoilers #a wild fic appeared #tragic siblings #loki's a goddamn mess #thor is my favorite puppy #yeah there are other things i should work on what of it

508 notes · View notes

funeral-clown · 5 years

Text

i got one yes and that is all the validation i needed so here’s a longass Spooky Poem for y’all

@subterraneanbanjos u wanted it u got it

first tho i gotta set the mood. it was a dark classroom, and i read it aloud to a mostly empty room as the audience stared at this picture

so anyway there’s the mood set here’s the poem

I got lucky I heard him on the stairs old houses creak but I know the difference between a settling foundation and a foot on the stairs I've snuck out enough times

he walked past my door first and I thought my heart would stop he paused I held my breath, frozen under blankets the low quiet footsteps moved forward past my room past my grandmother's past my sibling's and a quiet groaning came from the door to my sleeping parents

I slipped out he didn't hear my feet on the stairs light and skipping the squeaky steps even in the dark I know my home

I heard a sudden sharp cry and slammed my hands over my mouth to prevent an echo my socks were silent on the old wood floors I fled to the kitchen creaking quietly out the back door

I heard a yapping he was with my grandmother now and the sudden silence was so much more terrible than her lapdog's barking had ever been my sock absorbed the early dew from the grass as I crouched across the yard toward the garage

it was empty of course it was the old shed hadn't been used in years for much more than seasonal storage my pajamas were thin the air was cold my feet felt like they would freeze against the concrete

there was a low shriek my brother was gone then I huddled in the darkest corner disregarding cobwebs and dead bugs I would rather have the dead for company than a killer already I could hear the slam of a door as I huddled in the corner creeping back further into the dirty floor arms tightly around my knees and eyes slamming closed

there was another slam he knew I was gone and judging from the rattle he wasn't happy I prayed it was dark enough to hide my wet footprints through the grass

I could hear him stomping no attempts at quiet now his breathing was loud his walking was loud the flicking on of the flashlight was loud and I bit back a whimper and looked for a weapon a shovel anything

there were only dead leaves and dead bugs and soon to be dead me I heard him laughing he found my footprints my toes curled in my wet cold socks and I tensed freezing as I heard him start to speak

come out, come out wherever you aaaaare~

the tone came closer and he called my name my name he knew me

stop hiding! I'm not gonna hurt ya! the longer this takes the angrier I get

I tried to place the voice but I couldn't remember anything my head was high on panic my hands scrabbled for something anything all I found was dirt and dead things it would have to do

he came closer still in a sing song tone of frightening familiarity

i'm gonna fiiiiiiiiiind youuuuu~

I almost envied the rest of my family

their quiet sudden cessations as I tried to stay still as a statue as if that would somehow save me and my handful of gravedirt

the sudden blinding light of the flashlight through the window was as bright as day my eyes burned and blinked and cringed and I heard his fingers tapping on the window friendly teasing

there you are

I was blinded I couldn't see his face as more than a silhouette the light clicked off and we fell back into darkness and the door creaked open and I could only half see him eyes still adjusting but I could hear him his feet are heavy on the ground his breath was hard his laugh was quiet

he stood in front of me looking down at my still form his hands smelled like rust as he reached down and touched my face stroked my hair

there you are I found you

he wasn't expecting the beetles and spiders whose corpses flew in his face as I threw them and dove for his knees trying to push him over so I could get my chance maybe stomp on his throat at least break his nose shove the cartilage into his brain

but his hands stayed on my hair pulling until I had risen he seemed amused

were you trying to kill me kid?

I glared

twisted tried to break loose but I didn't answer my eyes had adjusted by then I could see his face

I knew him

he knew I knew him I had been trying to get away from him for years

his breath was fresh and i hated him for that that he wasn't as rotten and rank on the outside as in

the knife toyed at my stomach through the thin cloth I froze again snarling

you know the drill he whispered and I did though I thought I might have gotten away with it this time having a normal family and a normal life one day I swear I'll make it past my twenties

come home come home to your real family stop dawdling on this plane

I shake my head I will never go back there to the dark and the screaming and the twisting of mind and flesh beyond all reason beyond all hope divine delighted madness I will never go back home

he scowls my brother we've done this for centuries it's a game we'll play till the end of days

I'll just find you again stop being stubborn dad wants us back this is no time for hide and seek

I smile wouldn't do to leave him with a frown we used to be family after all but I'd rather have the dead for company than a killer I talk to him for the first time

next time, I'll kill you first

he rolls his eyes

you always say that

the knife slides into my abdomen slicing freezing it doesn't hurt he was right about that no pain it just kills

he sighs and lets me slide to the floor watches me slip on my side leaving behind a dead body for the dead bugs and dead leaves watching the dawning light in the window and moving on to the next cycle the next life another chance for a new family

tag you're it

I last longer every time this time I swear I'll make it past my twenties

#i edited it some but not a lot #anyway here's the poem #i had a teacher who used to pronounce it poim i hated it #long post #uhhhhhh tw murder #i guess? suspense? knives? cthonic references?#tw for those things #let me know if i'm missing one

6 notes · View notes

scrollingkingfisher · 6 years

Text

Finger Lickin’ Good

“Sometimes, it’s worth gettin’ your hands dirty.”

Rating; T

Length; 1168

Tags; Heavily Implied Torture, Slavery, Wings, Asmodeus Being Horrible

AO3

My submission for the Gabriel Monthly Challenge! This turned out... slightly less cracky and slightly more disturbing than intended, so um. Enjoy?

Tagging; @archangelsanonymous, @lacqueluster, @archangel-with-a-shotgun, @revwinchester, @ashiewesker, @theriverscribe, @thequeervet, @talkingtomyselfagain and @maximumsuckage!

“He’s ready for you.”

“Thank you.” Ketch let the sarcasm drip from his words, a sneer curling his lip. The demon scowled back at him as he passed, but didn’t say anything.

It wouldn’t do to let his disdain show through while he was meeting with Asmodeus, but with the other demons, Ketch knew he had a little more leeway. Just because all of this was necessary didn’t alleviate his dislike of the entire situation. Working with demons? A Prince of Hell? What had he been thinking?

But it was a little too late to back out now; he had to work with what he had. And double crossing was always satisfying, especially because it gave him the opportunity to pick whichever side appeared to be winning. There were advantages of being a free agent, and one of them was survival.

He pushed open the door to the throne room. He heard a rustle, but deliberately didn’t look to the side, to where the cage bars were. Ketch had done many horrible things in his time, but there was something about the way that Asmodeus had defiled what should have been one of the most powerful creatures in the universe that turned his stomach.

Asmodeus himself was lounging on his throne, his pristine suit almost glowing in the gloom. “Ketch! I thought I told you to be ready to come when I called.”

Ketch folded his hands neatly in front of himself, standing to attention. “I’m sorry Sir, I had… prior commitments.”

Asmodeus looked up at him, threatening behind a thin veil of civility. “Well, next time, don’t. The food’s almost here.”

Food? Asmodeus hadn’t seemed like the kind of employer to exactly throw an office party. Ketch didn’t trust food from the demon as far as he could throw it. “Sir, you didn’t have to-”

“You think it’s for you?” Asmodeus laughed. Ketch bristled internally. But he was saved the temptation to make a cutting remark by a knock at the door.

“Enter.”

The demon came in, grovelling. “What you asked for, Sir.”

Asmodeus got up from his throne and snatched it casually from the demon’s grip, not giving him a second glance. The demon backed out, closing the door behind himself, but Ketch’s eyes were stuck on the red bucket, the white writing scrawled across it. The familiar stink of stale grease wafted over him.

“KFC?” Ketch couldn’t keep the incredulousness out of his tone.

Asmodeus chuckled. “Now, I know what you’re thinkin’. Why am I eatin’ mass produced deep fried garbage when I could be dinin’ on actual fare?”

“I couldn’t help wondering, yes.” Ketch glanced with mild disgust at the soggy battered pieces of what had once been chicken, huddled in the bottom of their tub like they were trying to retain what little warmth they’d started out with.

“Y’know, you’re right. I used to hate this sort of food.” Asmodeus considered the contents of the bucket, prodding on one or two of the pieces. “Nasty, greasy. Too much fuss, all them little bones. And the mess! Dang, the mess gets everywhere. I had to kill my last dry cleaner when he couldn’t get the stains out. But y’know what? It’s kinda growin’ on me. It provides a lesson.” He picked up a wing, turning it to inspect it closely. “Sometimes, it’s worth gettin’ your hands dirty.”

He turned, looking past Ketch with a nasty smile pulling at his lips. Ketch heard a low whine from the cage. He resisted the urge to look.

Asmodeus, though, had his eyes fixed on the broken archangel. They didn’t leave him even as he held up the chunk of chicken for Ketch’s inspection.

“Would you believe this used to be a wing, Mister Ketch? You wouldn’t think to look at it, but-” He dug his fingers in, peeling off the layer of batter like he was skinning it with efficient brutality- “Lookit that. There’s a wing under there after all. But here’s where it gets real interestin’.”

He walked over to the cage, crouching down in front of it. The archangel scrabbled back from the bars, plastered wide-eyed to the back of the cell like he wanted the wall to absorb him. Asmodeus kept the pretense of talking to Ketch, but the words were aimed at the miserable creature in front of him.

“Now, the wings ain’t the nicest part of the bucket, and no one’s pretendin’ they are. The wings are the challenge. Peelin’ off the skin’s quite easy once they’ve been deep fried.” He ripped the goosebumped skin off as well, leaving the anatomy visible, muscles and bones and cartilage exposed. The archangel made a choked sound. “If the fryer’s hot enough, the chicken should be cooked just perfect, you should be able to peel the muscle right off the bones.” He extracted one dark muscle group from the mass of gristle, tendon still trailing from the end, and popped it into his mouth, chewing. “Mmmm-mmm. Delicious.” A dribble of grease ran down Asmodeus’ fingers, soaking dark into the white suit.

“And finally, after all that, we get to the bones. Gabriel here’s real familiar with wing anatomy, but just in case you don’t know, Mister Ketch, I’ll go over it for you, just this once.” Cruel fingers twisted tiny bones out of the shattered mass of cartilage. “These here are what would be the finger bones on a human. And this, this is the thumb bone, or the alula if you’re gonna get real technical.” Gabriel made a wounded noise from behind the stitches, eyes locked on the delicate yellowed things pinched in Asmodeus’ grip like he couldn’t look away.

“Next parts are more like us humans.” The demon pulled out the longer bones, rolling them on his palm and discarding the mangled remains of the flesh back into the box. “We got the radius, the ulna, the humerus. But unlike us, bird bones are hollow. Which means I can do this.” Asmodeus braced the bone between two fingers, and broke it with a brittle crack . He picked up the next one, and broke that one too. Gabriel flinched with each snap, trembling all over, Ketch noted with rising nausea. What had he done to him? Surely not…

The demon reached through the bars and patted Gabriel on the head. “Shush shush. I won’t do that again, ‘s long as you’re a good boy. As long as you behave.” Each impact made the archangel tense and shudder, eyes fixed on the ground. “Good,” Asmodeus crooned. Ketch swallowed heavily.

Asmodeus stood, flinging the broken shards of bone into a corner of the room before turning back to him, eyes tinged with sadistic, sulfurous yellow. “That’s what I do to things of mine that misbehave, Ketch. Do I make myself clear?”

Ketch opened his mouth, then had to close it again and clear his throat before he could choke the words out. “Crystal. Sir.”

Asmodeus smiled, white and shining. “Good.” He held out the bucket.

“Chicken?”

#gabriel monthly challenge #s13 spoilers #gabriel #asmodeus #ketch #my fic

74 notes · View notes

screaming-bigbang · 6 years

Text

Scarred - A Big Bang Mafia AU

“A smile will get you pretty far, but a smile and a gun will get you farther...”

Chapter 5 - Masterlist

Genre: A little more angsty.... Group: Big Bang Pairing: Seungri x Reader Warning: Blood, violence Word Count: 3,819

@vipnetwork

Chapter 4

You had been fairly certain that the walk you took before going to sleep would have helped you sleep soundly through to your alarm, or at least until the morning. However, that idea seemed ridiculous to the troubled part of your mind and you woke in the dark confines of your bedroom. As you sighed in dissatisfaction, you rolled over and tried to concentrate on falling back to sleep but something felt off.

Your senses had heightened and you realised you could hear the water tank humming in the hall and the sound of distant cars. You frowned as your stomach contracted to form a tiny knot of dread. The air felt disturbed, tainted even. You sat up and reached out, turning on your lamp. Your eyes rested on the brown envelope you found propped up against the lamp and you groaned.

“Oh for fuck’s sake... Where the hell did this come from?!” You picked it up feeling frustrated, wondering if you’d put it there before sleeping and forgot but as you opened yet another envelope that fell into the category of ‘mysterious’, you felt the small knot in your stomach growing. You were positive you hadn’t been the one to leave the envelope there, and by positive you meant that you knew you weren’t the one to do it.

You pulled out the contents and found yourself staring at more pictures, but this time is was you at Mr. Song’s funeral, getting out of Daesung’s car, kneeling in front of Mr. Song’s shrine, standing with Daesung outside his car inhaling plumes of cigarette smoke, getting in the car and the car driving off. The most eerie photos of all were the final two which depicted you entering Mr. Song’s house and exiting holding a big brown envelope.

The thing about the final photo was that it also had writing on it and its message chilled you to your bones.

“I knew it was useful to come back for you, you somehow managed to find the thing I’ve been looking for. I’ll see you soon, little birdie...”

Your head shot up and you looked frantically around your room. Fight or flight kicking in and you were definitely in flight mode. You had to get out of here at least for the night, you had a meeting with that mysterious S character tomorrow night and if you could avoid any trouble until then, you figured that maybe he could help somehow.

Throwing yourself out of your bed you grabbed your gym bag from the floor and scrabbled to throw some clothes and other necessities into it. You ran into the sitting room and grabbed your coat, throwing it on over your pyjamas before you stopped moving. Turning around slowly, you moved to face the couch, your blood running cold in your veins.

A strange man, who sat smiling up at you menacingly, met your startled stare. He stood from the couch and took a few steps towards you, lifting up one of his hands and waving the large brown envelope you’d taken from Mr. Song’s apartment in the air. He tutted and looked at it for a second before moving his gaze back to you.

“Going by how carelessly you left this out in the open, I’m guessing you don’t know the contents of this little piece of gold.” Your gaze flickered from the man to the envelope and back again. “Well, either that or you’re a very stupid girl.”

The two of you stared at each other for a moment and you could feel the initial shock starting to seep away. Creating a mental image of your apartment in your mind you tried to think where the closest object that could be used as a weapon was.

“Who were you bringing this to?” He growled, taking another step forward. You didn’t respond to him as you stepped back, bumping into the wall. “It doesn’t matter if you don’t tell me now, you will later. The boss has asked for a meeting with you. I’m here to be your escort.”

You didn’t like the way he said the last word. Turning quickly in the direction of the front door, you reached out to grab the gym bag but felt yourself being yanked back by your hair. You shrieked, reaching your arms back and clawing at the hand that grasped your hair. The man let go and you felt yourself falling backwards. You hit the ground and tried to roll to the side but he grabbed you by your neck and slammed you back against the floor. Your head bounced on the hard wood floor and you grunted, reaching out to grab the cord attached to the iron sitting on the ironing board. You yanked it and squealed as it landed on your fingers.

The man’s grasp on your neck tightened and you tried to suck in a breath. Grabbing the iron you swung it up but he moved so you only hit his shoulder. He grunted and swatted your arm away. Your throbbing fingers lost the grip on the iron and you felt his fist connect with your face. You felt your lip split under the contact and a sob fell out of your mouth.

He pulled you back up by the neck, his grip loosening enough for you to suck in another breath before you felt your head hitting the floor once more. Your vision blurred for a moment as your head spun. You heard the man start to laugh and your blood boiled. You weren’t going to let him get the best of you. You weren’t going to let him simply take you away to face the man from your nightmares and you most certainly weren’t going to let him sit there and laugh at you as tears spilled from your eyes and blood spilled from your lip.

You reached up quickly, possibly startling the man, and grabbed his Adam’s apple, digging your nails around the cartilage. He gasped and the grip on your neck loosened up. His other hand grabbed your wrist as you swung one of your legs up, feeling your knee connect with his stomach. You angled your hips upward to drive your knee in deeper. The man’s grip on both your neck and wrist went slack as you winded him. You used all your strength to roll him off you and quickly sat up, grabbing him by the lapel. You pulled your head back before driving it forward, pulling his upwards at the same time. Your skulls connected, and your head spun again, black spots popping in front of you.

Your adrenaline pushed you on though and before the man could regain his senses, you reached out and grabbed the iron. You slammed it into the side of his head and watched his eyes roll backwards. Falling backwards in a heaving pile, your sobs spilled out irregularly. You gave yourself a minute to even out your breathing before standing up and grabbing the man’s ankles.

“You’re not staying here, fuckface!” You growled, dragging him towards the door. Dumping his body in the stairwell seemed like the best option. He’d regain consciousness eventually and go about his way, but something inside you felt repulsed by the idea of leaving him in your apartment. You flung the envelope on top of his body and with the parting word of “Enjoy!”, you left, gym bag in hand and purse slung over your shoulder. ~ You left your apartment building and started the quick walk into town, mind racing and eyes constantly flicking over your shoulder. Your heart was beating wildly in your chest as the lingering adrenaline coursed through your system. You were passing Club Lies when you stopped in your tracks beside the long queue, ignoring the looks some of the people were giving you.

‘S’ had said to you that he operated his consultations out of a private booth in the upstairs VIP area and was there most every night. Your mind raced as you turned toward the club and made a beeline for the bouncer. You flashed your work pass at him and he reluctantly let you in, casting a disapproving eye over your outfit. You pushed your way into the club, ignoring the grumblings of the waiting people in the line.

Inside the club you flashed your staff I.D at the bouncer guarding the bottom of the staircase that led upwards to the VIP area. You started to become increasingly self-conscious and pulled your scarf further up on your face to hide your busted lip and bruised neck. The man waved you upstairs and you hugged your gym bag to you, a pool of dread whirling inside your stomach. The music pumped through the club and your eyes glanced down at the sea of writhing bodies beneath you, hoping you would remain invisible among them, despite your appearance.

At the top of the stairs, another security member stopped you and you waved him in closer to yell into his ear. Producing the card with S’s name and number you asked the security member if S was here and where you could find him. The man looked you up and down before motioning for you to follow him. He led you to a booth in the back and you slid into it, looking up at him when you realised it was empty.

“I’ll go get him.” He said simply and you began to worry that he might actually be going to see if it was possible to throw you out. You chewed your bottom lip, having forgotten for a moment that it was busted, wincing at the pain. You sighed and tapped your fingers nervously as you looked out into the much smaller crowed of VIPs.

You spotted S before he reached the table. He was looking back over his shoulder talking animatedly to the bouncer. Your eyes widened and you could feel one of your eyebrows lifting far enough up to fly off your face. S reached the table and slid into the booth, dismissing the bouncer with a wave of his hand before looking over at you and freezing.

“_____?!!” “Seungri?!!” Both of you stared in confusion and disbelief at each other before Seungri shot out of his seat and moved to the entrance of the booth. He pulled a sliding door across the entrance and the thumping music and loud chatter almost disappeared.

“What are you doing here?” He asked you, turning back to face you looking worried.

“You’re S?!”

“What?!”

“I have a problem...” You said, looking pointedly at Seungri and examining his face for any signs of recognition at that sentence but his merely cocked an eyebrow, a look of vague confusion glossing over his face. “You have a problem?” He asked and you could feel your face flushing. The bouncers had duped you, somehow you’d landed back here with Seungri, and there was no way in hell you could tell him what was going on.

“Er... Nevermind, sorry. I- um... I better go.” You moved to stand up but Seungri grabbed your hand to stop you. It was your turn to look confused.

“Let me buy you a drink while you’re here, at least.” His eyes held your gaze, growing puppy like. You sighed, partially amused, and shook your head. “I’d love to, but I can’t.” You said simply hoping he’d leave it at that. If you let any alcohol near your lip you’d regret it and if you couldn’t talk to S, you’d much rather just go to the hotel and soak in a nice hot bath for a while to relax your battered body.

“Oh, c’mon _____. Why not?” You were surprised Seungri remembered your name at all, especially after he blanked you in the alleyway the previous week. You arranged your face to look guilty and embarrassed as you went to answer his question. You pulled your scarf from your face and laughed sheepishly. “Guess which idiot managed to fall face-first down the stairs!”

You watched as Seungri’s expression contorted in concern and anger as he looked at you. Your had pulled the scarf down a little too far and your neck was visible and covered in marks, your lip was swelling and the split was still bloodied. You could feel tears stinging your eyes at his expression.

“W- What?” You asked, your stomach knotting uncomfortably as your nerves rattled through you again. You started to realise that you were probably going into shock and refused to let your emotions best you. You could be shook later on in your hotel room.

“Who the fuck did this to you?” “I don’t know what you-“ “_____! I’m not stupid!” “Seungri...” “I lied!” You cycled back to confusion again as you stared at the man sitting across from you. His face seemed to be cracking like a mask finally breaking. You watched him suck in an angry sigh and look away from you for a second. You felt your lungs burning, not realising you had been holding in a breath. Seungri had lied? Lied about what? Your brain was spinning and you felt frustration welling inside you. All you wanted was to find this ‘S’ guy, get his help and leave here so you could go and sleep. You felt miserable and, to be frank, you couldn’t have cared less about Seungri’s lies, whatever they may be.

“I am S.” He picked up the card and waved it between his fingers. “I was flustered when I realised you were the one who was looking for my help and I was going to send someone else to talk to you. I didn’t think you were looking for help with something like this happening!” He gestured wildly toward your covered neck. “Someone clearly put those marks there and I wanna know who.” He was glaring at you now as though daring you to deny him, but all you could do was glare right back. Seungri, a man you had only met once before, was sitting across from you with genuine concern and anger etched on his face. You realised that he was really bothered by what was happening to you and you felt taken aback by this. You suddenly felt the strange sensation of comfort and familiarity that you had previously been blind to. It should have been awkward to have a stranger yell at you like this and try to pry into your business, but you felt like you were sitting across from an old friend. Strangest of all, for the first time since all this madness had started, you felt truly safe.

Blinded by this internal revelation, you cleared your throat and looked down at your hands for a moment, trying to steady your thoughts. You didn’t know how much you wanted Seungri to know or how much you should tell him. To be honest, you didn’t even know why your should tell him but if Mr. Song recommended him for help then you would trust in at least that.

“Back home I had a stalker.” You started, not intending to tell Seungri the whole truth but just enough so he would understand the situation. “He was eventually caught and put in prison for attacking me one night. I thought he was still in jail but I think he’s out and that he’s come looking for me. Someone broke into my apartment earlier and attacked me, telling me they were going to take me to their ‘boss’, and I think it’s him.”

Seungri was quiet for a moment before pulling out a small notepad and pen from the inside of his suit jacket. He looked up at you, his face now a cold mask of seriousness. “I’m going to need all the details you have on this guy.”

“His name is Jung Heon Cheol.” You started.

Seungri watched you leave and sighed. When he had first met you it was like breathing fresh air for the first time in his life and he had regretted not getting your number ever since. He hadn’t realised you’d be carrying this around, nor had he realised that it was you Iron would be after. The night he’d met you, Seungri had spotted Iron across the road watching the two of you. Seungri had assumed Iron was just sending a message; that he was a back and there was trouble ahead. Little had Seungri known that trouble would be for you too.

“Youngbae, I need you to do something for me.” Seungri called to the older man who stood guard outside a heavy oak door in the back of the club. Down here, only the deep pound of the bass could be just about heard but that suited just fine. A showdown between two mafia factions was never half as tense when Taylor Swift’s latest song could be heard in the background.

“What’s up?” Youngbae asked, cocking an eyebrow and leaning against the wall. He was expecting something along the lines of ‘make sure no one goes near the room down the hall’ and some woman from upstairs to appear. Seungri chuckled and rolled his eyes.

“I’m not that bad, man, c’mon. Listen, there’s a girl being followed by Iron.” He said stepping close to his hyung and lowering his voice. Seungri watched as Youngbae’s face turned from sardonic to surprise. “Someone broke into her apartment earlier and tried to abduct her, she thinks they were working for him.”

“What do you want me to do?” Youngbae asked, standing up and pulling his car keys out of his pocket. Things were always a shitshow when it came to Iron and Youngbae had enough compassion to hate the idea of Iron getting to a civilian.

“She’s staying here.” Seungri handed Bae a piece of paper with _____’s hotel’s address written on it. “I want you to go there now and watch her room. Make sure no one gets her there. I’m going to talk to Jiyong-hyung and hopefully sort something out tomorrow.”

At the mention on Jiyong’s name, Youngbae stiffened, his eyes lingering on the oak door to his left. Bae would love nothing more than to go and help some poor lady that got caught up with Iron, but he would also love nothing more than to not be gutted by Jiyong for abandoning his post.

“Don’t worry, I’ll deal with Jiyong. You just go make sure Iron doesn’t get a hold of her.” He patted Youngbae’s arm before he went to open the door. Bae nodded in response and walked off down the hall to, hopefully, kick some scums’ ass.

Inside the room, the only sound Seungri could hear was Jiyong yelling and his girlfriend screaming bloody murder alongside the gentle tap tap of Seunghyun throwing a ball against the wall. Seunghyun looked up from his seat at the young man who just entered the room with a bored expression.

“Why doesn’t he just dump her?” Seungri asked. The girl was the whole time upstairs getting drunk and flirting with other men, the minute she got bored she’d flounce downstairs and start yelling at Jiyong about some female staff member she saw him saying ‘hi’ to.

“It might have something to do with the fact it’s an arranged marriage.” Seunghyun replied, attention already refocused on the ball hitting the wall and the quiet, calming tap tap noise it made. Seungri rolled his eyes and stepped towards the older man, crouching down and looking as innocent as possible. Seunghyun growled and sat up straight.

“What do you want?” He grimaced, catching the tennis ball in his hand and glaring down at Seungri.

“I need to talk to Jiyong-hyung now, it’s important.” Seunghyun raised an eyebrow again at Seungri’s words and shook his head.

“No way, are you deaf? If he doesn’t kill me, that roaring wench will. So unless it’s about North Korea invading us right at this moment, or the Chen deal blowing up in our faces, or Iron, I am not going near that office door.” Seunghyun sat back and raised his hand to throw the ball once more when he caught Seungri’s eye. “Oh my God, what?!” He felt exasperated now.

“Well, it’s funny how you should mention Iron-“ The rest of Seungri’s sentence was cut off by him taking a ball to the face. Seunghyun stood up as Seungri rubbed his forehead indignantly. “Yah, hyung!”

“You owe me.” Argument time in the Kwon office was never interrupted and Seunghyun was not looking forward to this. He stepped toward the office door and opened it, ducking just in time as a crystal bourbon glass whizzed over his head and crashed into the wall.

“I SWEAR TO GOD, KWON, I’LL GET YOU IN YOUR SLEEP!” screeched the banshee.

“JI SOO, YOU’RE FUCKING INSANE!” roared Jiyong. “DON’T YOU HAVE SOMEWHERE ELSE TO BE STUPID AT?”

“NOT FOR ANOTHER HOUR-“ Seunghyun chose this moment to cut in.

“Jiyong, it’s Iron.”

“OH FUCK YOU, SEUNGHYUN! I’M TALKING TO HIM RIGHT NOW.” Ji Soo said, picking up another bourbon glass and flinging it in Seunghyun’s direction. He ducked and listen to it crash behind him.

“JI SOO, GET THE FUCK OUT BEFORE I DRAG YOU OUT MYSELF!” Jiyong yelled at her, picking up her jacket and bag and throwing them at her. Seunghyun stepped back out of the office and ignored the rest of the yelling. Seungri shook his head and mouthed the word ‘wow’. Ji Soo stormed out of the office, shooting daggers at both Seunghyun and Seungri who simply gazed lazily back at her and watched her leave the rooms completely. Jiyong’s footsteps could be heard tapping lightly across the hard wooden floor as he walked out to the room the other two men were in. He opened his mouth to say something but was cut off by his phone ringing.

“Youngbae, why are you calling me, just come in- What?!” Jiyong glared at Seungri and Seunghyun, both of them tensing. Something was wrong.

You were five minutes away from the hotel when you felt the cold, anonymous hands reach out from the darkness behind you and grab you tightly and pulled you into a the back of a van. You screamed and thrashed wildly spotting three men before pain erupted at your temple and everything faded to black.

Waking up you felt your hands and legs bound to a chair. You struggled to move a little, finding the knots to be quite tight. Your head was hanging forward, chin resting on your chest. Opening your eyes, the first thing you saw was a pair of snakeskin boots. The light and imagery sent a stab of pain through your head. You groaned and lifted your head up, freezing in fear when your eyes rested on the man in front of you.

“Well hello little birdie, long time no see.”

Chapter 6 (tba)

#scarred - a mafia au #mafia au #mafia #bigbang #big bang #seungri #seungri x reader #vipnetwork #choi seunghyun #kwon jiyong #dong youngbae

42 notes · View notes

plussizeadventure · 7 years

Note

8,9,13,21,27,33,34,35,43 Don’t answer these until your draft is done. 😂

Okay, bossy Anon. I finished my draft AND got a whole 3 hours of sleep. Now I get to answer your questions. :)

8. Want any tattoos?I have always been interested, but I never stuck with an idea long enough to justify the permanency. I’ve only recently started to have a consistent idea about content and style, so I’m low-key considering it. :)

9. Got any piercings?My nose is pierced - as is obvious from the billions of selfies I put up. I technically have two in each earlobe, though I don’t wear anything in the second really anymore. And I had the cartilage pierced on my right ear, but it got snagged and got very angry several years ago, developed a keloid, and I had to take it out. I miss that one so much because I LOVE ear cuffs. LOVE them so hard. I love lip and eyebrow piercings, but I’m not sure I’ll ever get those. Holy hell I would feel BADASS if I did, though!

13. Biggest turn onsThe person’s gotta be smart. I’m all about the banter back and forth. From there, we can work on specifics that do it for me. ;)

21. What I love most about myselfThose moments when I’m actually funny - I already answered that, though, so I feel like I should pick another thing I love for integrity’s sake. I love love love that I use road trips to do all my best thinking. It sounds silly, but I adore road trips with people or by myself. There’s nothing quite like a long car ride to work through stuff. (And also scream sing all the songs about all the things)

27. A description of the girl/boy I likeAs someone who is currently crushing on and chatting up more than one person, I feel like you’re tryna set me up, Anon! I shall stick with the husband! He’s tall, white, and blonde - only one of which I thought would be true of the person I’d marry. LOL He’s also smarter than me, loves helping everyone around him reach for their dreams, and he is EXASPERATINGLY shades of gray next to my black/white personality. He is my balance in more ways than one.

33. What words make me feel the best about myselfBrilliant. As a professional academic I am constantly surrounded by the smartest people in the world... and the work has never come easy to me. I’m fighting against a learning disability and a whole heap of mental health issues. So I get there, I have the brilliant moments, but it takes me a while. I have colleagues that are effortlessly brilliant and see every aspect of a problem immediately. I’ve always been told I’m smart. Very smart. But hardly ever brilliant. It’s like a deep seeded fear of mine that I will only ever be "just smart.” How’s that for a really dumb worst fear?

34. What I find attractive in womenI tend to lose my cool and ability to string words together coherently when a woman toes the line between the masculine and the feminine. So like super tomboy but likes wearing make up. If she has tattoos and piercings, I’m a total gonner. It’s to the point that the husband and friends can pinpoint the women who will make it lose it and enjoy watching me become a blubbering mess while out. LOL But I have fallen for girls all over the spectrum. Super butch. Super femme.

35. What I find attractive in menNow men I am notorious for NOT having a set type. This becomes very clear if you look at past relationships. I’ve dated tall and short, big guys and super skinny guys, I have a history of the gamin neckbeards, too. The husband likes to point that out (this was before fedoras were the telltale sign of these dudes... but they basically has built in fedoras). The whole “gotta be smart AF” thing is true of men and women. After dating a couple duds, I made a rule in high school/college that the guy I’d marry would have to be able to beat me at scrabble. Ha!

But if you want to know what makes me get whiplash while walking down the street... it’s usually the big black men. Always has been. (That’s why it is weird that the husband is White AF™. He typically goes for redheads and one day said “I never thought I’d fall for a blonde,” and my immediate response was “Yeah, and I never thought I’d fall for such a white guy!”)

43. Sexiest person that comes to my mind immediatelyI answered this earlier and was all coy, so Ima just go with a celeb. I am positive that Michelle Chamuel would love me if she ever met me and that she and Mary Lambert would welcome me into their lesbian dream life. They would sing to me all the time, and life would be perfect. Also Michelle’s concert is the one I went to, she hit the first note, and I immediately started full on ugly crying I was so happy. :)

3 notes · View notes

omega-kati · 7 years

Text

The scent of intruding, violent Alpha alerted you to danger, raised your hackles before you even heard the crash through your front door. You had been in bed upstairs, lounging in your nest padded with some shirts Bucky had scented before leaving on his mission the day before, your Alpha’s pheromones meant to soothe you and the two pups squirming in your belly. Now your instincts were kicking in, hindbrain screaming run, fight, protect your pups at all cost!, as you sprang to your feet and bound to the master bathroom, slamming the panic button on the comm device given to you for just such a scenario. It wasn’t until you had locked yourself in that you remembered making Bucky remove the weapons hidden there with the impending birth.

“Damn it, Bucky! The one time you listen to me..”

Scrabbling through the drawers, heart thundering in your ears, you looked for anything to defend yourself with as the gut-wrenching scent grew stronger along with the sound of someone ransacking their way through the house below. Desperate and coming up empty-handed, you ripped a towel off the rack and covered the mirror. It took two sharp strikes of your elbow, adrenaline and survival instincts dulling the pain, before you heard a muffled shattering just as the intruder broke their way through the bedroom door.

“I know you’re here, Omega! The stink of you is all over the damn place. Come out and I’ll take it easy on you.”

The reedy growl of the strange Alpha’s Voice made your stomach lurch, though Bucky’s bond and his pups in your womb made it that much easier to overcome it. Still, you clutched the jagged shard of mirror in your hand and jumped when the doorknob jiggled and a heavy hand slammed on the door, making the wood shudder that same as your insides.

“Get out here! Now!”

Barely a heartbeat passed and he was trying to break his way through the door. You snarled low as the wood splintered, giving way to a hand flailing wildly for the doorknob. Lunging forward, you stabbed at him, burying the makeshift weapon deep into his bicep, and were rewarded with a howl of pain as the arm pulled back. You went for another piece of mirror, but the Alpha burst through the remnants of the door and sent you reeling backward off balance. All your fears quickly switched to the thought of falling on your swollen stomach, injuring the pups you carried, as you gasped and windmilled your arms. To your surprise, the Alpha intruder caught your arm before you fell, pulling you upright before dragging you back through the bedroom.

You struggled and bared your teeth, all animal now, scratching at his hands and twisting, slowing his progress until he gave you a hard shake and you felt the press of sharp nails against your abdomen as he growled.

“Quit fighting me, little bitch, or I’ll claw those pups right out of you. They’re all HYDRA really needs anyway.”

That one word stopped you still, ran ice through your veins. You and your Alpha’s worst fears come true. It echoed in your head as he hauled you out into the rest of the house, over and over, silenced only by a familiar scent that had your head snapping toward the staircase even as a huge dark figure flew up the steps... Bucky...

“Alpha!”

A wild roar erupted from him, charging the air around you with challenge and dominance. It must have startled your attacker, because you felt his grip on you loosen enough that you were able to twist free. You backed yourself into the far corner of the hallway, arms wrapped protectively around your stomach, just as your Alpha slammed into the intruder with the full force of his body and his rage.

They fought primal, bare hands and brute strength, fangs and claws, trading blows and bites and snarls as you cowered in the corner, unable to tear your eyes from the display in front of you. It called to something in you, deep in your hindbrain, sang in your blood to see Bucky, your chosen Alpha, your mate and protector, defending you from an aggressor with such unhinged ferocity. And you were too far gone in your instincts to question it. Your breath hitched at the sight of him ramming metal shoulder into his opponent’s sternum so hard it drove the man halfway through the wall in a cloud of plaster dust. The strange Alpha made one last ditch attempt to lunge, but Bucky caught him by the hair and yanked his head back with a vicious snarl before sinking fangs into the intruder’s exposed throat.

Were it any other fight, it would have been over with the challenger subdued, thoroughly dominated. But this wasn’t about dominance. It was feral rage and hatred, neutralizing a threat to his mate and offspring, a visceral warning to whomever might try to attack his own again... You were far from surprised when his teeth ripped out a chunk of flesh in a spray of deep red, letting the other Alpha fall to the floor with a heavy thud. Bucky stood triumphant over his dying enemy, chest heaving, dripping sweat from his long hair and blood from his chin, watching as the man gurgled and gasped his last breaths. Then, with a final growl, he spat blood and bits of cartilage onto the floor.

A quiet, instinctive whine escaped you, drawing his attention to you in as meek a way as possible. Eyes that once held wild anger melted when they met your gaze. Suddenly, he looked stricken, taking in the sight of you as he scrubbed his forearm across his face. His voice was strained with concern when he rumbled out “O.. Omega? ...Baby?”

“Alpha,” you breathed with relief and raised a hand toward him.

He was in front of you almost before you could move, flesh and metal hand alike cupping the sides of your belly as he bowed his head to regard you. You reached up and twisted your fingers in his hands to pull him down for an urgent kiss, purring into his mouth, letting him know you were safe, he kept you safe. Some of the tension escaped his muscles as he huffed in relief, a hand reaching up to cup one side of your neck as he scented his cheeks in the crook of the other, laved his tongue delicately along his bite scar there. After a moment, he sank to one knee to chirrup gently at your stomach, crooning and nuzzling at the answering squirm beneath his touch, neither of you caring that it smeared blood on your shirt. Neither of you caring about the torn body on the floor as you scented and soothed each other right there in the hallway; unbothered by the familiar smells and voices of his teammates clamoring up the stairs to discover the bloody aftermath of an Alpha fight for survival, the victor and his reward, his mate with their pup-round belly, awash in a renewed tide of their mingling pheromones of comfort, reassurance, relief.. love..

Thanks to @crazinessgraveyardsandcartoons for the help and inspiration last night

#okay #this ended kinda shit #but whatever #it's what you get.#thanks to Cami for the help!

78 notes · View notes

gigiree · 7 years

Text

Something borrowed

She wakes to a funny little flickering in her desk lamp. She lifts her heavy head from her textbook, her stiff neck protesting her choice to study until she fell asleep on her desk. She imagines the individual vertebrae shifting beneath skin and muscle. The cartilage stretching and compressing between the bones as she turns her head side to side, trying to relieve the ache. And yet, she remembers that she doesn't have to imagine the physiology of it. Anoma’s exposed vertebrae are hard to forget, bleached white and strangely beautiful against his rich brown skin. Speaking of which… Vivi’s realizes that her room is stiflingly quiet. The flickering in her lamp is the loudest thing, and with a quick glance, she finds that it's still dark outside and the noise is coming from a little moth flying into the light bulb over and over. “Stupid.” She tells it, but still turns the lamp so that the moth can find its way out. She looks around the room. The sleeping bag is empty, folded neatly near the foot of her bed. His pillow is stacked symmetrically on top, and she can see a square of yellow pasted exactly in the center of that pillow. Worry eats away at her gut, and she shoots up from the desk desk, letting the blanket that he had draped on her shoulders fall to the ground. She rushes to read the sticky note, fingers trembling as her wide eyes swallow up the words in the dim light. Went out for a bit. Needed some air. Goodbye. “Stupid!” She says sharply, all her grogginess fading away into the sharpness of her anxiety. She grabs her second favorite coat, the yellow one with the brown fur ringing the hood, and stuffs her feet into a pair of worn sneakers. She almost forgets her keys, but she remembers not to make too much noise so she doesn't wake Audrey. She runs all the way to the other side of the apartment complex, her lungs screaming in protest, her head still half asleep and her neck aching. Goodbye echoes in her head. A misplaced word. Something strange and ominous that twists wrongly in her stomach. It resounds in tandem with her footsteps as she careens around the corner and makes her way up the five flights of stairs to the roof top. She doesn't bother being quiet as she slams her shoulder into the door, and she stumbles out into a cold night filled with a few cold stars. She sees him, a silhouette strangely still against the night and city lights. He's got both feet on the railing, the tops of it digging into his hips as bends over the city. His gaze is cast downwards, fifteen stories down...down...down into a street with low traffic. He's on the balls of his feet, strangely buoyant, as if any second he’ll float off into the stars and escape the gravity that pulls his silver hair away from his face. She doesn't scream. Doesn't say anything. Just runs full tilt, arms outstretched as she embraces him and pulls him away. He struggles. He always does. But this time, he doesn't put up much of fight. His fingers, both fleshless and normal scrabble at her vice like grip. But she refuses to let go until they're safely tucked against the wall next to the doorway. “What were you thinking?!” She growls out, wrapping her hands around his shoulders so that she can shake him. He looks defeated again, slumping against the wall and head shaking limply like a marionette. He seems to shrink further into himself, looking impossibly smaller in her favorite green jacket. Still the worry makes her angry and she wants to cry. Frustration and confusion causing her to let him go so that she can wipe away the tears beading on her lashes. And when she opens her eyes again, sniffling, she's met with white. A white clean napkin being offered. He's trying to comfort her, but the way he holds it out to her makes it look like a white flag of surrender. She doesn't take it, instead using her sleeve to wipe away the rest of her tears. “It's borrowed. It's all borrowed.” He says quietly, his brown eye swiveling briefly to look at her and then shifting away. Only his empty socket faces her, and somehow the gaping emptiness makes her angrier. He's hiding again. He's not talking again, curling in on himself just like the wilting flowers she had to throw out of a dead patient’s room. “Why did you say goodbye? What were you trying to do? That fall wouldn't have killed you...you've already tried that.” She says bitterly, and then she feels tired. So tired and her mouth is dry, and her second favorite jacket isn't as warm as her favorite one. The one he's borrowed. “I'm sorry...I took your warmest jacket. I took your time. I took your help...I took this life. It's all borrowed.” He whispers, and his words come out strangled and hollow. There's the soft plip plop of tears, and for a moment, she thinks she's crying again. But it's him. He's the one crying, his mouth working to stifle his quiet sobs. Wordlessly, she takes the napkin he'd offered and gingerly wipes away the tears that roll into his bony crevices. She offers him a broken smile as she says- “It's okay. You can keep it.”

#Vivi and anoma #ocs

31 notes · View notes

myserie · 7 years

Text

The brute was immense, standing a head taller than Colin and nearly twice as wide. Colin grinned at him, all the while aware of the silence that had taken the tavern and the anger on the brute's face.

The first punch was clumsy, and Colin saw it coming before he ever even spoke to the man. A hard right hook that he sidestepped easily and let the momentum of the punch carry the other man forward and Colin slammed his elbow into the brute's head as it passed.

The brute crumpled to the floor, groaning until he remembered how mad he was and he scrabbled to his feet. It was pitiful, and Colin stood patiently as the man stood, giving words of encouragement to his opponent.

The man seethed and threw a second, and final punch, just as clumsy as the first. Colin stepped to the side again to avoid the blow, and then spun on his heel and delivered a devastating kick to the side of the brute's knee which broke with a sickening crunch.

The assassin's right hand snatched the brute's wrist and twisted it behind his back until the elbow locked. He gripped the brute's greasy hair with his left hand and swiftly brought his knee up as he slammed the man's face down at the same time. The blow landed directly on the brute’s nose and shattered the soft cartilage that sent blood spraying out over Colin’s knee and boot.

Colin let him go all at once, and the massive man tumbled to the floor and lay still in a growing pool of his own blood.

#original works #colin greene #fight scene #original content #my original content #oc

7 notes · View notes

glopratchet · 4 years

Text

tournament

13 tournamental : great gator egg race 14 tournamental : it's a race to see who can get the most eggs into their nest first 15 tournamental : you, as usual, are in charge of this task You and your team set off down the road towards the egg-laying spot with your luggages in tow Gator wrestle: calculate distance to gator 0 km = 1 mile 5 km = 2 miles 7 km = 4 miles Calculate distance to gator : calculate angle to gator 5 km =1 you type, thinking out how far away the gators should be Calculate angle to gator: prepare for gator wrestle Throw shoes Pray that gator is cool You look down this shouldn't be too hard The shoes were cheap, and far from sturdy; over your long walk, they had slowly started to come apart You are surounded by sharp rocks and pieces of glass Taking a deep breath, you take off your right shoe and throw it as hard as you can in the direction of the alligator's head Prepare for gator wrestle : position gator, angle gator half - handpr under its mouth grab its lower jaw push the whole head under water Gator posistion : pick what hand placement to use for handpr under the gator's mouth fingers ready to grab the upper jaw palm on the alligator's snout WordCount: You stay still for a moment, watching the creature's head carefully as it slowly starts to awaken Position gator: sprint to gator, sneak to gator, move away from gator run to its feet sneak to its back and grab its tail If the alligator is half as tired as you are, it'll sleep soundly for hours? You creep close to its head; it's asleep, but not comatose Like an expert fisher watching their fishhook, you inch your hands around its upper and lower jaws, firmly grabbing and lifting the bottom just as it starts to awake and open its jaws Angle gator: rotate right of gator, rotate left of gator grab butt of gator slowly inching back, you grab the base of its tail just as two police officers arrive at the scene inch forward and grip tail firmly, pulling to your side You shudder nervously as it begins to wake; without opening its eyes, it still knows you're there, and snaps its jaw as if to warn you away They stand, staring out at you over their pistols rotate left of gator, Sneak to gator: gator response 1-2 Two more alligator snaps Sleeping gator, snoring gator, non confrontational alligator Alligatior completely zonked out; no reaction With professional speed, they fire two shots each into the air, the booming instantly waking and enrage the 8 meter beast, who leaps towards you with a terrible roar Move away from gator : Hold still and let the creature pass Hop to the side like a goof You're hoping for a quick diversion -- you don't want to risk injury or death when you're this close to safety One, two, three, GO! With a roar of anger, the gator throws itself forward; you leap out of its way The alligator misses you by an inch or less, flying through the air at incredible speed Rotate right of gator : block the gator's snout with your foot, forcing it to loop right Too tired to jump, you drop to a knee and use your leg as a pivot The creature flies past you and out to the edge of the water Rotate left of gator: angle gator, Rotate left of gator : curve its body to fly off to the left You're forced to move left, or else the alligator is sure to splash into you but this means you have to move within range of the alligator's jaws With lightning reflexes, you twist to your left and manage to slip out of range of the alligator's mouth; with a shout, two officers move in and fire a volley of shots into the beast's head and chest Gator response : gator focus, gator unfocus alligator distraction rage responses and lunges, barely missing the group as it moves back to attack you 2 rage responses, snaps body to the side and roars in the officers' direction, finishing with snapping rage response at side of your leg You're thunder-suchlynx atAwakeDreams Hey Louis - sorry for writing this out to you instead of speaking I hope it's not a problem; I'm really sorry if it is! gator unfocus, Gator focus: gator charge attack , gator ignore you well you haven't done such a terrible job so far, it might listen to you Holding your nerve, you stand your ground; after a moment's hesitation, the beast complies and stops just before it would have slammed into you At the last second, you hold out your arm and yell "No! " At this high-intensity situation, your nerves get the better of you and you reflexively drop your arm a bit thump gator ignore you Gator focus : gator increase interest, gator flee lustful reptile eyes roll back into its head, it falls backwards into the water Taking a running start, you take a flying leap and crawl onto its back awkwardly wrapping your legs around its snout and clamping your arms over its eyes like a blindfold The beast begins to panic, blindly stumbling forward and slipping over on the sand; to your luck, you roll off either side Gator charge attack: gator attack spin gator chargeattack increase rubbing and scratching at the alligator's sides, stopping it from moving effectively Grunting, you scrabble up onto your feet and begin to furiously kick at either side of its ribcage; the alligator opens its mouth in pain, no doubt hurting itself on its own teeth The distraction gives your fellow officers the window of opportunity to aim their guns at the creature's head gator attack spin, Gator flee: jump on gator, allow escape from scene, climb on alligator "Just shoot! I've got it from here! " You yell; regrettably overconfidence gets the better of you and you lose your footing The alligator succeeds in scooping you off the ground with its tail and flinging you out of the water and onto the sandbar; the others, take the opportunity and fire a volley of shots into the creature's skull, killing it instantly allow escape from scene, Sprint to gator: jump on gator before it gets away, empty your gun towards the alligator, The shock of almost dying has brought out a burst of Adrenaline, and you're filled with a temporary courage; as the alligator approaches, you load up your gun and empty the contents directly into its face The gator gives a roar of pain and suddenly veers off to the side, collapsing onto the sandbar as the officers above fire another volley into it for good measure jump on gator before it gets away, Jump on gator : gator escape newly gained surge of energy, fearless courage The beast gives a pitiful moan, as does unwisely set foot within reach of its jaws or claws; you kneel down and begin to fire shot after shot directly into the reptile's skull until your pistol clicks empty That job finished, you stand and examine the surroundings there are three bodies on the bridge above you Gator attack spin: gator attack spin land, gator attack spin miss rushing in blindly, you go to grab the gat and knock it far away You rush forward for a moment before stopping; the creature's back legs are over the brink of the waterway You doubt you could reach its jaws, let alone make it roll over with your strength alone Gator attack spin land : gator attack spin wound gator left flipper, gator attack spin wound gator right wing, "Rab! " You bark out, "Load up a cannon with nails and cook up some more firecrackers! There's no use striking at its flank when we can just pick off its legs! gator attack spin wound gator left flipper, Gator attack spin miss : gator attack spin response gator attack spin as roll, gator attack spin response, Gator attack spin response : fly under gator, tackled gator wound , fly over gator attack spin land, Which response will you go for? time to see if your bravery has over taken your good sense Your knees buckle almost immediately as the gator lunges forward in a last ditch attempt to turn you inside out; you forego rolling out of reach and instead throw yourself onto its snout before the jaws can snap closed Fly under gator : land, gator attack spin wound , Your fingers wrap around the bottom jaws as the creature bashes its body against yours and knocks you off your feet; sinking the teeth of your own hold, you give a grunt and pull upwards with all your might The force drags the gator's head up out of the water long enough for you to wriggle out from under it Fly over gator : miss, Although you are swept up by the alligators tail, you manage to hold on with one arm for a vital few seconds By luck or design, your body lands atop the creature's head; unfortunately this also leaves you exposed to the snapping jaws of the beast Unable to tear yourself away, you instead find your legs seized and shaken several times before being cast off like a bucked horse gator attack spin miss, Tackled gator wound : tackled gator as roll, tackled gator miss, You jump atop of the alligator's back a split second before its rolls over; its heavy body knocks the wind out you, and you linger there for a moment, still gripping tightly onto the thick scales before being thrown off into the water tackled gator as roll, Tackled gator : maintain grip, control alligator mouth, elbow drop, kiss gator head , carry gator toward water, run and grab gator tail, slash and stab gator eyes Coughing up a glob of green froth, you quickly reassess the situation; your could try to leap back on top of the creature before it recovers, or you might try something else You leap forward onto the beast's snout a second time and it attempts to shake you from side to side like a bear with a fish carry gator toward water, gator neck choke, close eyes, secure hind legs, fully extend gator head back open and close gator mouth, Taking care not to slip and give the creature a chance to roll on top of you, you draw your legs up to its neck, squeeze tightly, feel for the right spot with your knee-- once there you wrench your body forward, hard The gator's entire head seem to disappear into a ligament and cartilage you couldn't normally twist with all your weight behind you fully extend gator head back, Gator elbow drop: hold gator mouth open, pull out pocket knife, slice gator tongue , A wave of basking blue and mottled neon green shoots over you as the gator smashes its entire body backward It almost succeeds in knocking you off, but you keep your place by throwing your arm forward to brace against the beast's face Elbow drop : tackled gator wound roll, tackle gator as elbow drop , Quickly snatching a hunting knife from its sheath between your MOLLE loops, you rise your arm for another try; unfortunately-- or perhaps fortunately-- the creature notices and tries to roll away, but can only move its upper body You end up planting the blade in the center of the animal's snout tackled gator wound roll, Tackled gator wound: fractured gator jaw with broken teeth grip gator tongue, lift and drop gator , Wrenching the blade around you sever the gator's entire jaw including several teeth which shoot free to splash in the water You then grip the animal's tongue in your hands and give it a sharp tug upward, lathed in blood from its ruined mouth, and release it to float in the water like a fat pink sea snake fractured gator jaw with broken teeth, Barely recovered from your injuries, you manage to drag yourself onto the bank and collapse into the shallows where you force down a handful of trail mix Finally able to move again, both at full health and energy, you scout around for the heaviest stick you can carry you heft the hefty limb and hurry forward; less than five feet away it arcs through the air and slams into the snout of the alligator with a sickening splorch It's enough to turn its body but fails to remove its head as you'd hoped-- claws ticking on stone, it charge back toward you even as you ready the club for another blow Together man and beast clash against the waters edge You stand up, your clothing muddied and blood-specked You hold in your hands battered aviator sunglasses hanging by one arm, bent gold and twisted steel There's also a lighter in the pocket of your black pants, although it was soaked through long ago The water glints just below the creaking alligator's hide with oily bubbles here and there Limping past the waters edge you push through the undergrowth, leaving the swamp behind If the seeping moisture in the air and cloying smell of rot haven't given it away already, the emerald-tinged ferns give it away: you're heading into an unknown Island jungle and this one is fearsome Black, white and red herring-bone patterned auguring wide and deep beneath the trees-- giant flowers nearly twelve feet across-- ooze a nectar which might ; (who are you kidding, will) contain powerful narcotics It's so thick and cloying it quickly coats everything it touches; insects floating on the wind inadvertently collect pollen sacs when they visit the flowers, but never return to their starting point The ferns here might be level with your waist, but that hardly makes then innocent: they have long, tough and sharp whip-like thorns under their fronds which lash out like deadly snakes to slash open the unwary explorer Thankfully they seem slow creatures somehow Fortunately there are other plants around to help you Mat spears are clutch of stems six or seven feet long which spring from a central rootstock When pulled from the ground the plant sends out long, flexible shoots which wrap around the arm and reduce blood flow to the point of incapacitating anything which holds on for to long Useful if you need the help of something with lots of hands but you only have two hands yourself so be careful! The Pollinia form oblong berries, faintly purple, which are very small and sour They don't taste too bad when mixed with other flavorings but work well to quell a slight thirst These berries grow in bunches from plants no higher than your knee The top of the stem is ridged like a worm and coated in powder which stains your hands purple for a day or so after handling

0 notes

felicezhukov · 7 years

Text

:: Dear Nicolas Jaar ::

This ones off the cuff, its raw and its unfiltered because I’ve just exited the photic zone and it was uniformly more painful than I’d anticipated, I need to reason it through in a letter to you. I’ve annexed the people that it addresses from my digital life, they probably wouldn’t read this anyway but before I start to write this I don’t want to think of them reading it, its to them, its addressed to you but its for me, these letters are always really, for me.

By the way, I’m in pain, I’m breaking up a little but I didn’t drink or smoke to mask the hurt, I let myself roll around it, I ate to much cake perhaps but I haven’t caved in to the crutches which have been the root of this to some degree.

So, After 4 weeks notice my time has finally come to an end in the mermaid kingdom, as the present has floated away I have seen in its traces the whispers of something that never really was. I never really was among the mermaids, in fact the crystal spires and culture that surrounds them is somehow built from smoke and mirrors, and more difficult than it appears, to penetrate. I left the walled garden for a false promise of emancipation, it was less heavy and less invasive than the walled garden, but it was spent careening my head towards the sky, wondering and hoping that I was being watched, feeling somehow as if these people in the sky were following me, this group I had landed in head first and then crawled away from with broken limbs, pulling myself desperately despite grievous injuries, were fascinated and reviled in coalescent streams of conscious vindication. I came face to face with a shoal, with the shoal mentality, I am an independent creature, and probably really a weirdo, I’ve written this before and I will again I’m sure. So of course the shoal rejected me and I it, in fact I didn’t as such reject it as much as feel nauseated when close to it, and therefore for self preservation avoided it as much as humanely possible.

But sometimes it would find me, in supermarkets, in my place of work.

Though this shoal also actively avoided me, in fact the shoal stopped swimming through certain parts of the mermaid kingdom, the mermaids that once adorned kelp forests suddenly stopped coming to them entirely, stopped feeding the underwater life surrounding them. And I, intuitively, possibly from paranoia, felt responsible entirely for this switch, for the empty branches that once cradled life. I felt rejected, somehow as if I was a wretched thing, diseased and contagious and ugly. The mermaid shoal did not want to be around me, but in so many instances I watched them pick up passing creatures and carry them along as well, as if I was rotten meat, the only thing in the photic zone that did not merit interest or inclusion.

My day has passed through many cycles, I was tingling with sensation as I walked to work in sunshine, over hallowed ground you once stood upon, in the park, listening to your recent boiler room mix properly for the first time and feeling every nuance of sound, the closeness of how it rolled along, in and out of divisive environments that really took me on a spiritual journey. It was the end of the world, I felt like everything was finally and absolutely coming to an end and realised in the fast bouncing steps I proceeded through that I’d be leaving the mermaids entirely, beginning a descent down to the midnight zone and the awaiting ship below. I am truly now going to be taking on the mantle of the hero, though there is no safety net below me and I don’t know what will be waiting as I move onwards, I know my capacity to handle it has expanded, I am stronger now and I will be ok.

So I cruised over the hill, in to the kelp forest, trotted out through cycles I’ve walked in so many times before. Firstly, he didn’t appear, he that is tied to a window to another world, he who was there for a brief time, caught me and threw me back in to the ocean, who exposed me to an idea he hadn’t really intended to, I saw something I haven’t seen before and when I swam back to find him the boat had gone, every day I came back to the kelp forest I hoped his boat would cast its shadow over the green leaves again, but it never did. I sat looking out, hoping, silent tears forming that gently rolled away, tears for a possibility again unrealised, for another life barely tasted and lost. I had to close his chapter today and put him back on the shelf, another loose end left untied.

Amongst those I stand next to, I have not felt the cold hand of rejection, though the one whose vision can be like cut diamond sometimes was liquid today and she dispersed away in to the waters, lost in fragments no one would be able to follow.

So then it was over, the day was my own again and my reflection informed me that the mermaid shoal would be swimming past, would be joining and finally i would be able to show them that my wounds were now healed and there was nothing to be afraid of anymore. I could finally be allowed to at least entertain the idea of not being a cast off, they would catch me amongst them and I would travel through the ocean brushing against them for a short time, feeling the strength of the shoal. And the mermaid who I had revealed my basest self to, who had been the final destination of my fall and watched my bones fracture and splinter before him, would finally forgive me for the trauma of watching cartilage sever and ligaments tear, would smile at me and address me directly, would wish me well on my journey, would walk a few steps closer to being my friend.

I ate, I played ping pong and scrabble and sat in company, they weren’t coming, they were coming, so many switches seemed to take place, in essence if they weren’t to come it wouldn’t be entirely dire straights but there was some ghostly carrot being dangled, which, because of the intimation that it would linger, kept creating a sense of loss, of lost moments again. After dinner and some others joined us, the shoal announced itself, but firstly not the entire shoal, and secondly the two aspects of it that pose the greatest ill will towards me. The one who had witnessed my crash and the one who had attempted clumsily to aim my broken falling body towards them, not realising that even in moments of plummeting there is some control in how the victim lands.

They walked straight in, I smiled, I said hello to them both individually but barely received an acknowledgment, certainly not a hello back. They stopped and hovered, apparently oblivious to me or what the night was intended for and went in to the mechanical spiel of regaling us with a tale they’d clearly been practising through the day on different elements they’d encountered. Of their incredible debauchery and what a cease and desist is, then they asked for food which was gone, then h - e , the one that has hurt me the most, asked my reflection to hand feed him from a bucket of gunge, I felt there and then suddenly a sharp polarisation taking place, the jagged edges of cruelty piercing me, the final and violent unkindness of an experience which has been bitter for many months now. Was it my last shift? Is that a good thing? FUCK YOU.

Then they left.

They didn’t say goodbye, they didn’t wish me luck in my future endeavours, they didn’t ask me what I’d be doing now, where I’d be going. I don’t know if its because they think the meat will ascend again, that its not now on a trajectory away from the mermaid kingdom, but finally, as it left the crystal spires, as it was travelling away from a mirage, a small faction of mermaids shot out at it, tried to injure it, for some reason, wanted to hurt the meat. Just like the poor baby seagull that has been limping around East village all weekend and will die without its mother who is nowhere to be found, for some reason, they wanted to make me like that seagull. That was outright cruelty, bare and naked in its malevolence, I left quickly as its aftermath rippled through me and caused violent gasps and tears to begin to form, to heal I had to leave the mermaid kingdom entirely and find my footing in fresh layers of the ocean. I almost ran home in great physically arresting waves of anguish and anger, actively resisting the desire to destroy static objects in my path and scream and tear up plants. I got home, I cried all the way, I wanted to write to you but first off I talked to an angel of mine and processed it all.

Now its all jotted down, its partly gibberish I wouldn’t really expect you to be able to follow, there isn’t really a linear narrative here, but the act of putting it out in to the world in this clunky form will enable me to sleep better tonight and wake up tomorrow ready to address a new world, where I won’t ever again be standing underneath their window wondering if they can see me.

BECAUSE FUCK THEM, FUCK THEM AND THEIR SHOAL, ALL THE OUTLYING THINGS THAT FEED THEM AND THE ARROGANCE IT BREEDS. FUCK THEM. I AM INDEPENDENT OF THEIR JUDGEMENTS AND DELIBERATE ATTEMPTS TO PUNISH ME, I AM THE SOLE PROPRIETOR OF MY HAPPINESS, I AM THE MUHRMAID SAMURAI AND A HERO. I WILL SHELTER OTHERS, I WILL WALK WITH DIGNITY, I WILL BREATH DEEP, I WILL GO WITHOUT, I WILL ACCEPT MY SUFFERING

AND I WILL STAND TALL.

This all exists against the backdrop of charlottesville and the atrocities of hate, in a time when hero’s are divided and uncertain. I hope you believe the world can be saved.

#Nicolas Jaar #nicolasjaar

0 notes