Tw: Death - Blog Posts
30. Tears
Kidd - 17 | Victoria 22
Tags specifically for this chapter:
Victoria's death
Read at A03 linked above or here below cut
Drabbles from Pocket Jack's KiKi-tober Prompt list
He knows her.
Well.. he knew her.
Kidd stares at the body, still partially buried in garbage.
Hip and Hop are quiet behind him, solemn and still.
Its bad enough someone murdered this woman. Then they brought her out to his turf and threw her away.
Like trash.
Before Kidd took over, bodies got dumps in the Heaps all the time. He'd put a stop to that years ago.
But then someone decided that they could waltz in and do as they liked. Very few had the egos for it. Only one group on the island still willing to openly disrespect him like this.
It wasn't just that it was a body. It wasn't just some poor soul that was discarded to prove a point.
But that was Victoria.
It had been four years. Last time he'd seen her she'd been so upset she'd left crying, and never looked back.
He'd never shed a tear for her leaving.
He's shedding them now.
Compo had gently taken his elbow, as if to lead him away. He jerks himself free, stumbling closer to the body.
They brutalized her, her face bloody, body broken. Her neck is broken, deep dark marks, a solid thick line left by a belt. Burned her and cut her and broke her. Stripped her bare and threw her away.
He's struggling out of his coat, tries to cover her, give her some dignity back.
"Boss," Boogie is murmuring at his side - no ... above him... as Kidd sinks to his knees. He doesn't know what to do; He can't do anything. She's already dead.
Kidd looks over the scrapyard, the Heaps, His Realm. His Domain. And none of that mattered, because Victoria is dead and nothing he's accomplished stopped it from happening. Nothing he's done will keep the next person from being thrown away by Kutsukku's undercity.
He looks to the city, taunting him, just as tall and imposing as it's been his whole life. Mocking him with things he's never allowed to have. Things it's gladly ripped away from even it own people - not because they've done something wrong - but that they've gotten in the way of the boss' games.
Kidd's going to burn it to the ground.
22. Aftermath
Kidd - 5 | Killer - 9
Tags specifically for this chapter:
Children in danger
Killer gets named
Killer's been an orphan for a long time
Kidd becomes an orphan
Baby Killer's first steps in Observation Haki
Child-Laborer!Killer
Killer running errands for the mob/bagman
lots of background death for this one, including some named oc's
Read at A03 linked above or here below cut
Drabbles from Pocket Jack's KiKi-tober Prompt list
He's too small for the good paying jobs, but he's a fast learner, and dexterous. And while mending nets and quality checking ropes doesn't make him a lot by way of coin, he's reliable and known and most of the dock masters will find something for him to do. He's become a familiar face both on the docks and in the taverns and sometimes they even left him sleep where he falls and pay him all the same.
He also stated to be trusted for other tasks - a note from a sailor to the City Boss, an envelope from the Boss back to the docks, sitting watch at a door until just the right man came around. He'd make more in those nights than he'd make in weeks of rope mending.
He'd make a name for himself that way too - when the wrong man came sniffing around. He hadn't meant to kill anyone, but the man not only refused to go away, he'd gotten physical with the little boy, not expecting much of a fight from a 6 year old. But a 6 year old with a nail studded board got the drop on him none the less, and the man woke up tangled in rope and sinking in the bay.
He wouldn't wake back up again, even if his body was pulled up, picked over for clues, dead eyes staring back at the little blond child that had gotten the better of him.
"No body messes with our little killer," the dock master had said, ruffling the boy's hair as the dead man's identity and loyalties were sniffed out.
So Killer got his name, fell in deeper with the black markets of the docks, and sometimes even got to sail on some of the ships on their shorter day voyages.
And when the inevitable happened - and once some small time Street Boss rose up to overthrow the City Boss, and throw down his sympathizers - 9 year old Killer was meant to be rounded up with them. But three years of running errands for a mob boss had taught Killer the signs to watch for - and all the best hidey-holes in the city.
He just really failed to understand the scope of such a take over. He heard the fighting outside, listened in horror as fighting turned to guns turned to explosions. In the end he'd climbed down in the water itself as the buildings and the ships started to burn, clinging to the dock pilings. It was foul, and so polluted he was afraid the sea might catch fire too. The heat would get so intense at a few times he had to dive completely under, holding his breath until he could no more, only to risk surfacing for air and diving back under again.
The fires burned for hours. The smoke would linger for days more; thick and cloying. It burned his eyes and throat and each breath hurt.
The docks were unrecognizable when he could tread no longer and lay gasping and exhausted on the stone work at the shore. The ships were gone. The wharf and piers charred down to the sea. The taverns and markets and shops no more than rubble as far as he could see. Corpses littered the streets, burned and mutilated, left to rot.
He wandered the streets - everything changed so much he didn't know where he was anymore, even if his feet did - eventually taking him back to the long time safety of Eustass' Tavern & Inn.
It too had been caught up in the fires, the Inn part completely gone, and only a scattering of the Tavern's shell still there.
"Mòr Mhàthair?" He was sure he sensed something in the smoking remains. He glanced down the street - still empty and still. "Mr. Eustass? Are you still here?"
He climbed over the smoldering wood beams that might have been part of the roof; there was definitely someone here, he could tell, but he wasn't sure who or exactly where. Worried the tavern matriarch might be trapped somewhere, Killer made his way back to where he believed the kitchens had once stood.
Sure enough, she'd been trapped. Unfortunately, Killer was far too late to do anything about it. He didn't know how to feel as he stood over her - one of so many burned mangled bodies he'd found since he thought it finally safe enough to climb out of the bay's water.
She might have been on of the few he would cry about if he had any strength left for it.
But there was still someone here...
Killer respectfully crawled past her, moving some of the rubble that had fallen against the bricks of the fireplace. Hiding in the soot bricks, covering in grime himself, was sunshine boy. He didn't look too bright now, just terrified, the only clean part of him was where his tears had been streaming down his face.
"Hey Sunshine." Killer said soothingly, pulling more rubble away so he could get closer, "You okay? Are you hurt?"
He shook his head no, but didn't move. Killer tired to move more of the debris but lacked the upper body strength, "Kid.. kiddo, you gotta come to me, okay? Can you move?"
The boy nodded, crawling forward until Killer could awkwardly pick him up. Killer started picking his way back out of the former building, whispering, "close you eyes" as they passed auntie, "keep them closed" he murmurer, when he spied Eustass' body on his way out. "It's okay... I've gotcha..."
21. Battle
Kidd - 15 (not really in this one) | Killer - 19
Tags specifically for this chapter:
Killer's side of the Break-up
How Killer got to be Boss
I kill some OC's again
Kidd is talked about a little but is not present for this one
Killer isn't really a main player either until the end
another blink-and-you-miss-it future!crew cameo
Read at A03 linked above or here below cut
Drabbles from Pocket Jack's KiKi-tober Prompt list
Boss Athair may not have time to form an opinion of the Heaps recruit that called himself Killer, but his right hand man certainly does. A man of few words, Ceannard is old enough to be retiring form this whole business, but his loyalty to his Boss means he won't do so without someone trust worthy to take his place.
He's got many a men who make good soldiers, very few that will make good leaders. And even fewer capable of advising a leader.
Solider Brathadair is none of these things, but he'd been at Athair's side longer than anyone, and Athair treats him like a son. Solider Killer is all of these things, but is nothing more then 'Boy' to the Boss. It's maddening to Ceannard - seniority overshadowing all else. Athair claims to trust Ceannard in all things, but here is the impasse they have stalemated on.
Athair wants Ceannard to train up Brathadair to replace him. Ceannard has been working with Solider Boy for almost three years now and last fall even got him to swear fidelity to Athair and become a made-man. Ceannard knows who the better choice would be; Athair thinks Boy's ties to the new Heaps Boss is a liability, Ceannard sees it as proof that Killer has a good head on his shoulders, and could be a very good tool to have with negotiating, he just needs some refining.
The Heap's Boss is wild and impulsive, and the crew he's gathering have no restraint or etiquette. But he could be a strong ally, and Athair needs one after things fell apart with the young upstarts that have taken charge of the west and south parts of the city. Athair is the old man on the block, and the only one still pretending to respect him in the Big Boss in the City, and Ceannard knows it's only a matter of time before that becomes it's own fiasco.
<><><>
He just wasn't expecting it to happen so soon, a hail of bullets ripping though the hall. Not many are afforded the luxury of fire arms - and Ceannard would very much like to know what finally caused their last ally to turn on them, and how they got this far with no alarm being raised.
"Soliders!" he's ordering them into position; his men armed with sword and daggers, against unknown numbers with guns and fire - if he had to guess based on the smoke starting to come in though the door. He and Brathadir will fall back to cover the Boss; The rest will likely die here, but hopefully give them time to move.
His next order never leaves his lungs, Ceannard gasping as the air is driven from his body by the blade driven through his back. Athair looks back at him stunned, horrified at the blood now falling to Ceannard's feet. Behind them the soldiers have engaged with the intruders, back to them, unable to see him falter. Athair falls forward on his own accord to catch his man before Ceannard hit the floor, the Boy was kneeling next to Athair and Ceannard, post forgotten as he tried to help Athair stem the bleeding.
It was a hollow endeavour. Ceannard knew it. Athair knew it. Solider Boy likely did too, but it didn't stop him from trying to keep his mentor from bleeding out.
"Brathadair!" Boss Athair summoned, looking for his senior soldier for backup in the unfolding chaos.
"Boss..." Solider Boy whispered, drawing his attention back. Athair watched his oldest friend slip away in his arms, numb. But that's not what the young man was drawing his attention to.
No, he was looking at the blade still sticking form Ceannard's back, a familiar hilt in the hazy light. Athair knows this blade to well - a gift from his own hand to Brathadair. His face is unguarded for a precious moment, disbelieving the man he called son would take the life of his dearest friend. He grabs a fistful of the mask Boy wears over his face - he'd mocked him for that Athair recalls, but it's working well for him in the thickening smoke - and pulls him close enough to glare into those ice blue eyes - "Solider - You find the man coward enough to stab my partner in the back, and you end him. You massacre everyone of those men if you have to, but the man who did this dies today."
"Yes Sir."
<><><>
When the dust does clear, there are clear losers. Ceannard is dead. Most of his men are dead. Brathadair is dead, along with the turncoats who allied with him.
Somewhere in the chaos, Athair took a bullet to the face. Killer's not sure why, the man never really liked him after all, but he still moves the corpse over to Ceannard.
Only one other Solider made it as far as Killer can tell, and even though he's a head taller than Killer, he still some how manages to look up at Killer for directions. He's as pale as Kidd, with a lost look to him, his dark blue frazzled hair sticking out erratically to complete the distressed nervous energy coming off him.
He stands there, looking over Killer, and then their fallen Boss, and their commander. "Now what do we do, Boss?"
18. Trust
Kidd - 12 | Killer - 16
Tags specifically for this chapter:
Children in danger
Killer lives up to his name
Kidd makes Killer's dating life complicated
Kidd devils fruit
he's getting better with it
but it draws unwanted attention
Read at A03 linked above or here below cut
Drabbles from Pocket Jack's KiKi-tober Prompt list
Kidd was getting better at the smaller things, easily convincing the deadbolt to open for him in the grey afternoon, clouds overhead repeating another day of cold autumn rain. 'Talking to locks' as Killer called it, and there was no way Kidd was going to tell him it was more like singing.
His devil fruit was absurdly loud, all of the time, and everything demanding his attention like ostentatious exotic birds; their songs fighting for his attention at all hours. Most of the time his usage of his abilities was just going, 'Okay sure,' and just -attracting- or -repelling- everything in mass. Which was a great offense/defense kind of move, but didn't work for shit if Killer was standing next to him; his poor friend caught in friendly fire more than hurt by their pursuers these days.
It made Killer extremely paranoid when ever he did, and Kidd's not so sure it has anything to do with any sense of self preservation in the teenager. If Kidd uses his ability, Killer does not leave witnesses.
There had been a boy recently, one that had been nice to them, and while Kidd hasn't really felt any which way about him, he knew Killer liked him. A lot. Caught them making out once after Killer thought he'd gone to sleep.
...
Caught Killer crying over him when a group of thugs hadn't liked them squatting in their turf, and a fight broke out. Kidd had ended up killing a few of them by -repelling- an entire dumpster at them; and it was pretty obvious he'd done it, because he'd yelled it when he'd done so.
It had made it so much easier, calling it out like that. The exhale of sound and breath, and then the metal had moved like an afterthought, no convincing required.
Any joy in him figuring out such a trick was lost though when he turned to his two companions.
Killer looked at him heartbroken.
Kidd thought the other boy might be uneasy, scared... but no. No one had ever looked at Kidd like that before. Hungry. Greedy. And then with a blink his face was casual, forced jovial before nothing at all as Killer stabbed him in the back, once, twice, three times, aiming up under his ribs for the lungs.
Half a life time ago, Killer had told him not to let anyone know he'd eaten a devil fruit. At 12, Kidd is haunted by The Boy's face - and he's just The Boy, Kidd refuses to remember the name of anyone who looked at him like that - and vows that one day, he'd get to so powerful with his abilities that people look at him in fear instead. No one will even look at Eustass Kidd like he's an easy payday. And he's going to be strong enough that Killer doesn't have to kill his boyfriends to protect Kidd.
If the dead bolt is in place, then Killer is already home. While the other boy is crafty enough to jimmy open most locks given time, he's certainly not skilled or patient enough to try and get them locked back up when he leaves. Kidd does because it's easy enough for him, and lowers the chances of an opportunist slipping in and running off with their stuff.
It's not a lot of stuff; and never anything worth much. Killer thinks its bad luck to keep that nearby, like it's inviting danger, and Kidd likes to joke Killer was a pirate in a past life, the way he buries his treasures all over the place.
"Jokes on you then," Killer would tease back, "because I don't leave maps with 'x's' on them for you to find."
A very long time ago, faces Kidd can't remember used to sing songs about Roger and Pirates and he has vague memories of someone trying to explain log posts to him. "The pirate king uses a log post, not maps," Kidd had teased Killer back, and he'd let the island sing to him until he'd lead Killer right to one of his hidden caches.
And then to another one
And another one
"Good thing i trust you not to rob me blind," Killer had joked, but his voice was coloured in a kind of awed pride in Kidd.
Killer doesn't trust many people these days; he certainly hasn't brought another boy around Kidd since. He won't even show Victoria where they live right now; Killer rarely brought girls over to start with - most girls don't want to hang out with the two of them in whatever place they've shacked up in at any given time. But Victoria was at least judgemental in away that feels teasing instead of cruel. Not of the ruthless criticisms that barbed other girls' tongues.
Kidd adores Victoria, he loves hanging out with her, but even he's afraid now that he might slip up and show her. He's terrified one day she'll look at him they way that boy had, ready to turn on him for a coin.
...
He's afraid one day, Killer will have to choose between Victoria or Kidd.
And he's afraid of what either answer would mean.
Read Below cut or on A03
Drabbles from Pocket Jack's KiKi-tober Prompt list
"Well, this a fine mess you've gotten us into."
Killer groaned, head pounding as the world slowly came back into focus. Kidd's bitching was like a nail repeatedly being hammered into his skull. Killer made to shove him away only to stop short when his arm refused to move. "wha...?"
Kidd stopped his squirming, listening quietly, "Kil? Are you back?"
Killer blinked rabidly but his vision remained hazy.
"Killer?"
"Kidd? Whazzit gon' on? Why can'i move?"
He could at least feel Kidd moving behind him now, the boy's voice gentle in way that made Killer nervous. "We got ambushed, remember? Breaking in to the warehouses on the west side? I think you took a bat to the head..."
Killer did not remember any of that, but he trusted Kidd wouldn't bullshit him on something like this. There was a weight against the back of his head, the rough band of Kidd's goggles catching his hair as Kidd leaned back against him for a moment with a sigh.
"It's not an ambush if you break into our place." a voice drawled, and Kidd twisted around to try and see who was talking. Killer's head fell back against his shoulder once Kidd's head wasn't there to support it, and Kidd glared at the man strolling out of the shadows, a little pathetic entourage flanking him.
The small time gang boss lorded over them, looking less pleased at having captured the two of them and more just annoyed that his day had been interrupted by a couple snot nose punk kids. He grabbed a fist full of Killer's hair and jerked the teen upright, but looked to Kidd when the younger boy snarled at him for his audacity in touching his partner.
That made the man laugh, sneering down at the red head as he let go of Killer's head roughly, chucking darkly as the sounds of their skulls bouncing off each other thudded dimly in the damp warehouse air. Killer blinked the stars from the corners of his vision as Kidd started yelling and cursing the man in outrage.
Killer then became aware of Kidd's small hands pressing into his palms, and he held them back only to notice the rough ends of rope being passed to him ... the ends of the rope that had been used on his own wrists. Killer tested the restraints; sure enough they'd only just been tied down once at the wrists.
Amateurs. It was almost embarrassing to have been captured like so, but at least Kidd had seen to that. Now Killer just bid his time.
His head was still swimming, the voices sounding more like what he figured bagpipes must sound like underwater, but he recognized Kidd's voice, antagonistic as always. Killer couldn't help but smirk. One of Kidd's best qualities, he mussed. The ability to annoy anyone stupid given enough time.
The dark outline of this little group's head boss got larger, moving to tower over them once more. Killer hung his head, letting himself go lax and unassuming, the unknotted rope sliding away. He pressed his hand one last time to Kidd's for good luck.
And then he was lurching forward, fists flying, launching himself at the man. There was yelling, and the man had Killer's fists in his own, grinning like he thought he'd won something. Killer only grinned back, feral look to him that wiped the man's grin away in a flash as the man realized he may have made a mistake.
Then Killer went for the jugular. Literally; teeth clamping around the man's unguarded throat. The man was screaming, his minions were screaming, Kidd was free and using his chair as a club to keep them off Killer's back.
Killer was snarling around a mouthful of blood, every attempt to dislodge him just doing more damage. The gang boss finally let go of his left hand, punching wildly at Killer's side and head, grasping at his hair again. Killer breathed heavily though his nose, refusing to stop biting and begun hitting back with short jabs aiming for the kidneys.
Behind him, Kidd eyed the last few stragglers warily as they stuck well out of his swinging range. He wasn't willing to turn his back on them just yet, no matter how much he wanted to check on Killer. The little gang boss had stopped screaming, but they was still the sounds of grappling behind him. And then there was a heavy wet thump of a body falling.
"Killer?"
The teen staggered over to stand next to him, panting wetly. Kidd glanced over to see Killer drenched in blood, wiping it haphazardly from his mouth. The red was splattered across his cheeks, his arms, running down his throat and his shirt. Dripping from his bangs and chin.
With a grin, Kidd turned back to the lackeys who were looking between the two boys and weighing their options. Kidd was almost sad to see them turn tail and flee. He tossed the chair aside with a clattering echoing thunk, looking sheepishly back at Killer when the noise had him wincing.
"How's your head?" Kidd asked, picking at the wet frayed edges of Killer's shirt. It was probably ruined now. Kidd wasn't sure they'd be getting all that blood out. Though, it was pretty gnarly looking - maybe they should keep it just for that. Killer did look great in red, Kidd thought idly as the teen answered his question with a shrug.
losing your soul wasn't as insane a thought for gabriela, she had done it in a heartbeat after he sister overdosed. so if anyone was not going to make elena feel bad about the trade, it was her demon best friend. yet, it was always shocking to see a person without their soul. especially for someone like elena gilbert, the woman had been a shining example of a mother and friend for gabi, as she got used to having a soul and a family. the demon had already gotten in contact with vincent griffith, hoping that he still held the spell that helped gabi and tyler get her soul back from arcadius. their eyes followed as elena let loose and appeared to be having genuine fun. a small smile grew on their lips as they walked to approach the other, hoping that whatever had lightened the mood would help with the encounter.
"elena, hey!" their smile turned to confusion as their friend simply starred, as if every word that came out of gabi's mouth was utter gibberish. scanning her friends face, it became very apparent what was happening, seeing her kids coming home with the same look in their teens. shaking her head, the demon placed a hand on the others shoulder. "i was just saying hi, sorry i haven't come by recently with the kids and tyler...it's just been a lot."
open to all ! location: paradigm gardens event 002: lighting of the solstice trigger warnings: drug use @inaducursehqstarters
After much encouragement from her niece, Elena Gilbert made her way across the street to the lighting of the solstice. The bonfire raged large and hot and friendly faces mingled about. Anyone who hadn't heard the news of her missing soul was likely expecting the typically bright and bubbly human. However, both those who had heard the news and those who hadn't would be sorely disappointed in the woman who arrived at the event.
Along with her encouragement, the Gilbert niece had also provided one very chocolately brownie with the good stuff, as she'd called it. She'd failed to mention, however, that the good stuff was also the powerful stuff.
Which was why legendary Elena Gilbert had come out to play. Her body felt loose, and she wanted to dance, despite being far away from where the music was actually happening. With a red solo cup in one hand and her phone in the other, she felt like a teen hanging out by the falls all over again.
When the person in front of her said something that she didn't catch, the soulless human blinked rapidly. "I'm so sorry," she said. "Were you talking to me?" How long had they been there? She'd just been enjoying the different colors of the raging bonfire, lost in the tornado of thoughts that was her brain. And if she blinked, which again, she'd just done rapidly, it felt like watching television and skipping a few frames. But she blinked again in attempt to compose herself, and put on a smile before taking a sip of the drink she definitely remembered pouring for herself.
there was really no rhyme or reason as to how eleanor ended up at the brewery. maybe it was noise of busy people? someone is bound to help you in a crowd right? or at least that was what the tired girl had hoped. everything was fuzzy and hard to process, so she just followed the sound, shielding her face as the bright lights beamed from the building. dusting herself off, she finally realized that she was in the clothes her family buried her in. a black v-neck sundress and matching ballet shoes. while the only thing to identify her, was the dainty gold chain the read her name in cursive, nikolas gave it to her the night she died.
she was shaken out of her daze by a voice calling her way, looking up with a confused grin, she then pointed to herself to confirm. he sounded kind and there was water at the table, oh how long it had been since she had water. so she found herself skipping over to the empty seat, nodding her head at his question before grabbing the pitcher of water and gulping it down. it felt as if she her whole body lacked oxygen and liquid, causing her muscles to feel tense and strained. after a few seconds, ellie placed the now half empty pitcher on the table. her cheeks turning red as she realized what she had just done in front of everyone.
"oh my god, you'd think being newly dead was embarrassing but this really tops it." she admitted quietly, hoping only the person next to her could hear, while the crowd that glared only saw a nervous smile.
status : open. location : parleaux beer lab, before sunset. tags : @inaducursehqstarters
kilian sits comfortably under one of the weathered canopies just outside the parleaux beer lab, a hazy ipa sweating on the table in front of him. his fingers are coated in black from the charcoal pinched between them, sketching under the glow of the setting sun. lost in his craft, he finds some semblance of peace despite the subject of his sudden artistic inspiration. the details of the shaded drawing capture the intricate features of his best friend, lost in the fire that took their lives. they'd spend their friday evenings at breweries like this, decompressing after a long week of classes and enjoying the company of their closest friends. it was time taken for granted, so now he basks in every moment. relishing in each sip of his drink, recalling memories of laughter and deep conversations, and growing stronger in their bond with one another. now, the table is silent and only one of them remains to carry on the tradition. almost like clockwork and eager for a distraction from his grief, he spots the other step out of the brewery. a smile pulls at his lips and urges him to wave them over, setting aside his sketchbook and wiping his hands as clean as the napkins allowed. " hey ! are you meeting someone here ? 'cause i could use some company if you're not. " kilian says with confidence, before motioning to a seat at his table and leaning a tad closer to them, his tone taking a more playful turn, " besides, i'm getting pitiful stares from the other patrons here for drinking alone. if anything, i'm making it look cool . . . right ? "
it felt as if just moments ago, she was bracing for impact of a crash and then, she was lying in a coffin six feet under the ground. it took every ounce of her strength to get out of the situation and even though she managed to do it, it was obvious that eleanor had dissociated long ago. there was only one thing on her mind, nikolas. the walk was long and every inch of her body ached as she walked the streets of the french quarter. knowing each turn to make her way to their apartment. no questions went through her brain just yet, still using everything left in her to get back to him.
the door was open, something she didn't expect but it allowed her to breathe easier. as it swung forward, ellie wasn't actually sure what she expected. the whole time her mind hadn't processed what had just happened. the desperation as she clawed her way out of the ground. once she saw him that feeling seemed to vanish, her whole body grew white hot. cheeks flushing as her chest flooded with sadness and joy. "nikolas?" her voice was meek before she ran to him, placing her palms against his stubbly cheeks. "how long has it been?" it was all she could ask, but other questions ran through her mind. he looked so different, his eyes sadder and it caused an ache to ring through her bones.
↷ closed ╳ @iknowthvnd ( eleanor hildegard ) ↷ muse playing ╳ nikolas mikaelson ↷ location ╳ french quarters ( their old apartment) ↷ plot ╳ nikolas finds out that his fiance came back from the dead
nikolas had gone to the apartment he had shared with his fiance before she was killed in the car accidental . after speaking to his sister , faith , he had concluded that it was time for him to follow through with turning off his emotions . what good were feelings when he could no longer feel her , he thought . nikolas stood in their old apartment and took one last look at the place he had felt the most joy . he had left everything the way she had left it before she died . the tribrid braced himself before looking down at the engagement ring he had given eleanor . he closed the ring in his hand as he closed his eyes and started willing his emotions away . however , the process was interrupted by a noise . he had heard someone at the door of his apartment , the door moving slowly opened and there she was . nikolas had saw elle standing there in the doorway as if she had never left . the sandy blonde stood puzzled , assuming that he was hallucinating .
"first of all, gross didn't need to know that..." josie quipped at her brother before tilting her head, a smirk covering her lips before letting out a giggle. "second of all, i am your sister and you should be nicer to me." there were only a few people who understood the loss that she went through, something she hated to see him experience. the two of them often found comfort in each others grief, spending late nights watching movies and cooking dinners when the giant house was empty. "i don't need anything by the way, just wanted to see what you what your plans were for the night. maybe we could watch some horror movies?"
since the merge, the siphoner spent time either at work or with family. not being able to put energy into any thing else. nikolas never harped on that when with her and so she began to spend a lot of time with him.
↷ open ╳ f/m/nb ↷ muse playing ╳ nikolas mikaelson ↷ location ╳ french quarter ( klaus & caroline's home ) ↷ plots ╳ utp
" mom and dad are probably off having a rendezvous ; what do you need ? " nikolas asked as he placed a few dishes into the dishwasher . nikolas didn't live with his parents but going to his home wasn't an option for him . not after what happened to his fiance . nevertheless , he placed the glass pieces in the dishwasher one by one . nikolas was much like his father , in some ways he could be careless, short-tempered , manipulative and unreasonable, but he had his father's good traits too . he could be loving and kind . and like his mother he could be extremely loyal . but on other days like his mother he would stress clean when he was trying to avoid something.
merle: bad born
muchnne: bad born
merle: fucking black
michonne: fucking white
merle: silly
Michonne: Dumb
Merle: kiss me
Michonne kisses him and slaps him for yelling at her.
Daryl who was in the room going to look for Merle just looking at what is happening without believing it.
Andrea: What the hell did I just see?
Rick: I don't know but I don't like him.
Daryl: They changed my brother, that's not Merle.
Something is wrong. I don’t know what it is, but I don’t get sad when people die. When I was nine, my neighbor, who I had known practically my whole life at that point and was like a second grandpa, died and I forced myself to cry because that’s what I thought people did when someone dies. Two years ago my cousin, who was more like an uncle to me, died and I didn’t cry because I physically can’t force myself cry anymore. Believe me, I’ve tried. Last year, my rabbit died and my mom cried, but I didn’t. That’s just a few. I don’t feel sad when people or pets die. I don’t feel...anything really. Why?
bury me with my money
Bury me with acorns,
Don't bury me in a box.
If you must, bury me in
A shroud of cotton.
Bury me in a simple shift
Don't bury me in a suit;
My rising will not be a formal affair.
Don't wear your best to
See me off.
Wear what you can get dirty.
You'll be spreading the mulch
On my gravesite.
Bury me with grave goods,
So if I am discovered by
Archeologists someday,
They will know I was loved.
Bury me with flowers,
But don't bury me with fresh roses.
Nay, plant on me perennials,
So you can still see me every year.
Finally, bury me with a stone marker,
But don't spend a fortune.
Carve for me the name I chose,
No matter what others may call me.
Bury me under sturdy granite,
So I can yet leave my mark
On something set for years.
While you may not see me,
These marks will be my gift to you.
Bury me with my money,
But the riches of the things I hold
Most dear.
Thank you for the tag~ Please tell me more about/show me more of How not to be an immortal 101 with Oikawa Tooru! It sounds super fun! ^o^
ahshs okay, so I need to see that I don't start rambling about that one XD It's an IwaOi spin-off to my TsukkiYama Urban Fanstasy University AU. Also mini TW for gore and death to be safe.
Essentially Oikawa was born during the Copper Age, though his tribe is betrayed and he gets murdered on his wedding night by his own fiancé. But because Oikawa is Oikawa he refuses to accept his death and resurrects himself out of sheer pettiness, ending up as an undead spirit of vengeance who feeds on the hearts of the living. Queue to Oikawa just... stumbling through history and finding himself in all kinds of places until he meets a half-dragon hatchling (Iwa) and due to a lack of alternatives decides to start life over (again).
Result: Oikawa Tooru, accidentally immortal, Mayan deity, bane of the Roman Empire, inventor of the great pyramids and parttime Oracle of Delphi, follows his boyfriend to university to study architecture and discovers that his entire life experience of ~8k years is practically useless. Because none of it could have prepared him for dealing with a creative slump on his design assignment, Ushijima following him around campus and pestering him to join Shiratorizawa fraternity and Hanamaki continuously stealing his glasses because he's too lazy to go buy his own pair.
So long things short ~ lots of uni shenanigans and Seijoh 4 being dorks, with a good pinch of yee old angst and relationship drama + some urban fantasy magic and mystery spice 👀