#then a persistent ear infection that made me deaf in one ear | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

chipper-smol · 3 years

Text

Vanilla 2 Chain

Prompt: Hollow experiences phantom limb syndrome

is more angst time

( https://twitter.com/Perfidy19 )

Nothing lasts forever.

That was the last lesson the Hollow Knight received from their father upon being sealed away in the Black Egg Temple.

Nothing lasts. Not Hallownest. Not the Radiance. Not Father.

Not even the Void, as they had discovered during the time they were sealed away, watching as the Infection searing within their arm at last tore away the final, stretched strands. A silent snap, and the detached limb fell to the floor, sinking into the ground in a pool of writhing ink.

It was then that they had realised, finally, the irony of their predicament, the stump left behind burning with the searing rage of the Old Light.

If even the all encompassing Void did not last, then Hallownest’s perpetuation was truly an impossible wish.

They lamented the irony of it all once again, now as they sat hunched over in their current resting spot, in the corner of an abandoned village home. Ironic, how the very one who had wished the most fervently for an eternal kingdom, would also be the one to teach them the inevitability of the end.

The stump where the Infection had once burned now throbbed.

Yes. Nothing lasts forever. Not even the knowledge that they had once believed timeless meant much in the end. The court manners? Hallownest’s upper class was dead, rules hardly mattered anymore. The training their father, the Pale King, had bestowed upon them? Pointless. They barely even had the strength to stand up. The only, right way to deal with the Infection?

Clearly, that information had been wrong from the start, seeing as how their rejected sibling had found another way to do away with it entirely, while they had only managed to buy time.

“Do you want something to eat, Hollow?”

They raised their head at the sound. Hornet scuttled in through the door, her needle clenched in her fist, a bundle of… something wedged under her arm.

“I did not know what your preference was,” she tipped the contents of the bundle onto the floor. Two speared tiktiks and some baby gruzzers rolled onto a bed of dried nuts and grass. “So I brought a bit of everything. But the gruzzers need some treatment before they can be eaten, so-“

Hollow listened as she talked, her bustling, business-like manner reminding them strongly of the late Queen of Deepnest. Hornet had changed since they had last seen her. No longer the scampering grub that they remembered, she had grown up into a fine hunter, perfectly capable of defending herself.

To think that she had once been no taller than the hilt of their nail, wielding a toy needle made of shellwood. It had been amusing to watch her run around the White Palace, full of energy and free from the stiff formalities of the Royal Retainers around her.

Endearing. Inquisitive. A bit of a troublemaker, but her mischief never put anyone in harm's way. They fondly recalled the days when she would take their nail and attempt to swing it around in the same fashion as the Great Nailsage, her little legs teetering under its weight.

Father had never liked when she did that. While Mother merely watched in amusement, he would personally confiscate the nail, then proceed to sternly lecture her on the dangers of sharp, metal objects. Not that she listened.

Father had not liked it either when Hollow was about to learn the way of the nail. Clumsy, he had called them. Without a mind, he claimed, it would be difficult to teach them to properly balance and swing the weapon, let alone fight with it.

And he had been right too. A long time they had spent practicing alone in secret, repeatedly thrashing the heavy training nail up and down, up and down all through the night, trying to imitate the way the Great Knight Dryya had done it.

Up and down, up and down, the weight of the training nail dragging heavy on their arms, the pain of lifting it twisting at their spell hand, the strain tearing through their shell, through their Void, through the bright, bright orange light that-

“-can you even eat?”

Hollow twitched in surprise, shaking their head clear of the pained haze originating from the stump of their arm.

“No? Well…” Hornet stared down disappointed at the small pile of food she had collected for them. “I suppose I’d never seen the little ghost eat before.”

The look of hurriedly concealed distress on her face was familiar, and made them feel ashamed of worrying her. They raised their a- ... their other arm from where it had been resting on their nail, and picked up one of the nuts. Delicately, they pretended to nibble on it, then hid it away within the Void inside their shell.

Hornet visibly brightened up.

“Oh! So you can. I was worried for a moment there. I’ll go get some more supplies, make this place more comfortable. Then, once you’re well and rested, we shall find a way up the well for a more permanent residence.”

Hollow nodded, then slumped back into their thoughts as Hornet ran out the door.

Thoughts. It was frightening to think that they had been… well, thinking, this whole time despite trying their best to stay empty. The one expectation from their father had had towards them had been simple. Do not think. Yet the act of thinking had become so natural to them that the idea of not thinking had become a notion in itself.

Perhaps that was why their sibling had succeeded where they had failed. They had not been empty enough, not pure enough. Where the Radiance’s angry cries should have fallen on deaf ears, they had instead listened, endured, resisted.

And then when she noticed, oh, she had been so very angry.

And so very pleased.

They could almost see it now, the glaring orange dreamscape blazing with her ancient fury. The floating pavilions bathed in flames, the endless fall through the burning sky. Her booming voice screaming down at them from above, echoing through the infinitely stretching space. Cursing them for all the things their Father did, and Hallownest did, and the moth tribe did.

Through the burning hellscape, her cold, glaring eyes stared right into them, chilling like ice, bright like the lighthouse down in the Abyss. Her eyes shone such cold, piercing light into them, through them, exposing them and their falseness.

I WILL NOT BE FORGOTTEN.

They lifted their arm to fight back, to chase her away. They conjured glowing daggers at their fingertips and thr- no, they didn’t throw the daggers. They tried again, but they couldn’t throw the daggers, the daggers were still there, at their fingertips, in their fingertips. They were right there, building up soul energy focused into their hand, but they couldn’t let go, and it was there, building up, that searing white bubbling to molten orange and burning and burning right up to their shoulder and the world was burning and they were burning a-

“Hollow?”

They were once again torn away from their thoughts and the pain in their stump by Hornet gently shaking their arm (Their sword arm. Their spell arm was still gone. Still gone yet it was still there hurting, but it was gone).

She was worried now, that was bad. How did she know, when they had never uttered a word, had never been able to utter a word? Their mask was still expressionless… perhaps their body language? They realised that they had been shaking this whole time. Simply distracted from that fact by the persistent, burning throb in their shoulder.

They dipped their head. How shameful. To think that they used to be able to wait through days of longing for Mother and Father’s company, without displaying signs of being anything but empty. To be able to continue through their training under a facade of normalcy, despite their mask being on the verge of cracking. They had been able to endure years of the Radiance’s torment, all her terrible dreams and her screaming voice.

Yet now? It was just a lost arm, an old wound nonetheless, but it was already tearing them apart to the point of showing such a weakened side of them.

“You seem upset,” Hornet’s voice was gentle, a tone that they had not heard in a long time. “Are you alright?”

They began to shake their head, then nodded. Then slumped over.

“Yes? No? I don’t know?” Hornet sighed. Then, to their surprise, came to sit down next to them. “Are you lost?”

A sigh.

“I certainly feel lost, Hollow. Hallownest was gone. Now so is the Infection. And the little ghost, I… I can’t find them anywhere.”

Hesitantly, they patted her back.

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to do anymore.”

Me neither.

A moment of silence. Then she glanced up.

“But you’re back.”

Hollow tilted their head.

“And that’s good, isn’t it?

Nothing lasts forever.

“You’re not the Pure Vessel, and I’m not the Princess of Deepnest.”

Not Hallownest.

“You don’t have to contain the Radiance anymore.”

Not the Radiance.

Her voice turned shaky.

“I don’t have to… put our siblings to rest anymore.”

Not… Father.

“We can do whatever we want.”

Nor the mindlessness of Void.

...

But none of that really mattered in the end, did it?

“That’s right. It’s alright. It hurts. All of it hurts, but...”

Hornet smiled, and put a hand on their shoulder. For a moment, it did not hurt quite so much anymore.

“We’ll work this out together, won’t we?”

( @hawaiianbabidoll )

( @alaska-ren )

Falling. Flawed. Forsaken. Forgotten. And that sickening, sweet glow of orange.

They deserved this punishment. Every damn second of this madness. It is their sin, it is their lie that caused all this. If they had come to their father and confessed, they would die. But death was a much better fate than this.

The irony. Their end was much like their other siblings’. Falling, eternal, until the inevitable crash.

They only wanted to save their father’s kingdom. Only wanted to make them all proud. Only wanted to be who they were supposed to be.

A failure.

It’s a sea. A constant sea of faces and expectations, with two becoming larger and larger as the years passed.

One pale shining light crowned with horns. One small shell with betrayed, black eyes.

It’s their fault. Gods, it’s their fault. It’s their fault they deserve this it hurts father pleaseithurtsIdon’twantthishelphelpfaultmyfaultmYFAULTIT’SMYFAULTFATHERIT’SMINEF ATHERFATHER F A T H E R

End Me

Fathe-

The Hollow Knight shot forward and reached for their nail, only finding a warm hand holding their wrist. Flowing, gentle red filled their vision and the warm hand placed theirs back on their lap.

“Sibling,” Hornet called out again, softer this time. “You’ve been dreaming.”

Hollow lowered their head, the void inside them pulsing and making their shell cold and trembling. Hornet hesitated, and with Hollow’s nod, sat beside them. Hollow stayed still, and would have placed a calm air if they could ever do it again at all. They had no more need to hide, so why...

“Sibling!”

“Troubled mind?” Hollow huffed and looked away when Hornet chuckled. “Care to let me in?”

My mind is a dark place, sister. I do not want you to be here.

Hornet’s eyes softened before crossing her legs and hugging her knees close. “Silent as ever, sibling.” The wind crawling through the dark caverns served as her only response.

“Do you regret this? All of this?” Hollow twisted their head and their wide eyes met tired ones. Their chest squeezed in anguish, sorrow, and grief. They were not the only casualty in this war between gods. They copied Hornet’s pose, and placed their head on their only arm.

... There are many things I wish I had done, but if I were given the choice to sacrifice myself once more for our future, I would do so in a heartbeat.

Perhaps it was their shared wyrm parentage, or their bond as siblings, or just pure intuition, but Hornet more than felt Hollow’s unspoken reply. “Oh, no,” she chuckled and shook her head, “No, no, no, I won’t let you do it again.” Hornet turned her body and fully faced the sibling she grew up with for so many years. “You will not sacrifice yourself again. Not to me. Not to any of us. Not to yourself.”

Hornet stayed quiet, eyes never leaving Hollow’s lowered head. Hollow didn’t have the energy to look at her anymore, to even lift their hand anymore. Both Hornet and they were born for a purpose. With that purpose stripped away, what are they?

“We were both children, sibling,” Hornet’s words carved through the silence, and struck right into Hollow’s soul. “Children are not meant to carry something as heavy as... this.”

“It is much easier to disappear, isn’t it?” Hollow’s eyes rose to look at Hornet’s cloak, too tired to look her in the eyes. They nodded, it is easier. If they disappeared, they wouldn’t think, wouldn’t feel. They’d be so much closer to being ‘pure’.

“You know, when you were sealed in the egg, when you disappeared... When... my mother disappeared,” Hollow swallowed a lump in their throat when a tiny crack shattered Hornet’s voice. She stopped her words and looked away. Hollow watched as she swiped at her eyes and took in deep breaths.

“I have watched this kingdom grow, fall, and die. I stayed when everyone left. I could have chosen to disappear as well, it would be so easy.”

“But that is not what it means to live.” Hornet moved and placed herself in front of Hollow, her red cloak billowing around her.

“Hollow, I want you to live.”

I do not know how.

Hollow’s silence was disturbed by the rustling of fabric. They watched as Hornet dusted herself off and in moments looked as the Princess Protector of Hallownest she always was.

“Then, do you think you can walk with me, sibling?”

The tilt of her head and bright determined eyes took hold of something in Hollow’s chest. Something warm.

I think... I can walk with you, sister.

Hornet stood and offered her hand, “Together?”

Together.

( @snakeyarts )

( @nonbinary-ghost )

Hornet let out an almost imperceptible sigh as they reached the hot springs, the damp air warm against her shell. The journey from the Black Egg Temple to the Crossroad’s Hot Springs was not a long one, but it had taken her more than a day to reach it given her… charge.

Hornet glanced back at her sibling, something twisting in her shell at the sight of their battered form leaning heavily on their longnail by their one remaining arm. Their whole body shook as they panted for breath, bits of void leaking from the deep wounds in their side and the crack down their mask despite the bandages of webbing Hornet had applied. They way they slumped weakly, like an old rag doll with the stuffing worked out of its joints, made Hornet’s heart ache. They looked scant inches from death.

Hornet did her best to mask her worry, trying to exude an air of calm confidence as she stood upright, ever ready to dart forward to catch them if they stumbled. She urged them forward with a hand wave, hesitant to touch them for fear of causing them more harm. Sometimes, when hurt so gravely, it was best for one to move for oneself if possible, since one knew what ways would hurt.

The tension in Hornet’s shoulders eased only once she helped lower the once Hollow Knight into the warm waters of the hot spring, offering her hand for support as they unsteadily waded into the water. She watched in wonder as they visibly relaxed into the warmth, the flow of void leaking from their injuries slowing as white flickers of light began to float around them. Hornet was relieved to see that the graveness of their injuries did not render them completely immune to the regenerative properties of the hot springs and she finally allowed herself the tiniest glimmer of hope. Maybe…maybe they would be alright.

She glanced down at the hard, cloak-wrapped bundle clutched under her arm. Carefully, as if afraid she’d break it further, Hornet unwrapped the shattered mask from the tattered grey cloak she’d swaddled it in. That strange, twisting feeling again clawed at her chest at the mask cracked perfectly in half cradled in her hands.

Ghost…

When she had swooped into the Black Egg Temple to aid them against their sibling, Hornet had possessed little hope for any of them to survive. At best, she’d hoped to defeat the Radiance, to vanquish the infection once and for all. At worst, she knew a slow, painful fall to the void or infection would be their only end as the Radiance’s calamity continued to blaze through what little remained of Hollownest. To be perfectly honest, she had thought hardly anything at all. She only knew there was an opening for her aid, a way to give Ghost the chance they needed to enter the Hollow Knight’s dream as they had with her mother. Survival had been, frankly, the last thing on her mind.

Yet, when she had awakened once more in that temple, soft white light seeping in through the shattered ceiling to replace the fading void and haze of infection, that traitorous emotion had crept into her shell. The veins of orange infection lacing the walls of the temple withered and died, fading to black before crumbling away. That almost painful stab of hope only grew sharper when she discovered her sibling, the Hollow Knight, sprawled across the cracked ground, void dripping from their missing arm and the deep pits in their shell, but somehow, miraculously, still alive.

Ghost, however, had not been so fortunate, and the nail of remorse that had lanced through her at the sight of their shattered mask had nearly brought Hornet to her knees. It wasn’t fair. The three of them had done it. They had won. They had beat the Radiance and her infection. Together. So why, then, had she and the Hollow Knight survived, but Ghost had not?

Knowing it was futile but still harboring that foolish flicker of hope, Hornet lowered Ghost’s broken mask into a shallow edge of the spring. Maybe, if their mask was whole, Ghost could come back, as the Hollow Knight had.

The white shards stayed sharp and jagged in the murky waters, as inert and still as stone.

Hornet’s shoulders slumped and that childish hope sputtered and died in her chest.

The quiet slosh of moving water brought Hornet’s attention up to the Hollow Knight, surprised to find them moving about already as they carefully, hesitantly, shifted toward her. She blinked at the way the glowing light of the hot spring coiled around them, and for the briefest of heartbeats she imagined that light held a more yellow tinge, splaying out behind them in the Radiances starburst. She could almost imagine their eyes again alight… but no. No, the light was white and wispy, nothing more than steam, and the Hollow Knight’s one uncovered eye was a steady, empty black. The Radiance was gone. Hornet’s sibling was cured.

For a moment, Hornet put aside her disappointment over Ghost’s mask and allowed herself to revel in the relief and joy that zinged through her at the sight of the sibling she had long assumed lost to her alive, if not completely well. She searched their void-black eye for any flicker of light, as the mental image of their glowing-orange eyes seeping tears of infection refused to fade. She cringed as she recalled the way they had turned their nail on themself in a desperate attempt to cut that infection away, to prevent their body from being puppeted into hurting Ghost. She reached out a hand, not quite touching their white mask still half covered in bandages. She was not sure if her touch would be welcome, or if it would only cause her injured sibling greater distress.

“Hollow –“ she choked, surprised at the tightness in her throat. She swallowed. What was she going to say? ‘I’m glad you’re alive’? ‘I’m sorry for everything that happened’? Somehow, everything that came to mind felt inadequate and she fell back on the security of practicality. “Are you alright? Do you still hurt?”

Her sibling stared a moment, as if processing her words. Slowly, they lifted their sodden cloak to glance down at the bandages wrapped around them. Their right arm was still missing, long since eaten away by the infection and well beyond the hot spring’s ability to heal, but the dark void no longer bled from under the bandages. Hornet reached forward, intending to unwrap the webbing to take a closer look, to be certain they were no longer hurt, but the way their sibling went absolutely motionless at the movement froze her in place. She abruptly recalled that they were completely unaccustomed to such care, even prior to becoming the Hollow Knight, and the only sensation they had experienced for all this time since they was pain. Did they fear her touch, worried it would bring harm?

“I promise, I will not hurt you,” she assured them gently. “I wish only to remove the bandages. May I?”

Stare.

Then, ever so slightly, the barest nod of their mask.

Hornet carefully, oh so carefully, removed the bandages to reveal the scarred shell underneath. No longer open, bleeding wounds, the Hollow Knight’s injuries were little more than slightly duller grey scars along the perfect black of their carapace. However, when she unwrapped the bandage over the Hollow Knight’s eye, Hornet had to stifle a flicker of sorrow to find their mask still cracked. She gently cupped their cheek, staring into their eyes as a confusing swirl of emotions eddied through her. The sharp ache of hope in her chest was only sharpened by the dark coil of fear twisting and untwisting in her belly – the fear of doing too little, too late; of potentially discovering that her sibling was actually hollow after a fashion; the fear of them not. There was an uncomfortable itch of confusion somewhere in there too, at their shared survival, and a warm flicker of gratitude tainted with sorrow that they had, even if at Ghost’s expense, though it pained her to admit as much. But most of all was shame, and a steady, burning anger that pulsed in the pit of her belly at what had been done to her sibling, at what trials they had endured.

“I am so sorry,” she whispered. For what, she couldn’t quite find the words to say. How did one apologize for anything that had happened to her sibling? She knew none of what happened to them had been her fault – she had been far too young, too small, to prevent their binding. But she still felt the deepest shame at her continued inability – nay her refusal - to brake those bindings herself, at the role she played in even preserving them. A cold, fracturing pain broke her heart as she fully comprehended just how much they had suffered in all the time that had passed. How could one ever adequately apologize for that?

She could feel the Hollow Knight begin to shake slightly under her touch, their shoulders trembling as their breathing became labored. For an instant, Hornet feared something was wrong, that she’d hurt them somehow, that they might vanish in a cloud of void just as Ghost had.

But when dark tears of void began to spill from their eyes, and their quick breaths quickly dissolved into silent sobs, she realized they were probably only just beginning to process what had happened to them. She went to withdraw her hand, intending to give them space, but their own hand quickly covered hers and they leaned into her touch. Surprise pulsed through her at the motion, at the clear assertion of want without her prompting. An instinct Hornet had long thought dead had the spiderling wading into the water with her sibling and wrapping her arms around their shoulders. They were so much bigger than she that she had to stand to give them a hug, even as they remained seated. But the way they clung to her as shuddering sobs raked through them made them feel so small and fragile in her arms, and she blinked away tears of her own. She gently stroked their back as they cried, holding them tight as if her arms alone could keep them from falling apart. She found herself murmuring that it was okay, that they could cry now, they could let themself feel. The Radiance was destroyed, her infection gone. They had done it - they had kept their oath despite it all. She promised them they were safe. They were free.

For how long they remained like that, Hornet could only guess. Her back and arms had long since begun to ache at holding her much larger sibling aloft, but she steadfastly refused to be the first to draw away. Her sibling needed her, and this time wyrm damn it she was going to be here.

After a time, the Hollow Knight’s breathing slowed, and their shaking lessened. She let them draw away at the slightest tug. The last thing she wanted to do was make them feel trapped. Their white mask was stained with dark streaks and she retrieved one of the bandages to wipe it clean. Her sibling pressed their mask into her hand as she worked and she got the sense that they were trying to express a form of gratitude. Relief and joy had begun to overwhelm all the other emotions that still twisted in Hornet’s chest – not quite replacing them but at least quelling them. Her sibling was alive, and this time they were free. It felt a wonder that such a thing could be possible, and some small part of Hornet swelled with pride at the knowledge that she had helped make this happen, even if mostly unintentionally. She vowed that this time, she would make certain they got to live fully and freely.

Her thumb brushed the jagged edge of the crack in their mask and Hornet’s mind began to search for ways to make things better for her sibling, needing to prove to them through actions that they truly were safe now. That she cared.

“I wonder if the Mask Maker could repair this,” she mused, her thoughts drifting to the strange recluse who lived above her home in Deepnest. She knew he had been the one too craft the Hollow Knight’s mask as they grew up, since the vessels were incapable of molting like an average bug. If he was still alive, maybe the Mask Maker could help heal her sibling.

A thought occurred to her with a cold prickling across her shell and Hornet turned to Ghost’s mask still sitting broken in the water.

Perhaps…

Hollow let Hornet pull her hand away and she carefully plucked those white shards from the water, re-wrapping them in Ghost’s old cloak. Her motions were quick with a new purpose and the Hollow Knight stared at her, their confusion clear in the tilt of their head.

“I have an idea,” she admitted, tucking the bundle in a silk bag under her cloak. A fragile hope had begun to rekindle in her chest. “There might be a way to get Ghost back.”

She paused, then asked, “Do you want to come with me?”

( https://twitter.com/RannHKnight )

( @enbeebo )

( @jenmodri )

( https://twitter.com/hakunoknight )

( @lickthejam )

#hollowknight #hollow knight #telephoneknight #otherart #otherfic #giftcorner #fanart #long post #gOD Rann blew me away with their comic #ohmygod im still #✨ .O. ✨

224 notes · View notes

mama--moth · 3 years

Text

Hello,

Nice to meet you. I am an artist and aspiring writer who has an original character named Martha.

Martha is my oc I made in 2017 at 2:08 AM on June 11th. She was made as a joke for a shitpost fanfic for tf2. I didn't even play tf2, I just thought it would be funny. I drew a quick doodle of her on my phone. At the time my art skills were bad.

I didn't expect to ever use her again, since I deleted the shitpost almost immediately and didn't think about it. Sometime later, I eventually got into a bunch of different fandoms and decided to make an original character to weave into the world. I decided to use Martha and over the years fleshed her out and incorporated her into many fandoms. She is my only official oc. I have a few side ocs that I used as a way to build Martha's character.

Ever since I saw the character Lady Dimitrescu, something about her gave me a Martha vibe and people also started to come to me saying they looked similar. So I shipped them. At first it was as a joke to be like "haha yall say they look alike so ill draw them together" and then I actually got more invested in it and now Resident Evil Martha is one of the most fleshed out versions of my character, and in such a short time.

Forever and Always is the first actually literary work I have ever actually done that isn't a research paper that was forced onto me by overbearing teachers.

I have never posted my original character on any other platform other than Amino, which hosts a bunch of communities dedicated to different fandoms. I draw martha sometimes multiple times a day, yet I never share her. I am nervous to post her due to art theives and people who will take my art.

I am willing to give this a chance. I also post Forever and Always on Ao3

Here is resident evil marthas backstory:

Martha-much like Alcina- was born into nobility. That is how she met alcina when they were very young children. Due to Alcinas blood disease and marthas alzheimers, they did not attend public or private institutions. They were taught together by a private tutor.

As they got older, they grew closer and closer. They played in the woods and rode horses together and by their teenage years, were in a secret romance together. As years progressed, neither of their ailments improved, but unfortunately worsened. Their families turned to a woman claiming to have the solution to their pleas and the girls were given to the miracle woman.

They were both infected with the Cadou and subsequently mutated. Both women reacted differently to the false cure, but both obtained immortality, regenerative abilities, the ability to mutate into a giant creature, increased size, and the need to consume flesh and blood to survive. While they both also had their own individual abilities, Martha's regenerative ability was not as strong, but it was still very effective. Alcina still suffered from the blood disease and martha still suffered from alzheimers, but the alzheimers was particularly suppressed and over time seemed to be less of an issue.

Both women were now indebted to Mother Miranda and served her as needed. The women did not have an official ceremony, but they did become wives and were eventually given daughters by miranda and through an experiment. They cycled through staff and traded in wine.

Martha had always been skeptical of Mother Miranda. Seeing her fail in her dearch of finding a vessel for eva and just using the semi-successful experiments to do her bidding made martha upset. Now that she has Rose, what would happen to all of them if she succeeded? Unfortunately, she wouldnt get to see.

After ethan killed the first daughter, she chased him through the cellar after he stumbled upon her mutilating some poor unfortunate soul. He would manage to get away by using a mine to distract her and also send a wall on top on her, temporarily knocking her out. Alcina would find her after finding her daughter and free martha and take her to their room to rest while she and her two remaining daughters would deal with ethan. Martha would wake up to find yet another daughter was murdered and stalked the halls. Then ethan killed the last one and caused alcina to mutate.

She would be in a tower near where ethan fought alcina. During the whole fight she would be screaming to alcina, begging her to stop before she got hurt. Her pleas fell on deaf ears and alcina persisted, and was murdered. Martha quickly went to the bottom of the tower alcina fell down and completely disregarded ethan and went straight for her wifes remains, wailing in agony as she had lost everyone and everything that mattered to her. She would not stop weeping and mourning until she finally retrieved the Dagger of Death's Flowers and returned to her wifes remains, and plunged the dagger into her own stomach, suppressing her mutation and falling to the ground on her wifes remains, dead.

I hope you enjoyed this introduction to me and my oc. Now here is some art of the big lesbians

DO NOT USE MY ART. AT ALL.

DO NOT USE MY ART AT ALL.

#resident evil #alcina dimitrescu #alcina x oc #martha sinclaire

21 notes · View notes

yourdeepestfathoms · 5 years

Text

Apex Predator Untamed

AN: I’m sixteen years late to the Silent Hill 3 party, but it’s okay. This is a SH3/Life is Strange fic inspired by @magpieartem’s comic that I’m super excited to see more of! This is also on Archive, where it might be multi-chaptered. Who knows. Just know that Heather has PTSD and trust issues and will literally fight everyone

———

Everything hurt.

Well, everything always hurt, but it hurts more than usual at this very moment. Heather can barely force her eyelids open; it’s like they’re glued together. She thinks she’s standing up, but it feels like she’s falling down. And, holy mother of the now-dead God, did her head throb.

She thinks shock has finally worn off. She can feel every stab of pain, every pinprick is agony that needles her body. The bite mark on her left leg from a particularly quick Double Head looks to be festering. Her knees are darker than a ripe eggplant in the fall and she thinks the burn on her shoulder is peeling again. Her collarbone is definitely fracture, three of her ribs have to be cracked, and blood had been dribbling out in persistent streams from her nose a little while ago- she can’t remember why. At least the gash on her side has stopped bleeding, but now it’s just drooling out copious amounts of slimy discharge, which isn’t much better.

But it was fine. Everything was fine. She managed to survive in Silent Hill with all of these wounds. If open injuries were going to get badly infected anywhere, it would be there. But she was okay.

That front lasted for half an hour and then she saw the sigil on the bathroom mirror. Why did she even think to go in there? She should have just left with Douglas immediately. Now she’s...well, she can’t quite remember. Her head hurts too much.

Geez, though, who turned on the lights? She’s barely opening her eyes and she already feels like she’s being blinded. Burning white light stabs into her retinas; was it this bright in the bathroom?

And what was that sound? Was someone brushing their teeth or something? Better yet: when did someone else walk in here with her? She would have noticed. And it’s not like there was anyone else around, beside Douglas, but he wouldn’t waltz right into the girl’s restroom and start brushing his teeth or something.

Wait, what the hell? This mirror is cleaner compared to the one in that gritty little amusement park bathroom. And were those showers in the reflection? And who in the ever loving hell is that girl brushing her teeth next to her?

Heather does a double take. She inhales a sharp breath and slowly cranes her head around to look at the stranger. Her face drains of all color as the blonde girl’s toothbrush fell from her mouth, clattering into the sink bowl. They both stare at each other for a long time before Heather bolts towards the door. She stumbles into an unfamiliar hallway with even more unfamiliar people. They seem to recognize her as an unknown alien to this place and turned to stare. It didn’t help that she was breathing heavily and looked like she was in serious need of a hospital.

She took two steps back, only to get herself into a wall. She narrowly dodges someone coming at her and- where the hell is her shotgun? It’s not on her. Of course she left it somewhere that wasn’t here. At least she had her pipe and pistol; they were lighter, anyway.

Heather swerved away from the teenager walking towards her and sprints into a storage closet, pressing up against the door to keep it shut once she’s inside. She slumps to the ground, trying to catch her breath and process what exactly was happening.

She could hear talking out in the hallway. It was muffled through the wall, but it would only take a little common sense to realize they were talking about her. Because of course they were.

“...I don’t know. I just blinked and there she was!”

“...That’s so weird. I’ve never seen her here before. Maybe she’s a new student?”

“...We would have known by now.”

“...True.”

Heather holds her breath and prays in the god she has recently killed that they’ll go away. They don’t. This is why she isn’t religious.

There’s a knock on the door that sends Heather hauling into the opposite wall. She collides with cleaning supplies and she feels her burned shoulder and fractured collarbone ache in disagreement. She grits her teeth and waits for the pain to subside, which causes her to miss what’s being said to her for the first few seconds.

“..Hello? Hello? Are you okay in there?” Asked a first voice.

“Umm, are you on any kind of drugs?” Piped up a second.

It takes a moment for Heather register that words are being spoken to her. Words of concern; not ones that are screaming religious sacraments or going on about how she was going to birth a demon. These people sounded genuinely worried about her. That didn’t stop her from putting up a protective front, though.

“What? No I’m not on drugs!” She snapped and her voice came out shakier than she would have liked. “I just- Where the hell am I?”

“Blackwell Academy in Arcadia Bay.” The second voice answers without missing a beat, then added softly to their friend, “...See, I told you she wasn’t from here.”

Arcadia Bay? The good news was that at least she was still in Oregon. The bad news is literally everything else about the situation she’s got herself into.

Heather swears softly to herself. She wants to scream and pull her hair out, but that hasn’t done any good before. Besides, she doesn’t want to add anymore pain to her already throbbing head.

“Do you mind coming out here? So we can talk face-to-face? Maybe we can help you?” Requested the first voice.

Heather was this close to just saying “That’s it! I’m killing myself!” and then shooting herself in the mouth with her pistol, but she stamps down that urge. She stands up very slowly, half because of her hesitancy and half because of her wounded leg. She puts her hand on her pipe and opens the door begrudgingly.

Two completely normal looking people stared in at her, trying to seem as less threatening as possible, which she kind of appreciated.

Both of them were taller than her, most people were, and appeared to be slightly older. They seemed friendly enough. The brunette reminded Heather of a doe, while the girl that had been brushing her teeth looked like a barn owl. Heather made a mental note to stop comparing people to animals.

“Hi,” Doe-girl said with a small smile, “I’m Max Caulfield. This is Kate Marsh. What’s your name?”

Ah, so she wasn’t “doe-girl”. Good to know. Weird that they’re just giving out their real names to a complete stranger like it’s no big whoop, though. Heather sifted through the many aliases she had used before, until she finally settled on just using her most recent one. She considered coming up with a new one entirely, but getting used to another title wasn’t something she wanted to memorize right now. And it wasn’t like she was ready to use Cheryl yet, either.

“Heather,” She said, “Heather Mason.”

Max and Kate exchange looks, and for a moment Heather worried that she’ll have to kill them if they know about her. Then, they smile in a friendly way that eases her up a little. Not enough to pry her hand loose from her steel pipe, though.

“It’s nice to meet you, Heather.” Max says, “So I take it that you’re not from around here, huh? I mean, I’ve never seen you around school before.”

Heather is only partially listening. She’s gone temporarily deaf in one ear and the other is constantly ringing, so she can’t hear much. She wonders if that blood trail is still dried down her ear, or maybe she scratched it off.

“Yeah, no. I’m not a student.” She answered.

“Do you have any idea how you got here?” Kate asked.

Heather shakes her head. Really, that’s the truth. Being transported to another city entirely has never happened before.

“That’s okay,” Max said, “We’re not strangers to weird and unexplainable occurrences.”

Heather is actually curious about that and really wants to question this deer-looking girl, but her mouth is way too dry to waste speech on something as unimportant as that. She can’t remember the last time she drank anything. Or ate. All she can taste in her mouth is blood and sour traces of bile from when she threw up that disgusting fetus thing. Mainly blood, though.

“Oh...I bet.” She said, trying to humor them. “Listen, I’m, uhh, sorry for this disturbance. If you can just point me to the nearest bus or train station then that would be just-“

She attempted to walk, but it didn’t go so well. Her wounded leg and bruised knees finally turn against her and completely stop working. The ground rushes up to meet her and the last thing she heard was those two girls screaming. Maybe her name. She can’t be precise, though, because the roaring in her functioning ear gets louder and it’s not long before she’s unconscious, staring at the grotesque figure of God that now flits behind her eyelids.

———

Claw away the darkness.

Heather tries. She really does. She’s weaker. It’s harder to fight.

Fighting is all she can do now. Silent Hill, the Otherworld, has changed her. It morphed her into a slayer that she never wanted to be. Not that she had a choice, though. When you’re shoved into a situation like hers, fighting is the only thing you can do. Running only buys you a little time, but not enough to get to safety.

Animal instincts. That’s what Heather has developed. She has climbed her way to the top of the pyramid and was crowned as the apex predator. Killing is all she learned and it’s going to stick with her for the rest of her life. Never trust anyone.

But when all of that is stripped away, when all of it is taken and you’re left completely helpless, it’s fucking terrifying. Heather feels naked without all the power she struggled to obtain. She needed to be strong or she’ll die in this new environment.

Her claws chip and darkness overtakes her.

Heather is pulled back into a freezing black ocean. Waves batter against her. Salt water stings in her several open wounds. Red bubbles explode from her lips and, in return, bloody mouthfuls of sea foam rush down her esophagus.

“...Ho-ly shit. You weren’t lying. She looks terrible.”

Over Poseidon’s wrath, she thinks she hears a voice. It’s unfamiliar, but it’s the only thing she’s got. She tries to cling to it.

“...What I want to know is why nobody called 911.”

“...Common sense, Rachel. Something is different about this girl and we can’t let her go without finding out what that is. It’s been too long since we had a good mystery on our hands.”

“...It’s been a solid two months, Max, but okay.”

Too many voices. Too many people she definitely doesn’t know. Heather is scrambling for a hold, for air, but she’s shoved down to the sand once again.

“...Hey, guys!”

“...Hi, Warren!”

“...Why are you climbing in through Max’s window?”

“...You mean the Chloe door?”

She thrashes. She kicks and paddles in sheer desperation before she’s able to grab onto something. It becomes her anchor and it’s the only thing she has. She hauls herself upwards and breaches the surface.

Heather bolts upright, nearly smashing her head into someone else’s skull. Multiple yelps of shock fill wherever-she-is and she looks around frantically, barley registering the overwhelming pain that floods through her entire body. When she does, she cringes.

There are not one, not two, but five people in what she assumes to be a dorm room. Five people that she doesn’t know and could be dangerous. She kinda recognizes Max and Kate, but she doesn’t know them well enough to be cool around them.

The other three complete strangers are as followed: Blue haired chick who is definitely gay (a wolf? maybe a shark?), lady with brown hair (lioness, definitely), and some dude by the window (possibly a ferret or lemur). Heather has no idea who gave them the right to watch over her unconscious body.

“Too fast,” Max mutters, her hands going out to steady Heather.

The girl defensively snapped her head around and bared her teeth, reaching for her pipe.

“Don’t touch me.” She warned and Max backed off.

“I like her.” Said the wolf-shark.

Heather eyes her wryly before going to stand up. Every muscle in her body strains in disagreement and it feels like two-ton chains are weighing her down at the wrists.

“Woah, hey, I don’t think you should do that.” The boy said, but Heather ignores him.

Her spine bows when hands close around she forearms and she’s paralyzed for a moment, like an animal shot with a tranquilizer dart. She struggled but fatigue has zapped most of her energy.

“For once, listen to the geek over there.” Says the culprit of the touch, wolf-shark.

“Hey!” The geeky lemur barked.

“His name is Warren,” Max informs, “That’s Chloe and Rachel.”

Heather hums roughly in response, mainly because it hurts to talk. Her stomach cramps from hunger, but she isn’t about to go and eat something from this unknown place. It’s not safe in the slightest.

“What happened to you?” Rachel asked and Heather spends a long time just analyzing her.

She quickly realizes what she’s doing. She’s sizing these people up. Estimating how easy it would be to kill them. It’s not a morbid thought- it’s self defense. She can’t trust people anymore. If she struck now, she could probably bash in the obvious Christian’s head before anyone could react. Then, if she spun around quick enough, she could definitely nail the doe in the back of the skull or neck. Lemur-boy shouldn’t even be a challenge. She might be able to get him in the throat with enough precision. She has her pistol, too, so that should make quick work of Blue Hair and Queen Bee. Yeah, she liked to think she could have them all down in a minute.

“It’s not something I want to share,” Heather grits, idly tracing her fingertips around one of the holes in her calf. The bite mark was blackened and warm to the touch. She hasn’t thought much of it until now, but she still pushes it out of her mind.

“Something wild, I bet.” Warren comments, getting closer to really join the huddle.

“Wow, did it take a Master’s Degree in psychology for you to realize that?” Heather said sarcastically. That came out much harsher than she had really intended. She’s more sardonic when scared.

Chloe barks with laughter while Warren huffs, muttering something underneath his breath.

“Okay, I’m- I’m sorry.” Heather sighed, “Can I just- can I have some space? So I can clean up? Then I’ll be out of your hair.”

“There’s the showers.” Kate suggested.

A shower actually sounded really nice. Heather couldn’t turn it down, so that’s where she shuffled off to.

“Oh my god,” Rachel said once she was out of the dorm room, “Max, what a mangy little weirdo you managed to scrounge up.” She meant that in a good natured way.

“Maybe she can time travel, too.” Max says, genuinely interested in this weird experience, “This is a perfect opportunity to learn more about the ability! And I would have felt bad if I just left her unconscious on the floor.”

“So would I.” Kate agreed.

“What are we going to do with her?” Warren asked, “She can’t stay here. People can’t just waltz into this school. You have to be accepted. Even though most people on this campus act like they are drugs every second of every day, even they could figure out she shouldn’t belong here.”

“Or would they.”

Chloe is smirking from where she’s perched on Max’s bed- not a good sign.

“Not another one of Chloe’s ideas...” Kate mutters.

“It’s another one of my ideas!” Chloe announced, “Just sneak her in. Say she’s new and just hasn’t been added to the system yet.”

“I said everyone here takes drugs, not that they lack any brain cells.” Warren says against her plan.

Chloe shoots him a half-hearted glare.

“It might work.” Max shrugs, “There’s an empty dorm in the girl’s building. She can stay there.”

“I thoroughly enjoy how we’ve all collectively came to the agreement that we’re not letting her leave.” Rachel chuckled.

They all laughed, but there’s no way they’ll be laughing forever. Fog rolls into Arcadia Bay in thick white sheets that afternoon. Heather feels sick all over again, like another demon is trying to claw its way out of her stomach.

#this is a hot mess #but #im actually proud of the attention to detail #and just the way I wrote it #but seriouslt #the comic I was inspired by is really good #silent hill #silent hill 3 #heather mason #life is strange #max caulfield #chloe price #kate marsh #rachel amber #warren graham #fanfiction #fanfic #my writing #writing

2 notes · View notes

thefrostfalgar · 7 years

Text

Retreat (Kilguin)

Special thanks to @stitchesandstockings and @mudmanworld for betaing the story, and also, @ninjantome for keeping Killer's character in check (and keeping me from deleting the story altogether out of frustration). Also, this is my first longer, fluffier story about Kilguin so I hope you enjoy it :3

People say, that there is nothing as destructive and as foolish as anger. Killer agreed with this very much, for he had seen hot blinding anger from the other side most of the time. Not from the receiving end, but from the side where he had to prevent it from being too catastrophic. From the side where he had to yell as loud as he could to get heard by deaf angry ears. He had seen a lot of it, and had taken a personal oath that he wouldn't be consumed by such an ugly thing as anger.

He never thought there would come a day where he would be the one consumed by fury.

The blond dragged himself across the freezing shore covered in thick snow. He was sore, he should take a rest, but he just couldn't make himself to do it. There was still a tiny spark of energy within him, crawling up into his chest like melting lava in a volcano. Every passing minute, he was getting angrier while at the same time, fear consumed the depth of his heart.

A fear for the well-being of his Captain.

Killer gritted his teeth, tasting the tang of blood thick in his mouth. He wouldn't hope for Kid to be fine. No, fine is a bit too much. He had learnt that keeping his hopes high in this ocean is a foolish thing to do. He had just hoped that Kid is alive.

The bitter thought got Killer even angrier, as he gripped his scythes with all his remaining might. He knew anger to be a destructive thing but now, it was the only thing that he could rely on to keep him going─to make him move, and take another step closer to Kaido's lair. Killer knew that in his current, sorry shape, he couldn't fight Kaido's commanders- Let alone the Beast himself- But he needed to locate Kid's whereabouts. He needed to know where Kid was being imprisoned. If he knew, he could then retreat in peace and make a plan to rescue him.

However, rage alone couldn't bring him far in his journey. Eventually, exhaustion and a seemingly invisible stone tumbled Killer from his limping steps, causing him to fall face first to the cold snow. Some of the ice touched the skin of his face through his mask, making him groan. The snow cooled burning, unhealed injuries, a feeling that was not comfortable, but was welcomed. Killer tried to get back up, he'd finish this mission crawling if he had to.

"Stupid… Kid…" he panted as he tried to get up. Again. His body was so close to giving up on him, but he knew that passing out in the middle of the snow wasn't the brightest idea. He had visited enough winter islands to know that hypothermia is one among many causes of death, and he willed himself on, refusing to stop now. He refused to die, at least until Kid was free and setting sail once again, even if it meant that he had to take his captain's place.

The cold didn't help him to make any movement. His joints were all frozen, and the fact that he only wore his usual southern style short sleeved thin shirt and pants caused his body temperature to drop rapidly and it wasn't long before rage and willpower were no longer enough and his body refused to move. Killer laid his head on the snow, blood starting to freeze and frustration and fear took hold of his heart. He didn't dare to close his eyes, for he would see the horrible fate in the darkness of his those images refused to be pushed to the back of his mind. In fact, he could see them perfectly clear on the white snow he was stuck staring at. The defeat of Captain Kid. No, it should be The Defeat of Massacre Soldier. If only he wasn't so focused on hurting Kaido, he would have seen the attack that was aimed at Kid. If only he knew just a second earlier, he would have the time to jump and take Kid's place, but the giant's reach was out of Killer's. So there was Kid, taking the blow that Killer should protect him from. Wasn't it a First Mate's duty to protect their captain at all costs?

To make it worse, there was not even time to make up for his mistake. Once Kid took the blow, Kaido snatched him, and that was about the end of their short resistance. That Apoo bastard quickly surrendered, while Kid, being the stupid, persistent bastard he is, spat blood in Kaido's direction and simply laughed at the idea, and that was when he knew that they had to retreat. That to be able to free his captain, they had to leave him behind. A smart, but cowardly decision that he regretted now, as he fear for his captain's life grew with each passing minute.

Killer groaned, using the power from his guilt to try and get up once again, but this time, exhaustion had beaten his willpower. He couldn't even lift a limb, no matter how much he put his strength into it.

For the first time since the horrible fate he shared with Kid in their childhood, Killer felt helpless and afraid. He knew he couldn't hope for miracle─it was a concept made by weaklings that couldn't move their asses to look destiny dead in the eyes and take what they want, but right now, in a place near freezing point where he couldn't even move a muscle, Killer wished for one. Just one. Free Eustass Kid. Let him see Kid set sail once again.

The blond could feel his exhaustion quickly overcome him as he used the last of his strength to dig the snow with the tips of his fingers, hoping for a secret passage or something - anything- to appear in front of him. However, as he was dragged deeper to the deepest darkness of unconsciousness, Killer knew that Miracles didn't happen to the likes of them.

-ccc-

"He's still alive!" Killer could hear someone declare loudly, in an urgent tone that could usually only be heard in the midst of the battle. That, along with the cold fingertips that were pressing hard to feel his pulse, dragged him halfway to consciousness. Killer kept what remained of his focus to the touch and the voice, like he would to the surface of the ocean if he was drowning.

The fingertips continued to press against his freezing skin, in the strategic places where the pulse could be located. Killer had given up on trying to open his eyes, or to make any attempt to move. He just focused on the guy's action, interpreting it with his weak mind. Doctor, he concluded in his mind. This guy's a doctor.

"His wounds have been treated poorly, Captain. He's not dead yet but he's close."

"Good. Bring him to infirmary," someone else replied, with a calmer, more authoritative tone. "Every last one of them."

"Why?" someone asked.

"Because that's Captain Kid's crew," the calm voice replied. His voice sounds closer and clearer now, jolting Killer's attention to full alert. "If they're scattered here, in Kaido's lair, we have to know why. They can give us some valuable information."

"Assuming they want to give information."

Yeah, Trafalgar, Killer thought. What makes you think we would want to give information voluntarily?

"Oh they would," that familiar voice said in a tone full of confidence. "If not, we can always throw them back to the snow."

Snarky bastard, Killer thought. He could then hear some more footsteps approaching him, a series of boots sloshing against the snow. He wanted to move, he wanted to put up some resistance to save the Kid Pirates' some dignity.

If only he could move. Just a muscle.

-ccc-

"… with a serious case of hypothermia. The cold was his enemy and his ally at the same time," Killer could hear Trafalgar's voice enter his weak ears. He still couldn't move, even after his brain gave so many orders to his every muscle and every nerve. He wanted to open his eyes, to see whether it's really Trafalgar Law, and what the fuck that bastard was doing here. "If it were not snowing out there, he would die due to infection."

"The snow prevented his injuries from getting worse, but at the same time, it almost froze him to death," another voice was heard; a more delicate, and soft voice that it could only be interpreted as defeated. Killer's heart sunk when he heard that voice. He tried to swim to the surface of his consciousness, to where the voice come from, but how could he swim, if he couldn't feel his body? Was that Peng? He needed to see the bird. He had to. He also needed to know what the hell they were doing here, and if they were talking about him.

"Precisely. He was this close death."

Then, there was an uncomfortable silence. Killer tried to open his eyes once more, only to know that by being unable to do so, they were indeed talking about him. But what happened to him? What happened to the crew? What about Kid? Is he alive? Killer felt like something was punching his gut repeatedly when he thought of Kid. A bad feeling that he couldn't shake. Just why couldn't he move? Then, a series of approaching footsteps derailed his train of thought. Killer focused what he had left of his energy to listen, to keep his mind afloat in the darkness that was so eager to pull him back to its embrace.

"Kil," the delicate voice whispered, sounding so defeated. Killer felt like his heart stopped in an instant. For a moment, the thought of Kid, the guilt and his duty as first mate was forgotten, pushed back to the abyss of his mind while the remaining of his consciousness revolved around that voice. Around the puff of breath that touched his cold cheek. "Killer… Goddamn it man. What happened to you?"

Then there were touches. First a soft, light touch on the tip of his nose, followed by the touch of someone's lips; dry, chapped, cold, and desperate, ghosting over his shoulder, cheek, and eventually, his temple. Killer wanted to laugh, wanted to catch that hand and kiss every knuckle, denying his vulnerability with wild affection. If only he could move.

-ccc-

"… Fighting really well. Good sign, man," that was a louder, more laid back tone. It took Killer a few moments to realize that 1) he was drugged. Hard and 2) he's in the Heart Pirates' care. That must the sound of the happy whale of the Heart Pirates. "Cheer up a little bit, Pen. Have you even taken a bath these past few days?"

Pen. Penguin. Penguin of the Heart Pirates. Killer could feel his heart jump from its nearly static state, to spikes in the beat that made him tired. They must have put a heart monitor on him, because he could hear the repetitive beep sound grow louder, faster, and the sound of someone jump from their seat.

"Kil? You good?"

Killer tried to do something, anything, to prove to the little bird that he was fine, but he was choked, he was strangled, and it didn't help him that Penguin was yelling to the happy whale about something. The emergency seemed to be temporary, because as Killer felt a pointed needle injected to him, and he was dragged back to the darkness that he was trying so hard to raise himself from. He tried to call Penguin's name, but the darkness swallowed him.

When Killer managed to finally open his eyes, he squinted only to see the dimmed room. It was made of metal, all grey and dull but strangely familiar. After his eyes adjusted to the light, he could feel all of his senses struggling to steal his attention with enormous amount of stimulus; the smell of medicine and ammonia that pierced his nose, he didn't like that. Then, there were confusing signals that made him realize he must be in shit shape right now, considering that he received over stimulus that he could only perceive as pain in several parts of his body, and the lack of stimulus in the others that he could only perceive as disfigurement. Like his left hand. He remembered that he broke a scythe so bad, his arm must be crushed in the process─it was probably already rotting and half functioning right now.

He sighed, thinking that grave must be better than early retirement. What retirement is like for pirates, anyway?

Wait. Pirates. Yeah, he's a pirate. He's the first mate of Kid Pirates. With Kid.

Kid.

The thought of that name alone brought him back to full consciousness. He could now feel additional stimulus that he couldn't recognize before. Like the abnormal weight on his chest, or the calloused fingers between his stiff ones. Killer shifted himself, trying to look down at his chest to see what the hell was on it.

"Whoa, easy, easy," he suddenly saw a face of a handsome man, framed by messy, short platinum hair with streaks of black. The man looked worried and tired at the same time. His ice blue eyes were decorated with dark bags beneath, his lips chapped, and he looked… tired. Even so, it was still a familiar face that Killer thought he would never see again. The man that he thought he couldn't embrace again. He remembered that face in another dimly lit room, in a humid area with the faint sound of random bubbles bursting outside. Memories flooded his mind like senses flooded his brain, recalling the light, happy feeling he felt when seeing that face.

You look like your scary captain, was what Killer was trying to say but his voice just wouldn't come out. Instead, there was a low, broken sound that made him wince in pain.

"Hey, go easy on yourself," the man said, with softer tone that sounded less stressed and shocked than the first time. He was pushing himself away, only to come back with a glass of water. Up until Penguin brought it to his range of vision, Killer didn't realize that he was thirsty as hell. Penguin helped him by tilting his head until it was in a safe position to drink without spilling or choking. The smaller man smiled slightly, looking even more exhausted and if Killer's guess was on point, for the most stupid reason.

"There you go," he smiled when Killer finally managed to finish the drink.

"You look like shit," Killer croaked, his voice hoarse. Whoa. How long had he been out again?

Penguin let out a laugh, a sort of relieved one. "You ought to look in the mirror."

Killer shook his head in exaggerated confidence, and Penguin laughed at that.

"Beauty is really in the eye of beholder," he ruffled Killer's hair and massaged his scalp. "Goddamn it Kil," he whispered, looking pained. "I thought I lost you."

Lost… Killer suddenly thought of the blackout… Kid… The war… Who was it they were fighting? Was it Bartholomew Kuma? That's why the little bird was here, right? So why was he here, in the infirmary of the Heart Pirates? Why were Penguin's features are so different? Where is Kid? They beat weird robot Kuma. So where the fuck is that bastard?

At the same time, Killer could remember Kid being smashed. The blood… the bitter taste of betrayal… The huge shadow looming over him…

Kaido.

Killer shifted again, trying to force memories to come back as he tried to get up. Only to be knocked back by a painful headache. "Kid…!" he groaned. "Gotta… Get… Kid"

"Kil, I don't think…"

"Pen!" he hissed. "Something is happening to Kid. I need to get him. I need to get Kid. Now!"

"Kil," Penguin tried to keep him from getting up, but Killer just wouldn't listen and tried to get up from his hospital bed. He ripped at his IVs, trying to detach all of the medical support just so that he could go. Penguin asked, commanded, begged, and ultimately, straddled Killer to make him stay on the bed. Yet he, even in a stronger state than Killer, still was not a match for the Kid Pirates' first mate. So he decided to take the sedative and inject it into Killer.

The blond was still rambling about saving Kid when finally, unconsciousness claimed him back.

-ccc-

It must have been a long time since he was awake. Killer couldn't remember. When he finally came round, he tried once again to piece together his memories of recent events. However, they were scrambled in his mind, stirring up in a mess, so Killer decided that it's better to stay passive and not try to remember anything for now. He focused on his senses, to breathe, to smell, to focus on his surroundings so that he could clear his mind, and once he had his mind straight enough to be aware, the first thing that Killer felt was a head resting against the lower left part of his chest, almost right on top of his heart. An arm flung across Killer's body, fingers ghosting over his. Killer could feel a smile rise up on his face. He knew full well who that might be. In his short life, he never let many people touch him. This guy was one among his short list of exceptions.

He was about to pull the body laid half on him closer, when he heard a metal door swing open, and a series of fast paced footsteps approaching him.

"Oh," the man chuckled. "Awake, Killer-ya?"

Killer shot his eyes open, trying to get up only to see Trafalgar Law approaching him.

"Traf… Trafalgar," Killer murmured, as he tried to get up, but Law only shook his head.

"Hush, you wouldn't want to wake little Peng now, would you? He's been awake for the last few days, looking out for you," he said as he checked Killer's IV drip, and all of the medical paraphernalia that Killer couldn't quite understand. "See? All changed and done perfectly. But again, Peng had been refusing to handle anything besides you, especially when it wasn't a direct order from me. So I expect nothing less than perfection."

Killer couldn't quite understand what Trafalgar meant, as he held Penguin's hand which rested over his, stroking it absentmindedly while he tried to understand the whole situation.

"How long have I been out?"

"One week," Trafalgar replied, leaning on Killer's bedside table. The Heart Pirate's captain looked… different somehow. Even more than the bounty poster showed. He still looked like a slender panda with lean muscles, but he looked a bit… laid back, free… Killer's mind changed one word with another, and he concluded that the right word had yet to be invented for Law's body language. He just looked like he finally dropped the weight of the world from his shoulders.

"Do you know what year it is? What is the last thing you remember?"

Killer answered Trafalgar's doctoral questions properly, a bit annoyed because there were more important things than how he felt and what the fucking year was.

"I understand your frustration, Killer-ya. But I have to make sure that you have complete recollection of the events before I continue with my questions" Trafalgar must have sensed his annoyance, because he looked more serious now. His expression tightened as he looked at Killer with his sharp eyes. Killer was not a coward or a lowlife that could be intimidated with such a look, but moments like this made him understand why he's not a captain. "Killer-ya, are you sure that you are in shape for interrogation?"

Killer squinted, trying to assess his own mind, trying to see if he could properly recall the events that led to this moment. He decided to start with Trafalgar. The last time he saw his face was when Trafalgar got captured by the Clown or whatever… Then the alliance… Then the giant…

He could feel his heart jump as memories flooded back.

"Yeah," he whispered, almost pained but he refused to believe that things could get worse. "I'm still trying to clear my mind, but please ask me what you need to know. That'll help me sort my memories faster."

For a moment, Trafalgar looked a bit hesitant but curious regardless. Knowing his history with Kid, Killer was a bit surprised that he could still have such a calm manner. "Very well," the surgeon nodded. "About the alliance… Why did you do it?"

"To take down a yonko, just like we discussed some time ago."

"I don't recall any of you saying anything about taking down Kaido."

"That's because that wasn't out plan. We were aiming for Red Haired Shanks."

"Then, what were you doing in Kaido's lair?"

Despite Trafalgar's eager curiosity, his questions were quick, sharp, and precise─just like the movement of his scalpel in the operating theatre. Killer could salute him for that.

"That day after you defeated Doflamingo, Kaido fell from the sky onto our safe house. We were all surprised that of all islands, he landed on ours. However, when he realized who were, he was furious at us. I assumed it was for being in the same generation as you and Straw Hat. He attacked us, beat the shit out of us to set an example… show that you… we can't hope to defeat him."

At that, Killer clenched his fist, grabbing Penguin's hand as an attempt to hold on to his patience, to his calmness. His heart rate spiked all of a sudden, resulting in a faster, louder beep on the heart monitor. Killer could feel fear and desperation take hold again, and somehow it affected Penguin. The man that laid on top of him was now frozen in place, his breath on hold for a moment. Killer focused on the rhythm of the smaller man's breathing, trying not to do something impulsive.

"I see," Law nodded. "However, it doesn't explain why my crew can't find your captain nor anyone from your allied crews."

"Scratchmen is under Kaido now. He surrendered and begged to be taken under his wing. I don't know where Hawkins went..." Killer paused for a moment, trying to get his voice to work. "As for Kid… he got captured…"

"… For refusing to surrender," Law continued, nodding as his expression changed. He looked once again like the weight of the world rested on his shoulders. "That sounds like what that stupid, stubborn, and prideful Eustass would do."

"He has his own principles."

"I know," Trafalgar Law said. "It's part of his charm, isn't it?"

"Trafalgar," Killer exclaimed, his voice low and dangerous. He might still feel weak from his injuries, but he wouldn't let that get in the way of protecting his captain's name. "Just because you got in his pants, doesn't mean I will let you get away with talking shit about Kid…"

"I know," Trafalgar cut Killer off before he could say anything else. "I admire you for that, and I would not waste my time with Eustass-ya if he was a lesser man than he is. But this time… With what happened to Whitebeard two years ago, with what Mad Monk-ya did to Big Mom's commander, with what Straw hat-ya and I did with Doflamingo, Yonkos will start to get the memo. They will start to destroy us the moment they see us. You should have run the moment Kaido showed himself in front of you. You, Killer-ya, of all people, should have known that it would end like this. It could have ended worse than this. You should have just knocked him unconscious and dragged his arrogant ass away until you developed a proper plan!" Trafalgar gripped the side of the table tightly, his finger tips turning white. Killer swore he could hear the doctor's teeth gritting loudly. "You, of all people, should remind him to retreat."

"I could, but I wouldn't," Killer barked back. "I might have known that it will end like this. I might have known that it could be worse. But what I think never mattered. Kid is my captain. When he orders us to attack, we attack."

"You could have died by Kaido's hands."

"But we didn't," Killer exclaimed. "He didn't. I know you may think you have Kid all figured out just because you shared his bed. But no, you don't know shit about my captain. He might not the strongest man in this ocean yet, but Kid is persistent. He won't die just because he got his ass handed to him."

"You're pretty optimistic. It's Kaido we're talking about. Straw hat-ya and I could barely fight Doflamingo."

"Well we aren't you. If you give a single shit about Kid, then you better get your ass moving!" Killer growled.

For a few moments, the two glared at each other, before Trafalgar Law finally sighed, and let out a tiny laugh that could easily be mistaken as bitter. "You're right. We need to focus on the future. Get some rest, Killer-ya. We will discuss a plan to rescue your captain tomorrow. After all, we need all hands on deck to beat Kaido and his commanders." The captain of The Heart Pirates turned on his heel and started to walk towards the door, but before he could walk halfway across the room, Killer stopped him.

"Trafalgar."

The lean man stopped in place, and tilted his head to glance at Killer.

"When the time comes Kid is in prominent danger, would you switch me in his place?" Killer asked, ending his request by swallowing his saliva, and his pride with it.

Trafalgar didn't respond. He continued to stare at him questioningly. "How should I know whether the time has come, Killer-ya?"

"When something horrible is about to happen. When your calculation or your judgment says that the event will result either in his death, or that Kid will be unable to continue his journey. Kid needs to continue to sail, no matter what. He has to. He's the future pirate king, after all. So I'm begging you, will you do that when the time comes?"

For a moment, silence claimed the room, then Trafalgar let out a tiny laugh. "Why do I get the impression that you will fight to make sure I agree on this," he paused. "Very well, when the time comes."

Trafalgar stepped out of the infirmary. Before closing the door, he spoke back into the room, "Also, Penguin, I need you at the hull first thing in the morning. No more excuses. And you're welcome to bring Killer-ya along should you deem necessary."

The door clicked shut and Killer heard the way Penguin's breath hitched. Penguin lifted his head from Killer's chest and grinned with the mischievous of a child. His pale cheek blushed light pink, which earned a smile from Killer.

Now that Killer felt assured he would be able to count on Trafalgar's scheme to steal Kid back from the beast, a weight had been lifted. Or perhaps the happiness that settled over him was the effect of the little bird's presence. That was Penguin's charm, after all.

"I knew you were awake this whole time, you sly little bird," Killer said as he pulled Penguin closer. His joints made popping noises when he moved his arms. "But how did Trafalgar know?"

Penguin shrugged. "Well, he has practiced his observation haki by surveying one hundred heartbeats at the same time."

"Huh?" Killer blinked in disbelief. "Kid has had his violent moments, but your captain sure is scary."

"You're one to talk, Massacre soldier."

They shared a laugh, before Penguin slowly stopped and stared at Killer's happy face. He touched Killer's cheek, silencing the blond before sealing their dry lips together. Their kiss grew hungrier and more urgent with each passing second. Killer was surprised by this new demanding side of Penguin. He was more than happy to let Penguin have his way, though, and followed along with the pace set by the smaller man. Eventually they ran out of breath and broke away for much needed air.

"Whoa," Killer smirked. "What happened to you these past two years?"

"Not the past two years," Penguin chuckled, almost sounding bitter but somehow also finding humour in it. "The past week, Kil. Something happened inside me when I saw you there, lying unconscious. And when you did wake, you mumbled incoherent things like you'd lost your mind. It gave me a thought I can't seem to shake."

Killer scowled, but pulled Penguin in to place soft peaks across his skin. "That sounds serious," he mumbled, lips resting against the smaller man's cheek. All thoughts about his Captain were pushed to the back of his mind. "Mind sharing?"

"I will," Penguin whispered, pressing his now wet lips on Killer's cold skin. The blond's fever had long gone, and his skin was now covered in cold sweat and Penguin's kisses. "Gotta… show… First."

They continued to shower one another with kisses, pressing their lips everywhere they could reach and savouring the other's touch. Eventually Penguin sat up from his awkward position, and Killer pulled him closer. Their hands cupped one another's faces as they locked eyes, unwilling to blink in case somehow the other would disappear.

"Take off your shoes," Killer breathed.

"And why should I do that?"

"Because you need to be here with me," Killer replied, kissing the tip of Penguin's nose, before touching their foreheads together. "So we can relive our moment on Sabaody from two years ago. Or have you forgotten?"

Penguin's lips widened into a grin as he huffed warm breath against Killer's skin. Killer liked the feeling; Penguin's presence never failed to comfort him. He was grateful, because of all the things that could have happened, the Heart Pirates had found him, and he was reunited with Penguin, the man who emitted warmth like the sun.

Whenever he was around Penguin, Killer could feel the desperation and fear leave his body. He got the feeling that things would be alright. An alliance with the Heart Pirates could only make them stronger, unlike the past alliance with Apoo and Hawkins. Plus Trafalgar needed Kid, in more ways than one, and would fight just as hard as Killer to save him. There was great comfort in that thought.

Penguin's chuckle distracted Killer from his thoughts. "You were the one diagnosed with a concussion, Kil," Penguin finally answered.

"It would take more than a concussion to make me forget," Killer retorted. His hands lowered to Penguin's back and hugged him closer. "Now, take off your shoes."

"I don't want to relive the moment," Penguin whispered, but he took off his shoes anyway, and positioned himself over Killer. However, Penguin's weight remained on his knees instead of resting on the larger man. Killer was strong, but Penguin didn't want to risk agitating any of Killer's already aching injuries.

Killer's eyebrows disappeared under his bangs when he raised them. "What, you found someone better these past two years?"

"No!" Penguin exclaimed. "God, Kil, no. I don't want to relive the moment because… after watching you motionless for the past week, something got to me. And after I heard what you asked my Captain…"

Penguin's icy blue eyes stared deep into Killer, showing something that resembled pain, anger, and desperation. Killer knew that look. He had seen it many times when he had looked at his own reflection in the mirror. He had seen it on Heat's face when they first recruited him. It was bitter, and dark. And yet, simultaneously it resembled hope in its rawest and most untameable form.

"What are you thinking, little bird?"

"I thought… that this, what we have right now, is something that shouldn't be marked by time. We shouldn't think about anything else aside from what we have here. Now. You. Me. Before this week, I would kiss you goodbye, and hope to kiss you again sometime in the future. Before this week, I would hug you long enough to make it last until we would meet again."

Penguin took a breath to think about how best to phrase his next words. "But that's not how pirates should be. Pirates don't cling to the concept of happily ever after. We don't love someone forever. We're not supposed to reflect on the past or look to the future with hope. Pirates are meant to live by instinct, and think only about the present time."

Penguin's voice was growing shaky with emotion as he continued. "But you and I don't do those things. That is our problem. Because the sweet memories of the past, the dreadful promises of the future, they will harm us and leave us distraught. You can't do this to Kid. And I won't second my captain for this, either."

Killer remained silent as he waited patiently for Penguin to finish.

"Besides, dwelling on what we had in the past will only hurt you, the same way the thought of the future does to me… When I saw you unconscious–," Penguin whispered, but was unable to finish that thought. His voice was traumatized from speaking these words.

Killer stared at the beautiful young man, headache and pain momentarily forgotten as he blurted out his loyalty and love in a single breath. For some, Penguin's speech could have been interpreted as a rejection, or an attempt to put an end to things. But Killer knew Penguin. He also knew that all those things he said were true. And for once, Killer could only imagine what it would feel like to watch someone he cared about in immense pain, with their soul ebbing between life and death.

Killer could feel that Penguin generally cared about him. He was the first person outside of the Kid Pirates to do so, and Killer's heart couldn't help but let him in.

"I mean… You understand, right?" Penguin questioned. "Your presence. That's all that matters to me right now. Bringing up the past will only make things more painful. The past is a reminder that dreadful things can and will happen again in the future, whether it be to you or to me."

"Fair enough," Killer said, his voice low. "Fine. No more talk of the past. Or the future."

Penguin nodded in agreement.

Killer smiled, feeling a strange sense of pride creep into his heart. He didn't overthink it, and instead pulled Penguin in for a kiss. It was drawn out and gentle, a way of displaying his pure admiration for his little bird. Upon breaking away, Penguin blushed again.

"There, a promise sealed with a kiss," Killer whispered. "Now don't look like that again, and love me for today."

"Ugh, why does it sound weird when you say it?" Penguin hissed, clearly embarrassed.

But Killer wasn't having any of that. He rolled them in the small infirmary bed so that he could straddle Penguin, making it creak and shake in a dangerous way as he did so. All the while Penguin was yelling in protest, worried that Killer would injure himself or damage his medical aid, or that they would break the bed and then Law would slice them into tiny pieces. The protests turned to embarrassed whines now that they had successfully switched positions with minimal trouble. Penguin was on his back now, and Killer rested his head on his chest, with his large arm sprawled out to hug the body beneath him.

"You should be resting," Penguin hissed.

"I've had enough rest," Killer replied. "I don't need any more beauty sleep. Unlike some stupid nurse who has stayed awake the entire week."

Penguin tried to frown, but his lips were betraying him. "I'm an anaesthesia specialist," he protested. "Not some stupid nurse."

"Yeah, well, you were nursing me, instead of anaesthesia-ing me. So go to sleep now. Or I will make you."

"Yeah? How you gonna do that?"

Killer raised his head from Penguin's chest to give him a look, making the smaller man chuckle before pulling the blond's head back down. "Don't even think about it, you pervert," he laughed. "Go to sleep."

"I was gonna love you for today."

"I'm already sleeping."

"How about when you wake up?"

"Don't think about the future."

Killer laughed, snuggling against Penguin while the smaller man wrapped both arms around the blond, smiling softly.

Penguin had cried nearly every night while Killer was unconscious and heavily injured– praying; hoping; being tortured by the sweet memories of the past, and the fear of the future. His thoughts had reflected on what a cruel world it is that they live in. A world where strong men fight one another, and where someone like Penguin wasn't likely to last long. He feared for the day when he might lose his own life in battle, or sacrifice it for the sake of his captain, or perhaps be made to beg for it as Killer had done.

A life where they could settle down and be together forever seemed like an impossible dream.

In this cruel world moments would come and go, as would people just as fast. Everyone would rise and die; be remembered, and eventually forgotten. Life would always be an unpredictable game. And that was exactly why cherishing the people he had right now, without the weight of forever, would have to be enough.

#kilguin #killer one piece #penguin one piece #trafalgar law #shachi #eustass kid #kidxlaw #hint of kidlaw #killpen #killer x penguin

61 notes · View notes