Will Scarlet (rouge_rogue) wrote in nevermore_ooc, @ 2020-08-19 15:59:00 |
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Current mood: | chipper |
I'm doing a prompt thing too! I narrowed down the massive prompt list to about half (because over 500 is just too many for my brain), which is
HERE
So comment below with numbers and pairings and I'll post the fic in this post when I have some =D INSPIRE ME!
(Player Contact List, there's my chars at the bottom there if you need it =D)
20. Her Body Was Found (Will/Luna)
Unluckily for Bruno, Will got there before the police did.
"It was an accident," he said, as Will's fist broke his nose. "It just happened," he protested, as Will shoved him up against the wall, a face like cold fury. "She was trying to leave me," he cried, as Will thumped him in the guts and tipped him onto the floor, and then straddled his shoulders and grabbed his head in both hands and just smash smash smash into the floor until his pathetic, ugly excuses stopped coming out.
Will didn't even care if he went back to prison for fifty years after this. The most beautiful soul in New York had been found washed up in the Hudson, her tattoos unmistakable, and nothing would ever be the same.
28. Seductive danger (Will/Luna)
1884. New Orleans.
Will Scarlet was still so fresh in America. His memories of the homeland remained, but vague, like a vivid dream. He had a knack for blades. He called himself by his real name because why not? It wasn't the name on the Wanted posters back in New Mexico, and it was dashing, to call oneself "after" a literary hero, newly published but old in legend.
The circus was beguiling. Will was utterly bewitched by the newness, the strangeness, and he went to find the management and offer his services immediately. Attractive men who had an affinity with knives were dime a dozen. He needed to show what he could do.
The folk gathered in a tent after breakfast, to see this new English boy put through his paces. His aim was precise, but still nobody wanted to be the one to go first.
"I will," Luna said, stepping from where she stood with the other sideshow attractions. Will smiled as she positioned herself in front of the wooden backboard. "Better not miss. These tattoos are my bread and butter."
"I never miss," he promised, and each blade whistled home, so close that the hair stood up on her arms, but she did not flinch. They looked at each other, and smiled.
Stay away from her, he's warned. The boss has his eye there, old Hermez, but Will can't help looking, can't help talking to her, can't help kissing her softly goodnight and letting her draw him into her caravan, can't help exploring her skin with his fingertips and his lips until she is gasping under his touch, can't help falling in love with her.
It's dangerous, his love of sharp knives and women he shouldn't touch. But he's still so young. He can't help himself.
51. Uncontrollable wrath (Melpomene and Ares)
They fight through their proxies, although Ares paces the edge of the arena like a tiger, flexing his fists open and shut. Barak and Tragos tussel back and forth between them. There's blood in the sand, and the mortals' breath comes ragged and sharp.
Melpomene does not pace, but her mind is restless. She calls to Tragos, urging him on, and the growing child inside her kicks and flips. She likes that the little war child is responding, it gives her hope for his future- and what a future. Ares is fuming at her little insinuations into his world, the way she asks pertinent questions, sends Tragos on her own errands even when Ares wants him, makes him choose her first.
Ares does not like to come second to anyone. And he, even he, will not fight a pregnant woman. There are some lines that cannot be crossed with honour. So they do this, watching the crunch of skin and bone, because they cannot control each other, but they can control them.
58. Don't scream (Ares/Antigone)
"Don't scream," he says, his huge hand over her mouth. "Where is she? I'm going to take my hand away, and you're going to tell me where she is, without screaming."
Antigone gasps for air as soon as his hand lets go. "I'm telling you nothing," she spits. Ares rolls his eyes and sighs. He is very large, she thinks. She tries to be brave.
"Stop trying to stand up to me, and just fucking tell me Where. She. Is." He growls, and when she tightens her lips, he strikes her in the throat, lightning fast, and she tries to gasp but it's like breathing through a straw. There are starbursts in her vision as Ares steps back, glancing around and straightening his jacket.
"You tell her. Tell her I'm gonna find her," he sneers. "And if I don't, I'll come back and find you." He walks away, leaving Antigone wheezing on her knees, tears streaming down her face, and now she couldn't even scream if she tried.
77. What Earth once was (Antigone and Joan)
A long time ago, when they were both new, the Earth was made for men.
The system controlled, and antagonised, and demanded obedience from its daughters: girls and women who were capable of just as much as any boy or man. Two girls sought to right wrongs done in so-called civil war, and were punished for it by death, for the very gall it took to stand against the powerful men and say to them, You are wrong.
There are still battles to fight. The world is not perfect. Two women sit together below a slashed billboard and share a grin. They may not be needing to honour family and country anymore, but they can honour themselves, and women everywhere, and cut down an image that says to a woman, You are wrong, and Antigone and Joan can say, No, You are. Still.
139. A four leaf clover (Will/Luna)
"Remind me why you chose that, again?" Luna asks, leaning over slightly to watch as the tattoo artist works on Will's forearm. Her own artist, working on an arrow on the back of her calf, lays a gentle steadying hand to warn her not to move too much.
Will looks down at the four leaf clover taking shape on his skin. "It's lucky. Because I'm lucky to have met you."
197. Gazing out a broken window (Sloth/Much)
He's not sure how he ended up here, on a dirty mattress, under a window that drips with rain. The building is long abandoned, and graffiti adorns the walls. The thin girl sits under the grey daylight, looking out, leaning on her knee with her hand over her mouth.
"I just wanted to have some fun," she mutters.
"Was I... dead?" Much asks, and Sloth shrugs a shoulder- she doesn't know. She wasn't capable of checking. He feels woozy and strange and sick, his skin pale and clammy.
"You don't have much tolerance," Sloth says after a while, and Much stares at her in disbelief.
"Yeah, no shit. Did you drug me?" She shrugs again, looking back out of the window. Much waits for an answer, and doesn't get one. "Did you take me to a club? Why can't I remember anything? How long have we been here?" Sloth sighs, getting sick of the questions, and gets up to pass him an unopened bottle of water. His hands are so shaky that she has to open it for him too.
He gulps from the bottle. There is silence for a long while. Sloth flaps the too-long sleeves of her hoodie down over her hands.
"Fuuuuuuck," Much sighs, sitting up. At least he still has his phone. "Oh, three days. I've been out of it for three days. Great. Thanks for that, by the way. Thanks. Just what I needed, to be absent from my life for three days." He pulls himself to his feet, feeling better with the water in him. "I guess thanks for not abandoning me to the rats, or whatever."
She shrugs again, going back to the window, and after a moment, Much just leaves to find his own way out.
"I'm still bored," she says softly, and lights up another joint.
220. Abandoned resistance (Antigone/Joan)
Joan is awake early, because she's not used to having someone else in her bed. If she turns her head, she can see Antigone, curled up with her fist tucked under her chin. When she's asleep, her face is open, relaxed, sweet even, doesn't carry the usual world-weary frown that Joan wants to kiss away the creases of.
"You're so beautiful," Joan breathes, not wanting to wake her, and she pulls the covers a little higher. "Tu es si belle chérie."
She doesn't want to pretend she's not in love with her best friend any more.
38. Tragic moment (Much/Marcie/Melpomene)
She only finds out she was pregnant when the blood is running down her legs and it's gone.
Melpomene is the only one she can think of, and the muse comes even though they haven't spent a lot of time together, even though she is heavily pregnant herself, and she sits down on the closed toilet seat and looks at Marcie, pale and hunched in the bath.
"It hurts," she whispers, and Melpomene nods with understanding.
"Of course it does," she soothes.
"I'd forgotten." She covers her face with her hands. How could she have been so stupid? Melpomene grunts softly as she shifts to sit closer, and strokes Marcie’s arm gently as she cries.
Later, when the worst is over, the two women lie on Marcie’s bed, Marcie with her legs drawn up, feeling cold all over except for the hot water bottle pressed to her belly. Melpomene watches her face, watching the pain play out, and strokes her damp hair.
“Are you going to tell him?”
“Tell who?”
“The father.”
Marcie shakes her head quickly. “He’s not a father. There’s nothing to tell.” That old vision, the one she’d had at sixteen, comes back- mommy, daddy, and baby makes three. She closes her eyes and presses her lips together tightly.
A little later, Melpomene says quietly, “Was it one of the men at Ares’ gym?” Because she’d seen them looking. It might have happened. “Was it… Tragos?”
“No.” Quick dismissal.
“That bounty hunter, sheriff guy, then?”
Marcie shakes her head again, and whispers, because she knows Melpomene will keep asking, “The bartender.”
The one good guy she's ever fallen for. The one man who could put her on a different path, lift her from her innate draw towards the dangerous. And he's with someone else. He'd had a fight with his girl and thought she'd dumped him, and they'd gotten drunk and messy together, and she'd woken up to him quietly talking to her, telling her, We can work this out, I still want to be with you...
"Ahhh," says Melpomene softly, tucking a strand of hair behind Marcie's ear. "How tragic."
Marcie shoots her a narrow look, but she doesn't have the energy right now, so she closes her eyes and tries not to remember how Much's body had felt against hers, as her body rejects the result of it.
-SEN