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[NOTE]I started this work not long after season two ended and failed to continue because the writing style I took was too depressing! Also, I'd read a few origin stories and like, this one has nothing new... and why am i bother writing about twinks while it's like a boner suicide to me so no, i quit the fic, like a loser...
Chapter1 Revive
There's absolutely no fucking thing you can do, when someone doesn't want you.
Today was just another reminder for him, he'd never win. No chance or whatever, not when there's no battle to fight, no course to run. Edward's the judge and he didn't want him, so that's the game end for him.
'Loser', it's written in his star now. Underneath the dim stars, it was the only one shining bright. That's the only thing he could see when he hung himself over the railings and tried to drown himself in liquor.
Defeat tasted the same as a storm. In those moments, Israel Hands would experience a sensation just like this—his throat's constricted by bile, but he'd force himself to swallow it down on sheer pride. The bitterness would linger in his mouth for days, but it told his victory against ruthless Mother Nature and his pitiful nature—nothing remotely like a failure. He could sail through a natural disaster, but he didn't know the fuck he could do about Edward or his tempest of mood.
And when there's no fucking thing you can do? It sucked. Could just let Edward do cruel things to him.
( Read more... )
Chapter1 Revive
There's absolutely no fucking thing you can do, when someone doesn't want you.
Today was just another reminder for him, he'd never win. No chance or whatever, not when there's no battle to fight, no course to run. Edward's the judge and he didn't want him, so that's the game end for him.
'Loser', it's written in his star now. Underneath the dim stars, it was the only one shining bright. That's the only thing he could see when he hung himself over the railings and tried to drown himself in liquor.
Defeat tasted the same as a storm. In those moments, Israel Hands would experience a sensation just like this—his throat's constricted by bile, but he'd force himself to swallow it down on sheer pride. The bitterness would linger in his mouth for days, but it told his victory against ruthless Mother Nature and his pitiful nature—nothing remotely like a failure. He could sail through a natural disaster, but he didn't know the fuck he could do about Edward or his tempest of mood.
And when there's no fucking thing you can do? It sucked. Could just let Edward do cruel things to him.
( Read more... )
