「 ♔ * ･ﾟ— PROPHET 」 writing dump

[parks.]

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tw for : self-harm/intrusive thoughts about self-harm/suicide, self-loathing, and mental breakdown

⚜ * ･ﾟ — Her battered hands, shredded to bits from hitting the jagged blocks of brick were slicked in the warmth of a thick, crimson liquid, seeping through the mangled skin like sap on a tree, had finally dropped to her sides as she no longer has the energy to lift the split muscles in her fists. Bruised knees collapse in almost an instant, exhausted and defeated, the rest of her follows in pursuit. Parks' forehead, lined with droplets of sweat, is now pressed against the rough grit of sand and dirt, while her eyes that were once filled with the burning passion of determination and that pungent sense of arrogance were now devoid of any of those emotions, sunk deep into her sockets as tears, threatening to spill over her cheeks, burned at her lower lids. Parks is curled over into almost that of a ball, making herself as small as she possibly could in hopes of if she shrunk enough, she'd be carried along with the gentle breeze of the wind. And god, does she wish she could just disappear.

That would be a hell of a lot better than being here, surrounded by people who she swore to herself that she'd surpass, but only seemed to fall behind at every attempt. If only things like there were possible. She'd do it in a heartbeat. The self-pity and hopelessness spilling through her lungs were growing asphyxiating, and the ache that tugged at her heartstrings was too much for her to handle. She didn't want anyone to witness her like this, not again. But, just as the situation went when Sheo announced she had kissed Courtney, her pleas had meant nothing. It would still happen. How could she possibly expect for her barriers, the ones she had spent so long building up to protect her branching insecurities, to come crumbling down just as easy as she built it? Pathetic. She was pathetic. Just as she's always been, and just as she always will be. Nothing was going to change and everything that had led up to this point, had proved it.

❝ Man— ❞ sobs begin her body like a deadly tremor and the more she tried to suck in a breath of air, the more her throat seemed to constrict against the pressure. Like a drum, her heart pounds at her ribcage as if any second, it was going to burst, and clouded green-grey hues finally opened to reveal blurry vision and distorted figures. She hated this. She fucking hated this; and she hated herself— always feeling so weak... so, inadequate, that she'd sink this low. Fuck. ❝ You're a real piece of shit, you know... Terrible. Absolutely fucking terrible ❞ bloodied fingers curl into the ground, dirt collecting underneath the girl's fingernails as she weeps into the damp grass, body trembling. They were right about her— everyone had been right. She was terrible, stupid, worthless, and filled with so much rage and hatred. How she had managed to make it this far in life would forever be a mystery. Even to her.

Sniffling, thoughts of the past had come flooding into her mind, specifically, her first real interaction with Sheogorath. His words had dealt the most damage. "You give it all away, with the way ya lash out. A consistent anger towards others tends to suggest some sort of inner instability." That was the first thing he had said to her, and, in her head, the memory was about as clear as if it happened just yesterday. It had latched onto her like thorns, burrowing its edges deep underneath her skin, ripping and tearing away at her pride even as she fed herself lies, telling herself that supposed insecurity she harbored, was only a part of the man's crazy delusions. It didn't exist. It couldn't. But, he could see right through her as she were transparent. He poked and prodded at her mind, and like a scalpel, he continued to dissect her thoughts just from a mere conversation, if you could even consider it as such. She hadn't meant to make it as easy for him as it was. Not at all. In fact, Parks had believed she was the most closed off person one would ever come across. Reading her was like reading ancient hieroglyphs; virtually impossible. She wouldn't let anyone get close to her, only to end up taking advantage of her and throwing her away like garbage. But, just like everything else the woman seemed to do, went up in a cloud of flames.

Lips, raw and drained of color, then folded upward into a devastated smile and she lets out a shaky laugh, vacant of any humor as her hands slowly build their way up to her red-flushed and tear-stained cheeks, where she then blankets her eyes as if to shield her mortification. The urge to pull apart the useless vessel that was her own body, was overwhelming, and she just didn't.. She didn't know how to cope with the sickening feeling it brought. She never had. In which all had been a result of her own disgusting selfishness, pride, anger, and insecurity; all the traits that made up someone with such calamitous habits, both to themselves and the ones around them. She fought to hurt and she hurt to feel something— anything that wasn't apathy. She thought she'd feel something— That she'd feel better, somehow, inflicting pain on others before they had a chance to do the same to her first. Maybe that's why she drove everyone she cared about away. Maybe that's why she always ended up alone, and she had no one to blame but herself.

Alone. That was a word Parks had grown familiar with throughout the years as she often used it to isolate herself, believing that she was better off without the camaraderie of others. She liked solitude. Loved it, even— Only that she didn't. Not at all. She despised it. She despised it more than anything, yet, it always seemed to follow her like a plague, nesting itself underneath bones filled with bitterness. And just like her hatred, she couldn't seem to get rid of it. It was deadly, way more than any knife or gun; being left to your own thoughts, Parks had come to realize. Your thoughts lead you to believe that you're fine, you're okay, but they kill you slowly the moment you finally believe you're comfortable living in your own skin, breaking you down from the inside out as your mind gradually starts to cave in, yet you don't seem to realize you're too far gone until you're already dead.

And, well, at this point in time, Parks was dying, finally coming face-to-face with the lethality of loneliness, and that had got her thinking. Maybe death wasn't a bad thing. If she were to die, nobody would care. Not her, not Sheo, not Courtney, not anyone, and oddly, she was alright with that. It was okay. She understood. She was a shitty person, guilty of terrible things. She wasn't worth pity, and she didn't deserve to be remembered. She'd just be another soul lost in the wind despite how much she argued against taking the coward's way out. She had always wanted to die with a bang, a bang so loud that you'd have to acknowledge it no matter what, but no longer did that seem fitting. Dying quietly was okay too, perhaps peaceful, even. Just as long as she was out the way. As long as she couldn't hurt anyone anymore. Parks would be satisfied.

( alright, so, this takes place a couple days before she decides to leave as the badlands no longer feels like home to her, and that she realizes she needs to get her shit sorted out.. she doesn't tell anyone that she's going, so she just disappears. she'll be gone for about two months, maybe even longer, but due to liquid time, i'll have her come back earlier and just say she was gone for that time period. but i'm sure y'all already know this )[/spoiler]

[parks.]

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⚜ * ･ﾟ —  She's breathless; lungs burning, body shivering, and head pounding, clinging to the ground for its her only sense of comfort as she whines quietly, cries like the gentle downpour of rain. Overflowing memories are cut deep like a stab wound, left open to bleed; never to be stitched together; never to be mended again. Parks can only wait in the deafening silence of her own head, for her tears to dry out just like the thread of her once burning will; until she's no longer able to shed any more tears.

Like a bullet, the oncoming presence of a slender figure soon proceeds to slice through the air; a presence Parks had remained unaware of, blinded by her own sorrows, until the cool breeze of the woman coming to stop beside her head, had tickled her ear.

Promptly outstretching a limb, fingers latch themselves onto the collar of Courtney's shirt, a clear weakness in her grip as she's barely hanging onto it. If the brunette wanted, pulling away with ease would be much less than simple; about as difficult as breathing, even. With an expression clouded with a slew of mixed emotions as her focus remains on the dampened grass, Parks doesn't bother to look up to meet the striking grey hues of Courtney's own. She can't. She doesn't have the heart to face her. ❝ Get away from me... ❞ her voice is nothing more than a barely audible whisper, narrowly coming close to possessing the authoritative tone of a command. Parks doesn't want her here, or at least a part of her is telling her that; nor does she understand why the woman had made herself present in this situation. Even after their drunken encounters and shared kisses on multiple occasions, Parks had always believed that the two were at odds; they each held some sort of contempt for the other whether it be out of jealousy, or for simply no real reason at all. It was just there, eating away at the both of them.

But, much to her own surprise, Courtney was back, attempting to comfort her even, despite normally toting around her signature 'I don't give a shit about anyone but myself' attitude, just as Parks herself had not too long ago. Maybe the other half of her, the one that wasn't screaming for Parks to drive her away by any means possible, was grateful that she had shown up; perhaps even elated. She hadn't even begun to notice her craving for the woman's attention until she had, with delicate fingers and a feather-like touch, begun wiping away the wet strands of hair stuck to the side her face, before leaning down to press a tender kiss upon the flesh of her tear-stricken cheek. Following short after, comes the shhh, a silken hush rolling off the other's lips. It had Parks confused. Why? Why was she trying to console someone who didn't come close to deserving such gestures? Instead, she should be laughing at her, bombarding her with dagger-like insults from a tongue molded with barbed wire; but she wasn't, and it made her heart sting with an unidentifiable ache. What was the reason for it? What had compelled Courtney to take on this sudden notion of kindness; and why did it hurt Parks the way it did?

❝ I hate you.. ❞ It was a blatant lie. One that she could no longer hide under a facade. She didn't hate the woman. Not in the slightest. It was no longer possible as whenever she was around the shorter woman, the routine beating of her heart had always increased to uncomfortable speeds, throwing her typical composure into quite a loop. She'd grow nervous, almost anxious; taking a complete 180 spin; something she couldn't quite grasp on a comprehensible standpoint. She didn't like the feeling, nor did she want to embrace it, because just like her thoughts, they were petrifying. So, just like Parks had a habit of doing, in return, she'd continue to run away from them in hopes that they'll dissipate on their own. They had to. There was no way she'd allow them to consume her.

❝ Get away from me, I hate you, ❞ the words repeat, peeved, yet her voice remains quiet. Sending a light blow of the palm between the other's chest, the attempt to shove the woman away remained fruitless. Maybe if she had uttered the order enough times, the other would finally take heed and turn from whence she came. This wasn't her problem to deal with; a broken person who couldn't be repaired no matter how hard one may insist on trying. Courtney shouldn't bother wasting her time. Parks didn't want to let her down as she did everyone else; a reputation she had gained over the years. Though, even if she chose to persist, the other was would soon grow tired of her. It had always been that way, and Parks wouldn't dare blame her for it; not when she'd do the same if the roles were set in reverse.

Inhaling a subtle breath of air, her head finally lifts, white-blonde locks falling over her face as dull hues derived of any light, locked on to the brunette's features; a true rose amongst thorns. Despite her previous feelings of wanting the other to leave, she suddenly finds herself hitting the pit of realization that, once again, she doesn't want to be left alone. Parks' eyebrows then crease and her attention is set downcast, falling on to the woman's hand. ❝ I'm sorry... ❞ She apologizes while her own shoots to wrap around Courtney's, delivering a ginger squeeze; one filled with desperation. ❝ Please... Don't go... ❞ her bottom lip trembles, and she glances up once more, ❝ Please... ❞

[parks.]

[div style="width: 450px; text-align: justify; font-size: 11px; color: #494941; "][align=center]dialogue ideas for when parks returns. used

❝ long time, no see, yeah? about that, ❞

❝ i left— bailed out without telling anyone. a pretty shit move after pledging my loyalty to you, i know. and you’re pissed about it, that i also know, so i don't need you to tell me how you think i came crawling back, expecting to be welcomed with open arms and all that other bullshit because i needed you and this dump of a place. i don't. i just.. had a change of heart, if you wanna put it that way.

but, i’m not going to drop to my knees and beg for your forgiveness or kiss your feet. yeah, fuck that. i had my reasons, so turn me away? i don't really give too much of a shit. it’s what i get for runnin' off, but, i couldn’t stay here. not then. ❞

❝ but, then again, it’s not like you’d genuinely care outside of your whole 'i'm the big, bad crime boss of this shithole, so god forbid i let one of my soldiers go without telling me. now i gotta pretend i give a rat's ass for the sake of my reputation or else the other leaders will see me as incompetent and laugh, bruising my fragile ego' schtick.

i’m a shitstarter— i love getting under people's skin because it's easy. i also like to run my mouth a little more than others would prefer, so, if you think about it, i did you a favor by leaving. it was either that, or you’d throw me out eventually. am i wrong? ❞ her tone becomes accusatory as a single green-hue, once paired with the other, but now is no longer there, flickers over to ( x ), delivering a stony gaze, cold as ice, yet it remains as tranquil as the gentle crash of frothy white waves rolling over golden grains of sun-baked sand. her teeth find their way into the skin of her lip and she bites down, peeling away dead flakes of skin as if it were a candy wrapper. hands, calloused, come to rest underneath the warmth of her pockets and she releases a short huff from her lungs, an eyebrow arching almost thoughtfully as she allows her head to roll back, chin tilted towards the blue sky. though, from a quick glance, she'd appear to be annoyed, but that wasn't the case. perhaps she were caught in a reverie of sorts, memories of the past flooding into her head like a slideshow. no, parks would never care to admit aloud, although this place was still a dump, she had forgotten how much she had almost missed it and its never-ending chaos, so yeah, it felt somewhat good to be back, even if she didn't possess much of a chance of being accepted in. pity.

❝ it's whatever, though. i can't blame you for that. because, hell, i would've been pissed too, had i been in your position. but, i just need you to know that i don't think you're an absolute waste of a boss, just a bit of one. i think i even looked up to you, somewhat. as fucking stupid as it sounds— especially coming from my mouth. though, i can't help but feel like i'm fueling that already over-sized head of yours with all this praise. ❞ with the shrug of her shoulders, parks looks downcast, a devilish grin tugging at the corner of her mouth. she's not exactly trying do be disrespectful towards her former boss, being able to mouth something that wasn't entirely insulting in nature, but still meant to offend nonetheless, as she can't resist the urge to allow her words to slip off a tongue barbed with sarcasm like blackened honey; bitter, but with a light hint of sweetness, hidden behind acidic tastes. she meant what she said, though. about looking up to charlie as an influential figure. he was a man of power, asserting himself in nearly any situation even if he weren't physically present, something that the blonde-haired woman had aspired to be like and do, despite her lack of good luck or attitude that would've been able to better propel her towards that specific goal. it was unfortunate, really, but after quite a few pitfalls that had left the girl sobbing at rock bottom, she had learned to get over it and let it go. life's riches weren't meant for everyone to have at their fingertips, and so she'd remain content at her current standing.

❝ but, i had to leave. y'know.. go on one of those shitty, cliche self-discovery journeys like the ones you read in books— assuming you aren't illiterate. i needed to figure my shit out before i actually ended up killing myself. i was pretty damn close to doin’ it, too. that shit sucks hella balls, for real. and it's probably the worst i've felt in hot minute, but i'm over it. ❞

❝ i guess this would also be a good time for me to tell you that little asshole— ellie followed me. i don't know what she thought this was. maybe that we were some sort of a team? that it was me and her against the world? but, she was wrong, got her hopes up too high. i don't fucking like teams, and i don't like people— not really. i didn't want her around, and i told her i didn't. i'm not that kind of person you can just be friends with. but, she didn't listen to me. she was persistent as all hell, and i've tried ditching her, but i swear to god, she has specials powers or some other godly bullshit that helps her track people down.

too bad i had to save the little bastard after she got jumped by this trio of backwood assholes even though i did contemplate it for a while. after all, she wasn't my responsibility, and she came along by her own will. i’m only looking out for myself and i made it clear from the get-go, but damn— i fucking felt bad. and yeah, i know i'm the biggest piece of shit around; i'm absolutely fucking terrible, but, i’m not shit enough to just let her die. so i saved her, and in return, she’d have to leave me the hell alone.

surprisingly, she didn’t complain the moment i broke the news. she just... packed her shit and left, and that was that. i haven't seen her since, so don't bother asking. ❞

[parks.]

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[spoiler=ignore  no openin']
*probably gonna add more tomorrow

❝ you're irritating as hell, and you piss me off sometimes. not to mention your attitude is kinda shit, but i'm just the same. i don't hate you. i didn't mean it when i said it before. i'm just... confused. you were there... that day. you were there, but you didn't have to be. and i don't have much to say about it as i wish i did, and i don't know what to say other than the fact that i'm grateful. maybe even beyond that. ❞

❝ er— it's been on my mind for awhile now, and it's starting to get annoying— it won't leave, even when i try to ignore it and tell myself it'll go away eventually, so i guess i'll just go ahead and get this out of the way. ❞

❝ yeah, you're irritating. yeah, you get on my nerves a lot. and yeah, i still kinda want to punch you in your stupid face for pulling of all that shit, but, uh— you make me feel things... ❞

❝ and it's fucking annoying, 'cause every time i'm with you, it's like ( x ), and i don't know what to do about it. but don't get to thinking that i like you or anything, because i don't.... at least i don't think i do... or maybe i do... i don't fucking know. i just.. haven't felt like this in a long time, or even at all, but all of a sudden, when you showed up, it's like you fucked up everything i had going. just your presence makes it worse— the feeling in my chest. it sounds cheesy as fuck, and i'm starting to hate myself for even opening my mouth, but it's whatever. ❞

❝ dates are lame. i've never been on one, nor have i ever cared to. but, i'm asking you... that is— if you want to maybe.. possibly go on one with me. dont get me wrong, i'm absolute shit when it comes to these type of things, and i don't know what the hell i'm doing, and i feel like a complete fucking idiot, but i'm willing to try if you are. ❞

❝ shit... this is so fucking stupid... but if you wanna laugh at me or whatever, go ahead, i won't say anything, alright? i'll take that hint. just please dont try to beat around the bush. i'm practically dying trying to swallow my pride here. this shit ain't at all easy. ❞

[parks.]

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Ironically enough, weeks later after departing from the partnership between her and Ellie, Parks soon figures out life is packed with surprises, all wrapped and decorated in a pretty pink bow called karma, and just so, unfortunately, fate had fixed one up just for her; special delivery included. She'd been alone the night two assholes had tried to jump her and take off with her shit. One, who by the looks of it with his gangly stature and wrinkled features, had quite a few years put on him as compared to his brother, who was, pathetically, just as beanstalk-ish as him, though much shorter and less mature-looking. They were thieves, rotten to the very core; another product of this godforsaken world— but, that didn't quite mean they had the conniving mind of a fox, clever and nifty with their tricks. Parks could see right through the wolf clad in sheep's clothing, feigning injury, faux tears spilling from clouded eyes, pupils molded into cat-like slits as the youngest pitifully dragged himself through the mud, hand clenched at his side, creasing the velvet-stained shirt as he cries out for aid. "Help, please! They— Bandits— They stabbed me and th-they took my stuff!" He's begging like a worm on the floor, and it makes her tongue curl with animosity. He thought she was an idiot, didn't he? Like she lacked an ounce of a single brain cell. He wanted to rob her, and he thought she'd lie down and let him do so. How irritatingly stupid must he be. ❝ Get up. ❞  her gaze doesn't falter as pale hues follow the skinny frame of the male, narrowed dangerously with fists, defined by veins filling with poisonous rage quivering down at her sides. ❝ Please, Miss! I— I need help! ❞ Again, the pleas fall from the mouth of a liar trying his hardest keep up his crumbling act, though there's an odd sense of hesitance in his voice that she's able to dissect from the sudden tremble of his tone.

The little rabbit, pretending to be the big bad wolf, was nervous— afraid. What for? Has he never done such a thing before? Robbing others of the goods needed to keep them alive after double-crossing them, pretending to be in need of their assistance? At the revelation, Parks finds herself raising an eyebrow in a quizzical expression, ❝ You're trembling? What for? ❞ she probes with a certain edge to her tone, ending the question with a short hmm, genuinely curious as to what kind of answer the boy would formulate. One second, two seconds, three. Parks allow five seconds to pass before concluding that her inquiry would go unanswered as she's met with silence, though that was to be expected. She didn't have time to waste trying to psychoanalyze the boy, so no longer would she continue to entertain his act by standing around. With the dismissive wave of her hand, she shakes her head, ❝ This your first time robbing people? You should try gettin' a little bit better before you actually attempt it. It'd save you the trouble of running up on people like me. Anyways, I think you should go. Y'know. Before I hurt you. Seriously. ❞ the insensitivities spill from her lips like blackened honey; smooth, yet so bitter. To think she'd go through all the trouble trying to save one kid, only to turn around and threaten the life of another. Parks was so terribly two-faced— a real walking paradox.

This, though, was no bluff, one to simply scare the kid into submission. The woman was serious. Dead serious. If he didn't take heed of her warning now, well, he better be prepared to lose his life for today would be the last day he'd ever see the sun. She meant that. However, it was quite too bad the boy was too caught up in trying to put on a brave face for the sake of himself, making the lethal decision to lunge forward, teeth bared in animalistic snarl as he draws a blade from his back pocket and flashes it at the older woman with the intention to rip through soft tissues of skin. Fucking hell. Top lip curling, exposing her own white canines, she takes a prompt step back to avoid getting grazed by the knife's edge. He was uncoordinated, no doubt, with the way he slashed the knife about with such recklessness, putting forth no effort into planning attack that could end the battle much quicker. Perhaps he didn't need to. Thinking while in the midst of confrontation was a good way to get yourself put in a body bag, buried 6 feet below the earthy surface when pitted against someone twice your size and strength, so his actions were only logical, Parks understood.

She really didn't want to kill this kid, though her hands were already dirtied, corrupted by sin, so it would make no difference compared to the other lives she's wasted throughout the years— a necessary evil. She'd rather it be him over her, and so, of course, she'd proceed to wrestle the knife from the boy's sweaty grasp after sustaining a few shallow cuts to her own arm, securing her fingers around a warm wrist, pumping with hot adrenaline before taking it into her own possession, plunging the edge of the silver blade right into the soft tissues of his breast, the warmth of crimson liquid pooling around her pale hands, staining them a violent red as she feels it slip deeper into the chambers of his insides. The very blood, needed to keep the boy alive, begins to bubble at the edges of his chapped lips, a single stream, cascades down his chin as his hands, chilled down to the bone, reached out to grasp at her wrist which causes Parks' gaze to drop in order to meet the dying light of the boy's brown ones, and she blinks, facial expression devoid of any sentiments. She had given him a choice. He refused to comply. It wasn't her fault he had to pay with his life.

An airy sigh exits her lips, as she finally lets go of the weapon's handle, allowing the boy to stumble back on shaky footing before collapsing to the forest floor with a heavy thump. The abruptness of the heinous deed clouds over her like an unwanted storm while her eyes yield the look of the coldest tundra and harsh, winter nights as she peers down at the limp body strewn across the blood-soaked ground, spreading across the dampened grass like blooming flower petals on the finest red rose— cold and as rigid as stone. ❝ Sorry, ❞ the apology comes short and she lifts a hand to observe the red, sticky substance, webbing between her fingers with a blank stare, a clear reflection of that the world was indeed a cruel place, but us humans were just as vicious. And knowing that, the best thing for one to do, was to just simply suck it up because no one else was going to do it for you.

After an interlude of silence ticks by, leaving the woman alone with the subtle chirp of birds flying overhead and a corpse that lie soulless at her side, a click of a revolving barrel rips through the tension-filled atmosphere, causing her head towards pivot towards the patch of foliage from which the noise was omitted, forcing a set of spectacles, bearing the look of pure horror, to meet an abyss of shrouded green and grey.  With the click of her tongue against the roof of her mouth and an inaudible groan released, the pierce of a man's gaze immobilizes her, and a shiver threatens to crawl down her spine as she's placed in a standoff between her and the loaded gun, her fate to be decided at just the pull of both a metaphorical trigger and physical— guarded, the uneasy feeling that swells throughout her body is one of wariness. "You..." the guttural voice of the man, sounding like the grit of sandpaper grazing delicate skin, is held low, in almost that of a predatory growl as Parks, figure stiffened, could only release a nervous chuckle as she acknowledges the fact that she was fucked. Entirely fucked, looking the way she did— caught red-handed ( badumsst ) Running slender fingers through unkept brushes of brown locks, a habit forgotten even with blood-littered hands, eyelids framed by long lashes, flutter shut in exasperation. She should've known. After her whole inner monologue about how the boy, now deceased, thought her to be stupid— she should've fucking known he'd somehow get his revenge from the grave.

Her hands, in slow pace, then begin to rise as she, for a millisecond, breaks their gaze to eye the knife protruding from the exanimate boy's chest as lips part to speak. ❝ Hey, ❞ she coos to the man holding the gun, his arms a trembling mess as his finger twitches right above the trigger, his dark mop of hair plastered to the side of his face, his sweat like glue. She could tell by the way his mouth was set agape, the corner of his lips shivering with the rest of his body, and his eyes pulled wide to the size of bowling balls, he had already witnessed the tragic end committed at her will, of his partner or brother, which didn't help her case in the slightest. Parks wouldn't be able to work out an excuse— not that it be possible anyway due to the condition of her hands. ❝ This doesn't look all too good, does it? Heh, ❞ she draws gradually, internally cringing as she's wishing he'd go ahead and pull the trigger, clearly upset that she'd let herself dig a hole to bury herself in. The man suddenly jerks forward, loaded weapon in hand, bearing the resemblance of a wild brute, ❝ You... You— killed him! You bitch! That— he was my brother, and you killed him! ❞ exits a garbled mess of insults directed at the vagabond, his voice a foundation of bitter rage as he shakes uncontrollably, causing the other to visibly flinch as she expects the gun to pop off. Though Parks knew she wasn't exactly innocent, it was as quick as the flip of a light switch or even a crushed nerve, that she could feel her own explosive temper flare in her chest at his accusatory gaze, staring her down as if she were a demon incarnate. It wasn't her fault. On the contrary, it was his. It was his fault for sending his own brother out to swindle the wrong person and threaten them with a blade. He should be holding himself accountable for his death. She'd take no responsibility. Pursing her lips and eyebrows furrowing, Parks is trying, but can't seem to curb her tongue to stop her own colorful profanities from spilling when she needs it most; and god, please help her because she needs it now. That damn big mouth of hers was really a curse.

❝ Woah, woah, woah. Wait a minute before you go blowin' my fucking head off, you trigger-happy bastard. Your brother, ❞ she throws emphasis around the word brother, ❝ You know, the dead one? Tried to stick his fucking knife in my neck after I told him he couldn't have my shit. ❞ Now would be a great time for Parks to, I don't know, shut the hell up; but, unfortunately so, common sense wasn't always an attribute she possessed. She'd only continue to dig her own grave. ❝ But, I guess you would know because you asked him to, yeah? You set him up. I gave him a choice. He didn't listen. I did what I had to. You're guilty. ❞ she presses on dangerously, causing the angered man to apply an ounce more of pressure onto the trigger, though he doesn't utter a word. Parks knows she's playing a deadly game with the Reaper himself at this point, but that was alright. She'd push her luck to the very brink. ❝ Though, if you're really that pissed about something you caused, well, be my guest. Pull it. I dare you. ❞ Nodding towards the very device that could kill her as a gesture of permission, she waits for a response. Death didn't scare her. Not anymore. Everyone was destined to die since the very beginning, and this moment just so happened to be her beckoning call towards the afterlife— if such a place even existed. Parks was truly out of her mind; inhibitions blurred.

Fist clenching, slicked with spilled blood, she waits for the inevitable, forcing out a thunderous ❝ Do it! ❞ to which, in response, drives the man to finally pull the trigger, resulting in the reverberant bang of a bullet being released, to split through the peace of the woods. And that was the last thing she could remember.

---

---

( paragraph about dealing with the incident )


( paragraph about her whole self-discovery deal and w/e )

- Now it was time to go home.
end oneshot here.<----

[parks.]

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imagining more scenarios & dialogue. just ignore this. who knows if i'll ever use it.

“but i guess smarts doesn’t exactly run in the family, does it?”

“dude, I was there once. not to mention you’re a fucking ghost— transparent and shit. i can see right through you. “

“i’m not stupid. if you don’t want me to figure this shit out, get better at hiding it.”

“fuck, you’re annoying.”

“what’re ya’ gonna do? punch me? go ahead, i’ll let you. though, who’s to say i won’t break both your arms if you do?”

“you’re really startin’ to piss me off.”

“touch me— i'll kill you.”

“try growin’ a sense of humor.”

“i swear, if you keep talking any longer, you’re gonna put me to sleep. you done yet or what? ”

“who ever said i was good at making decisions?”

“pfft. boring.”

"it's not because i'm lazy. it's just because i don't care."

"you hate me, but you think your boyfriend over there's a saint— a 'good person'. do you even know of all the shit he's done to get where he's at today? i bet you, none of it's the holy work of a good samaritan. hell, you never heard people whisper about him as if he were some sort of god put on earth to smite them? no? that's fine. i'm not bothered. i've done some pretty shitty things in my life too, but i'm certain he's no better than i am, so you can take your 'morals', and shove them up your ass."

“though, if you’re wondering about my eye, which i know you are because everyone’s fucking curious, i guess i could let you in on the secret.”

“guilty as charged.”

“y’know, i hate bastards like you who can’t get to the point and insist on running their mouths. it’s such a bore. shut up already.”

“if all you ever do is look down on people... you’ll never be able to recognize your own weaknesses. “

“piss off.”

“shit, sorry. fell asleep there. y’know, everytime you open your mouth, it’s like this drone buzzin’ in my ear— boring.”
[/spoiler]