may i stand unshaken

"You are a person. But like a person, you can be a weapon, too.” — Nicodemus Bossier. Bounty Hunter. [closed for wickedsrest-rp]  

[bountybossier]

float up from dream | potw solo

Second part of this. Content: Emotional abuse mention, physical abuse mention, death mention

Years hardened the edges of Nicodemus, trimmed him down to a sharp and efficient thing that Samson kept close by. He was only alone in the dead of night when he used candlelight to read the books he found tossed aside. The old man was getting older, slowing down. Even so, the young man had seen him take down creatures the same way he had when he was younger. Just a touch more ferocious, a bit more unbound. The younger hunter walked slow behind Samson as they moved through the weeping willows, his brow slightly furrowed. His rifle rested across his sweat slicked forearms.

“Samson.”

“What is it, boy?”

Nicodemus’s jaw ticked. He was nearing twenty and still boy. He rubbed at his jaw as the old man turned to face him. He didn’t flinch as those coal dark eyes fell on him.

“What are we doin’?”

The old man’s eyes narrowed and his head cocked. He lowered his own gun by his side.

“We’re doin’ what we’ve always been doin’. Nothin’ more and nothin’ less. Why’re you questionin’ me?”

The younger man’s head ticked down as he looked at the ground and took in a deep breath. He had been thinking of this moment the second his boots touched the unkempt grass outside their front door. Since he had sat outside when the moon was up and simply listened to the night. Listened to the frog song and the wolf song but made no attempt to silence it. Since he had taken a look at the supposed good word and doubted it being just that.

He lifted his head.

“I--What we’re doin’ is bullshit, pa,” he said. “How’re you not tired of this day in and day out nonsense?”

Samson was in his face in a second, eyes bloodshot.

“How dare y--”

Nicodemus held up a finger.

“It was one, wasn’ it?” He said quietly. “One that killed my ma?”

“Get to your point quick, boy.”

The younger man took a step back.

“It was one and we been doin’ this since,” Nicodemus trailed as he looked off. “Too damn long, pa. Just the fuckin’ one and ain’t nothin’ changed. Just been doin’ the same shit over and over. Half the time, your demons are--”

Samson tried to grab at Nicodemus’s throat but the younger hunter was quicker. Enough pressure and the old man dropped his gun. More and his arm was pinned against his back. The old man tried to speak but anger trampled his words. He was older but Nicodemus was stronger.

“Your demons ain’t out here, pa,” Nicodemus said as he shook his head. “They ain’t been out here awhile. We’re goin’ home. It’s grandma’s birthday or did you forget that one?”

When they came upon the house, the smell of blood and wolf fur was fresh. Eva was dead, headless, and there sat a wolf, not a demon.

“Money counts the same even if it’s just one of you.”

They tried in vain to tail the wolf as they fled the home but grief and rage heavy, the two men were too slow and they returned back to their broken home.

Nicodemus was silent as he cleaned Eva’s blood from the floor. It was a matter of time, he thought, before it all came down to knock on their door. The next time he did, he wouldn’t be there. He could survive without Samson and whatever he did, whatever he hunted, he would do it for himself.

-----

Chlorine burned Nicodemus’s eyes as he opened them underwater. It burned his wounds too and he spat out water as he emerged. Red flowed around him and he hissed as he took in heavy, burning breaths. The woman was there still but she did not move to strike him again. Her image rippled as she crouched in the windowpane in front of him and looked at him with death-blackened eyes. His own burned back at her as his nails bit into the floor.

Death by a thousand cuts was what she seemed to be aiming for but he wouldn’t give it to her.

Not when Samson burned so brightly at the forefront of his thoughts. Not when the demon Samson claimed to be hunting was there all along and a seeming spirit of vengeance stared at him.

Nicodemus wasn’t finished yet.

Slowly, he swam over to the other side and pulled himself free of the pink water. Another cut along his back but then he was through the back door and into the solid dark of the night.

The hum of his mother’s song was alive in his head as he moved sluggishly through the dark and found a place to rest. To breathe. He was a killer and one day he would likely be killed but not right then.

Not until he dealt with his demons.

[bountybossier]

end of small sanctuary | potw solo

When: Current/during PotW Where: Nic and Skylar’s Home Summary: Nic meets Mary. Content: Emotional abuse mention, animal death mention, violence

It was getting cooler in Maine. An actual cold. Not the sweltering sort of half-dead cold that Louisiana took when the year crawled toward its end. With a glance toward the darkened doorway of Skylar’s room, Nicodemus stepped out into the pool room and opened the back door to let the cool air in. He had found a used string of thin lights at the local thrift store and had them strung out across the three masks above the fireplace. They didn’t do much for him. If anything they hurt his eyes but others seemed to like them. So they stayed. They clicked on as he left the rest of the room dark.

He pulled himself and Dundee out a chair. Then a table to set his tools down. He grunted as he sat down and the dog, the damn dog, moved with an effortless grace as he curled into the chair. Beady eyes stared at him. The hunter snorted and shook his head. Shrugged off his flannel shirt to wrap the chihuahua in snugly.

“You’re a mess, dog.”

The small dog heaved a heavy breath back. There’d be no use arguing, so he didn’t. Simply set down a cloth, some knives, and a whetstone. He breathed in through his nose and breathed out through the corner of his mouth. The knives he grabbed were rusted over, their edges dulled. The way he neglected the sharp for the soft lately…

Hell.

-----

“What’s that in your hand, boy?”

A squeak gave him away and when he looked up, he could hardly see through the shadow his grandfather cast. Nicodemus scrambled to cover it but he held it too tight. It wasn’t what he was supposed to be doing. His hunting knife had been tossed haphazardly to the ground. The squirrel squirmed in his hand and bit at his fingers. It wasn’t doing that before. Before Samson came in. Shocked, the hunter let go and watched as the squirrel took off back into the woods. Samson watched it go and when he turned his head to look down at Nicodemus, his eyes were black coals. They could have been smoking for all the boy knew of devils. The thought confused him.

“Find it.”

The older man didn’t blink as he stared down.

“F-Find what, pa?”

The old man’s knees popped as he crouched down and snatched Nicodemus’s jaw in his hand. Fear quickened Nicodemus’s pulse to a rabbit run.

“Don’t act dumb with me, boy,” he hissed. “You find your new friend and you bring it home.”

-----

He had learned how to skin an animal that night. How to properly cleans his knife after even the smallest of kills. After that, he learned to not keep the soft things so close. The hunter grunted as he finished cleaning and sharpening the first blade. A simple Bowie knife. He turned the blade to catch the light of the night. Clean enough to see himself in.

But it wasn’t himself that he saw. The knife held a second edge inside.

The point of it glanced across his shoulder as he dropped the knife and jumped out from the chair. He hissed as he touched his fingers to his cold skin. Blood. Dundee yipped and thrashed out of his nest as gossamer hands gripped the inside edges of the knife.

“Fuck this fuckin’ town.”

Nicodemus swore to himself as he quickly shooed Dundee back the main building. Thank fuck for the doggy door he had installed. He kept his eye on the knife. The longer he stared at it, the more his eyes narrowed in a deep set confusion. Shoulders followed a head and before long, an entire body lifted itself out of the knife’s surface. Dark water eyes stared through dark hair at him.

She didn’t look of this time.

She didn’t look of this world.

-----

“You understand now, Nicodemus?”

The boy ignored the way his grandfather only now called him by name. His thin hands shook around the gun he held, the metal an awkward fit. The demon’s body was bent over itself, a creature part man and part wolf that he had been terrified of. The red from the hole in its head bled into the swamp water. The boy didn’t know where the silver bullet went, only what it did. Samson’s hand closed around his and took the gun away. The old man’s eyes were watery and he wasn’t quite looking at Nicodemus.

“This is what took your mother away from me,” he said and the boy nodded as he wrapped his arms around himself. “Demons like this take away the mamas and papas of kids all over. Sons and daughters too. They ain’t ‘sposed to be here.”

“K-Kids like me?”

“No, not like you,” Samson said. “Y’ain’t a kid, Nicodemus. You’re someone that can do somethin’ ‘bout this. Like I’ve been tryin’ to do. We are the red right hand. That’s all we can be. Do you understand?”

Nicodemus didn’t. He couldn’t stop looking at the blood. But if it meant something, the way it meant to his grandfather, then he could learn to deal with it.

-----

Whoever it was, she was angry. Fury bled from her as deeply as blood seeped through Nicodemus’s fingers. Even as he moved across the pool room and swung his head around frantically, he was confused. He could see her, which was a problem in itself he figured, but she moved like nothing he had ever seen before. When he looked one way, she attacked him from another.

His blood dotted the light grey marble as he moved. His eyes darted around the room wildly. He couldn’t get his blood to settle. He backed into a window and bit back a yell when something sharp dug into the meat of his back. She was there when he looked back, a pale face contorted in rage and fury. What the hell had he done to her? Who the hell had given her his address?

“Don’t wanna fight you.”

She stilled and simply looked at him. A knife point punctured his side slowly and he staggered back. A voice like a hiss, like something old and from a place unknown, slid into his ears.

“Killer be killed.”

His foot slipped on the edge of the pool and he shut his eyes as he fell back into the cold water.

Red blossomed.

[a-bugz-life]

Fuckin’ Amphibians || Anita & Nicodemus

TIMING: A few days ago. PARTIES: @professoranieves and @bountybossier SUMMARY: Anita and Nic are both out in the forest when they run across some Ballogbogs. Things get a bit psychedelic. 

Keep reading

[bountybossier]

@kadavernagh

[pm] I'm no longer a working Medical Examiner, so unless you leave your colon to me specifically, I won't be able to see it.

[pm] Regan Kavanagh can have my fuckin’ colon is not somethin’ I’m puttin’ in my wi How’d that happen? You ask after one too many people’s innards or somethin’?

[bountybossier]

[pm] I'm afraid I can no longer lay claim to your colon. Please make sure it ends up in good hands.

[pm] Shit. Guess I’ll have to return this gift wrap I bought. Not that I wanted you to have it but, uh, you’ve been hankerin’ for it for awhile. What changed?

[bountybossier]

Do you have any immediate goals?

‘Spose it’s try to prevent the horde of children I know that have committed murder not get arrested for said fuckin’ murders. Think that’s a reasonable go

Jesus, they murder a l

Been considerin’ a midday nap here in the next minute or so. That’s pretty immediate, ain’t it?

[athenaquinn]

Finally Free || Orion, Nic, & Athena

TIMING: 12:30-1am ish, October 20th LOCATION: Quinn Household, Harris Island PARTIES: @3starsquinn, @athenaquinn, and @bountybossier SUMMARY: Nic is a Dad. CONTENT: Physical and emotional abuse mentions

Keep reading

[bountybossier]

[pm] Hey, boomer. Guess who gets to help me finishing moving into my brand new apartment this week?

[pm] Huh. Guessin’ it’s me? The person helpin’ you move in? Wait. How am I boomer? I know shit.

[bountybossier]

themidnightfarmer​:

Good to know, good to know 😉 so you DO know how to knit!! I knew someone would!!! Yes yes I will knit you anything your heart desires !! As soon as I know how to! What colours of wool should I take along, what’s your favourite, oh boy this is magical!

I might know how to knit, yeah. Pretty, uh, jazzed about knittin’, huh? Don’t blame you, I guess. Kinda nice when you make your own giant fuckin’ blanket. Uhh. Black, green. Browns, I guess. A nice magenta. What about you?

[gaminginsanity]

The Last of Us: Outbreak Day 2018 Poster (x)

[bountybossier]

@corpse--diem

[pm] Blanche Harlow, that's who. She sent me one of those stupid glitter bombs. Make sure you watch out for Dundee? He keeps trying to lick it off the furniture.

[pm] Harlow. Color me fuckin’ surprised. I wouldn’t worry about Dundee with the shit I’ve seen him eat whole and sometimes alive, what the fu. Why is she glitter bombin’ you?

[bountybossier]

@themidnightfarmer

So what you're saying is a sunday morning is the best time to visit you? That's what I heard 😉

Hell, I ‘spose that is what that means. That when I’m supposed to teach you how to knit and we make each other shit?

[bountybossier]

What makes you feel truly alone?

I dunno, Sunday mornings? Y’know, there’s this assumption that alone is a bad fuckin’ thing to be. It ain’t. Dependin’ on the day, sometimes your own company is better than others and you just wanna be by yourself. It is what it is.

[bountybossier]

Nicodemus Bossier Moodboard 1/???

[bountybossier]

[pm] I had to run out but you'll probably see the living room before I get home. Just--when you do, please understand that I /sincerely/ did my best.

[pm] Who murdered a FUCKIN’ CLOWN in the livin’ room?

[walker-journal]

harlowhaunted​:

don’t forget faux fur mittens to keep your hands worm in the winter! 

And some gator sheik working gloves

[bountybossier]

Why are you all like this?

[bountybossier]

@harlowhaunted

What about owning a pair of killer crocs?

Like a pair of the animals? Ain’t right to assume they’re killers when they’re just out here existin’. I don’t think they’d like it here, truth be told. Don’t think much does.