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Entry tags:
(Fanfiction) Blood and Broken Bones
Title: Blood and Broken Bones
Rating: R
Series: Bleach
Characters: Ulquiorra Schiffer & Grimmjow Jeagerjaques
Word Count: 637
Your number should let you know exactly how far you can go, and exactly where to stop. Yet you persist.
We do not need numbers assigned to us to acknowledge the differences in our strength. This number “4” is for nothing other than the authority I deserve. Not that I would need authority to do as I pleased, it just makes some conflicts a little bit quicker to pass. Your number should prove enough to you.
The number “6”. Any fool knows that they are two apart, therefore two levels in strength. Your power is two levels below mine, yet you still continue to challenge me at every turn, every sentence, every breath. Sometimes I think you do so just for the adrenaline - the “near-death” excitement. I do not understand this sentiment in any way. These “emotions” that you seem to believe you have - they exist only for show. How can you believe you have something if you cannot see it?
The difference in our strength, however, is entirely visible. Yet, you once again strive for something that you only “believe” you can achieve. How can you act if you are not certain of the outcome?
“Fools” exist, certainly. I see one now. Fools are creatures that are so unintelligent that they act even out of uncertainty, want things out of their reach, and attempt to accomplish acts they have no strength for. You fit into this category well. However, you are a cat. Felines were never the most bright of creatures, sifting through garbage just to feast.
You are the proudest of all jaguars. You search through the garbage for an untouched and untainted meal. You do not seem to realize that you will never find what you seek, and you will only starve to death, ill because of your own foolishness.
So go on, show me that you are the waste that I know you are. You are not worth my time, not worth my attention. Your lust for my defeat and my body will never be satiated. There is no gratification, only pain and despair. Do continue, if you still hunger for me. You have been warned.
Blood will spill, and it will not be mine. The pools that will gather on the white sands will belong to you and your damned pride, your “belief” that you can win. If I must, I will end this life of idiocy for you. Put you out of your misery, like the starving cat on the sidewalk that you are so similar to.
I will lift my foot, hands in pockets. I will place it upon your chest, and press down with more strength than I will ever need to end you. Your bones will crunch beneath my sandal, and you will yowl in pain. Blood will spill around you, pouring out of the tears in your flesh from your own broken ribs. Blood is real. Pain is real. Death is real. If you can see that, than why do you still believe in this “strength” that you clearly do not have?
Fine. So be it. I will crush you beneath me, destroy you with this power of mine. Power you will never defeat, power you will never reach.
And as you gasp for breath, you will then realize your foolish ways. As you rake your claws down my skin, never completely breaking it, you will see that you are wrong. As you cry out as only a feline can in pain, you will thank me for enlightening me. As your bones snap and your organs burst from this intense strength, you will know that you are indeed the trash you belong with.
And as I walk away, not truly caring whether you live or not, you will watch my retreat and you will have learned your lesson. A lesson of blood and broken bones.
Any fool knows the difference between “4” and “6”.
Rating: R
Series: Bleach
Characters: Ulquiorra Schiffer & Grimmjow Jeagerjaques
Word Count: 637
Your number should let you know exactly how far you can go, and exactly where to stop. Yet you persist.
We do not need numbers assigned to us to acknowledge the differences in our strength. This number “4” is for nothing other than the authority I deserve. Not that I would need authority to do as I pleased, it just makes some conflicts a little bit quicker to pass. Your number should prove enough to you.
The number “6”. Any fool knows that they are two apart, therefore two levels in strength. Your power is two levels below mine, yet you still continue to challenge me at every turn, every sentence, every breath. Sometimes I think you do so just for the adrenaline - the “near-death” excitement. I do not understand this sentiment in any way. These “emotions” that you seem to believe you have - they exist only for show. How can you believe you have something if you cannot see it?
The difference in our strength, however, is entirely visible. Yet, you once again strive for something that you only “believe” you can achieve. How can you act if you are not certain of the outcome?
“Fools” exist, certainly. I see one now. Fools are creatures that are so unintelligent that they act even out of uncertainty, want things out of their reach, and attempt to accomplish acts they have no strength for. You fit into this category well. However, you are a cat. Felines were never the most bright of creatures, sifting through garbage just to feast.
You are the proudest of all jaguars. You search through the garbage for an untouched and untainted meal. You do not seem to realize that you will never find what you seek, and you will only starve to death, ill because of your own foolishness.
So go on, show me that you are the waste that I know you are. You are not worth my time, not worth my attention. Your lust for my defeat and my body will never be satiated. There is no gratification, only pain and despair. Do continue, if you still hunger for me. You have been warned.
Blood will spill, and it will not be mine. The pools that will gather on the white sands will belong to you and your damned pride, your “belief” that you can win. If I must, I will end this life of idiocy for you. Put you out of your misery, like the starving cat on the sidewalk that you are so similar to.
I will lift my foot, hands in pockets. I will place it upon your chest, and press down with more strength than I will ever need to end you. Your bones will crunch beneath my sandal, and you will yowl in pain. Blood will spill around you, pouring out of the tears in your flesh from your own broken ribs. Blood is real. Pain is real. Death is real. If you can see that, than why do you still believe in this “strength” that you clearly do not have?
Fine. So be it. I will crush you beneath me, destroy you with this power of mine. Power you will never defeat, power you will never reach.
And as you gasp for breath, you will then realize your foolish ways. As you rake your claws down my skin, never completely breaking it, you will see that you are wrong. As you cry out as only a feline can in pain, you will thank me for enlightening me. As your bones snap and your organs burst from this intense strength, you will know that you are indeed the trash you belong with.
And as I walk away, not truly caring whether you live or not, you will watch my retreat and you will have learned your lesson. A lesson of blood and broken bones.
Any fool knows the difference between “4” and “6”.