#can you imagine having to witness the sudden death of someone else- having their corpse burned into your memory

[blizzardz]

that one trope where Character A has been missing for years, almost believed to be dead, until suddenly coming back, much to the relief and happiness of all their friends and family. Except for Character B, who is more than terrified about A's return. But for whatever reason, B can't let anyone know why they feel the way they do about A's return

[remsmoonlight]

— title : battle scars

— word count : 2.1 k words

— pairing : daryl dixon x reader

— summary : during a quick run, you fall into some trouble with some walkers though daryl’s love language is spoken with actions and not words.

— warnings : mentions witnessing death, near death experiencing, extremely minor cursing, mentions of blood and gore

           ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　requested     　/     requests are open    *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

okay so i requested this a while ago to someone else and they said they’d write it but i never found it  and i forgot who i asked so i might of missed it, but maybe a walker grabs readers hair or something so she looks for something to tie it up with and daryl gives her his bandana and she just decides to claim it or some cute shit like that??? it’s okay if you don’t wanna♥️♥️

Shap rays penetrate effortlessly through the barred windows, the tatty scraps of cloth providing little protection against the blinding morning sunshine. You pull your arm to cover your eyes, not quite ready to be released from the grips of your slumber.. the nights before a run have always been the most troublesome. Your mind running through every which way the day could turn out, pleading to your mind to focus on the positive outcomes that are always on the table of possibility. Both the positivity and negativity keeping you awake into the late hours.

The only consolation being when you were gifted the image of a blanket of stars over the dark sky, free from any light pollution that was known among many.

“ time to get your ass up, sleepy head. “

You don’t need to remove the arm that lays heavily draped across your head to know who’s familiar drawl that belongs to. Daryl Dixon. His voice in being a quite distinct quality about him. Though there’s more than that you think humorously as a smirk that lazily snakes its way onto your lips.

“ yeah, yeah. I’m up. “ you respond to him as you find yourself focusing on his form in the doorway, clutching the bed linen that serves as a makeshift door in his grip. Your mind wonders if you’ve ever seen him in a state of inactivity that held no tension .

Members of the group continue to filter into the main hall at a leisurely pace, sleep still clinging to their backs in a losing battle.

Sitting off to the side, your gaze settles to the lone male. Daryl nods from you to the space across from him, a bowl laid across from him.

“ thanks for saving me some breakfast. “ you speak, breaking the silence as you pick up the spoon and lifting a heap of oats onto it. Knowing you would need the energy, of course, the world ending brought a new meaning to breakfast being the most important meal of the day.

“ yeh, don’t need ya collapsin’ on me now. “

Amusement tugged at both corners of your mouth as you peer at him, even after all the time had passed, he still doesn’t want to show how much he cares for the people in the group. Even the newcomers from the Woobury group. Of course, you know.. you see what it means to him see everyone safe, to avoid losing yet another member of his new found family to the rotting fingers of death. The finality of death landing heavier blows on his already bruised heart over again is not something he wishes to fall victim to.

“ you know you’ll never get rid of me, I’ll haunt you from my grave! “ you say, joy lighting up your features as you chuckle, momentarily forgetting your breakfast.

A silence embeds itself comfortably between the two of you, something that becomes less and less awkward every time you find yourself in the vicinity of the man. Human contact and communication had to be quickly developed and it wasn’t long before you became comfortable chatting with everyone as if you had known them for years, but Daryl isn’t completely like those members in your group. He speaks with his actions and it took you long enough to realise that, which is why you found no awkwardness sneaking itself around your throat to force words to fall from your lips unwillingly.

“ so, where are we going first? “

“ ‘saw there was a sports store a few miles out a few days ago. they’ll have some’a those bike chains for those fences. “

Nodding in response, you understand it’s nothing more than a simple task. Though, nothing is truly simple now, even something so minor can cost you your life. The first few days you had spent up at the quarry were plagued with nightmares, every day when you saw the sun begin to dim roused a deep fear that bled into your heart, opening a deep pit in the bottom of your stomach, thinking about the rotting corpses and the frenzied deaths of those you loved. The night time cradled your worst moments, to have to close your eyes and to only be left alone with your thoughts would haunt you endlessly.

Shaking your head to yourself, you rid yourself of that dark energy clouding above you. You have dedicated a lot of time and drive to make progress, it’s not something you yearn to be thrown away as if it were nothing.

“ are we going to pick anything else up, or is it just those? “

“ nah, no use gettin’ ourselves killed. “ he responds, focusing on eating breakfast.

You nod your head swiftly, you certainly can’t argue with that logic! Knowing others have lost their lives or have been horribly injured attempting to go the extra mile.

“ well, I won’t be disagreeing with that plan. quick and simple. “

“ sounds like.. “

He lifts his line of sight to stare at you as his sentence trails off into silence, a passing moment crawling along almost uninterrupted before the realisation of what he meant erupted in your mind. He’s talking about you!

“ that’s so rude! “ you say with wide eyes, creasing up and shaking with laughter.

“ I ain’t wrong. “

Even Daryl begins to ease up and chuckle to himself, a small part of him had been cowering in the corner thinking that his words may have been too offensive, even for you. But seeing the sparkle in your eyes as you find amusement is enough to banish it permanently.

The two of you leave the confines of the prison, your arms are locked around his midsection as you are settled behind him on the motorcycle. The speed of it hit a steady pace, the scenery around you nothing more than passing blurs merging into a melting pot of Earth tones.

Slowing to a stop, the two of you get off the bike and make your way into the abandoned store, your eyes scan it in its entirety. Confidence fills you in the thought that it is older than you and definitely had seen better days. Dirt and grime lined the structure from the bottom, sliding up the walls to the top of it. Your brows burrow in repulsion, though surely it can’t be as bad as the prison. Or how it used to be..

“ stay back. “

You watch as he bangs a hand against the grungy window, hardly anything could be seen through the layer of dirt that had made its home there. A visual picture certainly would not be helping either of you this time.

It took around two minutes for a series of slams against the windows to startle you, your heartbeat begins to speed up slightly at the suddenness of the noise. Even when you’re expecting the arrival of walkers, they still manage to catch you off guard. The two of you nod to one another, you move to open the door for four walkers to pile out. Your attention is kept to the two who made a beeline for your body. You step backwards with your knife now in your hand, hoping to create distance between the two of them for you to be able to stab one of them.

One of them grabs your shoulders, immediately your hand goes to shove one of its away from yours. Momentarily it loses grip and trips into you, luckily your hand with the knife is faster than you realise and you feel the resistance its skull and brain give you but you’re stronger and ensure it hits the mark. The change is instantaneous, the walker descends quickly, taking you with it. All your strength and fight is dedicated to pushing the dead weight off of you, your arms make progress as it falls next to you with a thud.

Scrambling to the space next to you to retrieve the knife still sleeping snugly within its head, your breath is ragged from the physical exhaustion and stress of the situation. Your eyes are wide with fear and it takes more strength than you realise to pull it out with a sickly squelch, a darkened liquid coats the once shining blade. Though you have little time to study its form before you feel fingers clawing at your hair, the surprise causes you to drop the knife and your hands to move towards the decaying ones who have secured their grip.

Screams erupt from your lips as your fingers move upwards, pushing what you guess is the walker’s snapping mouth that feels so close. Close enough that you’re unable to distinguish if the breaths you feel close to your neck is from the walker or your imagination. Never before had you felt like a prey animal before, you’re too close to death for your liking, you’d seen people turn from being bitten and to be seconds away fills you with dread. Your fight becomes less and less by the passing second, your body is too tired to fight itself and the walker at the same time, incapacitation is becoming your reality.. warning to confront you one step at a time.

One moment all you can hear are snarls and a warm pain that shoots through the roots of your hair, the next it feels like time has stopped. The grip that was once securely locked is now absent, you don’t know where to look.. all you know is you don’t want to look behind you.

“ y’alright? “

Your sight moves upwards, squinting as you take in the face in front of you. It’s Daryl.

“ uh, I -- “ your voice breaks at the end as you reply, shock overwhelming your body. You drop your head towards the ground in disturbance, refusing to allow your emotions to spiral, you focus on a spot on the ground.

Daryl moves towards you, his gaze checking you over, though begins to search through your hair to make sure the walker has not scratched or punctured your skin with its filthy teeth. Seeing you in that state with the walker so close to dimming your light pushed him, pushed him to fight harder than he has with a few walkers. He knew he could have sent a bolt through its skull, but rage filled his entire being as it drove him. Sending him in its direction and sending a blade through it with his entire force.

“ hey, it didn’t get ya. y’hear me? it didn’t get ya. “ he says, bringing your attention back to him. Though whether it was confirmation more for his benefit or yours, he can’t tell.

“ I never even.. I knew, I.. “

“ y’ain’t got your battle scar yet. “

“ not with you around, luckily. “ you reply with a shake of your head, a soft tone is all you can muster in that minute.

Even in spite of yourself and how you feel, a light chuckle coming from you dusts the air gently as if it never occurred. Shaking your head with a smile that barely registers you push yourself onto your knees and make a move to stand. He’s there to help you up, a tender force clutches your upper arm that you almost fail to associate with him.

The both of you share the same thought unknowingly, that your entire being feels nothing but sensitivity. Shock from enduring the ordeal leaving your body made from nothing more than glass that could shatter at a moment’s notice.

“ hey.. “

A bandana is dangling in front of your vision, confused, you take it into your fingers. Your touch feels the rough material as you run your fingertips across it. Like a light bulb, understanding lights your features up with the power of a thousand suns. Your hair is gathered over to one side, collected to form something of a braid now rests over your shoulder.. with the bandana keeping it together.

“ thank you, Daryl. “ gratitude coats your words, you are extremely thankful for his intervention “ this is mine now though.. “ you inform him, a hand moving to finger the material that now has a new home in your hair.

“ yeah, y’wish. “

“ I meant what I said though, thank you. if you weren't here I’d be one of them. “ a sigh from your mouth releases, a shudder crawling its way through yourself. The shake being easily visible.

“ that ain’t ever gonna happen, I ain’t gonna let it. “

A dull smile pulls at the corners of your lips, a sadness coating your expression at his words. Moving towards him gradually, your arms slide around his midsection. Knowing that those promises can’t always be fulfilled, but that’s Daryl a thought crosses the centre of your mind. He always wants to save everyone. You barely register the light weight of two palms on your back, but a warm light grows in size within you at the realisation.

“ you can let this bandana be mine though.. my good luck charm when you’re not around. “

“ fine. “ Daryl gives in, a hint of laughter in his response as he speaks to you.

[the--sad--hatter]

Sparks Fly - Chapter 13 (Bucky x Reader)

Fandom: Marvel Soulmate!AU/Detective!AU

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Warnings: Swearing, Gratuitous Violence, Criminal Activity, Life or Death Situations, Graphic Gore, Crime Scene Descriptions, Dark Humour, Slapstick Humour, Kara Humour, Catastrophic Amounts of Fluff, More Angst Than You Can Shake A Stick At

Summary: (Imagine Brooklyn 99 and Criminal Minds had a baby)

If you want to know if you’ve found your soulmate, it’s simple… All you have to do is kiss them. If they’re your soulmate then there will be sparks, literal sparks. You’ve seen it happen to other people and it is a sight to behold; at least you think it is. Detective Bucky Barnes is a little less enchanted with the idea.

Despite your glaring differences, you and Bucky work well together. You’re good at charming witnesses, he’s good at intimidating suspects. You can run a perp down, he can knock them down. But there’s one criminal who’s eluded you both for a long time, and when Brock Rumlow rolls back into town, you and Bucky find yourselves far outside your comfort zones.

Masterlist

Spotify Playlist

Chapter Thirteen - The Braidy Bunch 

You were afflicted with a severe case of cop-brain. It happened occasionally, you’d get so caught up in a case that you didn’t have room in your head for anything else. It usually happened on cases that were difficult to solve, enigma’s wrapped in mysteries, wrapped in a lack of evidence and a hard to decipher motive.

 This case had plenty of evidence. Two faceless corpses, a warning from a dead assassin, a murdered colleague, and a sinister bouquet of flowers.

 Motive was also clear. Rumlow was a psychopath and he was fixated on you.

 But where Rumlow was, what he would do next, and why he wanted you so afraid? Those were question you desperately needed answers to, and you had no way of knowing where to look.

 Your apartment held no clues. If it weren’t for the corpse and the roses left behind, you’d never even have known someone had been there. That thought had sent chills through you, and your grip on Bucky’s hand had tightened for a moment, but then you pulled yourself back from the edge and thrown yourself in crime-solving mode. It was the only way to get through this, to survive this. You had pulled your hand from Bucky’s and put on a profession air that kept the darkness at bay.

You weren’t the lead detective on the case, but assigning tasks authoritatively, you sure as hell acted like you were. Nobody fought you on it, they just nodded and took their marching orders seriously.

 Natasha was working her own case, with the new knowledge from you and Bucky. She was pressing on every contact she had in various other law enforcement agencies and scrolling through endless Interpol lists to identify the two faceless victims who had kickstarted the nightmare.

 Wanda and Pietro were combing through weeks of backdated security footage from the Chinese restaurant next door, to see if there had been any suspicious activity around your apartment before last night.

 Clint and Sam downtown at a well known bar for gang members, grilling his informants for information about Hydra resurfacing.

 Steve was fending off Major Crimes, and The FBI. Hydra were a known terrorist organization, which made this case a free for all, and he was working his ass of to keep it getting taken from you.

 And Bucky was glued to your side, just like he said he would be. He was taking his vow seriously, and you hadn’t left his sight for more than a few minutes, and that had been when you went to the bathroom. Even when you got back to the Precinct, he had taken up residence in an empty briefing room with you, helping you set up the whiteboards with all the evidence and passing you coloured pins as you asked for them.

 Everyone was doing everything the could, but to no avail. By the time darkness had fallen over the streets of New York, you were no closer to solving the case than you had been when the day began. You just couldn’t accept that though, you were convinced there had to be something you missed, and when Bucky had dragged you out of the station to take you home, you had managed to snag a file and smuggle it back to his apartment by hiding it under your shirt.

 “I fucking knew you were still working.” He sighed.

 You looked up from your cross-legged position on the bed, not even mildly guilty at having been caught. He was glaring at the file in your lap like he could set it ablaze if concentrated hard enough.

 “M’not tired. Listen, I was thinking about the flowers. They’re in the lab so we should know more tomorrow, we should go to the florist and see if they remember anything about who ordered them.” You said.

 There had been no card with them, because Rumlow hadn’t needed one. The flowers themselves were the message. He was telling you it was him, letting you know he was still alive, making sure you knew he was coming for you. He was lurking somewhere in the shadows, trying to get inside your head, under your skin.

 But everyone had thought he was dead. He’d been free and clear, and he’s blown it because he needed to hurt you. He might have thought he was winning, but he’d given you the upper hand, because he’d proven that you were the one who was under his skin. He’d fucked up, and that was how you were going to catch him, you were going to use his obsession against him.

 You just weren’t sure how, but you knew you could figure it out.

 You were startled out of your reverie by a pillow landing in your lap, and it surprised you enough for Bucky to pluck the evidence file out of your hand.

 “What?”

 He tossed it onto the corner of the room, and switched the light off so the only sliver of light came from the hallway. Oh, so he was sending you to bed.

 “I’m not sleepy yet, what the hell?” You snarled, attempting to get up and retrieve the file.

 “You’re not sleepy because you’re not calm.” He said, shoving you back down onto the bed. “You need to stop thinking.”

 That was rich, because by the expression on his face, he was thinking very deeply about something. While you were flattened against the headboard and glaring up at him, he re-adjusted the pillow on your lap and with a long, deep breath, climbed onto the bed and lay his head down on it.

 “What the fuuuuck is happening?” You whispered quietly, too afraid to speak loudly or move.

 It was like some sort of wild animal had climbed onto your lap in a sudden and unforeseen show of domesticity.

 “Mindless tasks keep your mind from wandering, and the happier you are, the easier you’ll sleep.” He grunted.

 That explained absolutely nothing, until… He swept his hair out from under his neck until it was all fanned out across the pillow.

 “Oh my God. Oh. My. God! Ohhhh myyyyy God.” You exclaimed in a hushed and awed whisper. “Are you? Is this? Can I?”

 “You know what it is.” He snapped.

 “I need to hear you say it, Bucket.”

 He scowled angrily at you, which didn’t quite have the effect he was hoping for since he was doing it upside-down from your lap. It was adorable.

 “You can braid my hair.” He eventually grumbled, not at all happy about it.

 You were thrilled though. The words were music to your ears and you clapped your hands together excitedly before you wiggled your fingers in anticipation. You hadn’t actually thought he would ever, in a million years, actually let you loose on his luscious locks. The first brush of your fingers against the brunette strands felt like victory, and you knew it was a memory you would treasure forever.

 You gently pulled your fingers through his hair, working out all the little kinks and knots, careful not to tug too hard. You didn’t want to spook him. He just lay there though, and after a few moments his eyes fluttered closed and all the little line on his face smoothed out as his expression melted into one of relaxation. He was enjoying this!

 You painstakingly parted his hair into even sections, and pretended you couldn’t hear the way his breathing evened out, but when you gently raked your nails across his scalp to section a parting, you couldn’t pretend you hadn’t heard that. It was quiet, but unmistakable, the soft grunt of pleasure that rumbled from his slightly parted lips. As soon as it happened, he froze, unnaturally still.

 So you did it again.

 As your nails softly dragged across his scalp, his eyelashes fluttered against his cheek and his hands balled into fists at his sides. The back of your neck suddenly felt too warm and your heart did a strange sort of pitter-pat in your chest. All those confusing feelings that were swirling around inside your chest were not any easier to deal with when the object of your affections was in your lap, and all those less confusing feelings south of your chest were not helped by the noises he was making.

 You still did it again though.

 The involuntary reactions it brought forth, the fact he hadn’t asked or hinted at you to stop, and the endearing blush that tinged his cheeks were all too hard to resist.

 It worked though, his plan. Your mind was purged of all Rumlow and case related thoughts, and even the confusing emotional bullshit slipped further away with every lock of hair you twisted. You just lost yourself in the intricate braiding, letting the repetitive actions take up your headspace. By the time you were finished, you were finally calm, blissfully thought free, and relaxed. So was he, if the peaceful expression on his face was anything to go by.

 “Bucket?” You hummed softly, tapping him on the shoulder.

 Nothing.

 “Bucky?”

 Oh damn. He was fast asleep.

 “Well, fuck.” You whispered to yourself.

A/N -  This chapter is shit, i know it's shit, but it was a shitty chapter or no chapter at all 😫

Bucky Taglist (Closed)

@drdorkus​ @mad4oak​ @anamcg317​ @whoisbxcky​ @pinkisokay​ @saiyanprincessswanie​ @dlcita @bonkybaaarnes​ @marvelsangels​ @lordofthenerds97​ @crushedbyhyperbole​ @prettyboydevito​ @cleoisme​ @supraveng​ @lbuck121​ @daughterofthenight117​ @pinknerdpanda​ @courtneychicken​ @jocundasykes @iluvsumbucky​ @pychedelic-rainbow @ahappylilybug2019​ @silentcoyotesong​ @slytherinyodmslike​ @geeksareunique​ @aikeia​ @nighttwingg​ @ladysergeantbarnes​ @couldabeenamermaid​ @exotic-moondvst​ @buckyreaderrecs​

Everything Taglist (Closed)

@helloimanavenger​ @justahumblesinner @littleredstarfish​ @dark-angel-be-thirsty-af @dilaila95​ @buckysknifecollection​ @justellu​ @spnrvt​ @deathofmissjackson​ @sexyvixen7​ @fairislesheets​ @rvgrsbrns​ @dahkness​ @sleepycayley @isabelcrichards​ @riverdaleserpent04​ @jazztherebel​ @tell-me-a-poem​ @hiddles-rose​ @severepienerdturkey​ @life-wanderer​ @unlikelygalaxygiver​ @fangirlwithatrowel​ @abo4280ooof​ @destiel-artemis​ @dilaila95​ @tarastudiesalot​ @toxic-pineapple​ @ohnosiren​ @for-the-love-of-the-fandom​ @breezy1415​ @misswatson99 @chaoticfiretaconerd​ @marvelfansworld​ @stareyedplanet​ @themusingsofmany​ @zeannastardust​ @littleredstarfish​ @sammyissassy​ @alexakeyloveloki​ @kaz22992​ @randomidiot4444​ @musingpredilection​ @inquisitor-selvala​ @lianadelphius​ @happybookmuffin​ @tony-stank3​ @amoonagedaydreamer​ @dropthepizza346​ @my-drowning-in-time​ @lianadelphius​ @musingpredilection​ @belles-garden​ @lieswithoutfairytales​ @unfriendlyrightfighter​ @rororo06​ @lookalivefrosty​ @official-and-unstable-satan​  

Sparks Fly Taglist (Closed)

@stareyedplanet @freeyourwings @marvelgirl7 @sarcastic-britt @intense-sneezing @eesha266 @buckyyyybear @jordan1509 @draqcnheartstrinq @jennmurawski13​ @whatcouldgowrong-ohthat​ @literalmcuhoe​ @siggy85​ @lordofthenerds97​ @noplacelikehome77​ @lokisironthrone​ @bwady-owo​ @humbledarkness​ @crookedslimecreatorpasta​ @1am9root6​ @thatweirdwalangpake​ @tanelle83​ @thefifthmaraud3r​ @quixotic-romantic @vvienersoldier​ @scarletnerd05​ @emzd34​ @fandomsfallnomore​ @iamthe-shadow-on-the-wall​ @cateyes315​

[imo-chan-imagines]

『 Haikyuu!! Week 2020 | Day 7 』

· Oct. 1st → Fly! ·

Characters: (teams) Karasuno, Nekoma, Fukurodani, Aoba Johsai, Shiratorizawa, (indiv.) Miya Atsumu, Miya Osamu, Aone Takanobu

Prompts: A. free choice!

Tags/warnings: Haikyuu!! (anime), Among Us (video game), PG, fluff, crack, video games, video game violence/death, headcanons, HaikyuuWeek2020

A/N: Among Us is a bit of a hot meme at the moment (great game. Go and play it/watch other people play it if you can. Get a feel for the game if you somehow haven't already.) So I thought, 'Hey, why not?' I mean, I do need to heal my heart after my Day 6 post, so...

What an amazing week it's been! Well done, everyone! All of my Haikyuu Week 2020 posts are SFW, but there's a little treasure trove of NSFW on my blog, too. Please peruse to your heart's content. Thanks for reading! Please enjoy! ♡

Haikyuu boys / playing Among Us

☆ Karasuno ☆

Literally the loudest games you'll ever witness

You know that grainy, electronic crackle that happens when everybody yells on Discord at the same time? Yeah. That

Kageyama can't lie for shit. It's so obvious when he's lying that it's a genuine miracle if he doesn't immediately get ejected

And he stands in all the wrong places when he's faking doing his tasks 😭😭

But he sounds super suspicious when he's telling the truth, too 😅

Noya and Tanaka buddy up no matter what, and go around trying to clear or murder people together

They also end up fuelling each other's incorrect assumptions

Asahi is way too timid to murder anyone right away, so if nobody dies in the first two rounds, you know it's him or someone trying to frame him...

Daichi is the host and tries to keep order in the lobby...tries someone help him

Hinata: Guys, please stop swearing! Natsu is watching me play!! waahhh 🙈 so cute 😇

Hinata always has to be orange. Don't touch his orange

Ennoshita is the king of self-reporting and getting away with it it just be like that

Kageyama goes around called 'Milk' 🥛

Tsukki tries to big-brain the shit out of it 🤣

He's also hella manipulative as an imposter and refuses to kill Yamaguchi 😭

Suga likes to take out the oxygen/recator and lie in wait for the people who come to fix it he will giggle adorably when it ends up working, which sounds kinda pshyco, ngl 😂

But totally screams at his screen when someone he suspected sneaks up on him and kills him

Yamaguchi low-key prefers the mini games to the actual game 😭😭

And Yachi loves being pink and wearing the little flower in her hair ngl, she nearly fainted the first time she got killed

She doesn't play with them often because it's so loud 😬

☆ Nekoma ☆

Kenma streams the gaming sessions on Twitch, and now they kind of have a cult following 🤷‍♀️

These fans be thirsting hard, too like us

Check out my smut headcanons, y'all 🙌

Kuroo is the closest to a genius player you're ever going to see

He does his tasks fairly efficiently, he's good at remembering layouts and people's movements, he calculates the timings of his kills with terrifying accuracy, defends himself pretty well, whether he's lying or not, can gaslight the entire lobby into sussing an innocent person, and pieces together other people's lies with surprising ease

Do not cross Kuroo. He's scary at this game. He's not the Scheming Captain for nothing, y'all

Lev is the kind of person to vent right in front of someone by accident, which is so awkward, but so funny 😂

The entire team must wear the bear ears hat. Yes, that is a rule

It's the closest to cat ears they have right now....

Kenma is pretty quiet when he's playing. He doesn't normally play online games, but his streams took off on Twitch, sooo~

Kenma also has radar ears and can somehow detect when people are lying, but waits until he has proof to accuse them he smart 🤓

☆ Fukurodani ☆

'Whoever Talks the Loudest is Right' mentality 😂

And Bokuto will defend himself at the volume of an air raid siren

Akaashi stays as quiet as possible so he doesn't give anything away

When Bokuto starts sussing people, it turns into something out of Ace Attorney like, chill tf out, man 😂

But his guesses are normally completely wrong

Akaashi sets good parameters for the games, because he's sensible

If Bokuto is given the chance to host the lobby....he will set one task each, put everyone at 4x speed, give the imposter zero cooldown time, and sit back and watch the chaos

Whenever somebody doesn't have an absolutely airtight alibi–

Bokuto: That's hella sus, bro

Lots of childish nicknames, because...well, they're all mentally six years old

Except Akaashi, who has a higher mental age than all of them combined

Let me just say that when Bokuto and Kuroo play together, shit gets so funny

When one of them is an imposter, they will literally vent in front of the other one and trust them not to out them 😂😂

☆ Aoba Johsai ☆

Iwa-chan can always tell when Oikawa is lying, and constantly calls him out on it

Iwa: That's his lying voice. Shitty-kawa is lying. He's the imposter. Vote him off

Oikawa: IWAAA-CHAAAN D:<

Because Iwa's right about Oikawa when he is the imposter, it makes it easy to frame him when it's actually Iwa who's the imposter

And no-one believes Tooru 😭😭

Kyoutani has no chill as an imposter

He just murders everyone on sight, right in front of people, too

Kindaichi tends to accuse people with very little evidence, but his instincts are weirdly accurate

Oikawa gets killed almost immediately every game, so if he isn't dead two emergency meetings in, he's 100% an imposter 😭😭

He then goes around as a salty ghost when he's killed off, mumbling to himself about injustice as he refuses to do his tasks and watches the people who voted him off get murdered one by one

Not that anyone's holding a grudge 🙄😂

Oikawa refuses to be purple and always kills whoever is purple first because it reminds him of Ushijima 😭😭

☆ Shiratorizawa ☆

Ushijima refuses to play if he can't be purple give it back. N O W

And it takes him a long time to get used to the game and the rules

'Why are the lights off? What are these tasks? Why is that one flashing at me? Where is med bay? Why can I use this vent? What's this big, red button for?' etc.

You get the idea. Toshi = big noob

He doesn't really understand the concept of lying, either...

He keeps forgetting to mute himself and ends up saying some very incriminating stuff over the mic which has everyone in literal tears from laughter

Tendou is a sneaky S.O.B, using those vents like a pro and gaslighting perfectly innocent people he's a little bloodthirsty, too 🤫

And his initial guesses about who's the imposter are almost always 100% correct Guess Monster, y'all

Goshiki goes around trying to clear people by watching them doing their tasks, especially Ushijima

But then he gets called suspicious for hanging around people too much

The first time an emergency meeting was ever called, Ushijima literally asked "Why is my name in red?" much to everyone's amusement

Everyone's scared of Ushijima when he follows them, but it normally turns out that he just doesn't know where he's going

Shirabu tends to lose his shit when people start accusing him and he's innocent, and will never EVER trust a word that comes out of Goshiki's mouth

Speaking of, Goshiki and Shirabu – boy, do they bicker like eight year-olds, wasting entire voting rounds just arguing with each other 🙄😭

So everyone else decides to vote off one, and then the other at the next meeting 😭😭

Misc.

☆ The Miya twins ☆

Atsumu puts 100% trust in Osamu not to kill him, even if he is the imposter

How could he? He's his brother. His twin. His other half. They share a unique bond–

And then he screams in betrayal when Osamu slaughters him mercilessly 😂😂

Osamu is unaffected by the sudden outburst from his brother's room

Put them together as an imposter duo, though, and you're in for some trouble

They often win by executing a perfect double kill

And they're both pretty good at lying, but Osamu will not hesitate to throw Atsumu under the bus and vote him off if he's being too suspicious or the lobby has turned against him 😂

Ah, the bond of brotherhood 😂

☆ Aone Takanobu ☆

Aone doesn't talk very much

But when he does, his voice is so low and even that nobody ever suspects he's the imposter

I'm thinking like Corpse Husband, if you've seen him playing with Pewds and the gang

It doesn't really occur to people that he could be lying. He seems so trustworthy and honest

Finds it very hard to blame anyone else, though

Is fairly decent as doing his tasks as a crewmate, but it takes him a long time to remember the layouts of the ships

Almost never gets voted off the ship

© imo-chan-imagines 2020

[sincerelybluevase]

Careful, Madam Chapter Five

A/N Thank you everyone who has left comments and kudos on this, and thank you for being so patient! What can I say? Life is hectic and time is a construct. Tagging @alice1nwond3rland @need-not @thegirlisuedtobe @solattea @halewynslady @ladynephthyss

 I don’t know what I had expected Mrs Danvers to do after I told her. I had not allowed myself to contemplate that, and this, I suppose, was because I knew how painful the news would be to her. Any picture of her ranting or, worse, lying broken on the floor as she keened like a wounded animal would have stoppered my mouth. I would have kept this terrible hurt from her, had I not thought she had the right to know what had happened to her beloved.

I thought of all those things now as those damned words – “Maxim killed Rebecca” – had left my mouth. They flashed in front of my mind’s eye like something out of a nightmare: Danny screaming and sobbing; Danny quivering and fighting for breath; Danny collapsing like one struck down.

But she didn’t do anything. She just stood there, my chin in her hand, beads of blood pearling on the ravaged skin on the inside of her arm. Her fingers grew icy against my skin. It was as if she had put some spell on me; as long as she did not act, I had to remain paralysed, too. I could not speak, could not move, only stare into her liquid eyes and be a witness to her pain.

There is a story my father told me when I was young, a kind of myth. Christ when he bore his cross – or when he was already nailed up on it, it does not matter much – cursed a Jew who taunted him. The sweet embrace of death was denied to this man until Christ would rise again. His punishment had a second element: until the Second Coming, the Jew would have to wander the earth. Some farmers, taking pity on him, arranged the rows of their fields in such a way that he might find rest his aching bones between their crops on Sundays. His mind, though, could find no rest, for his curse had yet another side to it: the Wandering Jew would have to bear witness to human suffering until the end of times.

I had known of this element of his punishment, but that does not mean I understood. As I looked into Mrs Danvers eyes, I began to understand.

Perhaps we might have stood until eternity, had the doctor not come in and broken whatever held us in its grip. With a jerky motion, Mrs Danvers reached for my eye. For one wild moment, I thought she’d pluck it out, but no, she touched the lashes with her finger. “There,” she croaked, “it’s gone.” She nodded at the doctor, then left, her skirts rustling silkily.

Bewildered, I stared after her, my heart pounding.

“Did you have something in your eye, Mrs de Winter?” the doctor asked, and it was only then that I realised that Mrs Danvers had pretended to brush away something at my eye so the doctor might not understand what he had actually been looking at. How else could one explain her housekeeper’s sensitive fingers folded around her jaw? Even in her moment of sorrow, she was like that: brutal in her efficiency.

“It’s gone now,” I said.

The doctor smiled at me. I had met him before, had had tea with his wife centuries ago. He looked haggard and ill at ease now. It was not until he was gone that I realised he had come to me straight after examining Rebecca’s remains.

“Now, Mrs de Winter,” he said, “your husband asked me to come see you. He thinks you might be with child. Can you tell me whether you’ve had any symptoms?” He spoke calmly and soothingly, as if I was a frightened animal. It reminded me of the way the nurse spoke to Maxim’s grandmother. It might have rankled me, had I not been so distracted with worry over Mrs Danvers. Where had she gone? I did not think I could bear her being alone with this terrible, twisted thing, but then I couldn’t deny it was almost a relief she had gone. The depth of her anguish had frightened me. I had not known what to do. My lashes felt strange where she had touched them, the place from whence they grew almost sore. She had ruffled them with her fingertips.

“Mrs de Winter?”

I blinked. “I’m sorry?”

“Can you describe your symptoms to me?” The doctor was still smiling, soft and a little worriedly.

I touched my eye and tried to push my lashes back into their proper shape, but still I felt the ghost of her fingers, how she had taken half a dozen of my lashes between her tips and tugged at them as she pretended to pluck away a speck of dust. “I’m sorry,” I said, “I’m a bit rattled and distracted.”

“Well, that is understandable.”

For a moment I thought he knew, he knew, but no, he was referring to Rebecca’s poor corpse being found and no more. I swallowed. That penny-taste of Mrs Danvers’ blood still lingered.

“My sense of smell has become stronger. I thought it was just because there’s so much scent here at Manderley, but now I’m not sure. I never used to feel sick at certain scents, but now I’m often nauseous. I’ve found it hard to eat.” I thought of Mrs Danvers holding out that glass of milk to me and saying I needn’t drink it if I didn’t want it. I felt her hands on me, heard her voice, soft and intimate and alive, saying I shouldn’t lose any more weight.

I thought I might weep. I rubbed my eye fiercely, wetting my fingertips.

“I see. And your cycle?”

“It has ceased two months ago, but the time before that was strange. It was very light. I didn’t think too much of it, though, because my cycle isn’t always regular.”

“That’s not unusual for someone your age,” the doctor said.

How young do you think I am?

“Must you examine me?” I asked.

“It would be too early to tell, but if you give me a urine sample, I can test it and give you your results after a week.” He was quiet for a minute, then added, “but I suppose it’s important for your husband to know now.”

I shivered and closed my eyes.

I had hoped I could look for Mrs Danvers as soon as the doctor had gone, but Maxim joined us near the end. He put his arm about me and kept squeezing my shoulder and kissing the top of my head. When he let the doctor out, they spoke in hushed murmurs. Were they talking of me? I found I couldn’t care. I went to the window and leaned my forehead against the pane. It was wonderfully cool. Beyond the glass, I could smell the sweet fresh scent of rain and green things replenished. The leaves filthy with dust and dirt had been washed clean.

Where was Mrs Danvers? I had a sudden picture of her gone out in the rain. The storm had largely spent itself by now, but still it came down in fits and bursts. I imagined her walking to the cliffs and standing there, buffeted by wind and wet, the dark stuff of her dress sodden and chafing against her skin. But no, Mrs Danvers was not dramatic like that. She’d be overseeing the staff, her arm disinfected and bound, her hurt carefully folded up and shelved in her chest, her body curled up around it as it throbbed.

“We shan’t dress up for dinner, not tonight,” Maxim said. “It would look wrong.”

The mere thought of food made my stomach ache. “I’m not hungry.”

“That won’t do. You must eat for two.”

He came to stand with me, his large hands resting on my shoulders. His face looked strange in the reflection of the glass, pale and masklike, beautiful in the way that horror sometimes holds loveliness. His palms were terribly hot.

“Then let’s eat,” I said.

The servants must have heard the news by now, judging by the solemn way in which they served us, how quiet they were. I felt their eyes on me, and it made me irritable. We were served cold leftovers from the fancy dress ball.

How funny, I thought as I chewed on a bit of pickled onion, that party should have been my triumph, but it became my shame. Now I was forced to eat my way through it all over again, strangling each bite down. Maxim kept looking at me and my plate, urging me to eat. The servants must have thought him a loving husband indeed.

“Will you send Mrs Danvers up to me?” I asked Frith when the ordeal of dinner was over. “There are things I must discuss with her.”

“She’s not well, Madam,” Frith said solemnly. “Today’s news was a great shock to her. Clarice brought her her dinner on a tray, but she hasn’t eaten.”

That was bad. “Will you let her know I have asked for her? It’s important.”

“Darling,” Maxim said, putting his hand on the small of my back and guiding me to the library so we could have our coffee, “whatever can be so terribly important that you must see Mrs Danvers straight away?”

“The nursery,” I lied. “I’ve not seen one here at Manderley, and I… I must have something to think about, something that isn’t…”

Maxim closed the door behind him and cupped my face. “You poor little dear,” he said, “this is a strain on you too, isn’t it?”

We kissed then; there was nothing I could do to avert it. When we were done, Maxim flung himself in his chair and lit a cigarette. “There’s no nursery at Manderley. There used to be one, but after a few years of marriage, Rebecca decided we had no need of one and changed it into a guestroom. We had many parties in those days, and there was always a shortage of beds.”

“I see,” I said slowly.

Jasper had come out of his basket and now put his head on my knee, looking at me with large dark eyes, his tail softly a-thump. I fondled his silken ears, then kissed them. There’s comfort to be had in the smell of a dog you love. Jasper smelled of woodsmoke and himself. I patted him almost neurotically; if only this could be over and I could look for Danny…

“You look nervy,” Maxim said.

Was that to be wondered at? I scratched Jasper under his chin. He closed his eyes in bliss. “What will happen now?” I asked.

“There’ll be an inquest. You need not come. In fact, I’d prefer if you didn’t. We can’t take any chances, not with your condition.”

He made it sound as if it was a disease. “They found her, yet all Mr de Winter could worry about was you, your little sickness, your delicate condition.”

“What will happen at the inquest?”

“They’ll ask questions. They’ll want to know why I identified that other woman as my wife. Worse, they’ll poke and prod into my private life, because they’ll want to understand how exactly it all went down, how Rebecca came to die inside the cabin of her own boat.”

Jasper rolled on his back in ecstasy. I put my hand on his chest. Through his soft fur I felt his ribcage, and under that the steady thump of his heart. “And after they’ve asked their questions?”

“They’ll decide whether there’s reason to prosecute me.”

My mouth felt dry. There was a tight little pain in my belly. “Do you think they will?”

He shrugged. “I’ll say the other woman was a mistake, like you suggested. I’ll say I wasn’t in my right mind. There’s not much else they can say against me, now is there? Everyone believed Rebecca and I had a happy marriage.”

Not Mrs Danvers. Not me.

A wild thought came to me then. If she and I could testify against Maxim… but I saw then what would happen, saw it even though my spirits lifted and my heart leapt.

The press would make me out to be a jealous girl, insecure and therefore dangerous. I would besmirch Rebecca’s name because I wanted so desperately to believe my husband loved only me, even though all had known how he adored her. He had even fooled me, his wife, hadn’t he? Everyone already thought I had seduced Maxim and he had married me only because he was a gentleman.

And now that I’m pregnant for roughly as long as this marriage has existed, they’ll only believe that more.

No one would believe Mrs Danvers, either. Servants ratting on their masters was so borderline distasteful as to be on par with a crime. It didn’t help that she hadn’t seen anything herself. She had only my word for it, and if everyone thought me crazed with jealousy, a silly little nobody telling tall tales, then what would they think of her, who so many already thought queer and unlikeable and strangely obsessed with her first mistress?  

They’ll call her unnatural. Worse, they’ll say she’s an invert, and what credibility does she have then? As much as a vagabond or prostitute. That was to say: none.

“Come,” Maxim said, startling me out of my reverie. I went to him; what choice did I have? I didn’t want to arouse his suspicion, and so I knelt down at his feet as I always did, and rested my temple against his knee. He smoked three more cigarettes as he stroked my head with that hot, revolting hand of his. With every touch I seemed to grow colder. My skin was hypersensitive, his fingers on my scalp an irritant.

“Soon,” he said, “all shall be well. I know I frightened you this afternoon. It won’t happen again. I am no longer that man.” He gripped my face painfully tight and made me look at him, his nail digging in the soft skin just before chin becomes jaw. “She has not defeated me, my little love. I can see that now. My spirits were depressed, but you’ve raised them up again. I’ve something to fight for now, something I didn’t have before.”

My sight became blurry. How I had longed for him to talk like this to me! Now it appalled and sickened me.

“All this suffering, the shame and lies and filth that bitch put me through for Manderley’s sake,” he said, curving his finger, his nail digging sharper into my skin, “finally have a purpose now that I know I’ll have an heir soon.”

Had any other lunatic ever raved so beautifully? The girl I had been not a day ago would have loved him. Perhaps that was the scariest of all: the knowledge that I had been the type of person who was so lonely, so desperate for love, that she could be seduced into utter devotion to a madman.

But I was that girl no more, and Maxim was not the only person in the world I could love.

I had to see her. If she would not come to me – and I feared she wouldn’t, because Maxim was with me now, and surely she didn’t want to see him – I would go to her. I had told her what had happened to Rebecca, and now I must bear the consequences of that news. No matter how frightening she might become, how she might lash out and hurt me, I needed to be there for her. This I owed her. More than that, she needed to know that she wasn’t alone anymore.

I thought of her as I drank my coffee, played chess with Maxim. In my room, I brushed my teeth and combed my hair, changed into my pyjamas, all under his watchful eye, and still I thought of her.

“Will you have to be up early tomorrow?” I asked as I rubbed some cream into my calloused hands.

“I’ll get dressed in my dressing room. I shan’t wake you. It’s vital you rest,” he promised me. I smiled at him, wishing him dead.

How long he took to fall asleep! His breath whistling through his nose enraged me as much as his swallowing had done during the party, when I had imagined crushing his throat with my fist. Quietly I seethed, until his breathing became deep and regular. Then, I got out of bed and softly moved to the door. My hand was damp. I wiped it on the hem of my nightgown.

Slowly, softly I turned the knob.

The door wouldn’t give.

I tried again, tugging at it, making it shiver in its frame, praying the wood had swollen in the humidity and the door was merely stuck, but no, it didn’t budge.

Maxim had locked us both into this room. I would have to wait until the morning came to see her.

My tears tasted bitter.

[darth-salem-emperor-of-earth]

Here is my second entry for @naruto-fantasy-week! Just like with my previous fanfic for Day One, I realized I had a lot of potential and ideas to explore with this prompt and story idea so one day, I’ll come back to this fic and expand on the premise even further. But man, I wish I was faster at writing and had more time to chug out the rest of my fanfics because I am running out of time and have five more to go. Let’s see if I can get them all done in time. XD

The title of this story derives from both the chorus lyrics and the song title “Demons Are a Girl’s Best Friend” by Powerwolf. I did scanned this fic for edits but I probably missed some errors. 

Summary: Demons, monsters, they’re all the same when you live in a small, rural village always plagued with beasts, curses, and battles between magical creatures. Never in her life did Sakura expect to get pulled into the world of demons, thanks to the curiosity of a fox and tanuki demon. Naruto Fantasy Week, Day 2. Prompt: Monstrous. [Gaara x Sakura, Naruto x Sakura]

Text:

Flashback

Thoughts

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“You have always wanted to caress every monster.”

— Friedrich Nietzsche

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There was a good reason why her village established a curfew at night and on certain days of the year they warned the locals not to venture away from the outskirts of the hamlet and wander into the damp, murky woods that hugged near the village’s perimeter, acting like an imposing wall to another world. Monsters, demons, they claimed, laid on the prowl, waiting for the chance to snatch up an unsuspecting, unfortunate soul who strayed too far from the village and wandered into the clustered, dark forest. Their warnings and cause for concern were not groundless, for people did mysteriously vanish or when traveling to another neighboring town, didn’t leave in time to make it before dusk settled and never returned home. Bandits was the common explanation but there had been cases reported by witnesses, stating they saw humanoid beings with claws, fangs, and animals ears and tails. Demons walked among mankind and they were always looking to steal some away and never bring them back. 

Sakura had all these warnings and stories whirling in her brain as she sprinted through the winding, twisted path that would eventually lead her out of the dismal, haunting forest and back to the open fields of her helmet, where she’d surely be safe. She took a calculated risk in coming into the woods to scavenge for plants and herbs but a rare moss grew in these parts abundantly and her shishou needed them to treat the villagers. After a month of braving the secluded, verboten forest with no trouble, now, of all days, when their supply was running out thanks to a fever crippling the younger, more able-bodied folk with dizziness, hallucinations, extreme sweats, and lack of strength, she was spotted and now pursued by two demons. One fox demon and the other, a tanuki demon.  

Sakura leapt over a gnarled tree root, gripping her basket firmly to prevent the contents from spilling out and making her covert trek to the woods all for naught. She refused to look behind her. Looking back would slow her down and speed was critical if she was going to survive this frightful encounter. 

“Hey, hey you! Why are you running away from me?”

They’re just taunting me! They can’t know where I am!

Ducking underneath a branch, Sakura continued to race, increasing her pace even though her legs ached and her lungs heaved as if her whole chest was on fire. The sun was no longer peeking through the dense canopy and by now, she could hardly see what was in front of her. She had to be close to the outskirts of her town soon--she couldn’t be going in circles...was she?

That worrisome musing distracted Sakura momentarily from her mission, her feet still in motion but her eyes and mind were frozen in the sudden trepidation that in her fear of being spotted by some demons, she took a wrong turn and was horribly lost in these forsaken woods. She forgot to check her feet or look down at the ground, for a nearby tree branch snagged on the hem of her apron, startling her so badly her whole body twisted around from the shocking impact, one hand grasping her apron to tug it free. In doing so, Sakura failed to notice the enormous, thick tree root behind her and subsequently tripped backwards, the basket of herbs flying out of her grasp. Her collision with the bumpy, hard ground was agonizing and endless, her head throbbing and pounding like a hammer on the anvil and she tasted blood in her mouth. The back of her head felt wet and something sharp and jagged was jabbed up against her back. She tried wiggling her fingers and toes but was only greeted with a numbing sensation. Darkness swirled in her vision. She inhaled deep and instantly regretted it, her chest constricting and screeching at her to stop breathing while she hacked up some blood. As an apprentice to a knowledgeable, highly skilled and competent village doctor, Sakura deduced she was in horrible shape and if she didn’t get help soon, she would die.

I’m a dead woman either way. I’ll either bleed out or those two demons chasing me will finish the job.

Tears prick her eyelids and stubbornly, Sakura blinked them back, closing her eyes to alleviate herself from the vertigo that plagued her vision and head. Her trip wasn’t supposed to end like this, with her dying, alone and in pain, while her shishou anxiously waiting for her return with the herbs. She failed her mentor and everyone from her village. How long would it take for them to be courageous enough to explore the forest and discover her body? Or would the earth claim her corpse first?

“Please,” she croaked, ignoring the pain that came with every hagged breath. Tears flowed down her cheeks unchecked, her waning willpower couldn’t restrain them anymore. “Please, someone...help me. Save...my village. I’ll… I’ll do anything!” 

A torrent of coughing prevented her from continuing, eyes clamped shut. But in the midst of her excruciating hacking, Sakura swore she heard a feminine, sinister but twinkling cackle. But given the amount of blood she had already lost and sustained a severe head injury, she had to imagine the foreboding noise. Yet the laughter, hallucinated or not, echoed in her head as her head lolled to its side, weariness reaching every part of her, as if a burdensome, cool pall coiled itself around her and held her tautly in its grasp. 

“Sleep,” rang a voice that was not her own in her head. “Sleep, and let the two demons claim you. They will save you.”

Despite the pain, Sakura snorted but didn’t argue with the voice in her mind. After all, she was going to die so why waste her energy debating with herself? 

“Sleep!” the unknown voice commanded again, this time sounding impatient and irked. Sakura’s consciousness slipped from her control and the last thought she had was this was finally the end and she only hoped someone from the village would at least find her basket and bring the plants back to her mentor to treat her ailing patients.     

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When the relentless round of bickering reached Sakura’s ears as she slowly woke up, she thought she was back home, in bed, and the near-death experience she underwent in the demon woods was simply a vivid nightmare. Yet as she fought off the grogginess and slowly opened her eyes, the hope swelling within her crashed almost instantly with such a raging crescendo at the sight of the fox and tanuki demon arguing with each other. They were loud enough that she didn’t have to strain her ears to hear them.

“What do you mean, ‘your territory’? She was wandering on my land when I found her!” growled the fox demon, spiky blonde hair momentarily distracting Sakura with his outburst as he shook his head vigorously. His azuline eyes flashed with rage, pulling his lips back to reveal a sharp set of canine teeth. 

No emotion registered on the tanuki demon’s pale visage or his aqua eyes, his scarlet hair remaining Sakura painfully of her own blood that she was hacking up not long ago. She felt sore, true,  but nothing as horrible as the agony wracking her body when she lied motionlessly, in the woods that evening. Had these two demons healed her fatal injuries?

There was no one else but them who could have reached me in time. But how did they save me? And more importantly, why?

As she pondered these puzzling inquiries, Sakura carefully listened on to the demons’ bickering. Their argument involved her but for what?

The ruby haired tanuki demon sneered at the blond fox demon. Dismissal was the only impression marked on his features now. “Since when did your territory cross over into mine? The once mortal was gathering in my domain and therefore, she will be a part of my clan.”

Clan? Is that what they are yelling to each other about? Whose territory they found me in?

At least they didn’t plan on devouring her. After all, why go through all the trouble of healing and patching up your prey if your own goal was to eat it? 

The golden haired demon’s ears twitched irately and the fox demon crossed his arms. His long, fluffy, gilded tail curled around the side of his left leg, looking so soft despite the anger charging through its owner. “Then why don’t we ask her ourselves?! I bet she’d rather stay with me than you, Gaara!”

Sakura froze as the tanuki demon–Gaara was his name–turned his attention towards her, teal eyes narrowing at her huddled form. Like Naruto, he too had ears and a tail, but his ears were more round and the tail shorter but seemed firmer. The fur on both the tanuki demon’s ears and tail was a tawny hue, with faint patches of black along the tail. 

“Finally, a good idea on your end, Naruto. The once mortal is awake now.”

The mood on Naruto’s face immediately shifted to one of curiosity and excitement and he immediately dashed up to her before kneeling down by her feet. Up close, he had what seemed to be whiskers but they were flat across his cheeks and had the appearance of facial markings or tattoos. From his enthusiasm to the wide beam he was delivering her, this fox demon reminded Sakura more of a loving hound than a dangerous creature. Could she have been mistaken to believe they wanted to hurt her, or at least, this one? The chase could have been one giant misunderstanding–after all, they were talking about her in their domain so perhaps that’s why they were following her after she ran away? To warn her not to trespass into their territory again? 

“I’m so happy to see you’re awake! My name is Naruto!” he introduced instantly, his tail brushing up against her leg. Its fur was just as downy as she imagined. 

“I’m Sakura,” she answered, her throat dry as she rasped out her name. She turned to look at Gaara, who was busy boring a hole in the back of Naruto’s head with a venomous glower. “And your name is Gaara, right?”

The said demon jerked his head up and immediately pinned his uncompromising scrutiny on her. “You were listening to our conversation.” His words were a statement, not a question. 

She nodded her head, figuring there was no point in lying. “Yes, but I would hardly call that a conversation. More like a heated argument.” She leaned forward, feeling some of her muscles groaning out in protest but at least she could feel her legs, hands, feet, and arms and every other limb attached to her. “But before I forget, thank you for saving me in the forest. I was critically wounded and thought I was going to die. But you two spared me and mended my body to practically brand new. I cannot thank you enough. She moved to get on her hands and knees to give them a proper bow, to demonstrate her thanks to such powerful beings but Naruto zapped his hands out to halt her movements. Bright sapphire eyes looked at her with concern and alarm.

“No, don’t move, Sakura-chan!” he pleased. “You still need to rest. It will take some time to adjust to your new body and—”

All warmth drained from her at his last few words, every part of her stiffening at his admission. Dread pooled in her stomach, seizing her by her throat and she recoiled from him, landing back on her rear. “What did you say?!” She nearly shrieked out, frantically glancing down at her hands and legs but seeing nothing different or out of place. Was the change elsewhere, like on her face or head? “‘New body’? What the hell does that mean?!”

Gaara hissed. Naruto’s eyes widened in horror at his slip. 

“Uh, I didn’t mean that! I misspoke! What I actually meant to say was that your completely normal human body is fine and you don’t have to worry about it except for resting up and not overexerting yourself.” he quickly amended. He shot her an assuring her grin but soon dropped it after she narrowed her verdant eyes at him. 

Gaara rolled his eyes at Naruto’s pitiable attempt to cover up his error. The damage had been down and now, the once mortal called Sakura would be panicking now. “Forget it, Naruto. She has to be told. Before she does something stupid, like run off and crash into a bunch of humans and scare them.” Now he was glaring at her, daring her to prove him wrong.  

She cut him a fulminating glower of her own, refusing to be cowed or scared by the likes of him, even if he was a demon.  By now, her fear of demons and what they could execute on humans had long since passed. “Tell me what?”

Naruto fidgeted uncomfortably prior to producing a hand mirror the size of a large mixing bowl and presented the item to her almost apologetically. “It’s easier for you to see than for us to explain to you. But Sakura...you have to understand, we had no choice. You were dying and this was the only method to save you.”  

Her hands nearly trembled as she accepted the mirror but her grip on the hard, curved edges remained strong. As she steadily tilted the mirror’s surface to reflect her visage, her fingers dug anxiously into the metallic, intricate frame until her knuckles were pale as cream, refusing to let go as Sakura came face-to-face with the monster in the mirror. 

Brilliant garnet, gold, emerald, and topaz feathers stuck out along her wide forehead like a crown, skimmed the bridge of her nose before disappearing completely. The same array of feathers poked out in tufts behind her short, pink hair, no doubt coming out from the upper section of her back. These same luxurious feathers coated at least half of her arms and when Sakura tried to shift around to see how far those feathers went, she caught one of her motionless wings out of the corner of her eye. 

For Kami’s sake, I have wings now?!

Still unable to speak, Sakura reached out behind her and felt her fingertips brush up against the bend of her wing, the texture of the feathers firm, smooth, and silky soft. A little tingle jolted up her spine as she continued to touch or stroke her wings and reluctantly, she stopped. Wings were more sensitive than she realized. 

“Sakura?” Naruto’s tentative, worried tone brought the said young woman out of her trance-like observation. His bright blue eyes looked utterly wretched and pleaful as their gazes crossed again that Sakura couldn’t find it in her heart to be so angry at him, even if this transmogrify changed her life forever, in a way she never expected nor was prepared for.

“Was my condition really that severe?” she asked quietly, first looking at him and then Gaara for confirmation. While Gaara tilted his head to the side and barely nodded, Naruto’s head bobbed up and down rigorously like an unstoppable ball. 

“There was so much blood that Gaara had to be away from you at first--blood kind of excites him, you see,” Naruto quickly explained, unaware of Gaara scowling darkly at him or Sakura’s eyebrows rising high at this new information about one of her rescuers. “But he calmed down once I tried to heal your injuries or wake you up, but you were unresponsive. I think you might have broken a couple of bones but I couldn’t tell.”

“What we could tell was that your soul was faint and fading fast,” Gaara interjected, brushing past Naruto to take a seat next to Sakura. His tawny tail brushed up against her wings and Sakura suppressed an involuntary flutter that spread across her shoulders. “Naruto felt guilty that our chase led you to your demise and wanted to save your life by turning you into a demon, one of us.”

“What about you?” Sakura found herself asking, leveling her eyes with his, unafraid to confront and meet his seemingly intense scrutiny. Up close, she noticed black rings outlined his upper and lower eyelids, making him seem less imposing and more...cute? 

Focus, Sakura! Now is not the time to be thinking like that!

“I agreed to help Naruto only to stop his blubbering,” he answered curtly, ignoring Naruto bristling and squawking with outrage at his blunt remark. He paused, cocking his head at her as if she suddenly became a fascinating creature to him. “But I must admit, I was rather curious to find a dying mortal being cradled by the branches and roots of the forest.”

Sakura’s jaw dropped at the last part of his admission. “Wait, what are you talking about? Before I passed out, I certainly didn’t see any trees coming to support me. Yes, it was getting dark out and yet—”

Yet she did hear a strange voice in her ears, echoing all over the forest while she was slowly dying but simply chalked the noise up to hallucination due to her blood loss. Perhaps she didn’t imagine those words at all and there was really a spirit of the woods watching over her.

Her realization must have dawned evidently on her face for Gaara sensed it immediately and narrowed his eyes at her. 

“Yet what? What do you remember?” he demanded.

This time, Naruto was the one sending him a glare. “Calm down, Gaara! She just had a near death experience and has to adjust to being a demon now. Give her a break, will you?” Growling, Gaara turned his furiously at him and the two demons were about to dissolve into another snarling, bickering match if Sakura didn’t speak up.

“I heard a voice, while I was bleeding out.” Both their heads snapped back to her, completely focused on her and her alone. “I can’t remember everything but the woman or whoever the voice came from, told me to sleep a couple of times. And for me to let you two save me, I think.” Eyelids now closed shut, Sakura wracked her brain to think back on those terrifying moments, where she was battling to stay awake and in vain attempting to move when the voice first came to her. The voice definitely wanted her to not be awake when Naruto and Gaara found her but why? Was it because she needed rest for her injuries and the impending transformation and the spirit sensed that? If that random theory was true, then why would a spirit of the forest care about her?

Gaara and Naruto exchanged pensive looks. “That does sound like something Kaguya would do,” the fox demon pointed out, donning a wary expression. “I know she’s supposedly dead and all but maybe her spirit does live on in the trees of that forest. The Tadasu no Mori was known to be her favorite resting place.”

Unlike Naruto, Gaara’s visage was unreadable. “It’s possible. And when she was alive, she was known to transform human mortals into demons.” 

Not wanting to be left in the dark about the spirit or woman who had some contribution in saving her life, Sakura chimed in, “Who is Kaguya? Was she a demon like you?”

Both of the demons nodded, their expressions completely somber. “She was one of the oldest of our kind but as the years dragged on, she became bitter towards both humans and demons alike and sought to bring about the destruction of this world and begin anew with her chosen few.” 

Shocked, Sakura could only stare at them and nodded silently, wondering how her village and people elsewhere never learned about such a catastrophe. Humans had stories and warnings about demons but nothing about a tale regarding an embittered demoness who craved to incite the end of the world and start a new one. Naruto’s face softened as he continued.   

“There was a long, bloody war between Kaguya and her allies versus those who opposed her. The humans that did get sucked into this conflict either perished or died soon after before they could pass along their memories of the war and fighting alongside demons as friends.”

“That or no one believed them and ruled their words as ‘outlandish tall tales’,” Gaara cut in sardonically. “But that’s besides the point. Kaguya was eventually slain in battle, her supporters either dead or capitulated. Her corpse was destroyed, the ashes scattered in Tadasu no Mori. If she is the voice you heard, then we’ll have to be more careful.”   

Despite her head swimming with news that there had been a dangerous, secret war between demons and to an extent, humans, Sakura frowned at the cautious tone in Gaara’s voice. “‘We’?” she echoed. “Why do we need to be careful? Kaguya is dead and long gone now. Even if her spirit was with me in those woods, she couldn’t hurt us, could she?”

“No, but she still has loyal allies waiting in the shadows that survived the aftermath. Some have tried, albeit unsuccessfully, to revive her while others assay to continue what she started. And they would be quite intrigued with a human girl who was changed into a demon, a phoenix demon no less. Our whole kind would be. There hasn’t been a phoenix demon nor metamorphosis like yours in centuries.”

“But don’t worry!” Naruto chimed in cheerily, hoping to alleviate Sakura’s trepidation of how interested other demons would be in her. “Gaara and I will protect you! If you stay with us and our two clans, no demon can come along and snatch you up without starting a territory dispute. We can even show you how to use and train your powers as a demon!”

That offer definitely had merit and would certainly come in handy in this new world of demons and their own brand of politics and schemes. As touched as she was with Naruto’s vow of protection, she wanted to be able to better defend herself and learn what she was capable of in this new demon body of hers. The wings and feathers would still take some time to get used to. 

“Weren’t you two arguing earlier about who I get to stay with though? Why the change of heart?” she said, a teasing edge in her voice. 

Naruto’s cheeks flushed a vibrant vermilion, embarrassed as he sputtered and then mumbled up some excuses about ‘the strength of two is better than one’ and that ‘they didn’t know about Kaguya at the time’. Gaara remained po-faced through it all but his lips did curve up in a half-smirk. In the back of her mind, Sakura wondered what he’d look like if he fully smiled. Naruto’s features always lit up so infectiously when he beamed at her. He was like the sun.

“It’s okay, Naruto,” she interjected, reaching out to touch his hand and halting him in mid-rambling. “I understand. Thank you, both of you, for offering me shelter. Being a demon...it will take some time for me to get used to that. Especially since it seems I cannot go back home, right? Or am I wrong?” Deep down, she clinged to the absurd hope that maybe she’d be safe in the village, that while everyone would be flabbergasted or scandalized at her new form, they’d learn to accept her monstrous transmogrification and carry on with their day. But that vain hope flickered out and ebbed away like a small ember in the firesite when she witnessed the plaintive sympathy flashing in Naruto’s cerulean eyes or the disapproving expression overtaking Gaara’s pale features.

“No, you’re not wrong, Sakura-chan,” the fox demon admitted ruefully. “If you go back to your village...things can go poorly.” 

“You will be killed or imprisoned. And I would slaughter the fools who harmed any part of you, down to a single hair on your head.” groused Gaara, arms crossed resolutely. Sakura didn’t doubt him. There was no way she would risk the village being subjugated to his wrath simply because she missed her home and wanted to reveal herself to those closest to her in hope they would understand and accept her. They might but that didn’t mean the neighbors would. There was a reason why some towns had trained demon hunters and while her hamlet didn’t have any professionals like that, the village leaders could easily request one of the nearby settlements to let them borrow some of theirs.  

Her vibrant wings spread out, only a little for her feathery, colorful bends to be able to brush against her cheek, as if to comfort her. So much had betided to her in less than a day, even though time seemed to have stretched itself for weeks. “You don’t have to worry about me sneaking off to go back to my village,” she replied dejectedly, reaching to card her fingers through the differing layers of feathers her wings seemed to have. She couldn’t mull about what she lost besides her humanity.

And shishou must be worried sick by now since I haven’t returned back to her clinic yet…

Eyes widening in remembrance, Sakura snapped her head over to her basket of herbs, relieved to still see it lying there, untouched. She didn’t imagine its existence after all!

“Demons can cast illusions and shapeshift, can’t they?” she queried abruptly, startling both Naruto and Gaara with her out of the blue question. Their eyes watched her as she twisted around to pluck the basket up from the ground and cradled it in her arms. 

“Yeah, fox demons like me excel at both those abilities,” admitted Naruto proudly. He then elbowed his fellow demon playfully. “Gaara over here can cast a glamor but it won’t last as long as my illusions. Why do you ask, Sakura-chan?”

All right, this idea of mine just might work. I simply need to get both of them to agree with my request, Gaara in particular. He might not like what I have to say.

Toying with a stray piece of straw from the basket’s handle, Sakura replayed the words in her head one more time before voicing what was on her mind. “I know we already discussed me returning home is a terrible idea for me but my village needs these plants I gathered for them earlier. If you two use your illusions and glamor, the three of us could safely enter my village without issue. When I find my shishou, I deliver the plants to her, and once we say our farewells, we’ll leave.” The pinkette looked down at her basket, the source that landed her into this new life of hers. “It will be too risky and dangerous for me to go alone so I figured if the three of us go, there shouldn’t be any problems.”

Frowning, Gaara opened his mouth, probably to object, but Naruto quickly cut over him to exclaim, “Of course we’ll help you, Sakura-chan! It’s the least we can do.” He tilted his head at Gaara expectantly prior to adding, “Right, Gaara?”

The said demon cursed profusely, continuing to frown irately even as he agreed with Naruto to accompany her to the village but warned her he wouldn’t tolerate any delays or side-trips. 

“Just give your teacher those herbs and we leave immediately,” Gaara had told her flatly before he cast a glamor over himself to appear normal, like an ordinary human while Naruto’s illusion cloaked both him and Sakura. 

“Don’t worry, you’ll have time to say goodbye to your teacher,” he whispered as he weaved the illusion over them, winking conspiratorially at her. “You ready?”

She nodded firmly. “Yes. Let’s go.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They ended up staying in her village a little bit longer than Gaara wanted but he suffered in silence, uttering nothing to anyone when Sakura embraced her shishou and presented the long awaited herbs, apologizing for the wait. Like Naruto, the tanuki demon remained close by Sakura’s side, his eyes observing every little movement, a sentinel ready to turn into a vicious warrior if there was any hint of Sakura being threatened. Tsunade, Sakura’s mentor and mother figure, merely raised her eyes at the two strangers but didn’t comment on their presence at first. She directed her attention back to her apprentice, relieved to see her safe and sound after all this time but was simultaneously puzzled when Sakura announced she had to depart the village and didn’t know when she’d be coming back.

“But Sakura, I don’t understand. What do you mean you’re leaving?” Her honey brown eyes moved from her apprentice to Naruto and Gaara, suspicion etched on her features. While Gaara stoically glared right back at her, Naruto at least attempted to act congenial by beaming toothily and waving awkwardly at Tsunade. “Do these boys have anything to do with this peculiar decision of yours?”  

Sort of. But it’s complicated.

Instead, Sakura answered, “It’s a long story, shishou, but they helped me. And right now, I just can’t stay here any more, not for a while.” Or ever. 

However, she kept that dismal line of thought to herself, stowing it in the darkest recesses of her mind because she didn’t want contemplate the possibility that this could be the last time she’d ever behold her teacher again, the only person who truly cared about her dreams and desires and offered her an apprenticeship in medicine. And if Tsunade believed there was a chance she’d see her apprentice again, then she might be more accepting in letting Sakura go with Gaara and Naruto with minimal fuss.

Even though the urge to tell Tsunade the truth, to break down in her arms and sob that she was no longer human and wouldn’t be welcomed anymore by the people who once thanked her for treating their wounds and ailments, fiercely chewed her up minute by minute, clawing at her to cave in. Instead, she steeled herself against Tsunade’s observant scrutiny and dug her fingertips into her besmirched apron, thankfully only covered in dirt and grass stains and not her own blood.

Tsunade regarded her carefully, her gaze never wavering for at least thirty seconds or so until she let out a heavy sigh and her shoulders sagged. “I know what it was like and what I craved for when I was your age so I won’t press you, Sakura. But please visit me when you can and don’t forget your training. I long to see you become a top physician in your right.” The older woman smiled fondly at her, patting her head as Sakura brightened at Tsunade’s remarks. Even with such little information given to her, Tsunade still believed in her and trusted her judgment. Maybe one day, she’ll tell Tsunade what really happened, after she became wholly accustomed to her demon body.

“Thank you, shishou. I promise I won’t let you down!” 

Her mentor nodded firmly, satisfied with the fiery resolve blooming across Sakura’s visage. “I’ll hold you to that promise, Sakura. And as for your two ‘friends’...” She turned around fully to face them with the full force of her disapproving glower and cracked her knuckles. “If either one or both of you cause my Sakura any amount of grief, pain, and misery and she doesn't break enough bones in your body, then I will personally see to it the two of you won’t be able to walk or eat solid foods for several months. Do I make myself clear?”

Despite being a demon, Naruto immediately bobbed his head, blue eyes wide and alert. “Yes, m’am!”

Gaara grunted but nodded his head slowly, unfazed by Tsunade’s menace. He probably found her mentor’s violent words amusing, just like Sakura’s presence was to him. 

Sakura groaned in her hands. Thankfully, there were no more outbursts and threats and three of them managed to leave Tsunade’s home with Naruto and Gaara in one piece. She had no idea what would be in store in her when she ventured into the world of demons, yet at least she wasn’t doing this journey alone. 

Stretching out her motley wings to get used to their height and wingspan, Sakura watched Gaara and Naruto unlock the complex  illusion that was cast over the main gateway into their clans’ lands and closed her eyes in relief. Yes, at least she wasn’t alone and would have help along the way in training and harnessing her demonic abilities and one day, be able to fly on her own. She was looking forward to that part.

“The stories got it all wrong,” she murmured to herself. “Demons aren’t so terrible after all.”  

[sheepish-uwu]

if u take requests, could you write a small bit abt lion reacting to docs death?

of course, and merry (early) christmas anon! i hope this is to your liking!

i gift to thee: 2.2k words of pure doc/lion angst! rated for MATURE audiences as it deals with dark themes :). enjoy! you can also read it on  a03!

Death was a demon that had once held an inescapable clutch on his soul - as it tends to do with many - for the elusive afterlife was intimidating to most. It was a trampling force that held no remorse for those caught in the aftereffects and was one of the only things Olivier could not run from other than God’s judgment. All he’d known how to do was run; run from responsibility. Run from his family’s advice. From the people he loved. From his son. From his lover. 

Olivier had sworn he’d gotten over the fear of death. The moment he’d been exiled from his own family and girlfriend, he’d considered himself better off as dead then. He had been a shell of a human being back then, constantly wishing for death’s release despite lacking the willpower to go through with any of the treacherous thoughts that had plagued his mind. He often sends thanks to the divine force that kept him from that horrendous fate. There must have been a reason for keeping him alive even when he was practically six-foot underground in his own alcoholic and drug-induced misery. 

Death had become a common factor in his work field to a point where he’d never bat an eye at the miscellaneous casualties if there was a purpose. It was the main cause of his and Gustave’s disagreements whenever they’d argue, their differentiating philosophies and viewpoints remaining on very shaky ground that he’d squint to say was common - so they ignored it the same way they ignored each other’s politics. In his defense though, life was just so fragile. Mortality has kicked him in the face multiple times. Like when he was barely an adult and hospitalized for his toxic obsessions, he’d had a lot of time to think about how close he had been to death and, more bitterly, how many had died to something he hadn’t. He’s held the hand of sickly dying patients and carried heavy corpses of civilians and colleagues to a point where any shock, fear, or emotion has dissipated. 

In Rainbow, the only deaths he’d witnessed were the ones of recruits. It was always upsetting to lose a member of their organization, yet their losses had never really phased Olivier - at least not in the way it affected people like Gilles who’d worked and trained with them more personally. They had yet to lose an actual operator though, whether it be through sheer luck was unknown to Olivier - yet they’d always managed to keep a clean streak even when missions went haywire. It was common to joke about dying on the job otherwise the lingering fear would eat them alive, and despite the teasing nature, there was always a truth to their words. It remained unspoken, yet drifted through the atmosphere whenever anyone laughed about their possible fate in an upcoming mission. Despite the mirth in their teasing voices, Olivier saw the flash of uncertainty and fear in their eyes - the feeling being reciprocated by everyone else in the room. 

It was inevitable, wasn’t it? The lead up was unbearable, someone had to die eventually - right? It was all a matter of who and when. Everyone secretly expected the more reckless operators to be the ones to die first; after all, they were the ones who joked most about dying and were more prone to life-endangering endeavors. It’s what made the most sense, right? 

So why was it that their doctor - the one who preached the most about caution and safety - died first? Why hadn’t it been someone like James - who jumps headfirst into the fray without thinking? Or Elias - who practically gloats about willing to dive right in front of bullets to save lives? Often times, Olivier thinks he’s the butt of a joke the entire world is playing on him. Right when he gets complacent, comfortable, and happy with the way his life is heading, life throws a curveball that sends him tumbling back down the steep rocky mountain he’d been so desperately trying to climb. It’s what happened when he was a teenager and thrown out to the streets, it’s what happened when he almost lost his rank from his relapse into toxic behaviors, and it’s what’s happening now. 

And it hurts - so much more than all those experiences combined - to a point where Olivier wants to scream. Rip his hair out and peel off his own skin in a valiant attempt to shake off all these layers of pain and anguish. And this loss shouldn’t hurt him so much. He - he thought he’d gotten used to death’s company. And death wasn’t the final destination, there was life for Gustave after his earthly one - even if he wasn’t a devout believer in heaven or hell. For Olivier’s own sake, he held onto the notion that Gustave was with his heavenly father despite his lover’s religious doubts. The thought of Gustave being permanently gone tore at Olivier’s chest and applied an emotional pressure that made his sternum feel like exploding. 

Even still, despite knowing Gustave is in a better place, Olivier despises every second without the other French man’s company and guiltily relishes in this selfish desire. He misses Gustave and desperately searches for ways to keep his lover’s presence lingering, even if it wasn’t physical. He’d already gone through a phase of replacing all of his pillowcases with Gustave’s clothes, inhaling the poignant scent of his lover; outrageously expensive cologne, aftershave, and home. The day the scent wore off had been soul-crushing, and instead of being comforted by the pacifying smell of his deceased lover, he was met with his own depressing stench of sweat, tears, and desperation. 

The love he shared with Gustave was resurfacing into a loneliness that made every tender memory sour and turned every night alone with his right hand into a pathetic display of grief - any kind of pleasure received being reduced to a vigorous lust for what he couldn’t have anymore. The night his anger, grief, and desire merged into one amalgamation of self-loathing sent Olivier on a rampant self-destructive course, seeking out the artificial love of strangers for a taste of the past. 

Except it was superficial and each impetuous touch from the men couldn’t compare to the way Gustave’s careful nimble hands had once explored his body. Where Gustave was attentive, loving, and selfless in the way he reduced Olivier to a babbling mess, they were rough and selfish. Greedily taking from Olivier - though he’d be a hypocrite to be modest and say he hadn’t initially been doing the same thing - and the realization that this wasn’t Gustave, and he’d never find a suitable replacement for the love he’d once shared with the man, hit him like a freight train and sent him barreling down into a pit of despair. Any sound of pleasure he’d once emitted was obscured, all there was was pain - his cries being muffled underneath sweat-laced skin and the sound of the once euphoric activity. When the brute realized his sobs weren’t of pleasure and asked a concerned “shit, are you alright mate?”, Olivier merely nodded despite how much his soul screeched at him to say no and spill out the cesspool of his inner demons and unrelenting heartache. 

His church had been helpful and alleviated the unbearable torment of his wistful thoughts. The people he confided in supported him through his mourning, promising to keep him in their prayers. Their intercessions helped ease the nagging thoughts that he was completely alone in this particular struggle, and the distractions from his time volunteering kept his mind away from the distress in his empty home. Gustave never went to church with him despite how adamantly Olivier tried to convince him, and he never would’ve imagined he’d ever be grateful for it. Everything and everywhere reminded him of Gustave, but not his church. The only place Gustave refused to accompany Olivier to, and the only place that didn’t overwhelmingly remind him of a certain presence he was missing. 

He tried to find solace solely on his religion, and oh how he tried to find respite and healing through prayer and guidance - but old habits die hard and the sudden influx of emotional turmoil dug up everything he’d fought so hard to control. It felt like he was constantly on a malfunctioning autopilot mode - he couldn’t control his actions that progressively got more and more destructive, exacerbating his situation without a care in the world as he let his inner demons take over. Thought and inhibition were completely thrown out the window every time he took a swing of Gustave’s once treasured expensive wine. A sight that’d surely make him fume and retch in his grave, he’d think guiltily, forlorn gaze cast down at the half-empty glass bottle. 

He dreaded to imagine what Gustave would think of him if he saw him now, and remembers vividly the disappointment and hurt that’d paint his handsome face in the beginning of their relationship when Olivier would oftentimes turn to alcohol to deal with the stress. 

“We’re a team now, anything that bothers you bothers me. Tell me please, don’t push me away - I know I’m not the most emotionally available person in the world, but I care. I don’t want to see you like this again, please.” Gustave had exasperated, crouching down next to Olivier’s huddled figured hugging the toilet - spewing out his regret from the night before.

It took him a while to trust Gustave with his anxieties and problems, and though he had always been distant with his comfort compared to someone like Gilles - who’d embrace Olivier in a warm hug and soothing words - it worked. Gustave offered Olivier a shoulder to cry on and tentative back rubs, though the hesitant physical touches couldn’t compare to his words. They held advice - a logical merit that kept him grounded and resilient with a promise that these problems he faced had solutions so long as he put the effort to solve them. 

“But Gustave,” Olivier whispered, voice hoarse as he stared at the soul-shuddering marble tombstone that did very little to dignify who Gustave Kateb was and all of his humble accomplishments. It made Olivier distraught to see the altruistic man who worked so hard, every single day, reduced to a few words. “How do I get through this? Without you?” His voice was breaking on every syllable, body oscillating back and forth on his heels in a desperate attempt to contain himself. 

Olivier was met with nothing but the sound of wind rustling through the willow and oak trees and the soft shrill chirping from the thrushes and the songbirds, a hurtful reminder of how ultimately his loss was meaningless to everything but him. The world would carry on unforgivingly and leave Olivier behind to rot in his despair while trying to grudgingly trek through life, all while carrying the heavy solid weight of grief on his back. Nobody was going to wait on him to catch up, nobody truly cared or was impacted as much as Olivier was, and Olivier was sure that right when he’d returned from his leave in Northern France, the majority of Rainbow would have moved on.  Perhaps they’d already found a replacement for Gustave. Olivier grimaced, the thought embarking a shrewd feeling of dissatisfaction that boiled in his blood. 

“I can’t do this, I don’t want to go back without you there. It’s unbearable please, I-” his pleads cut off abruptly into a sob that tore through his chest and throat, leaving behind a tingling sensation that kept his breathing uneven. “I miss you. I-I can’t… I don’t know what to do. Please, help me.” The blonde French man crumpled on the cold ground, the maintained grass damp and chilled from the icy dew-heavy morning.

 “Help me,” Olivier reiterated, body slumped downwards as he fisted handfuls of the surrounding flora carelessly - a ravaging tick surging throughout him to destroy whatever he could get his hands on. “Gustave help me. Help me, help me,” Olivier repeated uncontrollably between breath-stealing wails, his repetition a painful reminder of the birds that surrounded him in the desolate graveyard - only able to repeat rather than speak. 

“I’m sorry. For everything. I shouldn’t have spent so long fighting you, you’ve brought me so much joy. It was a waste, and I wish I could go back and spend all those hours we wasted arguing about something stupid and petty and just.. Kiss you instead.” Olivier heaved out once he finally caught his breath, eyes glazing over the dirt and grass that now contaminated his pale hands. 

A bubbling emotion surged throughout him, its force overwhelming and warm that induced a trembling in his fingertips. A phrase came to mind, the only way to explain this feeling that had been eating him alive throughout the past year. Three words contributed to this almost rapturous feeling that Olivier had stubbornly avoided saying unless he deemed the time acceptable. How idiotic he had been to hold himself back like that because now there was no more time left to share this revelation he’d been holding inside of him selfishly.

“I love you.” Olivier whispered, voice hushed as if admitting these three words was a crime - but the only thing that was crime-worthy was how long he’d kept it to himself. 

And so, he was met with nothing. Just as he had been earlier, and would be forevermore.

[lloronista]

chrysanthemum in the mirror, moon on the water 

(鏡菊水月)

Shisui/Itachi | Samurai AU Rated M (violence & eventual smut) | 1690 words Chapter 1/13 --- Prologue --- 

鏡花水月 (Kyōka Suigetsu) - ‘mirror flower, moon water,’ meaning something that can be seen but not touched, like an illusion, a mirage. 

                                                *

The whole world was dyed red.

Red sky stained by a red sunset, the sun itself bleeding out into darkened clouds in the west as it sank into the earth, into its mirror image in the puddles left in the rainstorm’s wake. Puddles long as small lakes and shimmering red, the way only water takes in light when it hemorrhages so deep a shade as this and magnifies it. Makes the world liquid as an open artery.

At four years old, Itachi had watched a man die in such a way.

He’d watched as the boy carrying him on his back took up a sword and slashed a grown man’s throat. What frightened Itachi wasn’t the act of killing itself, nor the sudden hollowness in the man’s stare as his hands flew up uselessly to press at the wound. Eyes like a ghost’s, as if he could already see a landscape beyond this one. He’d hardly registered that a second later such a fate could have been his own; samurai children are not afraid of dying.

Water sloshed around the older boy’s calves as he trudged through one of these deeper puddles, slowly so as not to stumble over any limbs. Off in the trees farther away, cicadas droned on.

Death surrounded them on all sides, as inescapable as air. Mere hours ago, in the onslaught of battle and storm, the marshy field had been transformed to resemble a gash in the earth. He’d wanted to see it, not even knowing what it was. Wandering the wooded and rice-paddied area past his home’s borders was not unusual for Itachi; curiosity had guided him further that day. It was as if every living creature, the crows in the trees and insects in the grass, could sense something about to erupt. The impending storm, the pounding of hooves into confrontation. Itachi had underestimated the scope of the plain and ventured too close, ensnared once the clans’ skirmish blew into a full battle. Thunder roaring in the skies, from the feet of hundreds, inside of his chest.

None were as deafening as the silence that followed.

Itachi had never heard such a silence, like the air was paralyzed. All around them, the dead piling up, their faces rendered unrecognizable yet united in the same expression of lifelessness at the end.

Bodies are such fragile things.

The slosh of water crowded Itachi’s ears, growing more unbearable by the minute. Yet his voice would not materialize and beg the sound to ease. He could only continue to stare transfixed at the crimson sky’s reflection in the water, rippling with every step. Imagining that even the heavens were trembling.  

I am in shock, Itachi thought, testing the word out, like a foreign material between his fingertips. Like the farmer last week in the village, who’d only been able to sit paralyzed after cutting off his thumb and losing so much blood without dying. His father had relayed the story to him. How the man hadn’t been able to speak when someone finally stumbled upon him in the field, though his eyes had stayed open the whole time. Still witnessing everything around him. This is what it feels like.

Palm-sweat dampening the cotton under his hands where he clung to bony shoulders. Stiff and quiet as he held on. Just gazing out at the macabre scenery colored by a dying sun.

Itachi hated this color. This intense, unforgiving shade of red.

He hated this helpless feeling, the stench of corpses festering in the stagnant puddles and humidity. He couldn’t even feel grateful to this boy who’d shown up and saved his life, annoyed at how his messy hair kept tickling his nose.

“Hey.” The owner of the messy hair turned to peer over his shoulder—there that nest of curls went again, brushing Itachi’s cheek this time—his human voice dragging Itachi out of the depths of his thoughts. “You falling asleep back there? You’ve been awfully quiet this whole time.”

Asleep?

As if this place wasn’t a nightmare anyone would hope to wake from, reality waiting somewhere else?

Could he crane his neck more, the boy would’ve met quite a pointed stare from Itachi, brows knit in an unfittingly adult way for such young, round features. The muteness plaguing him finally cracked.

“Why would I be asleep?” he demanded, instantly regretting how sullen it came out.

The boy let out a mirthful huff. “Just wondering. You can go ahead, you know, if you want to.”

“No thank you,” Itachi mumbled. “Anyways, you should be quiet, too. Someone will find us.”

“There’s no one but us here. Us and the crows.”

The remaining warriors had retreated, groups from the winning side of the bloodbath chasing after them. Surely they’d return soon, to retrieve the fallen—those who were important, at least. Itachi watched the last of the sun’s ember glow cooling down, the color no longer so severe once it congealed. Shadows draped over the hills would soon expand fully into night. In the dark, figures moving among the battlefield had such a way of racing through the imagination.

“If they see us, they’ll think we’re looting.”

“We better reach the woods soon, then. It’ll be easier to hide there.”

Itachi nodded, conscious the older boy wouldn’t see.

“I’ll be able to find my way alone from there.”

“And risk having the Uchiha heir’s blood on my hands, if something happens afterwards?” The older boy chortled. “I don’t think so. Maybe next time don’t run away from home and find yourself in such a messy situation, huh?”

Itachi’s eyes flashed at that, unable to pinpoint if what dug under his skin more was the idea that he was pampered back at home, or if it was this boy’s know-it-all attitude when he was hardly more than a child himself. “What about you, you followed me here, didn’t you?”

His shoulders shook under Itachi’s hands as he let out a small laugh—the first pleasant sound to fall on Itachi’s ears that day. “What can I say, I couldn’t help but notice you.” He craned his head again, this time catching Itachi with the full weight of his glance. “You’re glad, though, right?”

Embarrassment flooded him. Dazed still, hollowed out by every awful thing he’d taken in that day, Itachi’s exhaustion was no match for the mortifying ordeal of being tended to by another radiating through him. The hands hooked under his knees had splotches of dried blood crusted on them; had held a sword when Itachi couldn’t.

Maybe that’s what it was that had frozen Itachi in that moment of fate—that he could not even fight for himself.

Hands too small to grip a sword-hilt, little limbs too weak.

“I can walk now.”

The boy made no move to let him down, soldiering on with careful steps up the slippery incline they’d reached. But his tone was gentle as he told him, “It’s alright. We still have a ways to go once we get to the forest. I won’t get tired.”

                                                *

Voices called for the lanterns to be lit as soon as sentries picked out two small figures approaching the gate. All at once, the Uchiha compound stirred from its uneasy slumber with lights flickering to life throughout homes and at every guard post. In a matter of moments people were emerging from their houses, tired faces illuminated by candles and oil lamps, their lights together speckling the darkness in a way Itachi couldn’t help but find reminiscent of a festival scene, only the whimsy had been overtaken by a somber and frantic tone. A commotion bloomed in the courtyard as his brethren rushed to surround them, ushering the two boys past the gates and into their swarm of questions and care.

“Lord Fugaku’s son is alive, go and tell him at once!”

“Thank the goddess Kannon he’s safe!”

“Look, they have blood on their kimono!” one woman cried upon seeing the dark stains on the fronts of both boys’ clothing. “Where are you injured, child?”

Throughout the fuss, Itachi stood numbly with his hand in the other boy’s, shaking his head, ‘no, I’m not hurt,’ or nodding ‘yes, I’m okay.’ Beside him, the other boy seemed overwhelmed, unused to the amount of attention. A muscle in his finger twitched, tightening its hold on Itachi’s.

Just then a rough voice, though no louder than those around it, boomed above the din. “Where have you been, Itachi?”

The worried aunts and other elders parted to let Fugaku through, their clan leader’s face a mask of fury. All eyes fell on them as parent and child reunited.

Itachi looked up into his father’s eyes, limned red and shining with relief despite the harshness in his stare. Recognized the fear and concern behind his anger, and felt ashamed. His own gaze dropped to the ground. “Forgive me.”

The tension seemed to thaw then.

“Come.” His father placed a hand at his back and urged him toward their house. “You owe your mother an explanation. Get inside.”

Before Itachi could open his mouth to speak, he felt himself pushed along, wrenched so swiftly apart from the other boy.

“Thank you, everyone, for helping to find my son,” his father addressed their kin, bowing his head forward. “On his behalf, I ask your forgiveness in causing such trouble.”

As they started toward the steps on the verandah, Itachi turned back toward the boy he’d spent the entire day close by, and their gazes caught one last time. What kind of look was that on his face, he wondered, that expression neither fully relieved nor sad? He thought about it while his mother helped him out of his dirty clothes and inspected him for cuts and bruises, the bathwater beside them pleasantly steaming. She didn’t cry when she laid eyes on him, but took his small body into her arms and just held him there, suffusing him with warmth more wholly than the hot water ever could. Yet still, Itachi couldn’t help but feel the ghost of heat in his palm from where that strange boy had been holding his hand.

[the-dreamer-traveller]

8-9-4-4-5-14 13-9-19-19-9-15-14

The dream is separated by two different acts; the Samurai and the Aliens.

ACT: SAMURAI

The samurai act is a bloody and deadly act, all centering on one lone young man, who is a samurai. He travels into a city, to look for something along the way. He passes by the marketplace, which is fairly occupied due to it already setting to dusk, and the shopkeepers are slowly moving away to go home. When he arrives to a certain pagoda, he is surrounded by several men in black suits.

To his dismay, they are armed with sharp katanas, and they arrive to execute him for an act that even he isn’t going to do so. Before he could protest, he was viciously struck down, and his chest is split open from the katana, dying in the process.

However, fate was with his side in an uncertain way. The scene is looped again, but this time, the place sets in a lake in a standing little cottage. Instead of the assaulting swordsmen striking him dead, they decided to cut off his arms, to be sure that he isn’t going to strike them back. Taking a sudden turn of the opportunity, the young samurai quickly dives into the water, ignoring that his arms are gone. Because he brought in the favor of an unknown god, it grants him spiritual arms that allows him to swim safely as well as to stop the bleeding.

There is something disturbing in this particular scene. As I (as the unknown god) guided him to wide amongst the wooden rubbles in this river floor, I noticed that it is far more deeper than I could ever imagine, as if it is far deeper than what would a river would be. Also, there appears to be an underwater Japanese-style ruined building under it as well as some ruins…and mountains of corpses, plenty of them are bloodied and decayed for long, long enough that the blood turns black and their skin are sickly greenish grey from decay. The young samurai almost gags in the sight of these dead bodies, but he has no choice but to dive and hide among the withered corpses, as the rest of his enemies dive down to search for him so that they will execute him.

Through careful digging among the bodies and limbs (using his head no less), he sneakily hides in a small hill large enough to cover his body. He takes short peeking though the small spaces in the limbs, watching as the enemies walk/swim on the water while holding out their katanas. After several seconds of fruitless searching, they decided that enough is enough and slowly swims up, back to reporting to their masters.

Having seen that they are gone and his arms are grown back again, he slowly swims out of the corpses while the environment slowly changes into a street that features a house in front of him.

However, all is not what it seems to him later.

ACT: ALIENS

In this part, let’s talk about the creature HATE.

In the official source material, HATE is a mysterious entity that feasts (well, implied to be) on the hatred of others and torments their victims through the use of sadistic wish fulfillment. They are also implied to be old, ancient enough that they might have been around for several years before and just recently surface to the present day, with the latest victim being a girl named Lara.

This version in the dream, however, is not what it seems to be.

As the young samurai collects his thoughts, the surroundings slowly change into a small street, with a large building in front of him. This building appears to be some sort of a museum, which greatly confuses him as he just notices that the setting has been changed. This confuses him even more greatly as he notices that there is a young man next to him. The young man only stares at the building in front of him blankly, while he absentmindedly move to the building’s front doors. Curious of the young man’s strange routine, the young samurai slowly follows him.

It is only a matter of time before a sudden image flashes into his view and it is someone with a slightly bald and deformed head and a rotting orange hand stitched on his face and head.

As the young samurai is surprised and threatened by the sudden appearance of the orange hand man, who is standing in front of the young man. The orange hand man extends his own hand over the young man’s head and soon enough, the head of the young man begin to emit smoke and it painfully shrinks down until there is nothing left but a smoking stump on his neck. With the young man already dead on the spot, the orange hand man look at the young samurai with its deeply sunken eyes.

However, the next scene quickly cuts in and reveals some new revelations concerning of these HATE-like creatures.

This scene sets place in some sort of a living room, with white walls, black fur rug, a glass coffee table and cubic couches. There are four of the HATE creatures in the room, with their hands in different colors. The assumed leader of the group, the red handed one, is looking at the orange handed one, as if he is very disappointed with him killing the young man. Because of his failure of heeding with the mission objectives, the red handed one decides to punish him with death, using the same method as the one he used to kill the young man.

But once again, the dream looped.

Having witnessed the events before him, the young samurai is back at the same spot of where everything started; at the front of the building with the young man. Realizing that the death of the young man would also mean the death of the orange handed subordinate, the young samurai quickly stepped in forward and raise his right hand, signaling that he comes in and knows what is going to happen.

Having been surprised at this, the orange handed one took in the young samurai and the young man and bring them inside the building.

It is revealed that the very building is owned by the mysterious hand-stitched creatures, who were revealed to have been a group of extraterrestrials coming to Earth for a mission unknown to most of people, but has been hypothesized that they come here to collect “knowledge”. The four hand creatures are present in this scene, now sitting in the couches or leaning in the walls. The red handed one, the leader, is seen standing next to another one, which is yellow. The other one is a purple handed creature, who is leaning in the wall near to a set of stairs while looking ominously at us, as if watching our movements for suspicious actions. There is also another one, however, that is not part of the hand creatures but is something else; a girl with platinum blonde and in gothic-style doll dress, sitting next to the red handed one with soft blue eyes looking at the young samurai.

As the young man and the young samurai went respectfully in front of the red handed one, it smiled(?) as the little girl stood up, following on the red hand’s movements. The red handed one begin to speak as well, but with a voice of British businessman who is surprised or fascinated to see this exquisite creature in front of them. The red handed one begin to calmly explain to the young samurai and the young man the situation that they are currently facing right now.

“As you see, we are a group of travelers from the outer space. We came here on this little planet to collect rare knowledge for our own people, from ordinary objects to rare and mystical masterpieces.” He calmly explains to them, while he presents to them the young girl. “As an example, here is a young girl who can bend and control the psychic forcefield surrounding her, effectively making her as some sort of a minor reality bender due to the unconscious but powerful magical effects of her abilities.”

As he politely dismisses the child and let her sit back on her place, the red handed one quickly turn his attention back to the two confused men. “Now, the reason why I brought you two here is because you have attracted our special attention. It appears that both of you appeared to have been blessed by a powerful deity of sort, and we would come here to study that. I’m sure that, you gentlemen, would understand on our purpose.”

(NOTE: This is not a clue for the upcoming and continuing series i am sophie, and simply just a dream concerning for one of their bigger characters. The author is not liable for anyone who thinks of them as legit possible ‘clues’ for the on-going ARG. As such, this is not a form of game-jacking.)

[vincedeangelo]

At a glance he may look like Grant Gustin but in reality they’re just 213 year old Vince De’Angelo, a witch here in Barton Hallow. They are a lone witch. They work as a professor of Horticulture and Biological Sciences here in town and are known for being energetic and distracted. I’d watch my back if I were you..

[History]

Saying that life has been complicated for Vince is a bit of an understatement. It didn’t start that way, but it didn’t start easily either. Being born at the middle of the 18th century in Europe to a distinctly Bohemian traveling family, his parents were already well aware of a long vein of magic running through the family tree, his several siblings and half siblings could attest to that much, but most of that magic was rooted into nature. Vince grew up in comfortable chaos, happy enough for the most part, within the shelter of a large family who looked after each other and, while facing a great deal of downward glances from the rest of society, were themselves excellent at thriving and enjoying life with very little in hand.

It was what, in later times, might be compared more to the lifestyle of a hippie commune once the family did finally settle in an area of Britain and became, more or less, the farming, earth-worshiping sorts. Which was all well and good, that slow pace wasn’t as appealing to Vince’s teenage self though and he sort of laments that he did take off when he had to see more of the world; the things he saw weren’t exactly pleasant. It did very little to unsettle his excitable, eager personality but more than a few times he made a mess of his efforts out in the world.

It wasn’t until his twenties that he began to test his magic more, at that point much of his time was spend engrossed in the the developing underbelly of London and how strangely different it was than his own upbringing. It was there that he met the person, or rather the vampire, who became his best friend in very short order. Unconventional, yes, but the two spent more than their fair share of time discussing philosophy, life and the world around them. They were inseparable. At such a pivotal point in his life Vince directed his studies towards darker magic, seeing no fear in exploring the limits of them at the urging of the vampire. It was the start of his studies as a necromancer, and one of the point of his life he still looks back very fondly on.

It seemed almost impossible to imagine but as close as they were, as much adoration Vince had for his dearest friend and companion, but that bond became strained when the prospects of relocating became as necessity. The world, again, was changing drastically, and becoming less kind to those who were not human but especially the undead in London. A few murders in the area had suspicions heavy and Vince saw it as the chance to finally leave Europe to see the States, but his friend wanted nothing to do with the idea. The xenophobia of walking into a seemingly new and hostile place was too much, the arguments spiked and eventually they split paths; Vince hopeful to change their mind later but left the argument unresolved.

Always far too trusting a soul, and lonely, Vince became involved shortly after in a particularly determined coven under the name of the Children of the Silent Voice; a group of witches who were mostly like himself and held necromantic or otherwise ‘dark’ magic as their most honed abilities. He believed that magic wasn’t evil in any form, that like anything it held a place in the balance. They recruited him under the guise of crafting a safe haven for those like themselves and Vince devoted years to helping them find other witches via communication with spirits. The breaking point came when the coven was attacked by Hunters, forcing Vince’s hand with the situation, giving him little choice but to step outside the realms of peace and right into bloodshed. He thought his intentions were good, thought his efforts held purpose in helping those like himself who suffered the cruelty of humans' fear of magic.

Something was deeply wrong though, and it began his reign as second to the High Priestess of the coven; the bloodiest time in his life. It built around him a reputation that still lingers now; he was a destructive force, the constant tip of power. After all, winning was easy when the fallen were your’s to reanimate and command against your enemies. He existed as a figure of terror, caught up in the fog that was those confusing years.

It was all for nothing, in the end. During one of his attacks on a village that had, supposedly, destroyed several witches, Vince picked up a particularly stubborn spirit that wouldn’t leave him alone. She persisted, a nightmare that haunted him in ways that others hadn’t managed, a lost child who perished before her time. Her misery broke that daze, finally, and forced him to take a step back and view what he had been doing, the horrible things that had left stains on his hands. His mind had been twisted by those he followed, and he finally saw that truth. When he approached the Priestess with his doubts she dismissed him as a traitor, banished him from their ranks and he was almost relieved to flee. His last act before leaving Europe behind was to urge the spirit who had followed him to move on, and once she had he decided it was time for him to do the same.

Living through the 19th century in the States was certainly an experience, one he absolutely would not have traded for anything else. Seeing both the best and the worst of what people were capable of was an eye-opening view of the world, and he naturally developed a certain fondness for the eighties and its’ flower-child mentality that reminded him so much at home. He bounced around, joined a cult or two out of curiosity, wandered off when he grew tired of it, even played a few lighthearted attempts at using his power to help people communicate with their lost loved ones but mostly maintained a human image as the growing uneasiness with the supernatural turned from tension to a sudden war.

One Vince wanted no part in, purposely avoiding to take sides on the matter and acting under the ideal that it was never going to solve anything. Having known real horror and being the cause of it before, he was approached time and again to join the ranks of various covens and groups but refused each time, no longer willing to be a part of such things. He expected it to settle down in a few years but they never did and the battles just kept hitting too close for comfort and sending him darting off to the next spot in search in peace. It never lasted long enough, but he just kept trying, looking for the silver lining and the end of that conflict that never seemed to come.

When rumors of Barton Hollow stirred up they caught his interest, the possibility of a new start in a place where he wouldn’t be constantly accosted for involvement in the bloodshed sounded wonderful. It was an easy choice and he quickly set off to what he hoped would be his new home for a while; in short order setting himself up as a professor at the college thanks to his handful of degrees earned over time and making himself useful to the local magic using community with his flair for cultivating wickedly dangerous plants and herbs.

Vince can be a bit much at times. He’s excitable, not at all reserved, and tends to ramble. That rambling may turn a million different directions in one conversation; he’s quite a mess about it. But he adores people; living, dead, human or otherwise. He’s very quickly becoming a relatively well known figure around the Hollow for his cheerful presence and willingness to engage people around him. It’s a sharp contrast to the history written in such bloody terms, but he doesn’t hide it. He’s open enough about his mistakes, but he certainly hopes that people understand that the past isn’t the measure of what a person is but who they were before they knew better.

As for that past, by all accounts Vince is considered one of the stronger necromancers left in the world, and one who has practiced dark magic for a very long time. Plenty of people seek him out for those skills and he does lend them to causes he thinks are going to do some positive change, but by the large his power is only used in small ways anymore. He can reanimate the dead but has learned the agony of what it costs to both himself and the poor soul, can communicate with the dead and does so when he needs information, and he knows an unsettling but rather effective way of stealing the last sights and few moments of death from a corpse's eyes. Not something to witness if you have a weak stomach. Of course he can also destroy life with a shocking amount of ease. But as someone who values life a great deal and knows the worth of it, he is far more careful in his practices these days.

While it really has very little to do with his abilities as a witch, he is known around town by the covens and the lone witches alike as the person who has an impressive garden of plants and herbs that are fairly lethal. He carefully tends to plants that are highly toxic, have properties that are considered dangerous and drug-like, and those that other witches use in spell craft but cannot access very easily because of their dangerous nature. He willingly offers this rare and deadly flora to those in need of it regardless of coven association, if he’s sure their intentions aren’t to use them in a malicious way. Just don’t try to steal his plants, that hits a nerve you don’t want to rub too thin.

Much of his gift for, and interest in, gardening and plants comes from growing up helping his mother and grandmother raise their garden in his earliest years. Those fond memories fuel his care in that work, but of course his magic influences much of his life so it seems like his real talent in the area is with those deadly species more than their mundane counterparts.

He has a pet cactus named Jared that makes the trek between his classroom on campus and his home in the downtown region of the Hollow daily; Jared is very well looked after and is a standard sort of his species. Nothing all too extraordinary to Jared, but Vince does enjoy putting little hats and costumes on him for various holidays and events the same way most people would dress up a pet. Jared has the distinction of being carried to and from home every day, Vince insists it would be cruel to just leave the poor thing all alone in the classroom at night.

Vince is demisexual, polyamorous; he's fairly unbiased to the gender of his partners though he tends to favor men a bit more, it certainly doesn't sway his interests too much from the rest of the gender spectrum. He’s had an interesting go with relationships in life but nothing ever stuck for long. His list of ex’s run the range but for the most part the breakups were civil, if awkward on his part, ones. He still maintains friendships with a few of them without much drama, still the occasional night spent in their company, but for the most part he’s been solitary for a good twenty or so years by his own choice. Having spent that time burying himself in education and the fascinating scientific world that has surged in the 20th century that took up most of his time. He’s very friendly but painfully awkward at the basic ability to recognize that people are interested in him, and equally bad at making his own interests known because by the large he doesn’t view intimate situations as solely outside the lines of friendships and his tendency to blur the two has made for some amusingly skewed situations in the past.

He is intensely afraid of small spaces; graves absolutely terrify him and any enclosed space causes him to panic. The reasoning lies in some of his conditioning early on in his necromatic practices when he accidentally managed to get himself trapped during the exploration of an older graveyard; the underground tunnels beneath it at one point collapsed and he was unable to escape. He was lucky that another witch who was mentoring him at the time found him but it instilled lifelong terror in him.

Vince loves to read, he’s been around a long while, he absolutely is enamored with knowledge and the creativity of people. It doesn’t matter what; from the most coveted early century tome to the most hilariously badly written new trashy romance novel; he reads with the sort of determined fervor that keeps him constantly hunting for new books. The internet, for that reason, is something else he loves; there’s always endless distraction on there.

He’s not the typical image for a necromancer but he hardly thinks that’s a bad thing. His students in particular he has a soft spot for, generally willing to go out of his way to do what he can if they need help. But really that extends to most people; he’s just a cheerful, upbeat sort who tries not to dwell too much on the bad. He’s also horribly clumsy at it though, but he’s good at laughing at his mistakes.

Vince misses being part of a coven, but even with the urging of those in the Hollow he hasn’t agree to join any of them. The past has made him wary of the intentions of leaders, and he doesn’t want to be a pawn once more. He’s toyed with the idea of starting his own but dismissed the possibility with the certainty that even as acting as second to someone he trusted as fully as he would have to another Priestess it’s unlikely anyone would be comfortable with someone with his power in that role, especially not with the shape the world in in with the ongoing war.

[Wanted Connections] To be vastly expanded on later, but to give a jumping off point for plotting: 

Vampire he used to be best friends with. 

Someone older than himself (213), was in Europe/London in those early years, and would have had a very close friendship with Vince. Basically the person he considered his companion and other half of sorts; he misses them very much but hasn’t seen them in a long time. They had a bit of a falling out over Vince’s involvement in the Silent Voice Coven back in the day and after the dust settled with all of that Vince went to the states and lost all contact with his friend.  This person would know a great deal about Vince, would have been about as close as anyone could be, and very much needs to be back in Vince’s life again. 

Siblings/Half Siblings

Vince had a large family, several of whom were witches themselves. He may have younger or older siblings or half siblings around, or could have werewolf or vampire siblings now depending on if they were human to begin with and were turned. He’s lost track of family over time but would remember them, this is very open to ideas and different sorts of sibling relationships. He was always an odd one in the family. 

Witches looking to recruit him for various reasons. 

The war, past or present tense, the covens, just in general. Vince has a lot of power, an unsettling amount in fact, but he’s actively avoided involvement with the covens aside from his supplying them with various plants and herbs since he’s moved to Barton when it first was established. Good intentions or bad; people who put that pressure on him to join them. 

Someone human he can ‘adopt’. 

Really Vince has a soft spot for humans, he finds them fascinating really and admires their drive in what amounts to such short lives. Someone he’s grown fond of in a brotherly sort of way and keeps an eye on, helps, and basically just tries to keep out of trouble. Bonus points if they are in fact a lot of trouble to deal with. 

People who know his past too well. 

There’s nothing all that hidden about Vince’s past and how bloody it was, but he’s put it mostly behind him. Some people haven’t, and some people like to give him grief over the idea that people can’t change. This person is an ongoing source of exhaustion for him but he’s toughing it out, trying to make them see the good; but it’s not easy. 

Someone who knows his worst secret

Lots of witches use magic to lengthen their lives, but for those with necromanic abilities the spells are particularity gruesome. Vince did something a long time past that he isn’t too eager for others to know, for the sake of keeping his own life thriving well past his mortal years, but this person, somehow, has managed to get that knowledge. With that comes a degree of power over him, for the sake of keeping that secret. A dark fae he traded a favor to ensure his life never ended naturally, another witch he sought out for a spell that he never should have; I'm open to ideas on this one.

Hunters 

Vince is a necromancer, a rather well known one. Over time he's come across people who have wanted to destroy him but has managed to evade them well enough. But this one is out for blood, maybe because of a contract, maybe his actions in the past did something to harm their family line, maybe they just really can't stand dark magic. Whatever the case it's a hard situation for Vince, not wanting to kill again but also very resolute on the idea of not dying. 

[ghostsbabey]

Max jr. (part 2)

Here’s the continuation and final piece for my friend @hillbilly-wifey  Enjoy!!

    Your legs twitched in anticipation, waiting for him to spring into action and grab you with his twisted and crooked hands to make you relive the same torturous death trial after trial. When it didn’t happen you released a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, your stare focused on the man in front of you. He wasn’t moving. He hadn’t done anything to warrant your fear, yet you still felt the icy chill down your spine the longer he looked at you. You watched him as his head lowered, almost like he was upset that you were there but you didn’t understand. He was a killer, why would he be upset about a survivor all alone? You were easy prey. Your feet moved slightly as if they had a mind of their own, stepping on some of the dandelions you were once sitting peacefully near. You didn’t have time to react before he reacted for you. 

    He heard the movement, he didn’t realize what you had initially done though. When he raised his head again, his face contorted into one of worry and almost panic- you had stepped on some of his flowers. They would be crushed, ruined, crooked. Just like him. He found himself almost sprinting towards you and the flowers with as much balance as he could muster without the saw to help balance his uneven body. The ground wasn’t forgiving though, as he noticed the tree roots growing up out of the ground too late. 

    You were just about to start running as soon as your brain processed that he was in fact charging at you. However, his sudden falter in his step sent him sprawling onto the dirt, crushing most of the dandelions in the area. You had half expected him to immediately get back up and grab at you to mangle your body until it resembled the corpses of your fellow survivors after meeting his saw. You were surprised when instead he sat up and let out almost a pained whine, his hands moving to cup the tops of the dandelions with more care than a mother to their child. You couldn’t believe you were witnessing it- a killer being upset over something so trivial as flowers. It only just dawned on you that you didn’t know anything about him, why he looked the way he did, why he did the things he did in trials as well. You knew he saw you on multiple occasions, the linger of his stare much too long for your liking, but he didn’t chase you. You wanted answers, but his distraught was making things much too hard to ignore. You felt bad for him- a killer- someone that had killed you on multiple occasions. You sighed before slowly approaching him, crouching down next to him while tentatively putting a hand on his shoulder. You did the only thing you thought that might cheer him up, you had picked a few earlier while lost in thought, so you picked them up before presenting them to him with a slightly awkward smile. 

    He couldn’t believe he had been so careless. He had ruined everything he had made, he was just trying to take care of his plants, the only thing that didn’t mind being around him, and he ruined it. It was like the entity planned for this entire ordeal to happen from the start. He couldn’t help the distraught whine that escaped his throat, but he was so caught up in looking after the flowers he just crushed that he paid it no mind. It wasn’t until he felt a hand on him that he was drawn out of his worryful coddling. It was her. He almost recoiled from her touch until he noticed the flowers in her hand, outstretched to him. He looked up at her, his gaze holding uncertainty and confusion. He didn’t understand, why was she being nice to him? Why was she touching him? She shouldn’t have to be near someone as disgusting as him. She deserved so much better, he couldn’t even keep the one thing he adored alive. He ruined it, just like before the entity took him. He killed innocent animals, he hurt them. He knew he was nothing but a bad omen and he didn’t deserve anything good, but he still wanted good things. It only made him more confused and upset at himself.

    You slowly stopped smiling when he didn’t respond to your outstretched hand, tilting your head slightly before saying “well�� I know things are kind of awkward, I mean, you could easily kill me. It’s um, endearing. Watching how you take care of them.. I can tell you care about them, I didn’t mean to intrude on your little uh… Dandelion patch. Here. I didn’t mean to pick some of them, it just kind of happened but you can keep them. They seem to matter more to you.” You moved to put some of the dandelions behind his more normal shaped ear, smiling at him awkwardly again before setting the rest of them down in his hand, closing his fingers around the stems for him. You didn’t know why but your hand lingered over his, his warmth undeniably inviting compared to the cold the woods offered. You were just a survivor though, you shouldn’t feel comfortable around a killer, nor should you try to get close to them. After all, the others have only told you that it ends in more heartbreak and melancholic moments than anything else. Still, you couldn’t deny you felt drawn to him, he seemed so lost and confused- but caring. It was endearing watching how much he cared for something that most people would just rip out of the ground. Which you had done. His lack of response was making you uneasy though, as he was still unpredictable. You slowly moved away from him, already missing the contact you had made earlier. You turned on your heel to leave so he could have time to fix what had happened, although you knew it was most likely a lost cause. You didn’t want to be there when he snapped though, if he did.

    He froze again once you spoke to him, your voice was perfect, just as he imagined it. It only made him think of how he sounded, how hard it was for him to form syllables and words with his malformed tongue and mouth. His skin pulled taut around his mouth and leathery, it was already hard enough to sound intelligible, so he didn’t respond. She deserved better and he knew it. However, his resolve almost broke when you put the flower behind his ear, your touch was almost featherlight, like there was still fear behind your brave facade. He knew you felt fear, but so did everyone else, he expected it by now. It was okay, even if it stung. Your hand closing around his pulled him out of his thoughts, the rest of the flowers now in his grasp, which he held almost tenderly. He didn’t understand why your hand lingered on his, but when your touch retracted from him, he wanted to grab at you and pull you against him. He wanted to feel like the very flowers he held, he wanted to feel like someone wanted him, like someone cared for him. But it was all so unfamiliar, he wasn’t good enough for her and he never would be. It wasn’t until she started walking away that he panicked, his voice very faint compared to the way she spoke, “Max.” 

    You froze once you heard him speak, you thought you brain was playing tricks on you at first until you turned to meet his gaze. Your expression softened for a second before saying “max.. That’s your name? I’m (Y/N).” Your heart was beating slightly faster but there was no adrenaline left in your body. You were just as confused as he was, you didn’t understand why you felt so comfortable around someone that’s sawed you down more times than you could count. “You’ll be back here, right? I’d like to see you again, in this spot. Maybe I could help you tend to your flowers, they’re very pretty. You took care of them well.” You turned away slightly, starting to walk away again once he showed no sign of responding verbally before saying “I’d also like to get to know you, max. You seem sweeter than you let on. I’m sure it’s lonely being a killer, it’s lonely for us too. We may have a lot more in common than you think..” You didn’t know why but you found yourself running back towards the camp, your thoughts and heart racing. You didn’t know why you felt the way you did or why you even said what you said, but you didn’t regret it. You could only feel a slight warmth in your chest and a shadow of a smile on your face before you returned back to the other survivors. 

    Your words replayed over and over in his head. He wanted to see you again too, but why would you want to see him? Isn’t he hideous? He’s called crooked for a reason. The botanist, she even said he was a monster. Isn’t that what she sees? He was beyond puzzled, but he felt happier. He looked down at the dandelions in his hand, just barely brushing over the tops of them with his fingers. “(Y/N)” he muttered on repeat, almost like a broken record, before he stood up to start limping back to his home, the flowers clutched to his mangled chest. 

[komahinasecretexchange]

Title: Don’t Get Tangled Up

Author: @collegiate-trash

For: @sawitart

Rating/Warnings: T but with mentions of death and dismemberment, nothing graphic though. Just a mention.

Prompt: Rapunzel AU

Author’s notes: I’m pretty sure this is not what first comes to mind when thinking of Rapunzel but the fic kinda wrote itself so– I made sure to keep its base elements though so this’ll definitely have that infamous tower, a damsel in distress, and someone with a really long hair! I’m sorry in advance if the ending feels a bit rushed and some things may not make much sense. I just have so many plans for this but life decided to interfere. I’ll definitely write more for this verse when I have more free time. That said, I hope you enjoy it! :’D

At the edge of the kingdom stands a tower, tall and true. It has been a thing of legends; with it being older than anyone in the continent, many heroes are tempted see what lies on top of it. But that is all they are - tempted.

You see, it was not hidden knowledge that many heroes, all brave and strong and mighty in their own ways, have fallen to the tower’s might. They all succumbed to its mystic ways and none ever came back the same way again. There have been many stories of some returning; however, their accounts of what it was they have seen vary far too wildly to be considered true. Some spoke of a deadly spider, spinning their web and trapping the rest of their party. Others spoke of being granted mercy by the fae themselves. And some, spoke of dead bodies hanging in the walls, faces eternally stuck in a perpetual scream.

Of course, that wasn’t all that attracted people to this particular tower. Oh no. Some would even try and climb it for the loot, for the treasures told to be housed within its tallest peaks. But most importantly, some scale it for honor, and for a chance to catch a glimpse of the famous ill-fated beauty.

A long long time ago, when the world was still young and magic run rampant in the land, the elders told stories of a princess so pure and sweet. She brought joy to the land and love poured out of her in waves. She was beautiful in ways no mere man could ever comprehend, and kind to a fault that the gods themselves could only hope to be. Fate smiles down upon her and lavished her with gifts. She was loved and adored by all who knew her.

And perhaps, that was the reason that life made her the star of this tragedy.

The legends spoke of a poor young man entering her palace one day. Given her unassuming nature, the princess welcomed him with opened arms and treated him as an honored guest. Despite everyone’s clear suspicion of him, she ignored their words and allowed him to stay. The longer the young man stayed, the more the people could see a change in their beloved princess. Her smiles appeared less and her eyes shone of great sadness, the bounce in her steps have ceased and her tinkling laughter has disappeared completely. The people knew then what has occurred: her brilliance has faded and they all knew just who to blame. Lead by the king and queen, the people rallied to the young man’s room.

An intervention was needed, and he must now go.

Imagine their surprise when they opened the door and saw him with his hands around her waist and lips on her neck. It all made sense then and there. The man’s aversion to sunlight, his love of the dark, and the princess’ deteriorating health ever since he arrived. With a cry, the people made a mad dash towards the two to no avail. The young man has finally revealed his true colors: a soul-sucking parasite who was well-versed in the use of magic.

He raised his hand towards them; a dark swirling void appearing on his palm as he held the princess closer to him in another. The people were frantic, aware that this may be the last time they would ever see their shining star should they fail. They screamed her name till their voices grew hoarse as her parents begged and cried for her to wake up.

Alas, it was all for naught.

The devil’s magic has been left alone for far too long, and the princess has no way of breaking free from the spell. The whole kingdom mourned when she was taken.

Everyone searched high and low for the two for years in vain. They disappeared without a trace, vanishing into the abyss the young man has summoned. It was only when the king and queen grew old with age and weary with heartbreak did they found an indication of where they could be: the far off tower standing at the edge of the kingdom.

They sent countless expeditions, hired mercenaries, and even called out to the unsung heroes of distanced lands, all in the name of bringing home their lost child. And yet, despite doing everything they could, all of them returned the same way: a corpse to be added to the kingdom’s growing cemetery, all bearing the message of leaving the tower alone lest the kingdom and all its populace find themselves facing god’s wrath itself.  

There were many stories regarding the tower’s origins, but none were as well known as those of the stolen princess. And Hinata, cynic that he was, never truly believed them until this fated day.

“You have to stop doing this, Kamukura-kun!”

Hinata froze at the words, holding bated breath as he tried in vain to contain his shakes. They knew of the stories. Heck, they grew up hearing them from the elders to scare them straight. But did they listen? Did they try to heed their warnings? Nope. They all decided to be the dumb teenagers they were and scaled the infamous haunted tower. Hinata would have laughed if the situation wasn’t so fucking terrifying.

They should have accepted that maybe going up the tower was a bad idea when the crows started flocking around, descending on them, eager to peck the hell out of all of their eyes the longer they held on with the sheer power of will to the tower’s edges. And they definitely should have stopped when they realized they have been climbing for hours with no end in sight, and turned back around when they reached the dangled corpses. Gods, what were they thinking?!

It was a good thing the voices have receded down the hall because Hinata couldn’t stop shaking from the things he saw earlier.

A woman wrapped in the same silver web as the corpses they passed by was suspended in the center of the room. After many attempts, they have managed to bring her down and confirmed that she was already dead. They decided they might as well bring her back since no one else in the group truly wanted to stay in the tower longer than they should have. Their curiosities were already sated. There was no point in dawdling.

In hindsight, they should have known better than to think that nothing was wrong.

A dead woman, with no signs of decay when rumored to have been in there for hundred of years, really should have tipped them off that something was wrong. As they were about to head back, the woman disappeared from his friend’s arms and hell descended upon them.

Everything happened far too fast after that.

Hinata remembered hearing pained screaming, rushed footsteps, and in the end of it all, the deafening silence. It was mere chance that he found himself hidden from sight when the bloodbath happened. From the safety of his alcove, he witnessed his friends get torn limb from limb as the beautiful damsel they once thought of as the kind princess from the stories, easily turned against them and used the  silver webs littered around to end them all.

He didn’t know what happened exactly, but before long, the walls felt like they were closing in on him as his breathing got worse and worse. Soon, his vision blurred and all he knew of was darkness.

.

.

.

“Hey, can you hear me?”

In his weakened state, he heard someone call out to him in worry. He would swat them away but his body refuses to listen. It couldn’t be helped, he was lying down on what could possibly be the softest mattress he has ever known.

Wait a minute–

Hinata blearily opened his eyes and was astounded by the sight. Snow white locks curled around a pretty face like a halo.

Tinkling laughter reached his ears as the stranger asked, “You’re staring. Are you feeling better now?”

He opened his mouth to answer but it felt as dry as the desert sands. His companion laughed at this and left, shortly handing him a glass of water. Hinata nodded his thanks and drank it all. “What’s going on…?”

The stranger blinked, sending him a smile that he doesn’t know to interpret before answering. “I saw you unconscious in that corner over there, so I dragged you in here. That wasn’t the most comfortable place to sleep in here you know. Nor is this place the best place for a nap for someone like you.”

Someone like…

In a flash, Hinata remembered where was and reeled back.

“Well, that is quite rude. I did just help you, no need to act scared all of the sudden…” He pouted and if Hinata wasn’t too concerned with their well-being, he would have found it cute.

“Never mind that. We need to get out of here,” he said in a panicked tone as he scrambles off the bed, brows furrowed as he thought of a plan to do just that.

“I’m sorry, we…?”

“Yes, we.” Hinata sends him a stern look as he said the word. “We need to get out of here. This place is dangerous! Honestly. Climbing this tower is a bad decision - who knows what else sort of monster lurks in here.”

The other merely shook his head with a sheepish smile.

“Ah… I figured something like this would have happened. I do wonder, is this how he feels with all of life’s repetitions? No wonder he’s always so bored.” He sighs, shoulders slumping before sending Hinata a grin so bright and happy. “I have to admit though, this is the first time someone told me to join them in leaving this tower. Truly, thank you so much! To have met someone as kind you is blessing enough, however…

You see, leaving this tower is out of the question for me. This is where I belong and so I shall stay. You should too, if you can see reason. Staying here is the best course of action for the both of us.”

“Wh-what do you mean?” Hinata was at lost for words at what the other said. “Stay here? Are you out of your mind?!”

“On the contrary,” he said with a smile on his lips. “I think it is you, who is out of your mind.” He laughed then, as if sharing a joke with him. A joke that Hinata was very much ignorant of.

“I don’t understand…”

“Don’t you feel it? The static in the air? The sense of something not quite right?”

Hinata heard a sigh from behind him. “Leaving this tower is not an option. Not for you anyway.”

“Kamukura-kun!” The stranger perked up and ran pass him, tackling a mess of black by the doorway. “Mou…! You ruined it! He was supposed to guess it,” he whined but that was not Hinata’s main concern right now.

“Not leave…?”

“You’re a dense one,” Kamukura, Hinata supposed, remarked, a frown marring his pretty face as he runs a hand through the cloud-like hair of the other.

“Only because you people refuse to explain anything.” Hinata would have raised his voice in a normal setting, as was his nature. However, given the circumstances he found himself in with these two, even he could tell that would be a bad idea. “Look. I appreciate that you two haven’t killed me yet–”

“No killing!” The still unnamed stranger chirped, eyes bright and smile as wide as earlier.

“Y-yeah, sure,” he grumbled, looking away in order to continue. “No killing. Fine. But that doesn’t explain what happened down there. My friends are dead due to some weird spider lady and you say that leaving isn’t an option, so what? Are you keeping me here to be her food then? Is that it? And what of him?” He nods towards the first face he saw upon waking up. “Is he here to be food too but ended up with Stockholm Syndrome? Is that what’s going?”

Hinata wasn’t proud at the hysteria making itself more and more evident at his tone but it was taking all he had not to collapse right then and there. It was simply too much! All he wanted was to find out the truth of this tower - not have all his friends dead and become potential spider-lady chow!

“Stockholm Syndrome…?”

“Uh… yeah…? Isn’t that why you’re acting all…” Hinata does a gesture with his hands and hopes that it would be enough to get his point across. Based on their shared blank looks, probably not.

“This one is a lost cause,” Kamukura said, turning around to leave the room, only to be stopped by a pair of hands entwining with his.

“Don’t be like that, we do owe him an explanation.” Hinata watched him tuck a piece of dark hair behind Kamukura’s ear. He felt like a pervert, imposing on their domestic yet intimate moment like this. “And besides, I know how draining using that spell is. Whether you like it or not, he’ll be staying with us for now.”

Kamukura sighed, eyes closed as he leaned towards the hand cradling his face. Come to think of it, that was probably the first time he wasn’t showing a poker face ever since he entered the room. “Very well. Three questions, then we’re done.”

Hinata crossed his arms. Odds were he would die here anyway, why not push as much as he could. This was what he wanted, right? To find out the truth?

“Only three? Why not explain all of it? What is this place? Who are you guys?”

A blank look answered him, courtesy of Kamukura. “Who we are shouldn’t be of importance to you - you would be gone soon enough. As for the rest, figure it out yourself.” With that, he turned towards the door, his long black cloak billowing behind him as he paused to look over his shoulder. “I cannot assure your safety outside of these four walls. You will stay put if you know what is good for you.”

“Ah…” The white-haired stranger hummed as soon as the other was gone. “Kamukura-kun likes you!”

“Excuse me?” Hinata was pretty sure they didn’t see the same scene back there. “I think you’re seeing things.”

“He does! Trust me, Kamukura-kun definitely likes you!”

Yeah, no. Hinata doesn’t believe that, not even for a bit.

It must have shown in his face because the other was looked away with a wiry smile. “I understand that you can’t bring yourself to accept my words, but I assure you, they are true. Kamukura-kun, he…” He paused, biting his pink lips that Hinata was most definitely not looking at while listening. “He doesn’t trust others much, but for him to warn you of what lurks outside this room speaks volumes.”

“…Alright then.” He still doesn’t buy it, but he does feel inclined to accept his words. Huh. Wonder why. "What exactly is outside this room?“

"Magic.”

Answer faster. Please. As if he wasn’t already having a hard time believing anything.

“Ah… I know you just woke up, but you probably need some rest now. It couldn’t be helped, you did have an eventful day I suppose.” He laughed. Then, as if knowing exactly what to say to calm him, he added, “Believe me when I say this, your friends are all alright. They’re not harmed other than a few scrapes here and there. Rest well knowing that they are safe, dear honored guest. I’ll bring you your meal later when you awake!”

And just like that, he left as he appeared - with Hinata not knowing a thing of what just happened.

He considered going outside the room and leaving, but ultimately, was it worth the risk? These people, despite their oddity, have so far been hospitable to him. Except for the whole debacle with that spider-lady and their avoidance of answering anything but…

As Hinata lied back down on the bed to rest, countless thought ran through his head.

There were many stories regarding the tower’s origins, but none were as well known as those of the stolen princess. It spoke of how a naive and beautiful princess was whisked away to some haunted tower by a heartless conniving demon who wanted her brilliance for only himself. And yet, so far, all Hinata saw in this tower was a helpful, carefree guy with hair like dandelion puffs, and a snobby, deadpan emo edgelord who both seem to act as if this place was their home.

Things were hella weird and fucking scary as shit, and he was pretty sure he lost his sanity along the way. Yet, as much as he hates to admit it, despite everything that has happened so far, Hinata found himself looking forward to what tomorrow would bring him.

(Especially since that cute cloud-haired guy promised to bring him food, and he really wanted to have a name to call that pretty face. Plus, who knows, maybe they’ll decide to start answering his questions if he decide to be cooperative. For now though, all he could so is hope.)

[sunshineandfangs]

Klarosummer - Annual Hemingway Days Celebration || Zhè Shì Guàiwù

@klarosummerbingo

I DID IT! I FINISHED THE CARD! WOOOOOOO! Later tonight/tomorrow I’ll put together a compilation of all my drabbles for the event.

Warnings: Darker!Klaus. Mentions of Damon’s abuse of Caroline, slightly graphic. Some vampire related violence. Umm very different tone from my earlier drabble today.

Klaus pursed his lips, absently wiping off the blood of his incompetent, former minion from his hand. Good help was near impossible to find these days. Stepping over the corpse, making a mental note to have one of his witches burn the body later, Klaus peered around.

He needed someone innocuous to fill the newfound vacancy. Preferably a girl this time, one that might have an easier time sussing out the veracity of the  Doppelgänger sightings. Making friends and keeping the chit occupied if the rumors proved true, freeing up his time to track down his missing moonstone.

Perhaps, he would take a trip to Florida. There was bound to be someone he could easily snatch from the plague of party-going college students. Klaus suppressed a grimace as he imagined the shrieks of the masses that swarmed certain locales. Swearing he’d not step foot in a place like Daytona.

Even his Doppelgänger wasn’t worth that headache. Not when he could just as easily find beautiful bait somewhere a bit less popular.

---

Caroline wanted to whine, desperately, but she was better than that. Even when she was girly, little Caroline (who she didn’t want to be anymore, who she wasn’t anymore), she knew how to work hard and achieve her goals.

That being said there was a difference between useful work and busywork. And in her opinion, this was the later. There was nothing unique or challenging about reading through a book list and writing up what amounted to a synopsis. There was no critical thought or analysis, it was simply meant as a measure of dedication. Only those who completed the assignment would be paid to go to Key West.

And alright, she understood why she had to do the work. The school didn’t want to pay for a trip just so students could screw around on someone else’s dime. That being said, just because she understood the reasons, didn’t make the work any less annoying. 

The blonde grumbled quietly and cracked open the last of the list, For Whom the Bell Tolls, and started reading. 

It was grim, Caroline thought a few hours later. Bloody and human and somehow, just a bit hopeful. She stroked the cover thoughtfully. This one she was glad to have read. Its tale only further inflaming her resolve.

See, for the longest time Caroline had wanted to go into broadcast journalism. She thought she had the face and personality to do such a job. Plus, she honestly did love learning more about the world and the things that happened in it. But after the haze of junior year, friends shutting her out, waking from sleep sweat-soaked and shaking from nightmares she didn’t understand, she wanted to do more than just report other’s stories. She wanted to live her own. Really understand different people.

Which was why she switched her focus to international journalism and decided she would head to Asia first, arguably home to the most turmoil. Russia, China, North Korea just to name a few. Decided she would supplement her journalism courses with a dual major in East Asian Studies, and a list of other classes that would hopefully qualify for a minor in Russian and Slavic Studies.

It would be a lot of work. Far more than powering through a reading list, but the things worth doing often were. 

Besides that was the end goal. This upcoming trip to the Annual Hemingway Celebration in Key West was a baby step of her journey, giving her the opportunity to report on a subculture in the safety and familiarity of her own country. It didn’t hurt that Hemingway was a journalist before he was a novelist, having spent time witnessing for himself the horrid and the beautiful parts of humanity.

---

Caroline sighed, stretching out on her beach chair. The main events were done for the day and she had spent all of yesterday socializing. Even extroverts like her needed some time to herself. She let her eyes shut, soaking up some strong Florida rays.

“Hello, love, do you happen to have the time?”

The sudden British voice was quite unexpected and Caroline’s eyes popped open as she looked up. The owner of the voice was attractive - blonde curls, blue eyes, a hint of dimples when his mouth shifted - but it was marred by the fact he was disturbing her relaxation time.

Still, her mother didn’t raise her to be rude and she reached for her phone, wondering why he couldn’t check his own. A quick tap revealed the time to be 4:06 PM.

“4:06,” she read out, quickly flashing her phone in his direction so he could see for himself looking over as she did so, and froze.

There was nothing wrong. Technically. But something about his expression sent the hair on the back of her neck rising. His eyes slid to hers, seeming to sense her alarm as he cocked his head.

“Thorough and precise. Certainly traits I can appreciate.”

He seemed to be speaking more to himself than her, though her was still eyeing her speculatively.

She was wigged out to say the least.

“Right, well if that was all...” Caroline trailed off as she stood, making sure to rise on the other side of the chair from where he was.

“Nothing personal, sweetheart.” She heard from behind her.

There was no time to process the words before a bloody arm was shoved in her mouth. She choked, accidentally swallowing a few gulps of blood.

A sharp crack was the last thing she heard.

---

Klaus looked down at the blonde in his arms, wiped the blood from her lips as he lifted her into a bridal carry. It had been fortunate the girl had chosen a decently isolated spot, and it was easy for him to claim his girlfriend had simply fallen asleep to anyone who asked if she was okay.

She had surprised him, this young girl, barely old enough to be considered a woman by current standards. Her instincts were sharper than he expected and she hadn’t been taken in by his looks or accent.

He continued to walk. Well, she might just survive her time in his service.

---

Caroline’s return to consciousness was sudden and painful. Every part of her ached: her head, her toes, muscles she hadn’t known existed until now. The room seemed painfully bright, red flashes on the back of eyelids, yet when she cracked them open all the shades were drawn.

She groaned, tasting copper on her tongue. Pain quickly turned to panic as she remembered the weird British man doing something to her. Rocketing upright, she took in her unfamiliar surroundings, trying to figure out a plan.

All for naught, as the man suddenly appeared in her room, an apparent vagrant held in his grasp. Before she could demand answers, his hand shot across the side of the man’s neck, a spurt of blood shooting out from the wound.

Caroline’s vision shifted in an instant, sharper but somehow seeming hazy too. And the most delicious scent she had ever smelt was permeating the room.

Thump-thump-thump

Pounded away in her ears. She groaned, feeling her mouth and teeth flare with a sudden sharp tearing pain.

God, but what was that smell?

She was standing before the man before she even realized she moved, her teeth (fangs) digging into the gash.

Gulping, Caroline swallowed. It felt like an orgasm had somehow erupted in her mouth, her brain buzzing on the high.

Thump...thump

No, you are the only stupid thing here. And shallow. And useless.

Icy blue eyes suddenly swam into her mind and she finally grasped what she was doing. That her fangs, fangs, were buried in some poor man’s neck. She flung herself back, spine impacting the wall as she panted, a phantom pain in her own neck.

She cried out, clutching her head as a swarm of memories crashed over her. Memories of painful bites hidden with scarves. Her mind being twisted into knots. Screams that echoed only in her skull as a man rutted into her unresistant body.

Another memory floated to the surface. About how turning required blood and death. That spelled rings would prevent burning in the sun. She felt her heart lurch in her chest, its beat alien and slow.

No. 

No, she wouldn’t be someone else’s nightmare. 

She refused.

---

Klaus watched with sharp eyes as his newest sire fed and completed her transition, pleased with her speed and ferocity.

So, it was a shock when she suddenly ripped herself away before killing the man. And when she cried out he was concerned she wouldn’t be able to handle the transition, disappointed that he had wasted his time.

But then he saw the look in her eyes, the daze of a sudden rush of memories, and realized she had been compelled as a human.

Very interesting. 

And potentially useful.

He continued to observe her as clarity returned to her gaze. And just as he was about to address her, the girl blurred over to the nearest window, ripping the blinds off and instantly beginning to smoke in the sunlight.

Klaus was so stunned, that it took him a moment to blur forward, long enough that the first tongues of true flame scorched her flesh. He tackled her onto the bed, pinning her down and snuffing out the lingering fire.

However, as soon as her back had touched the sheets she fought him furiously, screaming and feral. There was no reason in her eyes anymore and he reached forward to snap her neck with a flick of his wrest, sitting back on his heels as he contemplated the girl.

Given that extreme reaction, he had his suspicions about what might have happened to her. Debated if she was going to be worth the trouble. 

Perhaps, he should kill her? It seemed to be what she wanted a moment ago.

Klaus frowned as her eyed her, shifting from the bed to a chair beside it.

That seemed like an awful waste of potential. 

...And vengeance could be quite the powerful motivator.

Decision made for the moment, he settled back in his chair, waiting for her to awaken again.

---

Author’s Note: The title was the closest I could come to “Here Be Monsters” in Chinese. Yes, I know it really only works because of what I made Caroline’s career goal, but I was running out of languages I could connect somehow. 

Also I’ve pushed the later half of S2 back as Klaus obviously hasn’t broken his curse yet or even knows for a fact Elena exists. S1 happened as normal, but here Caroline went far away to NYU for college. She and the Mystic Falls gang grew distant with all the secrets she wasn’t in on this time around. Timeline wise it’s her second semester making it 2012 and Caroline nineteen.

[isis-witch]

The Wendigo's Hunger - Until Dawn Fanfiction

A/N : Wendigo Josh × reader ( + Josh×Sam)

[The Frozen World - Émilie Simon]

This place hadn't changed in a year. Was the snow as white? Sam wasn't sure about that. She was looking through the window of the bus, which was driving her to the blackwood pines, three hundred sixty-five days after Washington's tragedy. The sky had greyish tones and the top of the mountains were hidden behind the heavy clouds. A mysterious fog rose little by little. It wouldn't have bothered her one year ago, but today, it was different. Maybe Beth and Hannah's ghosts were floating here, beneath this wet grey screen, watching their friend coming back to the lodge.

She wondered how was feeling Josh. It was him, who asked everybody to come here and have a sort of birthday party last year. It was kinda paradoxical: he wanted to forget what happened to his sisters by celebrating their death. It was really weird. Anyway, Sam liked him enough to do that. If it was the only way to make him feel better, she was ready to commemorate the twins' lost with him. She missed him. He was the kind of person who had this little indescribable thing that could have made you melt. Even if he was often oversexualizing everything, she didn't mind. It was never unhealthy, embarrassing jokes. It was just ... Josh. His smile was pretty seductive too, like the rest of his body: his clear eyes, which had a strange but beautiful color between green and blue... His black soft hair, the shape of his lips, his olive skin. The only thing she didn't know about was... "Stop it, you stupid girl. He was your friend. There was nothing between him and you." she said to herself, realizing she was biting her lower lip.

A sudden stop threw her against the seat in front of her. She quickly took her pink backpack and step out of the bus. She deeply wanted to abandon it on the road, but it was a gift from her mother, so she'd better keep it. Joshua laughed at her each time she was bringing this babyish bag with her. At least, he took it for her each time, he could be a gentleman sometimes.

The night had almost fallen, the snow was already submerging her ushanka. She made her way to the cable car, but Chris wasn't waiting for her. Nobody was here, except her. She decided by herself to come back in the mountains, to find her friend who had disappeared in the depths of mines. Authorities were formal: he was probably dead. He couldn't survive without food, in the winter cold, wounded and alone. It was impossible. Nobody tried to search his corpse or the cause of his decease, and this was driving her mad. Yes, he had done stupid things, like this horrible prank, but he was, first of all, a human in distress. She imagined him, waiting for any kind of help that never arrived. Maybe the police were right. What was she expecting? To win a fight against tens of wendigos? She sighed and opened her backpack. A photo of her and Josh was inside, she was certain to have put it in her bag before she left, but she couldn't find it.

"I'll search for it later."

She climbed into the cable car and relaxed a bit. She wouldn't be disturbed by anybody, Washington's didn't want to enter in the lodge, after their three-loss, it was too hard. They gave her the key and didn't stop to repeat she could do what she wanted with it. She was surprised by their behavior. They weren't really curious about their children's death, as if they already disappeared from their memories. It looked like everybody on Earth had become blind. Friends, family, each of them had forgotten about Hannah, Beth, and their brother. She looked at the ground, while a tear was rolling on her pale cheek. She felt guilty and monstrous. She abandoned Josh. But now was the time to be forgiven.

Mike was still angry, because of what his "friend" had done, Chris was always avoiding the subject and Matt was neutral but too scared to go with Sam. And the girls... Well... They tried to forget this story as much as they could. Ashley was scared to death of Josh himself. After all, he hit her in the face, for a "revenge game". Sam was quite comprehensive. Jessica, after her hospital sojourn, decided to cut off contact with the rest of the group, including Mike. But she kept talking with Sam for a while. The two women admitted that Josh was their crush before the incident. Jess hoped so much that her boyfriend at that time said "yes" when she asked if he was serious about letting Joshua coming with them for their little... Shindig. In fact, the braided hair girl wasn't mad or scared anymore. The past was behind her and talking about him wasn't so irritating. For Emily's part, it was impossible to have a normal conversation when Josh was put on the table. She was turning hysterical and having nightmares for entire weeks about the mines and the creatures living there.

Someone knocked at the window of the cable car. Sam screamed out and hurried to the booth bottom. How was that possible?

"Who the hell are you?" she asked.

"If you stop yelling like a dying pig, maybe we will be able to introduce ourselves." answered a man with long straight black hair

"What do you mean by ourselves ?"

Once again, the man invited her to step out of the cabin. She obeyed and saw behind her interlocutor a young lady. She looked tired and worried.

"So...hum...Hello, my name is Lucas, and this is my sister, [Y/N]. I suppose you're Samantha, am I right?"

"How do you know my name?"

"Can we talk in the lodge? We're running out of time."

Sam nodded and followed Lucas through the woods she strode across, covered in blood and dirt, a year ago. She walked beside [Y/N], who didn't say a word since they had met. Lucas's sister had dark hair too, very pale skin and hazel eyes. She was hiding her chin and her lips into her winter jacket collar, but Sam was convicted that it wasn't because of the cold weather. The girl was hiding from something. Wendigos? Did they know about them?

"Are you alright, [Y/N] ?" she asked.

[Y/N] turned her head in a jump and quickly nodded. Before Sam could say anything else, Lucas shouted their names. They were in front of the lodge. The blonde woman breathed a huge sigh of relief. Finally, she would be able to take a hot bath, have some rest and find answers to her questions. Lucas opened the door and let his sister and Sam enter the lodge.

"Alright, guys, Sam is here, we can start our investigations." declared the tall man, by putting off his long black felt coat.

"What the fuck are you doing here, you all?" asked Sam.

Indeed, all the band was sitting in the living room. Chris stood up and explained to her that Lucas had contacted him a few weeks ago, to help him and his sister to find their common friend, Joshua Washington. At first, he was reluctant and doubtful. How Josh could have survived? But the revelations of Lucas convinced him to save his old best friend and tried, in turn, to persuade Ashley to come with him. Mike, Jess, Matt, and Emily have been informed too, one by one. They hesitated, as did Chris, and finally agreed that they couldn't let Ash and Chris alone in the mountains, where too many wendigos were roaming.

"And what's that super mega secret that changed your mind?"

"There is a way to get back from the state of wendigo. That's why [Y/N] and I are here. I'm the weapon, she's the brain. But we need as much help as possible, and this is the reason why we called the seven of you." replied Lucas.

"Maybe you could let your sister talk for just a second?" suggested Emily.

[Y/N] lifted her eyes in surprise and seemed more worried than ever. She walked slowly to the center of the room and sighed.

"Yes, there is a solution. Our father, Jack Fiddler, was a wendigo hunter. Chris saw him dying by the hands of a creature."

"He was your father? Oh God, I'm so sorry."

"It's okay. When we learned his death, we deeply wanted to get our revenge and become hunters too. Then your witnesses were broadcasted on TV and radio, with Josh's disappearance... And also the mysterious slaughter of two forest rangers, in the same mines. We had finally a true goal, which worth to die for: save our friend."

"Wait, wait, wait, how do you know him?" asked Mike.

"I have been in the same class as him since preschool, and when we entered high school he was giving me Spanish tutoring. He quickly became friends with Lucas, and... he and I were getting closer from day to day."

Sam felt something breaking inside her. Was it her heart? So when Josh said he was very happy that she had come to the birthday, was he only talking about a special friendship? Her cheeks got red and she had a lump in the throat. Lucas put maps, notes, and illustrations on the coffee table. The group paid great attention to [Y/N] 's brother's explanations. Sam's vision became blurry.

"Hey, guys, can you continue without me? I need to... rest a bit. I don't feel very well."

Lucas was about to protest but his sister stopped him and allowed Sam to go upstairs and have a bath. She headed towards the bathroom, locked the door and lighted some candles. She remembered what happened last year. Josh had hidden a camera and filmed her, naked, then only wrapped up in a white towel. If it has been kind of traumatic a year ago, today she was afraid to admit to herself the truth: she would have loved to see her in a bathtub, in Josh's arms. She felt like a true psychopath, but she couldn't stop thinking about that. Oh, how she dreamt to be in a flimsy outfit, in hot water, with him, the only man she had truly desired. While she was undressing, she was thinking about the things Joshua could have done to her in this bathroom, if she had invited him to join her the last time she saw him, in his normal state. She slipped into the water and imagined his body against hers. God, he was probably the hottest thing on these mountains. Her hand slowly reached her crotch and started to skim herself. She closed her eyes a few seconds and reopened them in a whisper. But what appeared in her sight absolutely terrorized her!

"Joshua? Is that you?"

[justatiredghost]

Klaus woke up gasping, terror gripping him as he was overwhelmed by the screams of the dead, all clambering to be heard, voices filled with rage or terror or both. As if he could ever get away, he nearly scrambled off the edge of the cot before he realized where he was and what was happening, so instead he just sat there with his head in his hands.

Nothing particularly unusual about all that, he did it often enough, but what was unusual was the handsome man that was suddenly at his side, a hand tentatively placed over his own as he whispered words of comfort. Honestly Klaus was taken aback, usually everyone ignored his nightmares, writing it off as just silly Number Four trying to get attention. But of course Dave only saw someone in distress and Klaus was so shaken he couldn’t help but lean into him.

It was a little funny, Dave probably thought he was plagued by the usual nightmares of the war and while that was partly true, right now it was the screams of ghosts that were getting to him. But it did help somehow, when Dave sat close beside him like this, rubbing circles onto his back, voice low and calm so as not to wake the others. Something else to focus on, to ground him, and slowly his trembling subsided.

“You good?” Dave asked when his breathing finally became something close to normal.

“Oh just peachy,” Klaus said, disappointed that he didn’t sound as chipper as he wanted.

“It’s okay, plenty of guys have nightmares here,” Dave assured him and Klaus laughed, a shaky thing.

“Oh I’m sure they’ll just keep getting better from here but that’s not what woke me up,” he said, rubbing his temples, too tired and sick of the never-ending noise. War zones weren’t exactly quiet and the voices certainly weren’t going to stop. “The ghosts are just particularly loud tonight. Very chatty.”

There wasn’t really any point in keeping it a secret now was there? Klaus already knew he came across as weird, fucked up in many fascinating ways, seemingly muttering to himself when the ghosts got too pushy and he gave in and talked to them if only to shush them. But even without that he was quite the character and never toned himself down no matter the situation. It wouldn’t be long before the rumors started so why not just come out and say it. Besides, this was Dave and for some reason he wanted to tell him the truth.

Dave had an easy going calmness about him no matter the situation and he always gave Klaus the benefit of the doubt no matter how ridiculous he was being, he just took it all in stride. Dave had a quick wit and there was an intelligence behind those baby blues that told Klaus that he wasn’t so easily fooled whenever Klaus deflected with a blatant lie or a exaggeration. Then again, the truth of it all was far more bizarre than Klaus could ever have dreamed up so who knows if Dave knew what kind of puzzle he was piecing together even with all the little hints, like the foreign slang and Klaus’ sudden appearance in his tent that first night.

“You hear ghosts?” Dave asked, eyebrow raised, slight smile on his lips. Not the typical response Klaus was used to but he could roll with it.

“Sure do. See ‘em too. And they won’t shut up.” He hissed the last bit at a nearby ghost even if it wouldn’t take the hint. “Maybe they should get a hobby. Probably make the afterlife a lot more interesting too.” With a sigh, he rubbed at his eyes hard as if that might help. Instead it only made it worse, as if the dead were simply waiting in the dark and behind his eyelids. He opened them again quickly, staring down at his hands instead. “God I could use a drink. Or something stronger.”

He must have looked particularly shaken because Dave picked up the back rubbing again and it was ridiculous how nice that felt. Dave probably thought he was full of shit like everyone else did, but that didn’t seem to matter. Could Dave tell where his jokes ended and the truth began? Did it even matter? Klaus seemed genuinely upset and that was apparently enough to warrant Dave’s support. Why did this man have to be so fucking good?

“No alcohol here, but how about this?” Dave got up and Klaus tried not to think about how empty the space beside him suddenly felt. Thankfully Dave was back a moment later, a pack of cigarettes in hand.

“Ah, thanks,” Klaus said, pulling one out and Dave lit his lighter, holding it up for him. There was something weirdly intimate about it as he leaned forward and lit his cigarette.

“You always been able to see ghosts or is this a recent development?” Dave asked, lighting a cigarette for himself as well before tossing his lighter over onto his own cot.

“Oh god, wouldn’t that be a fun surprise, seeing ghosts for the first time in a war zone,” Klaus shuttered.

“I imagine it’d be a bit of a shock no matter where you are.”

“Fair,” Klaus said, chuckling as he took a long drag of the cigarette. “But nah it’s been my entire life.”

“Must suck,” Dave said when he seemed unwilling to share anymore information. Klaus didn’t exactly want to relive the horrors of his childhood, not right now anyway. He had enough to worry about as it was.

“Nah, it’s great,” he said sarcastically, throwing his hand out for emphasis as he leaned an elbow on Dave’s shoulder. “Lots of fun getting to see the mangled corpses even after the bodies have been taken away. Oh the good times I’ve had!.” Dave had his arm around his waist now, squeezing gently to give him some sort of silent support and Klaus took another drag of his cigarette. “I don’t even know what I’m still doing here, putting up with this shit.”

“I’m not sure any of us do,” Dave replied.

“No, I mean, I shouldn’t actually be here, I should just split, go anywhere but here.”

Klaus had found himself in a war zone, gunfire and death everywhere, but some cute guy had smiled at him and instead of getting out like a sensible person he’d decided to stay and see where things would go. How ridiculous was that? Was his connection to his old life really that flimsy? Or was he just that suicidal?

Then again, he’d already fucked up his life pretty spectacularly, no friends and a family that probably wouldn’t even notice if he wound up dead. Honestly they were probably waiting for it given the number of times he’d nearly ODed. And then there were the assassins and torture and the end of the world and maybe there wasn’t much difference between staying and going back. He’d likely wind up dead either way. It didn’t matter, nothing did.

“Would you?” Dave asked suddenly, pulling Klaus out of his thoughts and throwing him off completely. “Would you just leave?”

“Wouldn’t you, given the chance?” he asked, suddenly genuinely curious.

“I don’t know,” Dave admitted, looking around thoughtfully at all the sleeping figures. “When I came over here, I thought my life was over, and don’t get me wrong it’s been hell, but the people I’ve met?” he shot a meaningful glance at Klaus but quickly looked away again, bringing his cigarette to his lips before he continued. “In a way it’s like my life’s only just started. Looking around at you all— this war is bullshit but if I can help anyone, I guess I’d be okay with staying.”

Fuck, there was Dave being too good again. This was why Klaus hadn’t just immediately run for the hills. He’d found himself worrying about this ragtag group and in the end he realized he didn’t want to run away, not when it meant leaving someone like Dave behind. He made Klaus want to be the kind of person who would fight to help others too. Besides, it felt like he was a part of something here. They were all brothers in arms and Klaus already knew what it was like to be part of a team he hated himself for how much he missed it, but what can you do?

The briefcase was shoved under his cot and he’d be lying if he said he didn’t find his mind wandering to it in the heat of battle, pinned down by gunfire and deafened by explosions, or haunted by the bloody twisted remains of people begged for his help. Despite it all, he felt like he was actually making a difference. He couldn’t help the ghosts no matter the time period, but maybe he could help the living. And maybe someone actually wanted him around here.

“I suppose you’re right,” he said, but things were getting much too serious. “But let’s be honest here, I’m wasted in a place like this.”

“What do you mean?”

“Just look at me! These army fatigues don’t flatter my figure at all.” He was encouraged when Dave chuckled, bumping his shoulder into him lightly.

“You are an interesting man,” Dave said, smiling, a look in his eyes that made Klaus forget how to breathe for a moment. It was soft and fond and he never wanted Dave to stop looking at him like that.

“I have been accused of many, so many, things. Being boring is not one of them.” He winked. “But it’s so dull here! If we were back home, I could show you a good time, take you to all the best places to party. The ones I haven’t been thrown out of yet, of course.”

“Tell you what,” Dave said. “When we get out of here, you can take me to your favorite places, then I’ll take you to some of mine. I think we’ve earned a bit of partying.”

“Only if I can judge you for how lame your places are. I’m sorry but you can’t compete with the expert.”

It was an impossible dream, who knew if they were even getting out of this alive, but it was a nice distraction from all the death. And it won a laugh from Dave and really wasn’t that the point of all of this? Soon the sun would rise and they’d be forced to face another day of death and trauma, but Klaus felt a little stronger now. It all didn’t seem quite so overwhelming after these stolen moments together.

[the-walking-memelords]

Allegiances: Chapter 16

Prologue | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 |Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 | Chapter 17

Series is rated M

Word Count: 6191

The final showdown between Clementine and Lilly.

Read it on Ao3!

Read it on Wattpad!

Warning for Graphic Depictions of Violence

The silver beams of the full moon guided them through the dark, twisting branches of the forest as the kids marched towards their final battlefield. The stars danced above, bidding the teens good luck on their mission.

Anxiety ran high at the possibility of failure. Being killed, or worse, being captured was a fate Clementine tried desperately to push out of her mind.

We push on, we fight on, we look forward, never back.

Clementine held her head high with her eyes trained forward at the path ahead as her boots stomped through the dirt. Her fingers fiddled with the strap of her quiver, making sure it was fastened securely as she gripped the metal bow in her other hand.

A smooth draw.

It was truly the best weapon the school had in their arsenal, but it couldn't compare to even a revolver. God, she wished she had a gun. Yonatan's rifle had been missing from his corpse once the dust cleared. Such a precious weapon no doubt snatched back by one of the other soldiers.

The burning orange glow of the distant torches cut through the blue of the night.

“You all know what to do.” Mitch addressed the group as they reached the clearing.

“Willy, you get the raft. Ruby and Tenn, free those horses. Me, Louis, and Clementine will go after the others and plant the bomb.”

A decently solid plan.

“Only the group going up to the boat needs to douse themselves in guts.” Clem added

“If we don’t regroup before the bomb goes off, don’t wait around too long. Every walker in the county is gonna make a beeline for this shore.”

Suddenly, a bright white light flooded the area as the kids threw themselves to the dirt. The spotlight paid them no mind as it moved past, focusing instead, on a walker lumbering towards the source. A loud gunshot rang, signalling the end of that walker’s journey.

Hopefully, James brought enough of them for us to sneak past her.

The kids kept their heads low as they picked themselves up.

“I guess now we just wait for your walker friend to show up with his herd.” Ruby whispered.

Speak of the devil.

“Won’t have to wait too long.” Clementine smirked, seeing the masked boy accidentally sneak up behind the redhead.

“Good Lord!” Ruby tried to contain her surprise at the sudden stranger.

“Uh, hi.” James stood awkwardly as the group stared at him. This must have been his first time around such a group in years.

“Guys, this is James.” Clem introduced.

The others didn’t seem too sure how to react upon actually meeting the guy who wore human skin. Their faces mostly held mild unsettlement mixed with wonder. That is, except for one.

“You’re mask looks so cool.” Willy didn’t hide his enthusiasm but at least kept his voice down. “How do you get the skin like that? Can I try it on?”

“I... uh… Clementine?” James begged for help. Even with all of the control he held over the walkers, he was powerless against this excited child.

“Willy. Cool it.” Mitch interjected before Clem got the chance. “We got a job to do.”

“Right. Sorry.” Willy backed off, and James let out a small sigh of relief.

“It just looks so real.”

I mean, it is.

“Functional, and fashionable. I’ll take two.” Louis comment got a lighthearted eye roll from Clem and a small chuckle from James.

“The walkers will be here soon. I’ll lead them to the boat, but that’s as far as I go.” He reminded them.

“Thank you, James.” Clementine smiled before looking at the other kids. They looked back at her with confidence, which was reassuring.

“See you on the other side.”

When the group dispersed to wait out the arrival of their undead distraction, James pulled Clementine aside. She followed him to the edge of the path, where they stood just within the treeline.

“The noise from the boat will draw the herd towards the water.” He explained.

“You can join them as they pass through.”

“Then we can get on board and save our friends.” Clementine said determinedly.

A lone walker stumbled across the path, no doubt only a prelude for what was to come.

“Your friends aren’t what I expected. They’re… different. Open-minded. Accepting.” He seemed surprised.

“That’s not usually how my first impressions go. That one kid even called me… cool.”

“They could be your friends too, y’know. Once this is all over, you could come back to the school with us.” Clem offered.

“I didn’t think I could trust a group again after getting screwed over so many times, but these people are different. It really feels like a home.”

“I haven’t lived with a group in a long time but...” Clementine noticed him smiling through the hole in his mask as he thought about having a home.

“It does sound nice… I’ll have to think about it.”

James reached his hands behind his head, removing his mask and revealing his face. Clementine looked at the skin mask in his hands. Wearing it was one of the more unnerving things she’d done. She couldn't imagine wearing it full-time.

“There’s something I wanted to show you.” Nervousness crept into his tone.

The boy reached into his pocket, revealing a small plastic bag with a Polaroid photo inside. He cupped the photograph gently in his hands. Depicted in the photo were two boys, one who was clearly James several years younger, and another boy around the same age as him in the picture who also appeared to be of Korean descent. The other boy sat with his arm around James’ shoulder, the two boys smiling happily at the camera.

“This is… was… my boyfriend, Charlie. We joined the Whisperers together.” James confessed, admiring the photo with a wistful smile.

“But it changed him. In a way that couldn’t be undone. It changed both of us.”

“What do you mean?” All the stories Clementine had heard spoke of cruelty beyond all words. Closer to animals than people.

“The Whisperers were my.. Family… from a young age.” He continued, looking shaken as he recalled his past.

“I witnessed so much death and suffering. Eventually, I became the cause of it.”

James’ story began to mirror her own a little bit.

“Weakness was considered a poison, and I believed in that. Fiercely. One day, our Alpha had ordered us to attack a community that had wronged her in some way. And when another boy expressed sympathy for them…” James bit his lip as he held a hand over his face.

“...I slit his throat without hesitation.”

What?

“That doesn’t sound like you.” Clementine was taken aback by his words. James killed a member of his own group? Just like that? It sounded like he was telling the story of some other boy. It was hard to believe such a violent and bloodthirsty act came from the kind-hearted boy standing next to her.

“You killed a child?”

“I didn’t consider who he was, what he felt. Honestly, I don't even remember his name. All I knew was that someone like him would only slow us down.” James grimaced at his own actions.

“After he died, I kept hearing his words in my head over and over. ‘Those people are like us! Just on a different path!’ I stopped killing after that. I changed. But no one else did.”

Some evils just can’t be undone.

“The Whisperers preyed on the young especially, twisting their minds with their sick methods. I don’t want what happened to Charlie to happen to your friends.”

Clementine’s next words were cut off by the moans of the dead emanating from the path. Several of the undead began to emerge from the forest, following the light right to the boat.

“The herd will be upon us shortly. Soon there will be enough of them to provide cover.” James adorned his mask once again as he moved to inspect the herd’s progress.

“Good luck out there.”

Clementine nodded as she stepped out of sight back towards the clearing.

“Clem?” The small voice of Tennessee caught her attention. He played with his hands as he stood before her sadly.

“Louis told me… about my sisters.”

Poor kid.

“He said that… Sophie died… and Minnie is one of them now.” He looked down at his hands as he seemed to fight back tears for a moment.

“If you see her… can you tell her I forgive her?”

“Tenn…”

“I just want her to be happy. Where ever she decides to go.” The scarred boy said pleadingly.

“Tenn, look at me.” She knelt down to his height.

“I can’t promise how things are gonna go in there, but I can promise that I will try. If we find her, I’m going to try to convince her to come home. I mean, I changed, maybe she can too.”

“I changed, but no one else did.”

James words suddenly echoed in her head.

Would their stories end up following a similar narrative?

“Thank you, Clem.” The now smiling boy hugged her tight.

“Stay safe out there, okay?” Clementine smiled back.

“Okay.” With that, they parted ways, and Clem began to search for Louis.

---

She found Louis standing alone, leaning against a tree. His eyes were trained on the boat. The dreadlocks that swung in front of his face cast shadows that made it hard to read his expression, but Clem could guess what he was thinking.

“This is really happening, isn’t it?” He said slightly panicked as she approached.” We’re about to walk onto a boat of armed adults, save our friends, and somehow, blow that shit to hell while getting out in one piece.”

Well, when you say it like that it only sounds more impossible.

“I can take us right to the cellblock, and the boiler room is on the way.” She assured.

“The Delta will be so occupied with the walkers that if anyone is there, maybe it’ll be one guard. Between the three of us? I like those odds.”

“Damn right.” He said low.

She hoped her confidence would rub off on him. Once they were inside, hesitation wasn’t an option.

“I just don’t want to fuck this up. People’s lives are depending on us. Depending on me. God, I just…” It was clear that the stress was beginning to get to him.

“Louis, we can’t fall apart right now. Violet’s lost if we don't go. They all are.” Clementine didn’t want to think about her friends befalling the same fate as her.

“I know. I know.” He took a deep breath, stepping aside and mumbling to himself.

“C’mon, Louis. Get it together.”

“We’re going to be okay.” She tried to smile.

“Clem, can you do me a favour?” His eyes were serious.

“What is it?”

“I need you to slap me.”

Excuse me?

“Right here.” Louis pointed to the right side of his face.

“Just to help pull me out of this.”

Clementine watched him in mild amusement as he stood with his eyes closed, bracing for impact. She rolled her eyes and took a step forward.

She stood on her toes. Also grabbing a fistful of his shirt in order to reach her lips to his. Louis tensed for a moment, expecting a slap and getting a kiss, but quickly melted into it as he pulled her close. They savoured it, on the off-chance it was their last.

They broke after a moment, foreheads pressed together, their breath warm on each other’s faces.

“I uh… don't know if I feel more focused or less.” He chuckled.

“Don’t worry.” She assured him one more time.

“We’ll be home by sunrise.”

“Hey lovebirds.” Mitch called from a short distance away, startling the couple. “The walkers are ready, let's get a move on.”

---

The groans and snarls of the herd were almost deafening as the three blood-soaked teens approached. The spotlight was blinding as it pointed to the mass of the dead. The voices of the Delta soldiers could be heard faintly. Orders barked left and right. For a moment, Clementine thought she could hear Lilly among them.

The crack of a gunshot rang out as a walker a few feet to Clem’s right fell still on the ground.

“Stay behind the walkers, use them as shields.” She whispered to the two boys.

The spotlight no longer focused its attention on the herd, swinging over towards a raft of supplies floating off down the river.

“Good job, Willy.” She heard Mitch mumble under his breath.

The yelling only increased as the panicked whinnies of the horses sounded and a bright blaze of hay lit up the night.

They tried to stay relatively together as one by one the herd was thinned out. Whenever that spotlight found its way to Clementine, she dove for a walker, gripping onto its torn clothes and rotting flesh until the bullet meant for her dropped the walker instead.

More soldiers began to emerge from the boat to fight the herd just as the three reached the pier.

“We can’t risk leaving cover, we’ll have to crawl along the side of the dock.” Clementine lead them as they dipped into the freezing water. She felt a chill run up her body as they scurried along the side, gripping onto the soggy wood. The water around them became a dark red as the guts washed from their clothing. With their camouflage gone, escaping would be a little trickier.

The gap above the door was barely large enough for Clementine to squeeze through, and with walkers on the way, the time-crunch made it even more difficult. Mitch held off any of the dead that got too close as Louis boosted her up. It took some maneuvering, but she managed to twist her way in, slamming the lever to open the door.

“Let’s blow these sons o’ bitches to hell.” Mitch examined the bomb in his hands, which he somehow managed to keep dry while wading through the water.

Clementine nodded, ducking and diving through the halls of Delta, a soldier prowled around, trying to get an angle on the advancing walkers.

We’re so close.

She dove for cover once more as a raider rounded the corner, but not quickly enough.

“Who’s there?” The deep voice of the large man echoed through the metal hall. He let out a low growl before beginning to creep forward.

“Give me a damn city name.”

“Rockingham.” Clementine blurted out, hoping he wouldn’t recognize her voice.

“Well hurry up and get the fuck out there before we lose the whole ship to these things!” The man hurried down another passageway as Clem, Louis, and Mitch finally reached the boiler room.

“There ya go, Mitch’s Masterpiece.” Mitch grinned mischievously as he placed the explosive in the bottom door of the boiler.

Oh God, he named it?

Clem didn’t have time to question it before they booked it through the final stretch of their journey. Clementine was correct in the cellblock only containing one guard, but of course, that guard had to be…

“Minerva.” Clementine called to her.

Minnie immediately drew her crossbow, her brows crossed in a scowl. Clem and the others returned the favour by drawing their weapons as well.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” The redhead stared in shock at the three that stood before her, focusing her anger mainly on the girl.

“If you got my little brother mixed up in this I swear to God I will gut you before the commander gets the chance.”

Jesus.

“Tenn’s fine.” Clementine told her, still being cautious in case Minerva had an itchy trigger finger.

“He wanted me to tell you that he forgives you.”

Clementine lowered her bow as a gesture of good faith and saw Minerva’s stance become more hesitant.

“Come with us, Minnie. Tenn wants to see his big sister again. It isn’t too late.” Clem begged.

“We don’t belong to the Delta. We have a home, and it isn’t with them.”

They stared each other down for a moment before Minerva slowly lowered her weapon.

“Fine. I’ll help you get the others out. Then we go.”

The four of them searched for the cells that contained their friends.

“Clementine?” Aasim exclaimed in surprise.

Omar let out a groan as he stood from within the same cell as Aasim, limping on one leg.

“Are you okay?” Mitch questioned the injured boy.

“I’m alright, burns like hell though.” Omar said as he leaned an arm on Aasim for balance.

“Clementine, help me with Vi and Brody while they get those guys out.” Minerva lifted the latch at the bottom of the door, allowing it to swing open.

Clementine cautiously stepped inside, finding the two girls huddled away from each other against the far wall. She didn’t even get a chance to get a word out before the butt of Minnie’s crossbow connected with the back of her neck, sending her crashing to the floor. Her ears rang as her vision blurred, barely being able to process the sounds of three people yelling before her vision fully faded to black.

---

The sound of broken, muffled sobs brought Clementine back to reality. As the blurred vision finally subsided, she was able to focus on the source of the sound.

The shaking form of Brody sat in the corner with her knees pulled tightly to her chest and her face buried as if the poor girl was trying to make herself so small that she could disappear from this awful place.

"Brody?" Clem called softly, eliciting no response.

"She's been like that since we woke up here." Violet's voice came flatly from where she sat slouched against the wall, focusing on her hand that was picking at the rips in her jeans.

"Seeing Minnie again only made it worse."

"Are you alright?" She tried to get her best friend to look at her, and when she finally did, Clementine's blood ran cold at the sight of the ice in her gaze.

"...Vi?"

"I didn't believe her, y'know. When she started spouting all that shit about you being one of them, and all that shit about the kid… I thought she was just trying to fuck with our heads." She spoke in a frustrated growl.

"But then I knew. I got grabbed. We locked eyes, and you looked away."

Clementine didn't know how to respond. She chose to save Louis instead of Violet. She knew this would happen. She had no excuse.

"I'm sorry, Violet." Clementine practically pleaded.

"I didn't want any of this."

"You didn't want it to happen, but you knew it would." The blonde spit back.

"And you lied about it."

"I'm going to make this right." She swore.

"We came to bring everyone home, and that's what we're going to do."

"Then we're all going to die like Marlon did." Violet's face softened, the ice in her eyes melted leaving them empty with hopelessness.

Clementine turned to locate her other friends, to find someone else already waiting by the door.

“You’ve really flown off the fucking rails, haven’t you?” Minerva scowled at her through the bars.

“You put everyone on this fucking ship in danger. My brother in danger. On some pointless rescue attempt. Fucking traitor.”

How could she have the audacity to call Clementine a traitor? She was the one actively working against her friends for the people who kidnapped her away from them.

“This is bullshit, Minnie.” Louis challenged her from the cell across the hall.

“How the fuck could you go along with this after what they did to you and Sophie?”

“Minerva, please.” Clementine gripped the metal bars tightly.

“This is our chance to all go home, don’t you see that?”

“You’re on real thin fucking ice, Clementine.” She growled, their faces only inches apart with the bars of the cell between them.

“Just sit down and shut up, or that kid of yours will get a bullet to the head right in front of you before we even leave this dock.”

What the fuck does she mean?

“Is she awake?” That sickening voice asked from somewhere Clem couldn’t see.

“Yes, ma’am.” Minerva answered obediently before stepping back, allowing her commander to step into view.

“I see you’ve decided to return home after all.” Lilly sang.

“Fuck you.”

“It’s nice to see you too.” The woman smiled as she pulled her pistol from the holster on her hip.

“Back up.”

Clementine obeyed, slowly stepping backwards as Minerva opened the latch to let her into the cell. She was basically trapped in the corner with Minerva’s crossbow pointed right between her eyes. Lilly took a seat on the cot along the wall, the metal frame creaking under the sudden weight.

Clem looked at her two friends also trapped with her. Brody’s laboured breathing only worsened with the threat now only a few feet away. Violet actually scooched closer to the terrified girl, putting her arm around her in an attempt to quiet her down.

“I’m not the only visitor you have today.” The smile never faded from her lips. Lilly nodded to Minerva, giving her some kind of signal.

What fucking game is this?

Clementine felt her heart jump into her throat as Minnie stepped to the side, allowing her little boy to squeeze past. Clem’s shocked expression was met by AJ’s unsure gaze.

“AJ?” Clementine cried out as she stepped towards him, only to be blocked by Minerva’s threatening weapon.

He looked nearly the same as the last time she saw him, the only difference she could tell was that his hair had been cut shorter, not sticking out under the blue baseball cap as much as it had been before.

AJ said nothing as he turned his head towards Lilly, who patted the spot beside her on the cot. The child took quick steps to meet at the instructed spot, sitting on the far side of Lilly from where Clementine stood.

He was right there. Right there. So close, yet still that evil bitch stood between them.

“AJ here has barely said a word the last few days. He’s been terribly upset after he heard about you abandoning him for a brand new family.” Lilly imitated a pouty tone as she taunted the girl.

“Don’t you fucking DARE twist his head like that!” Clementine began to burn with rage.

“AJ isn’t stupid. He knows better than to believe you.”

“AJ isn’t stupid and that's why he’s still alive. He knows better than to disobey orders. He knows better than to go against the people who cared for him.” Lilly wrapped her arm around AJ’s shoulder.

“He’ll make a better soldier than you ever were, considering you ended up being such a disappointing failure.”

“Get your fucking hand off of him.” Clementine growled with a voice full of venom.

“Clem…” AJ finally spoke, an uneasy look across his face as he froze against the woman’s touch.

“Shush, AJ. She doesn’t deserve your attention.” Lilly cooed.

I’m going to fucking kill her.

“And that’s exactly the kind of insubordination we can’t tolerate.” The woman looked back over at Minerva.

“Minnie here is a shining example of everything you were supposed to be. Of course, she and her sister got off to a rocky start when they first joined our ranks, but look where she is now.”

Minerva’s eyes appeared to be empty of her own free will. She stood as if her limbs were tied with strings, moving only when the puppeteer saw fit.

“Let me tell you a story, I call it: The Parable of the Twins.” As Lilly spoke, Clementine saw the icy blue spheres of Minnie’s eyes fill with fear.

“Two girls were taken from their home, and brought to a new place to live. They had to leave their friends and family behind and that was hard at first. They shed a lot of tears.

But the new place was a good place. The people grew corn and raised pigs, and the girls ate well for the first time in years. They had hot showers. Clean clothes. Beds. They were given guns and trained to use them.

The people there were kind to these girls. All that was asked for in return, was that they help defend the group. You see, this place had a lot of enemies, killers and thieves, people who wanted what they had. They needed help fighting, or they’d lose everything they’d built. Their crops, their power, even their lives.”

“I wonder if that’s how the twins would tell it.” Clementine interrupted. Stealing a couple of kids away from their home? Nothing could justify it.

“One of the twins would.” Lilly smirked.

“One of the girls saw this was a place worth fighting for, and her tears dried.

But the other twin… she could never forget her old home. She rejected every gift. Every opportunity. Stirred up trouble every chance she got.

She convinced her sister to help her steal a raft and leave on the river. Of course, they didn’t get far.”

Clementine’s stomach twisted as the story continued.

“What happened then, Minerva?”

There was a moment of hesitation before the tall girl’s eyes drained of fear, refilling with malice.

“I killed her.” Minerva’s words although quiet, set off an explosive response to those listening.

Confused cries of disbelief came from the teens in all three cells.

“What the fuck?”

“Holy shit.”

“Is that true?”

“You killed your own sister? Why would you do that?” Lilly locked eyes with Clem, sending the girl a sinister stare. This was a demonstration of power. Lilly proving her dominance over the others.

“She was twisting my head with her lies.”

“And?”

“I made a mistake. I needed to show my loyalty to the place I called home.” Minerva spoke with scary certainty as if she fully believed in the things she was saying.

“You fucking brainwashed her!” Louis yelled, slamming his fist against the cell door.

“You sick fucks!”

“Pull the mouthy one out of the cell.” Lilly called to Dorian before turning back to Clem.

“He clearly didn’t get the moral of the story.”

Clem looked over Minnie’s shoulder, seeing the fear in his eyes as Dorian approached his cell.

“Don’t you fucking hurt him!” She growled, trying to step forward but once again stopped by Minerva and her crossbow.

“Lilly, I’m the one who screwed you over. Do whatever you want to me, but don’t hurt any of them.”

Especially not him.

“You misunderstand.” She sang.

“This isn’t a negotiation.”

The door to the adjacent cell swung open as Dorian stepped inside. Mitch quickly stepped between them giving the taller woman a threatening glare.

“Don’t.” Mitch spit.

“Ey yo, you better get out of the way or you gonna get yourself hurt.” Dorian shoved the boy out of the way, grabbing Louis by the collar of his shirt, cleaver in hand.

Mitch jumped at her, pinning her against the wall as Louis fell back into the cell. Dorian swiped her cleaver at her attacker, slicing deep across Mitch’s cheekbone. Blood began to run down his face as Dorian threw him back into the cell, slamming the door. Mitch grimaced in pain as he pressed his hand to his face, attempting to stop the blood flow.

“Enough of this shit.” Lilly stood, tugging on AJ’s arm as she pulled him away from the cell.

“Dorian, start the boiler. I want us out of here.”

Minerva slammed the door behind them as Lilly and AJ disappeared down the hall.

This ship is going to blow. We need to get the fuck out.

Clementine tugged on the cheap steel, enough force, and maybe she could break the hinges.

“Get the fuck back!” Minerva barked, her voice almost on the verge of tears.

“This is all your fucking fault!”

“Her fault?” Louis yelled back.

“You killed Sophie? What the fuck?”

With Minerva’s back turned, Clementine tried to force the door again. A pair of hands dug into her shoulders, ripping her backwards and pinning her to the wall.

“What are you doing?” The blonde fought.

“You’re gonna get us all killed!”

Violet tried to keep Clementine down, but her thin frame was no match for Clem’s muscle. She tried not to be too rough as she released herself from Violet’s grasp, pressing her forearm to her friend’s throat as Clem pinned Vi against the wall.

“What the fuck are you doing?” The choking sounds caught Minnie’s attention as she unlocked the door to break up the fight.

Wrong move.

Clementine launched herself at the door, effectively knocking the crossbow from the redhead’s hands. Clem landed a knee to the other girl's stomach as she knocked her backwards. She reached out and undid the lock to Louis and Mitch’s cell before Minnie could recover= but, of course, Minerva had gone through the same training she had.

Minerva landed a swift kick to the side of Clementine’s knee, knocking her leg out from under her. She sat on top of the smaller girl, brandishing a large hunting knife and using all of her weight to try to push it into Clem’s chest.

They grappled with each other, Minerva having the size advantage. The tip of the knife dug into Clem’s collar bone, the beginning of her losing this battle.

Mitch grabbed Minerva by the hood of her jacket, pulling her off of Clem and slamming her head against the wall. Unconscious, but alive.

“You guys get the others out of here. I’m going after AJ.” Clem ignored the drops of blood rolling down her chest as she grabbed Minerva’s knife.

“I’m going with you.” Louis insisted, squeezing her hand.

“I promised I’d help you save him, after all.”

---

Louis and Clementine crept across the top deck of the boat, following that evil woman’s voice as she fed the boy all kinds of lies about Clementine.

“I’ve known Clem since this all started. She had a weak man teach her all of the wrong lessons, the same lessons that would have gotten you killed.”

“Commander! We found these two in the herd.” A girl with close-cut blonde hair revealed two more prisoners.

Shit.

“Tennessee.” Lilly sang.

“My my how your big sister has missed you.”

Her gaze moved from the young boy to the older one. She ripped James’ mask off his face just as he began to regain consciousness.

“No wonder there were so many walkers.” Lilly tossed the mask aside in disgust.

“Tell me there aren’t more of you?”

“You don’t fucking scare me.” James hissed at the woman.

“They’ve got James and Tenn,” Clementine whispered.

“Shit.” He swore.

“What are we gonna do?”

“The thing about people like him, AJ, is that they’re too broken to fit into a community. They won't fight for anyone but themselves.” Lilly spit on James.

“Kill it.” Lilly ordered.

Oh fuck, James!

Just as the blonde woman pointed her rifle at James, Tennessee grabbed the gun off her belt, aiming it wildly between the two soldiers.

“Stop hurting people!” The boy begged.

“Just give me my friends back, o-or else…”

Lilly stared at the boy, seeing what was obvious to everyone. She bent over, pressing her forehead to the end of the barrel.

“Do it, then.” She called his bluff.

“Save your friends. That’s what you came to do, right?”

Tennessee’s hands shook like mad. What little bit of confidence he had faded as the tears started to drip down his cheeks.

“Oh I see, you came here to cry.” Lilly easily snatched the gun from Tenn, turning it on him.

“You’re not a soldier either.”

Louis and Clem took that moment to spring into action. Louis grappled for the blonde’s rifle as James put her in a chokehold.

Clementine tackled Lilly to the ground. The short girl was easily thrown off, however, her knife skittering across the deck and the gun flying from the woman’s hand.

Clem crawled for the gun. Not fast enough as Lilly grabbed a fistful of her hair and painfully yanked the girl back. Lilly pinned her to the ground, an ugly scowl on her face as her fingers tightened around Clementine’s throat.

Louis wrapped his arm around the woman’s neck, putting her in a headlock and pulling her off of Clem, leaving the girl gasping for her breath. Lilly was still much bigger and stronger than any of them, slamming her elbow into Louis’ jaw and knocking him to the ground.

Just before Lilly could pounce on Clem again, AJ buried Minnie’s knife deep into Lilly’s thigh, brandishing a revolver of his own as she screamed in pain.

“AJ wait!” Lilly cried, looking for mercy in the young boy’s eyes.

“Clementine can’t take care of you like we can. The Delta is your home now. She's trying to steal you away from it.”

“We had a home! You stole us! Just like you stole the twins and made one kill the other.” Clem’s little boy shakily pointed the revolver at the bleeding woman, the ball cap dipping low, almost obscuring his eyes.

“You’re not gonna make me kill Clem!”

“AJ!” James approached slowly.

“She’s been beat, put the gun down.”

“You didn’t see what she did!” The boy argued.

“She took me away and made Clem do a bunch of awful stuff to get me back!”

Clementine couldn’t let this happen. Let AJ take a life? At such a young age? It was something she never wanted him to have to do at all.

I can’t let him kill her.

Clementine stopped thinking, and let her rage take over.

An animal-like screech left Clementine’s body as she threw herself at Lilly. She ripped the bloody knife from the woman’s leg, Lilly screaming in agony, the woman turned to attack the girl, but was unable to dodge her next attack.

Clementine swiped the knife at Lilly’s face, cutting right through the woman’s right eye. Lilly screamed again as she fell onto her back clutching her face, blood gushing from the now empty socket.

It wasn’t enough. The pain wasn’t enough. She needed to feel more. Clementine raised the knife again and again, puncturing the woman’s torso over and over long after she stopped moving. Lilly didn’t deserve to die so soon. She deserved to feel it all. Every stab and slash. Hot tears rolled down her cheeks but she couldn’t stop. The face of every person who died because of this woman’s desires flashed through her mind. Every stab was another soul avenged. Before long Lilly’s chest became nothing more than a lump of blood, mangled flesh, and protruding bones.

Rot in hell you fucking bitch.

Yet still, it didn’t feel like enough. All the torture she an AJ had gone through, nothing could take that back. Clementine raised her knife again, aiming for where her heart would be if this monster of a human being even had one. A firm hand clasped around her wrist. She looked up through her tear-blurred vision to see James staring down at her in horror.

“It’s over, Clementine.” James pulled the bloody knife from her hand, which she didn’t resist.

Louis helped her up, holding her close even though her clothes were soaked with blood.

“It’s over now.” He whispered in her ear as he stroked her hair.

Clementine couldn’t focus on him, instead taking in what she had just done. Lilly now looked as if she had been attacked by a walker. It did not look like the work of a human being.

I’m still the animal she trained me to be.

AJ had never moved through the whole ordeal. The small boy stood soundly with both hands gripping his gun. He hardly flinched at the horrid sight before him.

“She was a monster, wasn’t she?” He asked, his eyes going from Clem to the mangled corpse.

“Yeah, and I stopped her.” Clem was finally free, but couldn’t find the will to smile.

“She’s not going to hurt us anymore.”

She wanted to hug her boy, to pull him close and make him believe she’d never leave him again, but she couldn’t. Not like this, covered in Lilly’s blood.

“We’re gonna go home now, okay Goofball?” Her voice broke as fresh tears cut through the blood that stained her face.

The clatter of the knife hitting the deck made her jump slightly. Clem turned to see James staring intently at the body in front of him.

“You… you ripped her apart.” James gasped in disbelief at what he had just witnessed.

“It was like watching a wild animal!”

“I had a history with her. You don’t know what she’s done to us.” Clementine wouldn’t let him make her think this killing was anything but just.

“She deserved it.”

“Nothing could justify such a slaughter.” He hissed.

A loud boom shook the entire deck, nearly knocking them all to the floor. Black smoke rose from the smokestack as Clementine realized that their borrowed time had run short.

“Oh shit, the bomb!” Clementine tackled AJ to the floor just as the shockwave of the explosion knocked her against the metal wall.