#we thought we were helping when really we were just defiling a corpse and disturbing some poor insects meal

[facelessfractal]

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[ashtalkshorror-blog]

FACES OF DEALTH: Directed by Conan LeCilaire. 

I have seen a lot of horror movies. I even watched the saw franchise before I hit puberty. My point is that when it comes to horror, I have a thick skin. “Faces of Death” however, was challenging to get through. Why? well let’s evaluate. The film was released in 1978 and it is made up of both real and stages scenes of the various ways in which death can occur. The film has a “found footage” perspective making it very difficult to exactly pin-point which scenes are real or fake which in my opinion makes watching this content a very anxious ordeal. The film is narrated by a man named Dr Francis B. Gross. He appears in the film as a Doctor who begins by showing mummified bodies which were held in a tomb in Mexico. After this, the viewers are treated to a series of footage capturing a poor souls’ final moments before their life ends. We see people dying from various and violent ways. The cameras capture: A suicide, animal attacks, gun shots and even animal cruelty. The animal cruelty was the hardest thing for me to watch. There was a scene in which takes place in Egypt in which tourists take part in a disgusting ritual. A live monkey is brought into the room, their head is forced down as the group proceed to bash the poor animals head in and consuming the monkey’s brain. This is one of the scenes I hope were staged as hearing the poor creature screaming in fear and pain really had an impact on me. We are also shown footage of poacher’s mass murdering seals and then ripping their skin off. This was another scene that took real effort to watch as listening to these poor animals cry out was one of the most upsetting things I have ever heard. As we are on the subject of animals there’s a segment in which an alligator has wondered into residential waters and in an attempt to assist the creature a man lost his life. This occurred when the man attempts to catch the animal in an attempt to rescue it. It was then however things got graphic. The alligator pulls the man’s net causing him to fall into the water. Then, the animal grabbed him and performed the “death roll” which is the method these animals use to kill their pray. Luckily, the shaky camera and the dated picture quality made it hard to see any details. All I saw was splashing and then we see the man’s body being dragged out of the water. Thankfully, respect was shown here as an onlooker proceeded to cover the poor mans destroyed remains.  In a way I couldn’t help but agree with Dr Francis as he narrates that this is almost a form of sad poetic justice as man has now become the pray rather than the predator. Yes, I can see the cruel irony in this poor man’s death as the film had just shown men brutally hunt animals and now we observe the tables turning and the animal kingdom getting it’s revenge.  Now, let’s go from bad to worse.Later in the film we are exposed to fatality brought on by our fellow man. We are shown a shoot-out happening between the police and a crazed man who had already slaughtered his family. We see disgracefully clear footage of the battle. Some police officers hit the ground while others try their best to negotiate with the lunatic. This was in vein as only minutes later we see the gunman finally shot down and this is when the video does from awful to a total abomination in my eyes. After the smoke clears and the police go into the house to investigate the camera suddenly lands on 3 dead bodies. One being a woman and the last two appearing to be two small children. The footage is ended abruptly as a police officer shouts at the camera man and pushes him out of the scene. Yes, I am aware that this film was made in the 70s and censoring laws were a far cry from the limitations we face in the present era but seriously? How was this movie even picked up by a studio? Who would fund such a project?Showing the deaths of children is still a risky move for creators to show today never mind 41 years ago so seeing the clear view of murdered children laying with their mother really disturbed me as thanks to this films half staged half real footage it is most likely that this particular video was real and we really saw how the lives of these youths ended. This misrepresentation between imagination and truth made it hard for me to obtain any gratification as I do with the feature horror films, I usually view. Now, let’s discuss another rather upsetting scene which also challenged my perceptions of what was reality and what wasn’t. This is a scene which shows a woman committing suicide. Again, as previously mentioned the dated camera technology made the picture very unfocused so thankfully the horrific scene isn’t that clear. Basically, we see a woman standing on top of a building and as bystanders attempt to help her she jumps and hits the pavement below. Now, from the research I discovered that the scene was real and fake at the same time. How is this? Well, sadly, the first frames in which we see the lady on the ledge were real and so was the initial frames of her jumping and falling to her death. But cinematic intervention interrupted as soon as we see the body hit the ground. The frames in which we see the body are fake thanks to the use of an actress. This is undoubtedly the only aspect of the movie I can support. I’m not saying that all the aforementioned shots of corpses were acceptable and didn’t deserve the same discretion. With that said though, suicide is the most tragic way for a life to end in my opinion as killing yourself shows mass internal pain so I am very happy that they did not show the actual body of the poor woman. Despite my spontaneous complement to this snuff film I will say that this scene still had the distaste of the rest but just more disconnected from the format we have seen thus far.  The disruption of reality and fiction is very prevalent in this picture as I have mentioned but I thought to somewhat lighten the mood I’d discuss one final scene which thankfully was 100% staged. The scene emphases the activities of a cult and the gritty gory rituals they take part in. We are exposed to some of the most disgusting things put on camera. We actually watch as these unbalanced individuals defile a dead body and proceed to take part in group sex while covered in the blood of the deceased. It is the negrophilic aspects of this which makes me thankful that this isn’t real. How do we know it’s fake? Well, the cult leader is actually played by the film’s director and the acting is much to be desired. Fake but cardinally disconcerting.  Now, for the fear of losing my lunch I will not discuss any more scenes from this toxic waste of human nature and discuss the thing I did like. When the film is staged it really does it right and the fact that many viewers including myself couldn’t distinguish where the real footage ended and when the fake stuff stared really proves that the creators did a fantastic job with their camera work, special effects and acting, for the most part. This is what bothered me about this movie. The people behind it could have made a fictional motion picture and sure, it may be treated much the same but through time horror fans would seek it out. Like they did with movies like “Cannibal Holocaust” yes, it too is a disgusting piece of cinema but at least we can turn it off knowing that it was mostly fake and we don’t see real people die. However, I’m sure every turtle on earth would disagree with me on this one.  My point is this, this movie isn’t just gory and disgusting to look at. It is incredibly disrespectful to all the real people whose final moments were used for the sake of shock horror. Where is the human decorum here? Okay, I get why this film was made. It was to shock us as to the many ways our life can end and our biological melancholic inquisitiveness is what causes us to look on. Maybe that is what the film makers were counting on as death is something none of us will avoid and I think it’s only natural that we think of our unavoidable fate. So, would I recommend this film? Not really. If like me you have no regard for your mental state, I’d say go for it. It may even be a fun challenge you can do with your friends to see how far you can get into it before turning it off. Being banned in over 40 countries it’s safe to say this mockumentary has sealed it’s place in horror history.

[craftygoateeprincess]

ITinktober Day 6: Heal

A/N: trigger warning for mentions of rape, not nearly as bad as Knife though, i promise

(Pounding)

Your feet were pounding on the ground, desperate heavy thumps that jolted your sore legs with every hit. But you couldn’t stop, you needed to run, as fast and as far away as you could. Already your mind was blotting out just what it was that had happened, but you knew, deep in your chest you knew exactly what had been done to you and that you needed to get away. But home wasn’t an option, there would only be more danger there, and so your fear forced you to go the one place you really ought to never step foot in again.

29 Neibolt Street

But if there was anywhere in the world you might be able to be safe, it was there. Ignoring the near-supernatural episode you had experienced when last in its walls, no one but you and penny ever dared to go there, you would be safe from the monster, safe from the terror and if the house turned against you once more, you could simply throw yourself down the well and end your misery. After all, nothing but chance kept you in derry anymore, you had long given up hope on Pennywise keeping his promise, o human being slept for eight years, no one could survive that long without food, it just wasn’t logical.

You were ignoring the whispering of your mind insisting maybe he wasn’t a logical being.

Then like the sunrise after a storm (and even more welcome than that) Neibolt house was on the hill and before you could think or stop yourself you were running up the steps and slamming the door behind you like a hurricane, for the first time ever engaging what few lockable mechanisms were available and just praying no one would find you now. Falling back against the door you sucked in the moldy air like it was a god-given gift, and it was. Because as the seconds turned to minutes and your body recovered from the trauma of having run miles across town to get here in such a short timespan you realized how ruthlessly you’d pushed yourself and how reckless it had been, but you weren’t safe at home and you were here, that was all that mattered.

At least, you were safe for the moment.

You still remembered how the house had hummed with life that fateful evening, how you had all but heard penny’s voice in your head urging you to open your eyes and look because he had come back for you. The house still hummed with that familiar force, supernatural or your imagination, and so you had to be careful, even if it was all in your head...your sanity wasn’t in the best place to be messed with right now.

Pulling yourself off the floor you did the only thing you could think of at that moment and sought out the shower, dully taking step after step until you managed to climb them, feeling more like a walking, injured corpse than entirely human. But then again, it was fitting for the place you found yourself in, as an adult you could feel it more keenly than you ever had as a child.

Nothing here was truly alive.

You knew that the water had long since been shut off here, that didn’t stop you from groaning out in frustration all the same when the handle squeaked and turned with no result. Fisting your hair in clumps you banged your head on the wall and were honestly disappointed when it failed to knock you out. A small, tempting little voice told you if you were persistent enough you could….but you weren’t quite that desperate yet. Instead dug through the cabinets hoping for some wet wipes, even though you knew anything of value would have been looted long ago.

So imagine your surprise when you turned to the sink and saw a pack of them sitting right there.

You should have taken that sign as ominous. Should have chucked the wipes at the wall and bolted from the house like a bat out of hell. But you were a cornered animal, and whatever presence hummed within this house clearly knew that, and was relishing in both caring and taunting for you. So without warning, you tore off your clothes like they burned you, grabbed the wipes, and crawled into the empty tub.

You sat on the floor of the shower your scalding skin became ice cold and your chest was sore from sobbing. Your skin was red and raw from repeated scrubbing over the last few hours, you’d managed to use up the entire goddamned pack. No matter what you did, you never got clean. Your skin always itched with a ghostly touch. You jumped, every time the house settled. You shivered your body into exhaustion. Every shadow set your heart off like a gun. You prayed to every god, begged the universe for forgiveness, screamed and cried to go back and change that night.

And yet, you didn’t even know what it is you wanted to change.

You remember getting home late, school finals had come and gone and you had gone out to celebrate with some friends. Underage drinking wasn’t the best way to ‘move on’ with your life but you’d just been trying to recapture that joy you’d once known, that spark of being in love with life in general when you were with Penny, and you were getting increasingly reckless in your attempts to do so. 

You had your moments when you convinced yourself you were okay. That was when you managed to feed the turtle and water the plants and get the mail. Even then, your eyes were swollen and

(red)

bloodshot, and your back was sore from the tension, and your shoulders slumped from carrying the weight of the memories of times long gone when you knew a bliss that no alcohol or drug could give you. The taste of powdered sugar and lemonade and those rides at the circus that spin you so fast your head hurts and you can’t see straight.

Those were the good memories, the memories you were trying to replace because the only one who could give you more of their kind had long forgotten you. But instead, you only had bad memories to replace them, strangers and parties and dangerous stunts all trying to recapture how you felt. But suddenly those memories didn’t seem so bad compared to the ones crowding your head. The taste of your own blood.

The red.

Blood stuck to your thighs and trickled out from your most private parts. Bruises of a sickly blue and yellow dotting your beleaguered body, bite marks, scratches on your hip, thighs, and back. You looked like a wild animal had done you in.

And then you saw and smelled an awful white substance trickle out from you and it finally hit you that you’d been defiled.

You jerked into a sitting position and grabbed the moldy old towel hanging nearby without a thought, just wanting to be dry and warm. The droplets on your skin made you feel so cold, not only on top of your skin, but the kind of inside cold where your heart races and your muscles freeze up and your lungs pull in shallow breaths and shove them out in pieces. It was just water, but what if it was blood? It had been blood, when…

When he…

When you…

You shoved the heels of your palms against your eyes and screamed.

Why wasn’t anyone coming to help you? Couldn’t the neighbors hear you screaming? You were crumbling inside, like an ancient tomb in which your childhood was laid to rest, peaceful in its non-disturbance, now collapsing from having been robbed. Why couldn’t anyone hear the pillars cracking?

You screamed and screamed and screamed until your throat was raw and your voice raspy, and then you screamed his name.

“Pennywise! Pennywise, please! Pennywise!”

You needed him. That had never been in doubt. You waited patiently for eight years for him to make good on his promise. Eight years went by with no word, just abuse and loneliness and bitter hope. Then you’d tried losing yourself in your memories only to realize how unhealthy it was, and so you’d tried to leave, even when you’d felt him practically calling for you, you’d turned back and left.

So you were prepared for him to do the same to you now, instead, you felt the world shift, like watching yourself fade into a dream in real-time. This feeling was not unfamiliar to you, when you got home, dad had offered you a drink that made you feel the same way had he not?

When you opened your eyes, you were no longer naked in your bathtub. You were sitting on a rotting wooden floor in a white nightgown. Light filtered through dust from a mostly boarded up window. The room was empty except for a broken armchair that had once been forest green, perhaps but was now faded and grayish. You got to your feet, lightheaded but present.

“Where am I?” you choked out.

“You’ve been here before,” he growled. His voice came from all around you and inside you.

When I was six, you thought. We came here to play. We played hide and seek. My parents were looking for me. “Neibolt Street.”

“Neibolt Street,” he agreed, but this time his voice came from right behind you.

You squeezed your eyes shut, feeling panic rise like vomit in your throat. “Why?” you whimpered.

You felt him move to your side, circling you like prey. “Why what?”

“You abandoned me,”

That word (the alternative – the truth of what he had done to you) seemed to surprise you both, as you felt your heavy heart drop low in your ribcage, and his eyes lit up like fire.

“You know that’s what you did,” your voice cracked, “right?”

“Yes,” he said, but with an airy quality that suggested he hadn’t actually thought about it that way or thought about it at all. He turned to face you head-on and leaned his forehead against the top of your head. You held your breath as he traced the fingertips of his gloves over your collarbone and his voice slipped into a deep growl. “You used to be so soft. So innocent. But not anymore.” He tilted his head in questioning. “Why?”

“Life,” you breathed. “I grew up.”

Pennywise snatched the fabric around your hips into tight fists and screamed in your face, “You are mine! The world should have known; you have always been mine to destroy.”

Your breath hitched when he pulled your body into his, leaving little rips in your gown from pulling so hard. Your hands landed on his chest and you gazed up into his red eyes, feeling smaller than a speck of dust. “Please-”

“Please,” Pennywise laughed back at you. “Please, please, please!”

A part of you froze at his mocking, thats what you'd said, before, in the bathtub when you'd been clawing your own skin so desperately, and now, now you seemed to become aware that this dream he had you in, was in fact, a dream.

"Penny why are you here?" Whatever spell of maliciousness had possessed him seemed to vanish as his eyes focused on you once more

“You were always an insolent child,” he said, pacing in front of you like a caged tiger. “Innocent and insolent, and you were mine.”

You shimmied your way over to the armchair and pulled yourself up, keeping your eyes trained on Pennywise, watching and waiting for any sign he was about to strike. But his movements were slow. Serpentine. He slithered towards you, and you shrank back into the chair, trying against all hope to disappear.

“I was, but then you left me, it’s been eight years Pennywise, what did you expect? That I could wait in childhood bliss for you forever?”

On the side of your uninjured wrist, your fingers dug into the moldy arms of the faded armchair as Pennywise’s hands snaked over your knees. He leaned his head down, brushing his lips against your inner thigh (your first clue this was all a dream, your thigh was as clean and clear as ever).

“Tell me, Ellie: Did you ever think of me?” He nuzzled into the soft, pliant flesh, and you bit your lip to distract from the heat that bloomed wherever his skin made contact with yours. “Did you ever think of your old friend Pennywise, when you were a young woman, learning just what you could do to yourself?” He laid his head comfortably in your lap and glanced up with just his eyes. They were gold, rimmed with red, playful but wild. They met yours with a frightening intensity that made your heart seize in your ribcage. “I thought of you.” His grip on your thighs tightened. “I used to think of all the ways I could make you scream.”

It was a strange question, you had certainly thought about him a lot. The clown who had been your light. Womanhood came with its shames and embarrassments and…..hormones, but you had been saving yourself for someone special.

Well, you had been before…..

“I was waiting…”

For me? How thoughtful, i’m flattered truly,” you didn’t know what it was you were going to say, maybe it was him. But even if it wasn’t, and even if this was just a dream, it felt too real for you to contradict the creature settled between your legs 

(the stranger wearing a beloved friends face)

“All the ways I could break you,” Pennywise continued as he inched farther up your thighs. Any of the lilting playfulness that usually colored his voice was gone, replaced by a sharp rasp. “All the ways I could claim you. All the ways I could make sure no one else ever laid their filthy hands on you.”

But then as his hands snaked dangerously close to your core he stopped, even though in the dream you were clean and unblemished, it was like he knew the scarred and broken mess you were in reality.

"Why are you scared Ellie? Its just ol Pennywise, i've never hurt you," his tone was soft, playful, but beneath it all was the tenderness you remembered abd it brought out the old vulnerability in you that you had fought to keep so buried as you instinctively reached for him as tears gathered in your eyes.

"He raped me Penny, I don't know what to do," it was the first time you said the words, the first time you acknowledged what had been done, and whatever malicious intent he'd had seeped out of him, replaced only with a barely contained rage, and beyond that, the old concern, like when you had come back from school with skinned knees because you had been pushed on the playground.

"Then let me heal you, close your eyes for me alright?" His words were quiet, gentle, they lulled you as you felt yourself nodding as fingers clutches weakly at the silk of his suit.

"Hold me?" you asked weakly and he nodded, crawling up to cage your small trembling form in his larger one as your eyes fluttered close, it was silent for a time and then you felt a warmth encasing your entire being, your organs, your muscles, your very soul. And every injury, every bad memory, everything not good and right and healthy was washed away in the healing light you could feel rather than see. His voice came from inside your head. “You are beautiful.”

And for that brief moment, come hell or high water, you loved each other again. Because you found him beautiful too.

You gasped, unable to say anything, unable even to begin.

He withdrew and you collapsed back into the chair, gasping for breath, feeling open and exposed but safe. Safe in a beautiful dream with the creature you had always loved. First in that innocent, childlike adoration, for the man who saved you. But now you loved him as a woman, wanted him like a woman. Not just because he was your light, but because he was so much more.

But for now you rested, in the glow of what you still didn't know to be deadlights, and you healed.

When the wave subsided, you were cold, wet, raw, on the floor of the shower. But your wrist wasn’t broken and your mind was clearer and you remembered everything, just how wrong what had occurred before had been.

You had been defiled, by the one person who ought to keep you safe. After several minutes, you finally found the strength to sit up. You carefully pushed yourself up and wrapped a towel around your body. Every wrong movement sent a spike of pain up your tender and weak body, but you gritted your teeth and bared it. You needed to get dressed and call a cab to take you to the emergency room.

You slowly made your way into your bedroom. There, laid intentionally on the bed, was the white nightgown you were wearing in your…vision? Hallucination? Next to it was a note written in red crayon.

“I’ll see you again soon. Your friend, Pennywise.”

[dragonwitch77]

Death’s Flower ch 2

“Stupid kid. Stupid gods.” Snatcher grumbled, stomping down the seamlessly endless steps that descended down to his realm. A realm that only housed beings that had left the mortal world for good, where there is nowhere else to go when their life came to an end. A domain that had many names.

The Underworld. The Realm of the Death. The Underground. The Forsaken Place. The Domain of the Snatcher.

Pretty much those names were enough to fill in the mortals and gods alike of what was down there. Being the God of Death, souls of mortals were sent to his domain to be dealt with after their parting from the living world. It was his sole duty alone to do this task, whether he liked it or not.

And he didn’t mind it one bit.

In fact he liked that he was the God of Death. If it meant that others feared him and left him alone, then he didn’t mind reaping a couple hundred souls each day. It was fun to see others squirm in his presence, fearing when he might snap and attack them or prank them out of the blue. He may be the God of Death, but he had to have some fun once in a while.

He took in the site of his world as he reached the final step, standing on it as his eyes gazed over the world he ruled. Some would say that his domain was a dark place that didn’t even have a speck of light in it, but he could prove them wrong once they saw what a wonder his world was. It was like a kingdom of darkness, the only light coming from the pools filled with souls he had yet to judge, varying from bluish greens to deep purples and sky blue. As long as it wasn’t too colorful, his world was perfect.

“Boss! Boss!”

Almost perfect.

“What is it?” Snatcher sighed, stepping off the final step, letting the earth return to its natural state as it closed up behind him for another year before he could leave again.

His minion, one of many identical beings that swore their service to him, fell to the ground in front of him in a clumsy manor. Picking themselves up, they stood tall, or as tall as their pudgy small round body could only reach the height just half way to his knee. “Boss! Thank the Sisters you’re back! We just got a new batch of souls! It seems like a bunch a them had drowned.”

Snatcher rolled his eyes, sighing heavily. “That’s the third time this month. Honestly, how many idiotic mortals are going to die before they realize that fishing out in a storm is NOT a good idea?!” He walked past the minion, grumbling to himself as he went deep into his domain. “What’s the status on our current pools?”

“W-well, we’ve managed to sort out all the young and old into the pools they should go in. Few have tried to escape.” The minion followed behind him, listing off the things that had happened while the deathly ruler was gone. “The dogs were getting restless after you left so we set them lose on some damned souls to keep them occupied. A child recently died of an illness. Someone was stabbed to death. Moonjumper is here. And we still—OOF!”

The minion fell backwards, looking up at the long black hair of their master.

“I’m sorry.” The minion coward as Snatcher slowly turned around, his eyes illuminating in the darkness, staring down the minion. “Did I hear that right? Did you just say, Moon. Jumper. Is here?!” A deep growl emanated within Snatcher’s throat as his cape began dancing with power.

“I-I-I-I-I’M SORRY! We tried to send him away but he wouldn’t listen!” The minion shook with fear as the dark serge of Snatcher’s power radiated. “He insisted that he needed to see you urgently, but you weren’t here!”

“WHERE IS HE?!”

“AT THE TEMPLE! HE’S IN THE TEMPLE!” The minion openly wept as Snatcher growled with rage, running towards his home.

)*(

The home of the God of Death was, as the other gods described it, not as fancy or well lavished as all the other homes of the other gods and goddesses. It wasn’t made out of white stone marble, but black cracking earth and vines with sharp thorns that held it together. It was just as big as any home fit for a god, maybe even bigger than the rest of them, but was not very appealing to look at with crumbling pillars, broken floors, skeletons of the many deceased used for decorations and furniture, and bodies of past intruders hung on the ceiling to show as an example.

But while the other gods and goddesses would find the thought of going to such place disturbing if not revolting, there was in fact one god who did not mind Snatcher’s strange taste of design.

And the only god to get on his nerves.

“MOONJUMPERRRRR!” Snatcher screamed as he burst open the doors of his home, forgetting to restrain himself as his power tore the rotten wood off their hinges and clatter to the ground in pieces.

“Ah! So he finally arrives! Though I can see he’s quite angry as a beehive!”

Snatcher growled as he spotted the god sitting in his favorite chair with a bowl of grapes in his hand. “What are you doing here you pathetic excuse of a god?! You aren’t allowed in the Underworld without permission from me!”

The god merely grinned, plucking a grape and popping it in his mouth. “Permission from you? Oh how silly but true. While indeed most do, I however can pop in out of the blue.”

Snatcher stormed his way up to Moonjumper, slamming his claws into the seat’s armrests and growled dangerously. “I REALLY insist that you stop with your ridiculous habit of rhymes you—”

“Temper temper! There’s no need of this distemper!” Moonjumper rose from the seat, shoving the bowl in Snatcher’s hands. “I only came for a visit! Now that’s not such a crime, is it?”

The god giggled, going around Snatcher as he threw the bowl filled with fruit away. Most would say that the two were look similar to one another. But while their faces did seem to mirror each other, that is where the similarity ended. While Snatcher was thin, bony, pale skinned, golden eyes, had wild long hair that reached to the floor, covered in darkness and wore pants, Moonjumper was a class of his own with his short pure white hair, blue skin, bright red colored clothing with chains wrapped around his torso and neck, wild red eyes, and scars covering his face.

And majorly legless. Everyone could spot the lack of legs from miles away. And it was no secret to how he lost them in the first place.

“You little pest! How many times do I have to beat it in you that I do not want you here?! You have your own domain! Go use that instead of here!”

“I do not wish to be this pestering! I only dropped by to see what your mind is festering.” Moonjumper grinned, floated around Snatcher. “You seemed quite tense, I should know. Tell me, what’s bothering you so?”

“I don’t need to tell the likes of you!” Snatcher shoved past Moonjumper. “I know your tricks God of Corpses! Don’t think for a second that I won’t know what you’re up to!”

“But that is not true! I really came to see you!” Moonjumper followed him, keeping a distance between them in case the Death God decided to get a little… slashy. “Say all you want with your skilled tongue of lies, I can see it in your sad eyes.”

“Stop following me.” Snatcher growled. “I’ve already got enough to deal with, and your visit is not helping.”

“Indeed all this talking isn’t much help. Shouldn’t you be searching for the thieving little whelp?”

Snatcher froze in his tracks. He slowly looked over his shoulder, glaring at the other god behind him. “How… did you know something was stolen from me?”

Moonjumper clicked his tongue, waging his finger at Snatcher. “Oh silly Snatcher, can’t you see? There’s a connection between you and me. Though knowledge and memories we do not share, you tend to let you emotions go wild without care. Though it was only just very brisk, I could feel that the balance of the world is at great risk.” He grabbed to cloak that Snatcher never took off, pulling it up so that the tear was visible for both of them to see.

“For such a precious item that you deeply tend with care, seems that someone defiled it with a horrible tear.”

Snatcher swatted Moonjumper’s hands away, tugging the cloak close to him.

“This act is quite shameful, but who is very blameful? Mortal or god? This act has got me quite awed! For stealing a piece of the cloak that belongs to none other than you Snatcher, must be feeling deep satisfactory and rapture.”

“If it were a mere mortal that stole from me, they would die instantly when they touch the piece even by a little.” Snatcher glared at the tear. “No mortal can do such a task and get away with this without consequences. Even with help from another god, the task is impossible.”

“Ah! But to have a piece taken under your nose and gone! It seems that impossible was in fact improbable along.”

Snatcher shot a dirty look at Moonjumper. “… I don’t have time to deal with you. I have work that needs my attendance.” With that he stormed off, leaving Moonjumper to giggle madly at nothing.

)*(

“Thank you for coming Caitlin. I know this was sudden with what happened earlier today and with your help with the guests.”

“It’s no trouble! I was happy to help! Plus, I hadn’t had the chance to use my whip on someone for a long time now so I felt it was necessary for some practice.” Caitlin grinned, patting her trusted whip hooked on her belt. “Besides, I wanted to see the little cutie again~! I just can’t get enough of his tiny little fingers~!” The goddess purred, making Zaman laugh happily.

“Yes. Lyvia has certainly made a cute… child…”

“… Is something the matter?” Caitlin asked, noticing the sad look in Zaman’s three eyes.

“It’s nothing old friend. Just… Lyvia never showed any deep desire for anything other than looks before. I knew she had a soft spot for children, but… to go this far to make one. Without a partner no doubt. I… I honestly don’t know how to feel! I would never allow her to sleep with any man of course! She’s still too… too arrogant I fear. I feel like she only did it for attention and has no real desire to care for her daughter.”

“Zaman, old friend, do not worry!” Caitlin took Zaman’s hand between hers, grasping it tightly. “Your daughter is taking a big step. Motherhood is rewarding and learning. She will learn to be less immodest as she cares for her new child and learn to take her responsibility well. She now has someone who will depend on her and rely on her to take care of them. I’ve seen plenty of new mothers in my time and she’s no different.”

“But what if she strays from her duty as a mother? Children need constant care after all. I would know this well when Lyvia was but a small child herself and I had to raise her on my own.”

“Ah, but that is where you are wrong dear friend. You were not alone! You had friends who were willing to help. And now, your daughter has friends that are willing to help her raise her child when she is in need of that help.” She gave her friend’s hand a squeeze.

Zaman sighed, shaking his head with a smile. “You… are a very wise old friend. And very right. I’m still worried about her, but I will give her a chance at being a mother.” His smile grew wide as his three eyes gleamed with a spark of giddiness in them. “And it will be a joy to be a grandfather. After all, someone needs to spoil my grandchild!”

“Oh you!” Caitlin slapped his arm in good fun as the God of Time roared with laughter.

“Father? Caitlin? Can you come to the garden please?” Lyvia’s voice called out from the garden, catching both of the gods attention. They shared a look before heading over to the garden.

The garden was a beautiful place, filled with flowers and fruits, with decorations that wild the imagination of any mortal, and small animals that played in the trees and sang lovely songs gifted by the goddess herself. Lyvia was seated by the edge of one of the many lakes in the garden, watching the colorful fish swim about.

“Lyvia? Is something the matter child?” Zaman asked, approaching her quietly as her child was sleeping in her arms.

Lyvia continued to stare at the fish swimming in the water before slowly turning her gaze to the moon. “… Father? How, high are the walls surrounding the garden?”

Zaman, taken by surprise by the question, shared a glance with his old friend. “Well, very high my child. Why do you ask?”

Lyvia looked away from the fish, fixing her eyes on her father. “Is it not possible to make them higher? I… would like them to be taller.”

“Now why in the world would you want that? The walls surrounding the garden are very high already.” Caitlin questioned, one of her ears tilting down in confusion.

“I know they are high as they are now Caitlin. And you are right to question my sudden request.” Lyvia stood up slowly so not to disturb her child’s rest. “But, please understand. It’s for my child’s safety.”

“The walls are tall enough for you not to worry for her safety my daughter. I made them myself and with the finest builders! Why has this worry come upon you?”

“…”

“… It’s… because of him, isn’t it?” Caitlin’s ear flattened against her head, her tail dipping down low to the ground.

Zaman sighed. “Lyvia—”

“Please father! After what happened today, I’m worried for her safety! Not fearing the God of Death is one thing, but to laugh in his face is another! Have you ever met someone who has laughed in the face, the actual face, of death himself?”

Zaman’s mouth hung open, yet no words came out. “… well… no. I can not tell you who has done such a thing.”

“Exactly! You both have told me what he is like. He will not take this lightly! What if he tries to do harm to my child? Or worse, kill her?”

“Now now! There’s no need to worry about that!” Zaman placed his hands on Lyvia’s shoulders. “Snatcher has used his one day of walking on the surface of the living. And he may be the God of Death, but he’s never taken a life of a god before!”

“But… but what about the Dark Days?”

The two older gods cringed, looking away from Lyvia.

“… Snatcher… does tend to hold a bit of a grudge against others.” Caitlin spoke quietly, her tail swishing to and fro. “I’ve seen firsthand of what he can do when he’s pushed far enough. He can turn things rather ugly real quick.”

Zaman sighed, rubbing his neck. “He’s an unpredictable one. With a variety of tricks up his sleeve.”

“Please build the wall higher father! My child must be protected from his wrath!”

Zaman glanced at his daughter, looking deep into her pleading eyes and found great worry deep within them. He looked to his grandchild, seeing the peaceful look on her sleeping face. So innocent and untainted by the world.

“… fine.” Zaman sighed with reluctance. “I shall see to it that the wall gets built taller.”

“Thank you father!” Lyvia threw her arm around her father, hugging him tightly. “Thank you! Thank—Oh!” Lyvia pulled back as her child started to cry. “My poor baby, did mommy startle you? Oh, I’m sorry.” She rocked herself, heading off for her chambers.

Caitlin watched as the young goddess walked away, turning to her old friend with a deep frown on her face. “Would building the walls higher even make a difference? Snatcher is a crafty one and you know that walls won’t stop him if he really will go after her child.”

Zaman rubbed his chin, stroking his small beard. “He is crafty. Too cleaver for my taste, and, dare I say, smarter than me and the Sisters. And terrifyingly dangerous. I wouldn’t be surprised if he tries anything, but I’m sure he wouldn’t try anything so soon. But then again. It wouldn’t hurt to prepare and add a little guard to the place.”

“Yes, but would it be enough to stop him? He can be very persistent on his tasks, nothing will sway him from what he sets his mind on.” Caitlin huffed. “To think… he was once one of us on equal ground.”

“Now now. The past is behind us all Caitlin. What happened, happened. There’s nothing we can do now but more forward with time of the future.”

“… Zaman… how… how can you be the only god I know who doesn’t hold on to the past without a deep grudge? Everyone else seems to still hold it against him for what he’s done but you—”

“Caitlin, let’s just say for now that we all were young back then. Snatcher may almost be as old as me and older than you, but sometimes, you have to look at all angles before you see the whole picture.”

Caitlin stared at her friend for a moment before sighing and shaking her head. “I love you old fool, but sometimes, even with the clearness of a cat, you still remain a big mystery to me.”

Zanam smiled. “Because too much curiosity can kill the cat.” He laughed as Caitlin gave him a solid punch to the arm, leading her back inside for a few drinks before seeing her off that night.

[tokoyamisstuff]

I Protect You - Bucky x Reader

Anon asked for a continuation, and I honestly had no idea what to write. :’)

[Part 1]

Guess who finally watched Civil War and just wants this boy to rest.

Summary: You find out the reason why the Winter Soldier comes out even without the trigger words.

Warnings: A shameful amount of angst. Cussing. Attempted Rape and a veeery angry Bucky. Blood & Violence.

Words: 2258

“You can’t be serious! A mission, on his birthday?”

Stepping defendingly in front of your partner, you crossed your arms and directed a piercing glare to Tony, whose plans were crossing your wish to just spend some happy, peaceful time with your loved one.

“Well, what should I say?” Tony answered with his usual, cocky grin, “Sadly, evil doesn’t wait.” He pinched your cheeks, adding “And by the way: You’re not really intimidating, [___].”

Bucky still stood behind you, putting his arms around your waist and placing some small kisses into your neck. “It’s okay, Babydoll. I don’t think my birthday is much reason to celebrate anyway” he joked, but a frown settled between your brows when he spoke.

“Not funny, Barnes” you said as you freed yourself from his hug and turned around, poking his forehead. “Don’t you dare to get in trouble.”

“Never. In and out, just as planned” he answered you with a gentle smile, both of his hands placed on your cheeks.

But when does something ever go as planned, in his chaotic team?

“Give me the location of your allies, you filthy whore!”

The agent had pinned you against the wall and yelled at you, his blade so close to his neck that you felt how your skin began to bleed just from touching it. “Or I’m going to make you tell me...”

You weren’t exactly what one would call weak, at least for a mutant with normal human physique. The fighting techniques Bucky and Natasha teached you always paid off well, but you were still the weakest one in the team. Obvious, since you’re only here to give medical support to the real fighters and watch over them. Self-defense for emergencies was all you had to know. But it simply wasn’t enough sometimes...

Nothing went according to plan at all...The map data Tony extracted from the enemies a few days before made sure that there would be no enemies in this area. So your friends told you to simply wait there and heal everyone that came to you for medical attention. Why is that agent here, then? A trap? How are the others doing? Are they struggling as well? Dear god, maybe you should care for your own safety first...Bad habit.

Feeling how his blade carefully cut open your leather top, grinning evily, you felt panic rise inside of you. “I have my ways of breaking a person’s mind, especially when it’s beautiful young woman like you.”

Images of him abusing you while slowly cutting you open rushed through your mind, making you scream before he even started. The man covered your mouth, ripping the remains of your top from your upper half as he attempted to have some fun with you, before torturing you into revealing your friend’s plan.

He pushed you on the ground, your hands held over your head as that disgusting person began to lick your neck. You cried, shoutet as loud as you could but you knew your friends were miles away. Was this how you’d die? Defiled, tortured, forced to betray your friends?

“Bucky...” you whimpered in your mind, and soon the words found their way through your lips. “Bucky!” you screamed, sobbed, struggled. The agent slapped you hard, telling you to shut up, but his voice felt far away. You tried to distance yourself from everything that happened, remembering just how beautiful this day started with you proudly presenting a selfmade birthday cake to the still half-asleep Bucky. His smile when he opened your gift, managing to brighten up even your darkest days.

Just much did you want to be at his side right now...But the thought of being with him helped you to stay strong. “I need to survive this, for him!” you thought to yourself before the sound of footsteps made your alarm bells ring once again. More enemies?

No. It was Bucky, who felt uneasy leaving you all alone, especially since you didn’t answer. Their forces weren’t as strong as anticipated, so after a while Steve simply said “We all know you’re worried. Go, we can handle this!” He gave his best friend a thankful smile and gestured to come back soon.

Standing in the entrance of the seemingly abandoned factory, Bucky’s whole expression dropped at the incident he had to witness right in front of him. The man stopped right where he was and build himself up, still pressing you to the ground. You could clearly see every trace of emotion leave Bucky’s eyes, and you recognized the icy glare you’ve only seen once in your lifetime. The Winter Soldier has awaken once again.

Furious as never before, he easily blocked some bullets the man shot at him with his metal arm and tackled him away from you, screaming like a madman this whole time. You crawled to a safe distance, until your back hit a wall, and cowered there as you had to watch this disturbing scene.

The agent had not even the trace of a chance as Bucky killed him with his bare hands. You covered your eyes with your palms as you saw him repeatingly stab the corpse he had already beaten unrecognizable - yet even when you stopped seeing it, the sounds alone were too much to bear.

Jumping up, you leaped to his side and tried to pull him away from the lifeless body. “He’s dead, James! Please, stop!”

He turned around and grumbled in anger, rising his fist without any recognition in his eyes. You instinctively ducked down and held your hands over your head, expecting the incoming blow - but then he let his hand sink down again.

“[___].”

Your eyes widened in surprise. “Do you recognize me?”

“Yes” the soldier answered, still breathing heavily. Of course he did. He didn’t get ‘erased’ like Hydra used to do.

“Bucky...” you sobbed, relief coming over you and you broke down into his arms. The Winter Soldier was overwhelmed by your affection so short after he had slaughtered someone, but he felt how troubled you were and closed his arms around you. His blood-stained hand dirtied your skin, but you didn’t mind. In his arms, you felt safe.

Suddenly, he pushed you back, and you thought to catch a slight blush in his face as he handed you his leather jacket, trying to look away until you covered yourself.

“Thanks, Buck” you chanted weakly, removing his muffle to place a kiss on his beard-stubbled face. He grunted happily at your praise, not noticing how badly you tried to not stare at his bare chest.

“C-could we get out of here? I want to get away as fast as possible...” you mumbled, nervously playing with a strand of your hair.

“Yes, sir!” the soldier said, and before you could even protest, he picked you up from the ground, carrying you bridal style out of the factory hall.

Looking up, you saw Bucky cautiously scan all directions for enemies, determination and resolve sparkling in his eyes. “D-do you know where the others are?”

He seemed confused, unable to answer. The question is if he had already been the Winter Soldier when he got to you, or after he saw you. What did trigger it?

“Um...Soldat?” God, you hated yourself as soon as the word left your lips. He stopped his movement, standing stock still.

“Yes” his dark voice replied, fear of punishment clearly fogging his mind once again.

“S-sorry!” you said, placing one hand on his heart. “I-I was just...um..I mean, could you give me a mission report?”

Bucky looked into your eyes, cracking a smile as he said “You are my mission.”

Huh? That would usually mean you’re his target, right? His words made you feel a sudden dryness in your throat, so you gulped. But he did smile, made eye contact even. It was really confusing, that new side of the Winter Soldier.

“What do you mean?” you asked hesistantly, making him pull you closer.

“I protect you.”

Wow. It was so obvious, wasn’t it? Now that you look back at that last mission, you remembered: An enemy soldier ran at your direction, probably because he realized you were the one healing all the damage they’ve done. You could see the desperation on Bucky’s face just a second before a dagger pierced the man’s skull, falling on the ground right in front of you. And that was the moment the Winter Soldier took over. So he only gets control whenever you’re in danger...

“Yes” you finally responded, exhaling deeply. “Yes, you do. Thank you.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck and closed your eyes, trying to process the past hours. This was supposed to be his birthday, and yet...He would probably scold you for only thinking about him, even though you’ve almost been violated.

A question interrupted your thoughts. “Are you hurt?”

“No, are you?” you said, the warmth in your eyes coating him with love.

“It doesn’t matter” he answered, making you pinch his nose. The soldier was a little bit startled, not understanding your ways of interaction at all.

“Of course it matters!” you insisted, letting your hands slide all over his chest and back to search for injuries.

“[___]!” you could hear Tony yell from a few hundred meters away. The others had gathered there, too.

Bucky’s hold grew firmer and he grid his teeth as he saw them running up to you.

“It’s alright, Bucky. Don’t you remember them? They’re friends.” He huffed, and still didn’t let go of you. Not that you minded it right now.

“What happened? Why are you wearing Bucky’s jacket?” Natasha said, pushing Tony away before he could make any stupid comment. “Bucky, you’re full of blood!” When she looked up to the man, just to be met with resentment instead of his usual doe-eyed face, she realized who she was talking to right now.

“Please” you said, burying your head in Bucky’s neck. “I don’t want to talk about it right now. Later, okay?”

The whole team looked at each other worriedly, but nodded in silent agreement of letting you be.

“Well then, let’s go to the ship Buck, shall we?” Steve said, patting his companion’s back. This time, without any violent reaction. It was kinda funny, to see the completely oblivious Bucky eyeing Steve with suspicion, while Steve just gave him a silly grin.

“Let’s go home, James. Okay?” you cheered, getting his messy hair out of his face. The soldier gave you a warm smile, throwing you over his shoulder and simply walked past the others, who just watched the scene with their jaws dropped.

“Was...was that really the Winter Soldier?” Bruce, who met him for the first time today, asked. “Your description was a little bit...well, darker.”

“We’re just as surprised as you are” Steve answered, but just had to smile at the lovely way you softly punched his back, laughing and telling him to let you down.

“Babydoll?”

A wide smile played on your lips as you heared the familiar nickname. It was the next day, and the Winter Soldier fell asleep in your shared bed at the Stark Tower. You rolled over to look at your lovely man, admiring every little detail of his facial features. “Welcome back, my lovely hero” you whispered, kissing his temple. “I missed you.”

This time, Bucky remembered. Seeing the pictures of that man trying to violate you made him hyperventilate, eyes getting teary as he hastily pulled you to your chest. The images of yesterday rushed through his mind, but in the end, all he could see was how your smile outweighted the painful memory.

“I saved you” he whispered as he realized just what he had done. “You’re safe.”

You tucked him over to you, pressing his head on your chest. He closed his eyes to concentrate on the sound of your heart, the steady beat calming him down again. “Of course you did. You’re the best, Bucky.”

“But if I had come there sooner, you wouldn’t have-”

Engaging in a breathtaking kiss, you silenced the man. “Don’t you dare to talk ill about yourself right now. You know it isn’t true, that it’s not your fault.”

“I almost lost you" he whispered with a shaky voice, pecking your face in kisses. His metal arm embraced you in a bonecrushing hug, almost pressing the air out of your lungs. “Do you really have to go to these missions?”

“Just a few months before I asked you that very same question, James Bucky Barnes” you preached. “I’m attending them for as long as you do. And when you’re with me, I am not afraid of anything.”

“That’s cruel” he murmured, softly petting your hair. “I-I think...well, actually, I-”

“It’s okay, Buck. We can talk about our retirement later” you chuckled, awkwardly winking at him. “At first, we need to make up for your birthday!”

“I’d rather celebrate it lying in bed with you all day” he mumbled, looking at you with pleading eyes you just couldn’t say no to.

“Don’t worry, I know you don’t like partys anyway. I got the others to stay out of the tower for the whole day, so we can just snuggle and watch some movies on the list ‘films of the past 70 years you definetly have to catch up on’!”

Bucky laughed about how well you knew him, lifting your chin to press one of his shy, velvet kisses on your lips.

“And that’s just one of the many reasons why I love you so much, [___].”

[Part 3]

If you want to get on the taglist feel free to ask! ♡

@bucky-fanfiction

[darktyrannomon]

i will be the fall

Confusion cluttered his ears like an Infestation, and with every step he felt he was either lost, or coming close to something big. Back, what seemed like eons ago, but was perhaps just a week, Kaleb had first, really felt, just how "other" he was from the rest of the group.

He remembered their interrogation, knowing that he mixed up his words more often than most, so that their meaning became increasingly unclear, so settled for being an imposing body with a Mankey wrapped up in his Thorn Whip. They questioned the bandit, and he pulled the strings to emphasise the threats Cactus made, working with the Sandshrew in the only way he really knew how. When they had finished, the Mankey a bumbling mess in the vines' embrace, they started to argue. The argument itself was fuzzy, and unclear, and his nose screwed up at suggestions to let the pig-goblin run free, but the gist of it was; "How do we dispose of him?" Well, Kaleb didn't see what the cause of debate was there: the Mankey was one who destroyed lives, and trees sacred to the Gods, and the First World, he should die on the spot. But he hadn't spoke. The curl of his lip bared teeth, longer than the City Eevee these town-livers knew of, and the barely healed scars across his eye crinkled with the furrowing of his brow. Why did the Nidoran defend the monster? Why could Sassafras not see what was right in front of her eyes? Why did Cactus, with all his words, woven along the fine line between truth, and lie, not find the right ones for the situation? Nina was silent. The Dryad was distressed. The Mankey bawled. With a swift movement, he settled the argument at the peak of it's volume, and took an arrow from his quiver. "It is done." He had said, and the vines unravelled to the pig-monkey falling face-flat on the floor. Kaleb cleaned the arrow, and placed it with the others. This act of decisiveness was the thing that earned him the lingering confusion, like flies around a walking corpse; their looks of utter horror bothered him. "Why did you do that?!" A chorus of voices chimed at him. Kaleb remembered his blood turning cold, and his expression followed. "You were discussing how to dispose of him. I took the initiative." Was his simple response, and the small party, unsure as they was disturbed, mumbled away, shooting looks at him when they thought he couldn't see. Very well, Kaleb thought, his paws gripping tight on his staff, I'll be your scapegoat; I'll take the tough calls, as long as it makes you feel better about yourselves. I can play "scary wild man". Easy. Everything about these people was so alien to him, and he did not understand why killing the Mankey was a bad thing - it was what they had been planning to do, all along... wasn't it? Tenzekil too... pardon the pun, but were they not out to kill him, too? From the start they were working to find and "deal" with Tenzekil, for he had attempted a hit on the life of the Earl's son (an important person, apparently, but Kaleb didn't exactly see why... but his partner in love was a very good sport), disrupted a congregational celebration to which many may have been hurt, and disrupted the nature of the land itself by allying himself with this Rhoswin character. Kaleb half expected her to jump out from a rock wherever they walked from the mismatched stories they heard about her. Tenzekil's army defiled trees sacred to the Gods and the first world, killing and burning dryad after dryad, until all but one's sisters had gone. The trees seemed to be inflicted with the same sickness that the Bulbasaur carried - but that was when the buzzing started, the confusion, clouding his head like walking into a gnat-storm. Apparently Kaleb was by now desensitised to the whole thing, because frown lines were settling in for a comfortable ride. "You'll never find them." Kaleb had scoffed when Cactus asked if he wanted to send a message, like he had with every stranger they had met on this journey. After, he regretted not putting his pride aside to ask Sassafras to write a note for him, telling them his progress and to watch the borders closely, and that he was travelling to the First World - everything the planar guardians should know. He did not want these City Slickers to know he couldn't write Common, and later, in the First World, he regretted those words like a knife in the gut. He was constantly on guard for anything that might be following them, lest they stumbled on a hidden  army, or that theory of Rhoswin hiding under a rock, and following into the Fell Night Realm was no different. They were in enemy territory - but still, Sassafras felt the need to implant a semi permanent flower to the arch they came through; one bright star in the black landscape. Though his expression seemed permanently grim, he still lived in that gnat storm. There was no way to tell direction, save the Pidgey's natural compass for North, and the landscape was as alien as the group he travelled with. Kaleb knew he was lost, but he was far too proud to admit it out loud. Still, his senses were sharp, and he noticed the trap as soon as his eyes laid on the shadow, and his bolt planted skilfully in front of it's feet. It was foolish to trust these monsters, but for some buzzing, annoying, gut feeling reason, he trusted Cactus' words - and he trusted his weapons. The naivety Sassafras displayed in front of these creatures perhaps helped out the play, but it frustrated Kaleb to no end. He sought comfort at the back of the group, with Nina. He trusted in Nina's fire, and she had watched him sprint to keep pace with three unicorns for half an hour solid - somehow, Kaleb felt that that was an activity you couldn't help but "bond" over, even if its just for the purely bizarre experience that it was. He wanted to ask her opinion of the trip, of their goal, and why she chimed in with Sassafras over not killing the Bulbasaur, with Tenzekil being rather the antagonist in her life as they knew it; but he could not form the words. He must have still been feeling fuzzy, because the mould situation was something else entirely. Suddenly he forgot all his training, and everything was so.... wrong here. Wrong like the shadow following that no one else could see. He remembered gripping the handle of his crossbow, waiting for the inevitable trap to be sprung. He told Nina about the one following, but he told Cactus everything he could without others listening in. He dared not tell Sassafras a thing, lest she blundered into conversation about it. He still didn't believe the goblin about that dark entity they fought. ...Maybe he didn't want to believe. "What will you do with Tenzekil?" The Fairies had asked, the first-worlders asked, the second-worlders asked. "We plan to dispose of him." "We plan to talk to him!" "We plan to take him out of the Fell Night Realm, and help him with his sickness." "We plan to kill him." Cactus had given him a strange, eyeballing look. Kaleb was confused. This is what they had signed up for, after all? Well maybe not Sass, but Tenzekil had also attacked her at the waterfalls... What was the point in covering it up with pretty words? Nevertheless, Cactus and his silver tongue came in to assure Sassafras and Nina that they would try talking to him first. Oh how Kaleb would "try". He had just wanted the arrow, he assured himself as he mended Cactus' hat, as he pieced together what the Sandshrew was not telling them, and plopped it back on his head. He only just managed to mask his own, satisfied smile as the Sandshrew beamed at him. He just wanted the arrow. The wild shape flickered through his muscles as he morphed into a lean canine, familiar in markings to the dead and shrivelled Aspen that corroded beneath one of Devarre's traps, but bigger, meaner, faster. He felt fire in his gut and lunged for the leg of the assailant, unflinching to the sap and gore that trickled down his maw and neck. He felt flame flicker behind his teeth, ready to set this lech alight, but he disappeared. Each time he got the Bulbasaur, his plan to douse him in fire failed, and he scrambled out of the way just in time to be spared from the firey mouth of the Wild Growlithe. It came to Kaleb's mind, that in that moment, he could have morphed into something badder, bigger, if he chose the path of the Druid. He new a few paltry Druid spells, and like the rest of his clan, fluid in basic Wild Shape. But, there were others, like his mother, like the Queen, who chose to study the Circle of The Moon, and could turn into huge, simply monstrous things, and still ignite spells at their paw tips enough to split craters in the mountain side. Then there were the Rangers who walked the planes, keeping tabs on the gates and making sure that minimal traffic came through. As of now, he was just a warrior. A warrior who taught skills to the current Princess, but still, a warrior. His maw gnashed at the multiple Bulbasaur, grabbing the real one by a hair's width, so that his form shook into the kaleidoscope that was the old man's spell. The Princess... Caught up in this matter of the planes, of the Fey and of the mortal world, he had forgotten his quest. The Growlithe's eyes rolled as his teeth sank into more sap infused flesh, doggedly pursuing the man. This old, decrepit soul was a drop in the river next to finding his kin. He would do whatever needed to be done, go wherever he needed to go... and be... be whoever this group needed him to be to find his Princess. Whether that person be Judge, Jury, or Executioner. He saw Cactus stumble in the brambles next to him, and immediately, he shot up. Brambles raked across his Growlithe form, opening up old wounds and nicking the cut across his eye, forcing him out of form before he landed nimbly on three points, just outside the ring of thorns, back to his Eevee self. The healing scars across his eye were still bleeding, but he was relatively unharmed, for the wild shape took most of the damage. He did not look at Nina, though he could feel her heat; nor Sassafras, though he heard her song; or Cactus, extracting himself from the Wall Of Thorns; but simply drew the staff from his back, a grim expression latching the edge of his maw, eyes cold as he calculated what needed to be done. He would take the blow for the others... free them from the monstrous responsibility they were facing. He cast Thunderwave. He remembered the decisive stamp of the staff against the floor, the force resonating like a thundercrack from his unflinching body, waiting for the noise, or lack thereof, to tell him he had succeeded. Sure enough, through the hole, the body of the Bulbasaur man was strewn, crucified, across his own Wall Of Thorns, hitting Kaleb with a gritted smile of grim satisfaction. The women of the group, strong, bold, and bardic warriors that they were, were not the ones to make the finishing blow, which filled Kaleb with relief. They had wanted to talk the Bulbasaur down, which was the only reason he wished for either himself or Cactus to make it - he had a feeling that the Sandshrew was hiding secrets of his own, that he had done similar types of jobs before. Like Kaleb, Cactus knew what needed to be done. Maybe Sassafras and Nina knew in their hearts there was nothing they could do - but they were still filled that that.... hope, that optimism. The realist in Kaleb reeled, sending that gnat storm running rampant in his ears again... But, he was glad. As unattached as he was to this group, the feeling that any one of them felt responsible for the old man's demise sat on Kaleb like...  well, a Wall Of Thorns. It made him uncomfortable to see them look sadly on at Tenzekil's body, but it was sure as the Torn World better than how this scene would have sat if either of them were the ones to end it. Kaleb chose to leave the thing Cactus was hiding for a later discussion, his focus on Nina as her paws began to spark. Something in his gut urged to comfort her, but he did not know how to, and was loathe to ask, so he kept his face stony as Tenzekil's body turned to ash. Sassafras saved any awkward words that got stuck around his jowls, filling the air with music, and Nina joined her. It was poignant in a way that Kaleb did not understand. At least, he thought, they seem somewhat at peace. May the Gods watch your path over the Astral Sea, Tenzekil, and may they give you the chance they think you deserve. Kaleb scooped up the ashes of Tenzekil into a vial, leaving no trace behind, as the Fey King bequeathed of them.