#when the virus started killing those around him he retreated to the woods to get away from all the death and fighting happening in the city

[snowflakeselfships]

A family can be an evolved former circus orangutan, a former primate sanctuary employee who's abandoned humanity, and their adopted human daughter. And that's beautiful <3

[memeadonna]

Mind Over Monster

I wrote this for a friend, so if you're reading this: Hi RJ!

You and the Bakusquad (plus Shinsou and Jirou, because it is a crime to exclude them) survived the zombie apocalypse, and now roam around hunting down the remaining monsters and rescuing survivors. But you feel like everyone except you has a place in your little group. When someone in your group makes a potentially fatal mistake, you set out to prove yourself. But the question remains: did you ever even need to in the first place?

You kept your eyes closed as you listened, searching in the murmurs around you for something unquiet and unorganized. That was how you would know if there was danger. The mist had long since retreated, but the wind carried it to places where it would rest and collect and re-emerge, using the dead to do its bidding. “Anything?” you jumped and opened your eyes to see one of your companions balancing precariously on the roof of your car.

Kaminari Denki never stopped smiling, no matter what. And considering he was the only reason that you were able to drive this electric car anywhere at all, he was one of your team’s most valuable members. You… also didn’t need to know that he was eye-fucking you right now, but it wasn’t like he could help it. There’s only so much you can turn off in the human mind, and despite your best efforts you usually ended up reading too much into things. It was nice to know that all of your companions thought you were attractive, at least.

This had all started with an accident. An unknown person had been born with some sort of zombification quirk that turned people into mindless zombies forced to do the user’s bidding if they inhaled a mist the user secreted. That person had been killed in a violent car accident that had sent them over the edge of a bridge and plummeting to the dark, angry waters below. As they bled out, their quirk had somehow activated. Maybe it was their way of saying that they did not want to die. Mist had billowed up around them, and within a few hours everybody in that prefecture had been infected by the quirk. The infection had spread across the country and then the world within a few weeks, and now, a year later, this was all that remained. The creatures had never been meant to exist this long, so eventually they began to mutate as well. They gained the ability to infect other creatures through bites, or even absorb body parts and (in the cases of the rare bigger monsters) whole people.

You and your companions had been training to become heroes, but when society had collapsed your goals had changed to survival. Now you travelled around acting like vigilantes, tracking down reported cases of those creatures and protecting civilians. Your class had split off into three groups (as had your grade’s class B), and everybody in your squadron had a purpose.

Bakugou Katsuki was obviously your firepower. He was also your self-appointed leader, and was great at barking orders. Kirishima Eijirou was your muscle – the creatures couldn’t infect him with whatever virus they had (or absorb him, though many had tried), and usually he and Bakugou did most of the heavy lifting when it came to the fighting. Ashido Mina and Sero Hanta were both masters at setting traps or helping with evacuation efforts, and they were also both charismatic and cheerful and kept your group in high spirits. Shinsou Hitoshi could almost always control the monsters to some degree, and even if he couldn’t, he was also adept with his capture weapon and could easily change gears mid-battle. Kiyoka Jirou could detect the monsters moving from miles away, and the speakers on her hero costume were both useful in battle and in evacuation efforts.

Jirou and Shinsou both basically rendered you redundant. Your quirk was a mind reading/telepathy quirk that allowed you to locate monsters (they couldn’t suppress their subconscious thoughts, so it was easier to read their minds), but the more of them there were the more useless you became. You already tended to get lost in your thoughts, but with all of these thoughts swirling around you…

“Hey!” Denki snapped his fingers in front of your face. “Are you okay? Any monsters nearby?”

“Sorry,” you smiled up at him. “No, I don’t hear anything. Should be safe to stop here and recharge.” You hopped off the roof and went to go help pitch your tents.

While you loved the electric vehicle you had looted, it could only go so far with one charge, and it took a lot out of Denki to keep it working, especially considering he couldn’t just charge out of outlets anymore. That meant the group had to stop and make camp in the middle of the day and let him charge up the car. Despite being electric, it wasn’t exactly the most efficient car in the world.

At least it had lots of storage space. That meant you had lots of useful weapons and supplies for killing the zombies. That was no easy task.

The largest beast you had encountered so far had been around eight feet tall and had taken over the corpses of about six people and several dozen animals. These beasts weren’t usually able to use the quirks of the people they had absorbed, but some creatures were anomalies. The one you were hunting now was supposed to be one of those anomalies, and had apparently retained a teleportation quirk, making it tricky to catch. You supposed you could be a little more useful in this case.

“Hey! Stop standing there being useless and start a fire!” Bakugou dumped some of the wood Kirishima had just chopped into your arms, and you struggled to hold all of its weight. He laughed at you as you dropped a piece of the firewood and caught it with your foot. Mina came to your rescue and told Bakugou off with a laugh as you hopped off towards the fire pit. Even he thought you were useless. Especially he. Him. Whatever.

Shinsou used his capture weapon to lift the wood back into your arms, and you smiled at him. He understood you in a way nobody else did, and maybe it was because you both had mind-related quirks, but you found camaraderie in the fact that people tended to be driven away from you or mistrust you. Who would want to be friends with someone that could tell exactly what they were thinking, or with one verbal response could make them do literally anything?

“You okay?” he asked.

You nodded as you knelt by the makeshift fire pit and started to stack the wood. “I’m fine, Shinsou,” you replied. “Just a bit of teasing.”

He walked over to the trunk and returned with a box of kindling. He balled up some of the paper and lit it when you were done. You couldn’t even do this small task without help. How useless did they really think you were?

You stood and looked around for somewhere else to help. Mina, Sero, and Kirishima had already set up the tent, Denki was charging the car, and Bakugou was digging around for something in the trunk. Shinsou walked over to go help him, and as you were about to check if Jirou needed anything you were grabbed from behind and lifted off the ground.

“Gotcha!” Kirishima purred into your ear, pretending to bite into your shoulder as he tickled you. You cried out in involuntary laughter, and kicked and flailed in his arms.

“Hey, put me down!” you tugged at the hands around your waist, and he finally listened to you, only for him to turn you around and pull you into a bone-crushing hug.

He pulled away and tilted your face up by the chin. “No more sad face, okay?” he asked softly. “Cheer up.”

Before you could respond, Bakugou started yelling again. “What useless fucker packed up the supplies?” He shouted, and if you weren’t used to that shout you would have probably flinched at the rough tone in his voice.

“Me and Mina!” Denki looked up from his charging duties. “Why?”

“You forgot our fucking food,” Bakugou growled. “Both crates full of food are missing! Seriously? Even people as inept as Y/n and Sero remember to bring the fucking food when it’s their turn to pack up!”

“Calm down Bakugou!” Sero stepped forward. “Is there any way you just missed it?”

Bakugou’s words washed over you like glass in your heart. You had heard them before – he was always calling you a dumbass, or a burden, and while he was that way with everybody, and they just shrugged it off, you just… never could. Bakugou had one of the most guarded minds you had ever seen, and regularly called you a Voyeur if he caught you staring at him for too long. You hadn’t purposefully read his thoughts very much, but his brain seemed to be full of those harsh words and nicknames. It would have been easier if you knew he didn’t mean them.

While your group argued (Jirou, Mina, and Denki were all screaming at Bakugou while Kirishima and Sero tried to break it up, and Shinsou watched with a tired expression), you snuck around to the back of the truck to retrieve a few weapons. You grabbed a small handgun (Yaomomo made you lots of supplies every time she saw you), and a few rounds of ammo. You also grabbed a metal baseball bat for good measure (better safe than sorry), and one of Bakugou’s mini grenades just out of spite. When you returned to camp with dinner in hand, you were planning on detonating it just to scare the bejesus out of him. You wondered if they would still be arguing when you got back.

Maybe they wouldn’t even notice you leaving?

Nobody stopped you as you set off across the field towards the woods. Nobody even spared you a second thought as their restless minds grew more and more distant. You relaxed as you realized you were alone, and hummed quietly to yourself as you crept through the woods looking for dinner.

The birds were singing, and the trees rustled softly in the wind as you wandered farther and farther away from camp. The small stream you crossed was probably where Jirou had collected water earlier, and just for the hell of it you decided to climb up the waterfall. It probably wasn’t the smartest move, but it was about a thirty-foot climb and it looked like fun. Once you were at the top, you followed the river upstream and searched for any thirsty wildlife.

Being the useless party member was boring. No matter what your companions did, you never seemed to be able to see the value in your own contributions. You were able to broadcast messages across large groups of people all at once, which made you invaluable both in evacuation efforts, and when planning strategies. Your range was somewhat limited unless you really pushed your quirk (if you were scared enough the words and pictures could travel up to five kilometers), but the ability to detect thoughts had less limits. Some people (like Bakugou) naturally suppressed thoughts, while others (like Kaminari) did not. It was easy to tell when the monsters were nearby because they could not repress their thoughts whatsoever. Even less than Kaminari. Everything blurred together in one big, overwhelming jumbled mess, and if there were a lot of them you were easily overwhelmed.

People you could deal with. You had grown up in a big city and gone to school in large classes, you knew what people were like. You could be in crowds with hundreds of voices and be unbothered, purely because it was all background noise. It wasn’t meant to be heard.

Sometimes, the monsters knew you could hear them. Sometimes they wanted you to hear.

You were dragged out of your train of thought as you caught sight of dinner. Drinking at the river was a boar, a yearling probably weighing about 45lbs. It hadn’t noticed you yet, and as you aimed your gun for it, careful not to make a noise, it didn’t stir.

A shot through the eye was all it took, and the animal dropped dead. You grinned to yourself as you approached it, and carefully picked it up and slung it over your shoulder. You couldn’t wait to see the look on Bakugou’s face when he realized just how useful you really were. You carried the boar back downstream, humming one of Jirou’s punk songs to yourself.

“Blood,” was the first thought that filled your head, and it made you halt in your tracks. It was so sudden, and so strong that it had startled you. You looked back the way you came and noticed that about two hundred yards away a figure crouched over where you had killed the boar, and as it uncurled its body vertebrae by vertebrae you felt terror grip your heart.

You were alone. Nobody was going to come save you. You were out of range.

The creature had a massive rack of antlers on its head – it had clearly been feeding off of the local wildlife to make it big and strong. Big and strong it was – towering at probably twelve feet tall with a lanky and deceptively fast body. Its mind was full of violent thoughts, and you heard each and every one. As you noticed it, it also noticed you. You heard its thoughts as they ricocheted around a brain that should not have had the capability to think, and as the word “Need!” filled your mind, it lunged for you.

You screamed in terror, and your quirk activated without your permission, sending the horrifying image of this thing leaping and bounding through the air towards you out in all directions. The image of itself halted it in its tracks, but it quickly shook the feeling off. You dropped your boar and aimed your handgun. The rounds did nothing, and the creature picked up speed again, unhinging its jaw and letting out a shriek so loud your ears rang. You fired into its open mouth, once more discharging an image of its maw. That also gave the creature pause, and as your handgun clicked out of ammunition, you reached for your bat and your grenade. Its eyes were so cold as it watched you change your stance, and you swallowed hard as you noticed tiny hands protruding from its chest. Those hands had once belonged to a child, and that made you angry.

Noticing the pattern, you started to send it random pictures and see what it reacted to. It seemed to recognize itself, so you started sending it pictures of its parts – deer, boar, birds, and eventually people. It kept coming at you, but it seemed almost dazed as it avoided your bat. You grinned to yourself as you assaulted it with more images and increasingly complex thoughts, not caring how you swung your bat. You landed a blow and it shrieked in pain. You then assaulted it again, sending it emotions and increasingly complex feelings. You recited math equations, explained how to start a fire, and told it about yourself in the blink of an eye, still swinging your bat. It connected with the skull-like head and broke the bone apart.

It felt anger now, you could sense it, and it wanted you dead. You kept bashing, overwhelming it psychologically. Then, all at once, you backed off. It shrieked at you as it retreated too, which gave you just enough time to chuck your grenade into its open mouth. You hit the deck as the grenade detonated, and the creature’s throat exploded outwards. As it fell to its knees, folding its long legs under itself, you stood once more. You then raised your bat high and dealt the killing blow to its head, scattering brains everywhere. You kept bashing for another thirty seconds for good measure, until all of the thoughts were gone, and the forest was once again quiet. You panted hard in the silence, and as you once more heard thoughts you gave the creature’s head another few bashes, even though you knew it couldn’t possibly have been the source.

By the time you registered the explosions behind you Bakugou was already sprinting towards you, yelling incoherently. Before you could get a word in, he was blasting the creature’s dead body with all he had. He then turned to you and pulled you into a bone-crushing hug, one so tight that your back popped.

“Bakugou?” you asked in alarm, and he just held you tighter.

“Don’t fucking wander away, dumbass!” he pulled away to growl into your face, eyebrows knit. “We thought we’d lost you.”

The thoughts dancing around his head made you almost shiver. “Thank god they’re safe,” and a thousand variations of that hit you all at once, along with feelings of guilt and fear and pride as he took the time to appreciate the beast you had killed.

Sero was next to arrive, having scaled the waterfall in record time. He swung through the trees towards you, clumsy and graceless. His head was also filled with panic and then joy and then wonder as Bakugou let you go and Sero had his hug.

Jirou and Kirishima clamoured over the waterfall, Mina and Kaminari (who for once, wasn’t smiling) hot on their heels. You were pulled into several more group hugs, and as Shinsou approached even he wrapped you in his arms.

“Why the fuck did you go off on your own?” Bakugou yelled.

“We needed food,” you replied. “So, I hunted a boar, which we can’t eat anymore because this thing showed up.” you gave its carcass a kick. You then walked over to the boar cadaver, which was covered in goo and chunks of brain, and based its head in. You did not want this thing coming back in a new form. Either thing.

“Don’t wander off like that!” Kirishima stressed. “You could have gotten killed! If Bakugou hadn’t been here to kill that thing for you-”

“I killed it,” you cut him off, resting the bat over your shoulder and trying not to sound smug. “Apparently it’s not invulnerable to my quirk. I figured out how to use it. Guess I’m not so useless after all, even if I did ruin dinner. Sorry guys.”

Bakugou’s eyebrows twitched. “Who the fuck said you were useless?” he demanded.

“You did,” you replied. “Earlier today.”

“I told you to stop being useless. There’s a difference,” he grabbed you by the shoulders. “Listen to me. You are not useless. You don’t have to run off on your own and nearly fucking get killed to prove that, and I’m sorry if I ever made you think that’s what we wanted from you.”

Holy shit. Did Bakugou just apologize? To you? Were you dreaming?

He pulled you into another hug. “Don’t run off again, okay, dumbass?” he asked softly.

“Okay,” you smiled softly. “I can promise that.”

“Good,” he growled. “And we found the food crates. Turns out that Shitty Hair over here-” Bakugou punched Kirishima in the shoulder, “-put them away in the tent.”

Kaminari sobbed loudly, interrupting the moment. “Denki, don’t cry!” you were hugging him in an instant, and he clung tightly to you like you would just disappear if he didn’t anchor you. “I’m here, and I’m safe. I promise.”

“It’s not that!” he wailed. “We could have had bacon!”

[bakubitch-minusultra]

Not Alone: Chapter Eleven

-> an apocalyptic series with bnha characters but without quirks because im the writer and i can do whatever the fuck i want :P new character unlocked

-> Word Count: 2.1k

-> Warnings: none(?)

-> Taglist: @5sosfckss @laudthingcat @zphilophobiaz

The sun set as they reached the top of a hill she never climbed. It was in the opposite mountain range from where she had been and she was nervous of it. She didn’t know what lied on the other side. Her feet hurt and she was tired.

He layed a bunch of bows on the ground and gave Y/n a very appealing look. It made her stomach hurt.

She walked to where he had chosen to sleep and smiled at it. There were branches on the ground which made a mat for sleeping. He had chosen a huge tree with great bows to protect them in case it rained. He was like her father, more than she expected him to be. Not that she ever expected to meet him.

“They think you’re dead.”

He put the last bow down and sat on it. He took the jacket he had brought with him and put it down, patting it for Y/n to sit beside him. Her steps hurt her feet now that they had stopped walking. She dropped onto the ground beside him and watched his eyes sparkle as darkness took over the night sky. She tucked her bow and quiver next to her, always close.

“I was taken to the work farms. We were hiding in this old house like your farmhouse. I wasn’t smart like you though. I never thought about bunkers or having a few different houses and traveling between them. I was an idiot. Anyway they came. I hid Mina and Kirishima and let them take me.”

His face was stoic. She wanted him to kiss her again. She started to wonder if he was going to.

“How did you get away from the farms?”

“I met some people while I was there. Doctors who were forced to work the breeder camps and other scientists. They convinced me I needed to start a revolution from the outside. I escaped with some of him.” He shook his head, as if his thoughts entertained him and brushed his hand through his hair again. He looked at Y/n and smiled, “You know a good spot to clean up around here?”

She shook her head, “Never been here before. You’re starting a revolution?”

He nodded, “The camp we were just at is one of our peace camps. It’s like a retreat. The children and young and old stay there. We have people coming and going constantly. Didn’t you notice how easily you were welcomed?”

“I guess. I just thought that’s what people were like when they live in a camp like that. Aside from the machine gun escort that is.”

He laughed again. She liked the sound of it but it reminded her of Kirishima.

“Well that was a big wolf Y/n. How’d you end up with him?”

“His mother gave birth and must’ve gotten sick shortly after. Hades was waiting for me at the door of the cabin one day. He was tiny then. I could hear his brothers and sisters in the woods. I found the mother dead and half eaten surrounded by the other cubs who were weak and sick. It was awful. I shot them and burned them. It’s the closest the infection ever got to my cabin. He was immune anyway so that’s helpful.”

“He’s immune? Naturally? Maybe he never ate any of the mom.”

Y/n shook her head, “Nah, she wasn’t the only sick thing Hades has eaten. He likes the infected.”

He grimaced, “That’s disgusting. Disgusting and lucky all at the same time.”

“It is.”

“What do you know about the start of the infection?”

Y/n shrugged, “People got sick and some died but others lived and went a little crazy.”

His eyes looked dark as his expression lost its humor and the sun set completely. “No Y/n, people didn’t just get sick. The infection was spread on purpose. Everything that’s happened has been a plan all along.”

“That can’t be true.”

“I wish it weren’t. There was something called the United Nations. They did all of this.”

Y/n felt sick, “They were evil?”

“Not evil, just detached. The world was running out of resources and everyone was constantly putting a hand out to them and asking for aid and food and money. The UN had been warning us forever about global warming and the ice melting and the ocean becoming acidic. Anyway in 2012 all of Greenland's ice and snow melted in a week. The earth started to enter a drought. We thought it was a cyclical event but it wasn’t. It was man made. We had pushed it too far. The same time all this was happening, a conference was held in Rio about the environment. Canada, the US and China pretty much pulled out and admitted they had no intention of slowing their pollution to the recommended level. It would be too hard on their economies. That was the final straw. Apparently the UN had a backup plan for a worst-case scenario such as that. They had a plague. It had a vaccine, which made it easy to spread and then control. The problem was it mutated. They spread the virus at the same time they had bombs placed deep in the ocean along the Japanese coastline. They bombed the shelf and pretty much wiped Japan off the face of the earth and made the west coast of North America a target for huge tidal waves.”

It felt like a movie to Y/n. It didn’t feel real. It felt like the ramblings of her father, before.

“How could you know all this?”

“The work farms. I met people who had been part of the initial plan. The plan was to reset everything. Instead the UN decided they wanted to start humanity over but set it up to succeed this time. The breeder farms were built where only the fit and healthy were allowed to reproduce."

She shivered just imagining it.

Bakugo laughed, “It isn’t what you think. I know what everyone thinks happens but it’s not. The girls only breed every three years and only up to three times. The pregnancy isn’t the result of rape, it’s done using science. The baby is made in a lab and then inserted into the woman’s womb.” Y/n gagged and Bakugo laughed. “The religious had the same reaction. The UN never mentioned this plan to anyone but the very high ups. It never went well.”

“The girls are still taken against their will and made to make babies against their will.”

She saw his head nod in the dark, “Yup and the babies are not God’s children to the Christians. Anyway the UN runs the military but again, they sit in their closed office and plan using numbers and facts and data. They don’t leave it to see what the world looks like or how corrupt the military is. They’ve built six cities world wide from the ashes and rubble of previous cities. They plan on cleaning every inch of the world.

Y/n’s head was spinning, “What about the borderlands?”

“They can’t use anymore bombs without affecting the weather and pollution again, so the plan stands at leaving us to our own devices until they have this part of the world cleaned up. Then they’ll come round us up.”

“Why?”

“They want the diseases and illnesses bred out. They won’t allow those people to live and breed.”

“Oh my god it’s like a nightmare.”

“It is. On that note, we need sleep. You sleep first and I’ll keep watch.”

“That’s some bedtime story.” She liked Kirishima’s better. He laughed and Y/n watched his silhouette in the dark for a moment. He didn’t lean in to kiss her. He was watching the hill they climbed. “How long have they been breeding science babies?”

His outline turned to her and she saw the shine of his eyes in the dark,”A long time.”

“Are the babies different than the rest of us?”

“Yeah.”

The broken branches led them to a camp in a valley on the opposite side of the mountain where her farmhouse sat. The size of the camp was disturbing. Bakugo smiled as he saw it and walked directly up to the man holding the gun amid the trees.

“Halt.”

“Oi dunce face!” Bakugo shouted.

The gunman smiled, “No shit, Bakugo you’re alive. I heard they caught you.”

Bakugo laughed, “They think they did. Is Monoma still in charge?”

The man Bakugo called dunce face pointed to the camp, “He’s still in the smallest tent, you know what he’s like. Still paranoid they’ll bomb us.”

Bakugo laughed and pointed towards Y/n, “This is my friend Y/n.” She felt hurt when he called her his friend. She didn’t know why but the word stung.

“I’m Denki,” He put a hand out and Y/n noticed he had a nice smile. She met his golden eyes and smiled back, “Nice to meet you.” His eyes flickered to Bakugo and an even bigger smile crossed his lips, “So where’d ya two meet?”

She looked at Bakugo.

“She walked up to the mountain retreat the other day with a huge wolf for a pet and an unruly teenager.”

Denki’s eyes grew wide, “You have a wolf?”

She nodded. She wanted to find Mina and Kirishima. She didn’t understand why Bakugo wasn’t busting inside to see them. She felt herself fidget in place,

“Well I’m gonna go see Monoma and see what’s new on this side of the hill.”

They walked toward the camp as the sound of birds squawking filled the forest. The gunmen lower their weapons as they hear the sound and they walk past them. The camp opened as the forest spread thin. It looked like the camp they were at before except that everyone was wearing a firearm or knife. At one point Y/n swore she saw a sword. There were no children here.

“Bakguo! You’re alive!”

A girl with long blonde hair and cut off shorts ran and jumped into his arms. Y/n’s heart stopped as she watched the girl kiss his lips. The lips that only just kissed Y/n the day before. She felt heat radiating from her cheeks. She heard about men who weren’t tied down in romance novels and felt sick thinking that she had fallen for one. All the years of reading the novels and judging the ladies who seemed strong and smart and then fell for a jerk. Reality hurts. She wanted Kirishima and Mina and her cabin and Hades and Jirou. She wanted to let the world kill itself and hide up in the mountains. She never wanted to kiss Bakugo again. She couldn’t believe she was so reckless.

“Camie what the hell. You know me better than that,” He twirled her around and looked sheepishly at Y/n, “This is Y/n.” Y.n nodded and gripped her bow.

Camie beamed at her, “Wow nice find Bakugo, He save you from the farms too?”

Y/n raised an eyebrow, “I don’t need a hero.”

Camie looked at Bakugo, who was staring at Y/n. Y/n walked past him and started to look around. If he didn’t want to find his friends then that’s his problem. Y/n would be damned if she would let them live another moment without the knowledge that their asshole of a friend was alive and well.

“You pissed at me?” Y/n didn’t turn and continued along, eyes desperately searching the crowds of people.

“Bakugo.” He shook hands with a very tanned man with the whitest smile Y/n had ever seen. People continued to greet him, but she couldn’t hear them anymore. She saw what she was looking for. She saw a tall guy limping with shaggy red hair. She broke into a run and dived into his arms when she was close enough to him.

As she made contact he turned. His face was exactly as she remembered it. He had her in his arms before she could speak a word.

“Y/n oh my god. Y/n it’s you. Holy shit I thought they got you.” He was planting kisses everywhere across her face.

“Where’s Mina?”

Kirishima’s kisses stopped but his grip on her face was still strong, “They took her.” Y/n felt her heart drop and wanted to collapse into his arms and sub.

“Shitty hair.”

Kirishima dropped to his knees in front of Y/n. His hands left her face and fell onto the tops of his knees.

“Bakugo? Bakugo is that you?”

Bakugo rushed at him and lifted him up. He pulled him into his embrace. The friend’s hug was fierce but all she heard was the sentence ‘they took her’ repeating in her mind.

Kirishima looked back at her, “You found him?”

Y/n shook his head, she had no words. They hug and cry and laugh but she was stunned. Finally able to speak, she muttered, “Where’d they take her?”

Their reunion no longer meant anything to Y/n.

[prongsisabadger]

TWP Chapter 22

Ahsoka was already scouting ahead, so it was her who set the bombs that would burst the lab hatches open. She would enter the lab from her position on the ground and both her team and mine would make an airborne entrance. When we had boarded the gunships on Theed, Rex had joked about seeing me more often than he did his brothers on the 212th or the 104th, which was pretty accurate. "We might have to add some blue to that armour of yours if you keep this up, Commander." Later I found out he hadn't been entirely joking.

The pilot opened the blast doors and a few seconds later, the ground in the swamp beneath us shook with the force of three explosions. It was dark and the woods around the area lit up for a few seconds before the smoke covered it all up.

I jumped off the LAAT/i and into the open hatch, landing on a seamless squat with the aid of the force so as not to injure my legs. I turned my lightsaber on and started to intercept enemy fire as the rest of Ahsoka and I's squad rappelled down the opening. We were in the middle of a corridor, so both of us padawans took position on opposite sides in order to shield the troops. The lab was more heavily defended than we had originally expected. It was counterintuitive to have so many battle droids in a Republic aligned planet such as Naboo. Especially in Naboo.

The system was one of the most notorious defenders of peace within the Galactic Senate, to target such a political presence in the eyes of the galaxy was bold. But there was no time to consider the political implications of the lab's placement. The CIS had gone too far when they decided to resort to biological warfare. They were trying to leave the Republic, fine, but there was no reason to kill hundreds of thousands of life forms because of it. We were not going to let that happen.

The plan was going smoothly. Ahsoka, our troops and I had managed to gather the attention of almost all the lab's security personnel. We were taking the brunt of the defense, true, but that meant Master Skywalker and Master Kenobi could carry out their own missions without having to worry about battle droids.

The thing about close quarters fighting is that it's rather restrictive by nature. There is no place for maneuvering or taking cover, or getting a little creative with one's attack. And in such circumstances, numbers often have the upper hand, especially if those numbers don't have the disadvantage of being irreplaceable life forms. Normal battle droids in big numbers were annoying enough, SBD's were a nuisance no one wanted to deal with, but Droidekas? yeah those were a problem. Their deflector shields were bad enough in open combat where you could sneak past them if you were stealthy enough, but in close quarters? Bad news.

The rolling balls of death rounded the corner like a clunking stampede of metal boulders. I cursed underneath my breath and resisted the urge to roll my eyes. Of course they had Droidekas in this Force Forsaken lab.

"'Soka! I won't fit," I yelled, "You jump, I'll throw you!"

"On three!" she answered, "Rex, take care of these for a second."

"Boil, lay cover fire!" I instructed. "THREE"

"Two!" returned Ahsoka as she turned her saber off and got ready to jump.

"Go!"

Ahsoka ran the couple of meters that separated her from me and jumped. I force pushed her in order to get above and across the destroyers. The gap between the droids and the ceilings had been too narrow for me to do it, so we had to make do. Ahsoka was agile, flexible, small and light, she was the perfect person for the job, and she was skilled. With all the training and natural ability of a Torguta she landed on one of the droids and turned her saber on, right on top of its head. The first one went down. I ran forward to draw the second droid's attention while Ahsoka repeated the process. Behind us, our squad finished turning the other battle droids into scrap metal. We were done, for now.

"Report." I said as I turned to my team and reached out into the Force to sense for any signs of pain or distress on any of the men. There were.

"Ginger is dead, T.H. was shot but is still able bodied," Said Waxer "Captain Rex is also down two men, Commander"

I sighed defeatedly before turning to my wounded trooper. He would never let anyone know, but he was in quite a lot of pain. His shoulder had been hit by a blast that ricocheted on one of the corridor surfaces. I wanted him to retreat, to get him out of there and to safety before his injuries started to work against him. But I couldn't. I needed him, we all did. We had lost more men than we could afford and we still needed to reinforce the other two squads. I also knew he would have never let me do it. He was a clone trooper of the 212th and he would rather die fighting than let his team die in his stead. He was no coward. None of them were.

"How are you doing T.H.?"

"It's just a scratch, Commander. I'll be good to go once I bandage it."

"Good man, take a breather and rest a few minutes, we'll be moving out soon." I said before crouching down in front of him. "I'm sorry I can't get you clear. I need you, I need all of you."

T.H. looked up at me, I couldn't see his face behind the helmet, but I could feel his surprise, the way his chest felt lighter, the way he felt like he could take on the entire CIS army by himself. His CO needed him. His CO cared for his safety but she needed him. He would not abandon his CO.

"Don't worry about me, Commander," he said with conviction. "We'll take this damn lab and complete the mission. You'll see."

I patted his healthy shoulder twice and smiled at him before standing up.

Ahsoka was talking to Rex behind us, the Force moved slowly around them and in Rex's case it felt almost viscous, stagnant, like he wasn't affected by the pain and turmoil. I knew better, and so did Ahsoka. We ordered the fallen troopers extracted by the team above ground, they would be given a proper funeral after this was all over.

"Rex, 'Soka, whatchu guys have for me?" I said approaching them.

"General Kenobi has made it safely to the storage room and is helping disable the bombs. They are almost done," said Rex as he pulled up the lab's geoscan that we had been provided with. "General Skywalker has found the hostages and is engaged with Doctor Vindi as we speak."

"We should reinforce him." Said Ahsoka.

I touched my hand to my chin as I thought about our dilemma. Help Skywalker with the hostage situation or help Master Kenobi defuse the bombs?

"Hostage situations are tricky," I started. "stepping in during negotiations could be very detrimental to the whole effort. If Vindi has something to threaten Skywalker with, odds are, he can do the same to us. I think we should let Skywalker deal with it."

"Our men are trained to defuse bombs, but none are as good as the ones with General Kenobi. I think we would be getting in the way if we decided to go help them." Commented Ahsoka.

"Commander, if I may…" said Rex and waited until I nodded to proceed. " We should secure all known exits to the lab so that no one can get out. That way we prevent the virus from leaving the facility and scrap any droids that want to escape."

I smirked at him before raising an eyebrow at Ahsoka. Rex was a good soldier, yes, but he was also more than just that, and he continued to show me so every time I saw him.

"Rex, old boy, you are the best." smiled my friend, "We would need to split up in order to cover all exits, and there aren't many of us left."

"Then we make the best of it. Rex, you take Waxer and Boil, stay here and man the southern hatch; Ahsoka, take Nax to the eastern one; T.H will come with me to the northern hatch. Nothing gets out." I said while pointing at the holo map Rex had been holding. "May the Force be with us, Pals."

Ahsoka nodded to me before setting off and Rex nodded, turning to the men he would be working with and starting to give out orders. I returned to where T.H. was seated and offered him my arm. He took it and stood up with little effort. He had taken a bacta shot, he said.

"I would have left you here with Rex but this is where I expect the most fire," I explained. "So you'll be coming with me, trooper. I'll have your back."

He tried moving his injured shoulder a little as if to stretch the muscle. He was in pain, there was no denying that, it didn't matter how good he was at hiding it.

"You don't have to coddle me, Commander." He returned. "Injured or not, I can keep up and have your back just as well. You can count on me."

I smiled honestly at his visor.

"I know I can."

…

T.H. was on the lookout as I tampered with the hatch controls. If anyone or anything managed to get past us, I wanted to make sure they didn't escape. Thus, hardwiring the hatch controls to remain closed and booby trap the thing so that if anyone tried to override it, they'd get a nasty surprise, and their faces blown to pieces. The lab's corridors weren't exactly soundproof, so every once in a while, the distant echoes of a blaster fight made its way to us. The situation was not ideal. If battlegrounds were stressful because of the chaos, then this was stressful due to the uncertainty of it all. We had no idea how close to letting a virus lose we were. We had no Idea if everybody else was okay, even with signals not jammed. We had no Idea how many more droids -battle droids or otherwise- were left in the facility. If you asked any of us about the status of the situation, the answer would most likely be "fuck if I know". But what was important was that we had given ourselves something to do, and all we had to do was accomplish it. When in distress, give yourself something to do.

"How are things going down there, T.H.?" I asked, rolling my shoulders from the strain. I'd had my arms up towards the hatch for over twenty minutes and they were starting to hurt.

"Clear, Commander." Answered the clone. "We have comm chatter though. Hostages are secure but the doctor is attempting to escape and Skywalker is in pursuit... -" he stilled for a second as if to listen to the radio more carefully. "General Kenobi is moving to intercept, his team is done defusing the bombs."

A relieved sigh escaped me without consent. We weren't about to die of an incurable disease. I finished the job regardless. Even when we caught Vindi, there would be droids and possibly other personel trying to escape, we needed to make sure none were left free to roam Naboo once everything was over.

"Good, I want to get out of here as soon as possible," I said placing the control panel over the wires once again and clicking it in place. "I don't think the humidity on the planet agrees with me."

[tartagilicious]

Can you write a Lawrence/MC after his ending where he leaves one day to go supply hunting and the MC is finally able to escape but she sees him getting attacked by a couple of guys and decides to save him because she ultimately does still care about him then when she gets him back to safety and is taking care of him he asks why she helped him instead of leaving and she just says something like "because I'm not you" then maybe he can reflect. Sorry if that's too detailed lol

I really like this prompt you gave me, personally, though I did change it slightly. I had a fun time writing this. It turned out better than most of my requests usually do!

* no editing on the second half because ����✌️im sick and I don’t feel like it that’s all lol so I apologise for any mistakes

—

You shudder when you hear the basement door slam shut, suddenly leaving you alone in the all-but-homey basement yet again. When Lawrence had initially saved you from the horde of zombies, he had made sure to mention that there was enough food to keep both of you going for a while — almost as if it was supposed to be equal to a sort of incentive for coming with him and leaving your other friends to die.

But, in retrospective to the virus, it wasn’t necessarily a bad promise.

You had liked Lawrence at one point, and as hard as it may have been to know that, your opinion of him couldn’t change that fast. He was smart, empathetic, and even if you didn’t like it, he always knew what he was doing. There was no choice but to trust in him then, especially when his iron grip on your wrist unfairly startled you into it.

Yet, ironically, it was the last straw when his calculations ended up being wrong.

Supplies dwindled faster when he thought you were comfortable enough to being doing so, but he was stuck when he realised how close you were actually cutting it. You suddenly had to worry about your food again rather than the man in front of you, and it was scary. It really was.

To be so young and stare despair in the face isn’t something you ever pictured yourself doing, but now, you do it helplessly everyday in the reflection of circle framed glasses.

You flip on the light switch again when you’re sure that Lawrence is gone, and immediately sink to the floor. Emotions pour out of you in the form of stagnant breaths, leaving you choking on the musty air. This happens often — you bottle up the very emotions Lawrence encourages you to share, and let them out when he can’t see.

Maybe it’s petty of you. But you don’t care.

Because the last thing you want is for him to see you break down. You’re powerless enough around the boy as it is.

But this time, the swirl of complicated emotions in chest isn’t just from the usual; it’s fear. You had forgotten about the crushing reality of the apocalypse outside, and how hard it really was to survive. No matter how cunning Lawrence pretended to be, life always had the last laugh.

You sit slumped against the wall for god knows how long, trying to find peace in the messy cracks on the walls. But you give up when they begin to blend together, and only finally avert your eyes when you begin to see them shifting.

It has taken you a long time to learn that reality is altered in the place you’re forced to call home. Dark days are filled with pleasant treatment from your so-called admirer, but leave deep scars on you no amount of love can fix. You sadly think that not even your eyes know what to see anymore as you try to blink away your confusion, adjusting to the room around you instead.

The basement had become unfavourable in almost no time flat, with its lonely walls and industrial scheme — and especially the twisted safety inside of it. It was moments like those that you looked at the stairs leading up to ground level and wondered what would happen if you just decided to leave everything behind.

If I left Lawrence, would he hunt me down again?

That thought keeps you grounded every time.

But your intrusive thoughts already have a streak of zero to one, and before you can stop it, your curiosity leads you up the basement stairs implanted deep in your memory and onto the ground floor.

He’s not here, he can’t do anything about it. Stop worrying.

Then you realise that you have no business worrying about Lawrence, someone who is god knows where, when such a mess is in front of you. The hallway’s routine scent of old blood fills your nose faster than you can react, immediately calling up tears. Your memories of the friends you’d lost burn brightly in your head — and the memories of seeing their faces for the last time makes you sick.

In a daze, you turn away and pinch your nose. Tears catch in your lashes and make your vision blurry as you open your eyes while you walk away, but you don’t care. You just want to get away.

Cautiously, you hug your jacket tighter around you as you get closer and closer to the doors. It’s been months since you’ve been let out of the basement, much less outside — and you have no idea what to expect. Did the government make any progress? Or, assuming the worst, has the virus really begun to do lasting damage?

You’re afraid to find out, but with the adrenaline and fear pumping through your veins, you push the doors open without a second thought. It’s a stupid idea, but when you’re stuck between the fear to escape and the fear to stay put, there’s only so many things you can do.  

Sly footed and calm: that’s what Lawrence has always told you to be in the presence of a zombie. But strangely, and thankfully, you don’t see a single other moving thing as you manoeuvre the door to quietly shut.

Time moves slowly as you stand there and think. You’re anxious in the premonition that a zombie will pop out, and because of this your thoughts are jumbled, but you still manage to remember the bare details you’d so scoured over about the safe zone the night before you were supposed to leave with your friends.

It shouldn’t be hard if I don’t stop for anything. You think to yourself. Maybe I’ll prove those men from before wrong and make it there fast.

That would be best.

The fact that you hadn’t thought to grab any weapons alarms you, but you spot what looks like the old remnants of a plank of wood a few feet away and figure it’s good as anything.

It’s slightly heavy to lug along, but you walk fast in your nervousness, so you don’t see the big deal in it as long as you keep pace. And you do so as quietly as possible, scared beyond belief at the possibility of your luck going dry and leading you to encounter exactly what you hope to avoid.

Yet it seems like your luck is about to run out when you hear the unmistakable grunt of a group of zombies. No more than a few, you think, but it’s still a few too many. And like the sensible person you think yourself to be, you’re about to distance yourself from them as fast as possible.

But then you hear something else. Something else distinctly human that you can’t help but stop a second time for. Betraying every nerve in your body that screams for you to move, you stop for the sole chance of finding someone else.

You curse under your breath as you grip the plank tighter in your grip, the pieces digging into your skin as you peek around the corner in front of you — close, and also the very place that the ruckus is coming from.

Though you seriously consider retreating back again when you notice that it’s Lawrence having a hard time. He seems to be handling the small group of zombies around him fairly well, anyway, armed with a short metal pipe and his normal malicious intents.

Still, he’s not superhuman. It’s obvious that he’s getting tired, and might not even last much longer if he lets that get to him.

Would it matter if he dies?

He’s all I have left.

He locked you up.

He doesn’t treat me badly.

He killed your friends.

You have a hard time arguing with the devil on your shoulder on that one. But your good senses, still intact, luckily come back in time to help you figure out what to do in the nick of time.

There’s nothing that will come out of leaving Lawrence to die. As much as you’ve admittedly fantasised about something ripping him away and finally freeing you, you would be at a disadvantage without his guidance. Lawrence’s leader qualities hadn’t gone anywhere, and it wasn’t as if his good traits never existed.

As much as you hate to say it, there’s a part of you that still cares about him.

Gritting your teeth, you rush in and make your presence known. All of your emotion is projected into a hit that knocks a particular zombie back onto the ground, and completely startling Lawrence to an extent that it almost makes you proud.

“What are you doing?” He hisses, but he doesn’t sound angry. His eyes are wild and panicked, but not in the same way you’d seen when he killed that man all those months ago — he just seemed scared. “Why are you here?”

You hold your tongue as much as you can. “That doesn’t matter, focus on what’s in front of you!”

A guttural noise of disapproval makes its way out of his throat, but dissolves upon the movement of his arms swinging the pipe directly into a zombie’s distorted face. You do the same to the ones closer to you, using the piece of wood to slam up to where their chin should be and knock them back a considerable distance so that when they came back, they were easier for Lawrence to deal with.

The system works well with your teamwork, and soon enough, all of the zombies that had gathered are at your feet.

The atmosphere is so tense you expect him to start yelling even there, but surprisingly, he doesn’t.

“Thank you, ___.” He pants, his face slightly red as you just stand there and take in his words. “I don’t know what would have happened if you weren’t there to help.”

You nod hesitantly, finally letting the plank rest against your legs as it had grown heavy.

“...But, why did you help me?” He asks this with bunched brows, as if the prospect confuses him. And you’re glad it does, because still, the last thing you want is misunderstanding the way you feel.

“Because I’m not like you.”

Something in Lawrence’s eyes shifts, similar to realisation. If only it was.

“Come on,” You wave a hand reluctantly, motioning for him to follow you. “Let’s go somewhere safer before any more show up.”

He just stares at you, completely uncharacteristically quiet. But you would be lying if you said it didn’t finally make you feel powerful.

Maybe, from now on, things can be different.

— 

read more of my works! ♡

[nebula-starlight]

Virus (Part 4 - Asylum)

Her eyes glowed bright green in the mirror’s reflection, despite her best efforts to will them back to the soft topaz they were supposed to be. Work was coming up and she couldn’t afford to call in sick again. She’d lose her job if she did that once more and she needed the money. Rent wasn’t cheap near the clinic after all.

The low gurgle of her stomach drew Narssia from her thoughts and she grimaced, lifting a shaky paw to her chest. Was it indigestion? She hadn’t exactly eaten anything this morning... having felt a bit off. Oh no.

She threw herself over the washbasin, heaving until her entire body ached. Well that settled the debate about work. There was no way she’d go in now. Letting a few strands of saliva drip from her jaws as she panted, a low glitchy chuckle echoed in her ears for a brief moment before vanishing.

Waiting a few more minutes to see if the feeling passed, she sighed and left the bathroom, using the tip of her tail to flip the switch that emptied the filled basin. She’d fill it back up with water later but not now, not with her head spinning. Why had she gotten sick? It made no sense... There was nothing she’d done that would have prompted such a reaction.

Retreating to her den, she picked a chair and curled up in it, staring blankly into the unused fireplace beside her. The feeling would pass, she was sure. If not...

Well she knew what do to.

Bright lights shone briefly in one of her eyes as Narssia slowly returned to consciousness, hearing the distorted, warbled sounds of far-away voices. When had she drifted off? Not that it mattered too much now when she just wanted to sleep. Why wouldn’t they leave her alone?

“She’s coming around. Give her room.”

She knew that voice, the one that broke through with an almost crystal clear quality. Chills ran along her back, terror flooding through her system as the long buried memories rammed into her waking consciousness. No, no, no! Why was it him?! That drake was the last individual she wanted to see now. She ran away from him. She... She’d fought hard to free herself from his web of lies.

But still those feelings remained... How hard claws smacked against her snout, tearing open skin as the pain only made her want to curl up in a ball and disappear. He always screamed at her, demanding she toughen up. The world wouldn’t accept a weak little shadow-breather even though she was trying her best to be brave.

Stop crying! Those black scales you’ve got only give others the impression there’s a cold, heartless monster underneath. You want that, don’t you? To feel strong... powerful even.

She trembled, straining herself to move, to run, to do anything! Still her wings remained limp behind her back and her limbs stayed shackled to the bed for protection. Not this Hell again. Anything but this. They couldn’t see the scars... The past attempts to get rid of that thing growing inside. But she couldn’t move and the routine nightmarish memories she struggled with were bad enough but to relive it...

No, she couldn’t go through that again. There had to be a way out before she started to spiral down into the darkness of her mind. She just had to think...

You’ll be cured in no time, my dear. All those silly little fears will be nothing more than wisps of fleeting thoughts. Soon there will only be the two of us. Together.

“Unusually high... brain activity, Doc. Should we... drug...?”

Her eyes flew open, panic clouding over any and all vision as the whitewash walls of the hospital sent her heart racing in her chest. No exams! She thrashed against the chains holding her down, screaming until her voice broke in repressed anger and fear. No proper drakes trying to fix her. She wasn’t broken! There was nothing... wrong with her.

It was all in her head. It had to be! No one deserved to see her like this. She wasn’t worth anyone’s time. Even the drake had finally spat those words in her face before she...

Oh Ancients! Don’t make her confess it. It was all an accident. He- He pushed her too far. No, no, no... her tail wasn’t covered in blood as the sounds of several pairs of clawed feet thundered up stairs outside his apartment. The noise of the brief struggle had been heard despite her best intent to silence him without a peep.

She confronted him. Marched right up and ripped out his heart, blood splattering over the expensive carpet of his flat as her tailtip dipped into the oozing crimson fluid dripping down his chest and then curled around his neck. Fixing one dark iris on him with a frustrated hiss, she snapped his neck at the same time she crushed the organ in her paw, relishing the satisfying squish it gave before she threw the ruined smear across the room to smack against the locked wooden door.

So many promises... He promised to treat her, cure her even. When that failed he said he loved her and wanted to toughen her up. Well he certainly did that... although likely not how he expected. Now that monster had left yet another mark on her soul, one she tried again and again to purge.

Poison hadn’t worked. Alcohol hadn’t worked - although it gave her an awful hangover the next day though. Every glance she dared to take at her scarred, swelling underbelly filled her with such self-loathing as the months passed. Oh she knew exactly why she’d gotten sick and why her energy was all but gone, there was nothing she wanted more than to rip it right out of her body. Who cared if she tried a dozen other ways to be rid of that hellspawn growing in her lower abdomen!

“Let me go!” She screeched, trying once more to move as flickers of tiny little green lights darted by the corners of her vision. “I’m not crazy, I swear. Don’t send me back there. Don’t... do that...”

Her jerky attempts at escape slowed before stopping, head rolling slightly to one side as a heavy sigh came from her left. A single, slightly stained claw brushed against the bottom of her jaw gently to check her pulse as the weary blue eyes of the doctor glanced over at the young male sitting down in the far corner of the room awaiting news. He was lucky someone had found her so quickly this time around judging by her extensive chart. Now she wasn’t out yet but they at least had her stabilized. Last thing anyone wanted was a half-crazy healer out on a vengeful warpath...

“Ease there girlie, you may not think so but we won’t hurt ya... Pretty lucky that you have attentive co-workers.” He looked up, spotting movement outside the small individual room in the clinic’s psych wing before continuing softly to the one who brought her in. “Poor ‘ness has had emotional problems for a long while. Last I spoke with her previous doctor they thought she was on the right medicine to even her out. Hmm, I wonder what caused a flare up this bad?”

The sound of the hospital room door opening seemed to take the doctor’s attention away for a moment. Stepping inside, the aged silver dragoness politely bowed before starting forward as the young orange drake excused himself and left to allow the two experts some time alone.

“The team I sent to her location of residence after she arrived found a note on her bed that was addressed by a Geer Stormbringer. Should we try to get in touch with him? Maybe he knows what set her off?”

The lead doctor hummed softly in thought as he lightly stroked the side of her snout to encourage her to fade on off to sleep. “That would be the best course of action right now, Silvia. We’ll keep her under for a bit until things can be sorted out.”

The night air was cool when she woke, blinking sleep from her eyes as she yawned. How long had she been out? Running her tongue along her teeth, she thought it was odd they felt moist as though she’d eaten something recently. Moving a forepaw, she felt the squish of something soft and slowly glanced down, finding her paw covered in blood. Beside her lay a half-eaten carcass, the shape draconian in nature. No...

She shuddered, the soft crackle of static buzzing in the background as she pushed herself back onto her hind legs, frantically trying to get her limbs under her so to run. Where was she? It wasn’t home if the wooded area was any indication. Was she losing her mind? Sure the thought had crossed her mind in the past to seek revenge but she wasn’t a violent creature. Drawing blood just wasn’t in her nature... at least she thought so.

Getting to her feet, she shakily stood, curious about the corpse as she crept closer. It was difficult to tell but she thought its scales were purple and its eyes... No, no, no, why?!

Those wide open gray eyes were ones she knew, expression fixed in a terrified scream. Geer’s past letters to her had mentioned a lovely little female healer by the name of Melvise if she was right... No, there was no connection linking the two, was there? How would she have even known what the dragoness looked like?

‘Someone’s not real fond of the monster they are, huh? Figures you good-for-nothings are all hypocrites. Hiding behind that perfect little facade...’

The soft chuckle of laughter caught her attention immediately, recognizing the voice somehow even though she was certain she’d never heard it before. Still she stood, glancing uneasily at the corpse before shying away from it.

“Who are you?”

‘Honestly, the static didn’t give it away? Sheesh, with how messed up your mind is it makes me look like a damn saint...’ The humor dropped from the mysterious voice, a chill running through the air as Narssia pressed her wings closer to her body. ‘Turns out I need to make my appearance known before I can fully possess you. Sucks for you then ‘cause I’m not the most... No, you know what? I’ll just show you what I mean.’

Her eyes went wide, fear crawling up along her spine as she shuffled backwards from the dead dragon. “Um, do I have a choice here? Cause I’d rather not.”

‘How cute. You think you have a say here... Such a pity I need you alive then. I was really looking forward to killing someone today.’

The ground suddenly went dark, eerie green lines of code appearing all around her and glowing as Narssia panicked and tried to fly away. All she managed to do was unfurl her wings before shadowy tendrils wrapped around her legs to pin her in place.

An amused chuckle was all she earned for her efforts. ‘Yeah, good try there but not real successful.’

The most awful sound split the air, reminding the healer of a screaming group of hatchlings as she saw the creature drop to the floor right in front of her. It was primarily skeletal, with a large gash further distorting its neck as the wyvern-like look had no wing structure other than the main permanent bone and thin claws that acted like her own foretalons. Two empty eye sockets blazed with bright green light and a large almost jewel-like gem sat in the top of its chest.

She hadn’t studied about the past ancestors of dragonkind for many years but was she looking at a fallen, a Shadowling some preferred to call them even? The appearance would fit what little she remembered...

‘You know what I am. Consider me impressed, for once,’ the glitch purred, voice humming with the soft crackle of static underneath. ‘My goal however is a bit more complex...’

“What... What happened to your body? I thought most fallen lost their forms but you....” Shock loosened her tongue, making her spit out whatever came to mind. Shaking her head to try and reign herself back in, Naris met the intense gaze of the spirit for a brief moment before shuddering in fear and looking away.

‘Repulsive, I know. Blame the one hanging with that drake you like. It’s not something I enjoy talking about.’ The creature crawled closer, using its wing-claws to move forward as Narssia was finally able to retreat, immediately backing away in fear. ‘And don’t deny your feelings for Geer. I’ve been in your head long enough to realize that much. Intriguing to think he could pull you free from all those chains wrapped tightly around your mind. Some shadow-breather indeed...’

The dragoness shuddered again, memories surfacing to remind her of all the reasons why being with Geer wouldn’t work. He didn’t deserve to deal with her brokenness on top of his own issues. Yes she was aware of his disability but found herself in awe at his dedication to his job. If only she was that brave...

‘Come now, you broke the dude’s neck and crushed his heart. Pretty impressive if you ask me.’

“I didn’t,” she hissed back, lifting a paw to her chest as her steps slowed. “I never meant to hurt anyone. What do you want with me anyway? Besides my body I imagine.”

The glitch snorted, eyes rolling in their empty sockets. ‘Body and mind, dearie. Can’t have one without the other - otherwise you’d be dead right now.’

“And if I refuse to let you in?”

‘Oh you know exactly what’ll happen. Those pretty little terrors trapped up in that head of yours want to play and who would I be if I didn’t push things along a bit.’ One skeletal wing rose, pointing directly at Narssia’s skull as the fallen snickered. ‘Choice is yours, missy.’

Well that wasn’t what she expected to hear. Actually no, she somehow knew that would be the response. Her uninvited guest didn’t seem like it played fair anyway.

With a sigh she stopped in her tracks, tail swishing around her hind legs. “Do you have a name?”

‘I did. Once. But you don’t deserve to know it.’ The spirit growled, body dissolving away into a glitchy black and green mist before it swirled around Narssia predatorily. ‘Neither did he for that matter. All talk of serving for the greater good and everything left ‘em with what? A stained core that started to crack long before he... No, I won’t say it.’

“You don’t have to say it. He slit your throat, right?” Narssia felt the mist glide over her back without giving a response, teasingly swirling over her horns in a manner that made her decidedly uneasy.

‘Why should I tell you anything about myself? Here I was denied my chance at having a family but you...‘ Invisible claws stroked her snout, digging into her skin as the glitch’s words turned bitter and malicious. ‘You are far too happy to destroy yourself, trying everything to purge the last reminders of that vile doctor from your body. Speaking of which, did you enjoy my little gift? It wasn’t difficult to fish up the memories of how he sounded. How each touch left your pretty little body aflame. Deny it all you want... but you envied him, didn’t you?’

Despite herself Narssia had leaned in towards the contact, too drained to properly realize what was going on. She craved touch but yet, held herself back so often out of fear she’d get hurt again. Was that why she’d fallen so quickly for him? Every nice compliment had soothed the burns scarring her fragile heart until she gave in and let him “help” her. It hadn’t been to her benefit at all...

“Go ahead,” she muttered, closing her eyes as the glitch slid over her shoulders. “Torture me all you want. I’m not important to anyone.”

‘Ooh, abandonment issues as well. How did I get so lucky?’ The soft chuckle filled the air as Narssia stood there in silence, awaiting the next horrible bout of night terrors that would surely come her way. ‘Fret not, my dear. Soon no one will be able to break you ever again. All you need to do is say three simple words and I’ll take the pain away.’

“Just let me drown in guilt...”

The green sparks within the mist crackled, shock prompting the next words from the glitch. ‘Come now... Don’t you want release? I can give you that and still keep those precious ones alive.’

Dark irises slowly slid open, half hidden by her eyelids. “Not what I want...” Her head lifted slightly, fixing one topaz eye on the pixelated cloud before she started forward with increasingly confident steps. There was a certain raspiness present in her voice, kept low but firm. “I decide when to fall apart on my own terms, Glitch. Pester me all you want. Break open every scarring memory if you desire and see where it gets you! I’m flawed, I know that, but I don’t need a constant reminder of the darkness that lies buried within.”

She glared at the spectre as they came nearly snout to energy cloud, her eyes filled with tears of her own self-hatred. “Never will you ever reduce me to a state where I beg for your kind of release. That isn’t freedom, it’s enslavement and I refuse to be a slave again. Now get out of my head before I make you.”

‘You really shouldn’t have said that... I would have been merciful otherwise but now, you’ll only have yourself to blame when you come crawling to me in defeat.’

The dark hiss she received as the glitch vanished in a burst of green sparks made Naris feel better about her decision, only to then wonder what hell would await her because of it. Had she just sentenced herself to torture unlike any she’d known before? The Shadowling had seemed almost frustrated that she would reject the new life that was growing inside of her but maybe she could use that to her advantage somehow...

She had to hold on! Maybe something would break her free before she succumbed to the darkness it offered. No matter what she couldn’t let that monster get the better of her.

Shadows swirled around her feet, the looming outline of the dead- no, corrupted wyvern trailing behind her as she started to walk, static softly crackling through the air in reminder of who’s domain she was really in. Just survive, Narssia repeated to herself with each shaky step she took. That’s all she could afford to do now...

[warp6]

The Incongruity of Softness

I offered 5-10 sentence fics as a favor in return for readers of my WIP doing me the favor of giving me some extra feedback, and, as mentioned when I filled mia-cooper’s prompt, I’ve never kept a fic to a short word count in my life, sooo... This is this for the inimitable @jhelenoftrek. It ended up blooming even farther over the supposed sentence count than Mia’s and became enough of a Thing that I put in on AO3, which I decided to roll with since Helen wrote me not one, but TWO, fics when I was sick/sad about being Left On The Wrong Side Of The River this spring. So she deserves much thanks for that as well! <3

(And yes, I promise am still working on the actual WIP that started all this.)

Prompt: I don't see nearly enough writing about Chakotay building things. Can you write something about him in a wood shop for me?  Or making something with his hands?

content warnings: past battle/intense violence description; past major injury description; food mention

Fun Facts:

The Nechayev knitting joke is a bit of a mythology gag (let’s pretend I planned it that way rather than realizing the happy coincidence as I was already typing it out), since Natalija Nogulich is an IRL knitter!

Tomorrow today, June 24th, is, in fact, National Praline Day. Happy NPD!

Read on AO3, or...

The circular saw bites through the soft pine-like wood, spraying aromatic sawdust across the floor. The tarp spread over the carpet under my makeshift workstation shows off the pale specks like stars, except in the places where my feet have scuffed through the drifts as I work. If the tarp were a galaxy, my footprints would be...black holes? Exceedingly large black holes wider than Federation space?

Oh, well. No analogy’s perfect.

I have eight front chair legs cut--a much simpler process, merely trimming the ends of the pre-cut alien wood--and twenty-one days to cut these angled back legs and all the other pieces, and assemble the four chairs and their matching table. I could have made any other gift for the newlyweds, of course, any of them less time-consuming, but I wanted to do this. A family should have some furniture that isn't replicated.

Kathryn has been making a lace table runner, knitting the delicate pattern by feel. Sometimes as I pass by her door, I can hear her voice querying the computer about stitch count or pattern rows, and the calm tones of Voyager’s response. At our first dinner back in the mess hall after the mission, I told her--Kathryn, not Voyager--that she should save her time. After all, what crewmen would dare use a tablecloth made by their captain? She just laughed and told me we should visit the newlyweds for dinner, and then they’d have to. And when we’re there, Chakotay, you spill just a drop, just a drop of red wine on it. Then it’s no longer flawless, and they can use it when they have a gaggle of fat, rambunctious babies and they’re all throwing mashed carrots across the table.

I don’t know. I don’t think I’d risk staining a gift from my commanding officer, even if my other commanding officer messed it up first.

I would. If Admiral Nechayev gives me a table runner when we get home, I’ll use it.

Well, Kathryn, you’re not just anyone.

The last scrap falls from the end of the fourth back leg, and I blow the sawdust from it--more a ceremonial gesture than a practical one--and walk across the room to place it with the others. Every time I stand for a while, I forget the newly healed bones in my foot, and every time I start walking, the unevenness of my gait reminds me. Enough crew members were injured during the mission that, in consultation with the brides-to-be, we ended up postponing Mariah and Evelyn’s wedding by a month and a half, long enough to get repairs comfortably underway, and for most of the wounded to recover or at least get mobile again. And, last but not least, for some of us to catch up on our gift-making.

It hardly seems fair, Tom opined the other day, leaning his elbow on our table in the mess hall. You two are pretty much obligated to make a gift for everyone who so much as gets a haircut on this barge. Births…weddings…milestone birthdays… The Captain made her future assistant a baby blanket way back in our old glory days in Kazon space, and now you’re both roped into making cutesy gifts for the next few decades.

Some of us might consider that a stroke of luck, Tom, Kathryn drawled in return. We have a chance to exercise our creative abilities, much as you do with your holodeck programs. In fact, I can’t help but notice that you’ve presented a new holonovel or setting to just about everyone who has had a milestone life event on board.

Yeah, Tom, chimed in Harry. We can’t help but notice.

Well, that’s different. I’m always trying to hone my skills, and if I happen to be working on something I think someone might like around the time they’re having their bash, I gift it to them. It’s not as though I suckered myself into Starfleet arts-and-crafts for the next few decades. He leaned back, smirking broadly, and the young ensign sitting next to him stiffened, eyes widening as though she expected lightening to strike our table in retribution for a mere lieutenant calling his commanding officers suckers.

Kathryn, of course, simply rolled her eyes and laughed, and I had to duck my head to hide my amusement at poor Ensign Blain’s shock at the humor--or what passed for it--on display at the officer’s table. This was the first time she had sat at the same table as her captain, or at least, the first time she had intentionally brought her tray to the table where Kathryn was sitting for a full meal, as opposed to Kathryn sitting at her table for a few minutes as she made a few connecting-with-the-crew rounds.

I could tell, without a word from Kathryn, that the first time she went down to the mess hall after the mission, she was assuming she would be eating close to alone. That instead of officers and crewmen joining the table where she sat with whoever on the senior staff was free, they would be inclined to avoid her, consciously or not. I could tell by the resigned yet still tense set of her jaw; from the way she took her tray and retreated to the corner table, taking a chair facing out towards the viewport so that no one would have to look at her.

It was with fierce pride and gratitude that I watched as, instead, more crewmembers than ever joined her. The trend continued over the following weeks: crewmembers of all stripes, from the middle-aged officers who were Kathryn’s closest friends off the senior staff to young, mildly terrified crewmen and everyone in between. Some of them were awkward about looking at Kathryn, but to a person, they were tactful. And they were there. I was still walking with leg braces for the first few weeks while my crushed ankle bones regenerated, and it was at once surreal, touching, and hilarious to see two young lieutenants bounce out of their seats at once when I made to push my chair out mid-meal. Did I need more ketchup? Yamok sauce? Mustard a la Neelix?

Glancing at Blain that day, I found myself thinking of the long, tense week near the beginning of our journey when she’d been laid up in sickbay with an alien virus. It was before many tight friendships had had time to form onboard, and it was Kathryn who dressed in full bioprotective gear every day after her bridge shift and sat beside her very young officer, reading aloud and talking to her and dozing beside the biobed through the night.

Reaching the midpoint of the next back leg, I power down the circular saw and reach for the jigsaw. I can’t help but smile as I inhale the scent of the smooth, pine-like alien wood gained in that long-ago trade with the Tak Tak and watch the sawdust drift through the air like stars.

I killed five or six aliens on the away mission. At first, it was a firefight, dodging behind rocks and into sodden ravines, but we lost our weapons before long in the crush of bodies and the driving rain. After that it was a melee. Fists against skin, boots against teeth, bodies slammed into the mud and piling on top of each other.

The first two I shot, phaser set to stun, but in a half-drowned bog, with the lead pellets of the enemy weapons flying through the air, that was certain enough death. The next four I fought hand-to-hand, and it’s the last one I wrestled in the mud, the one who got his hands around my throat after I’d been shot, that I’m not sure whether or not I killed. There was a crack even over the sound of the rain as I got a knee into his chest and pushed, but I didn’t see whether his eyes went glassy or not. I didn’t see anything. I woke up in sickbay.

Five or six. The or bothers me. I took lives, and would like to know how many. But to choose a number would also feel wrong, as though I were trying to make something as real as life and death falsely pat for the sake of something as immaterial as memory.

So. I killed five or six aliens on the away mission. Kathryn must have killed a similar number in the melee, and at least a dozen more when she crawled into the enemy shuttle’s engine and triggered the explosion that ended the battle and ripped half of her face apart.

The chair legs have all come out well so far, the silken wood with its beautiful streaks and swirls cutting as easily as the pine they smell so similar to. I run my fingers gently over it as I set the penultimate back chair leg in the corner, wondering at the incongruity of this softness in hands that so recently spilled blood and broke bone.

I wonder if Kathryn feels the same dissonance, carefully knitting her domestic wedding gift by feel as the biobandage and headgear wrapped around her face do their slow work, regenerating muscle and cartilage and restoring the majority of her sight. I wonder if she has made a count of the lives extinguished by her actions and under her hands; if she has or’s, and whether she finds those uncertainties a torment or a comfort or besides the point. I wonder if the table runner will smell like her when it is finished, coffee and perfume.

The final back chair leg emerges from the alien timber, and I blow away the sawdust, setting the saw back on my makeshift worktable. Front legs and back legs are all stacked in the corner behind the couch. I’ll begin assembly after dinner, or failing that, after tomorrow’s shift--Neelix is hosting a dessert celebration tonight in honor of an ancient Earth holiday he rooted out of the database, National Praline Day. He declined to mention what Earth nation it was that set aside an entire day to honor pralines, but one thing is certain: like all of Neelix's cross-cultural culinary ventures, tonight will be an experience to be remembered.

I suspect that Kathryn will kick my ass if I walk over and imply she might need help getting to the mess hall--aside from her habit of self-reliance, Starfleet ships’ computers provide plenty of well-honed guidance for blind visitors and crew.

Still, we are both going to the same place.

I ring the chime right as the door opens and she emerges, stopping on her heel just before she collides with me.

“Come to escort your captain to dinner?” Her voice is amused, but with just a trace of warning.

“Come to ask if my captain will escort me.”

She chuckles and steps forward, reaching for me. Her hair swings near my face as she takes my arm, and I catch the scent of her, coffee and perfume.

“You smell like pine.” She is smiling at me, her lips curving upwards as much as they can around the thinner, contoured bandages covering the bottom of her face. “Were you working on the gift again?”

“Just now. Were you?”

“I was.” We step into the turbolift. “It’s relaxing, isn’t it? Working with one’s hands?”

“I’ve always found it to be.”

We ride in comfortable silence, which Kathryn breaks again as we step out of the lift. “Have I ever told you how much I appreciate that you make time for these things? Gifts; helping to coordinate celebrations? It’s not in your job description--well, not to this degree--and I appreciate you--” She pauses. “I could direct you to do a basic level of party planning, but...I could never order you to be the kind of XO who builds chairs for crewmen who are getting married. And I…appreciate that you are that kind of XO, Chakotay.” She’s already using her Captain Voice in preparation for dinner, all graceful humor and round speech-giving vowels.

“Kathryn, I think it’s safe to say that we both do more than a few things outside of our Starfleet regulation job descriptions.”

“Maybe so,” she allows with a light chuckle. Her footsteps abruptly slow as we approach the mess hall doors, though, and she halts just before they will sense out motion, turning to me and placing a hand on my chest.

“I’m glad we can do this,” she says softly. “I’m glad that, after everything, you’re still…we’re both still people who choose to do this.” With that, she turns back towards the doors and leads us through, gracefully unlinking her arm from mine as we mingle into the dinnertime crowd.

I’m glad too.

[terranatior]

Set during the start of the Zombie Apocalypse AU; Devon has his first run in with the infected a little too close to home.

No one really knew what had caused it. There were rumors. Bits and pieces of information out there about people getting sick and becoming aggressive. No one wanted to use the word zombie but it still got thrown around. The undead. The Walkers. Some people blamed the government..accusing them of creating a virus that had gotten out of hand. Others blamed the polluted environment; that nature was taking it’s place back. Plants could easily be accounted for it. Bugs. Air borne pollen. The fact of the matter was no one really knew. No one would probably ever know what had actually caused the infection. The world would die before it ever got close to an answer.

With his father being a cop, it was no surprise the man came into contact with the disease. Devon just hadn’t thought it’d be so soon.

The third phone call was the final straw; Devon gave a grumble and snatched it up in one hand, making the small journey towards his dad’s room as the shrill ringing died down as a finger played against the volume control. His other hand curled into a fist and the punk knocked a little harder than he should have to rouse his father from sleep.

“Dad! Station keeps calling. Are you gonna get up or should I tell them you want a personal day?” The question was pretty pointless. The man wouldn’t take one. Never had. He was practically married to his job; guess he kind of had to be now. People were depending on the force for answers where no one else would offer them. Most of it was bullshit.

“Dad? For fuck’s sake..I’m coming in!” Painted nails wrapped around the doorknob and Devon pushed open the door, squinting into the darkness of the room.

“Dad?”

Slowly, hand dropped from the doorway and he flicked the light switch, illuminating the room in the warmth of the ceiling’s light, finding a particularly human shaped lump on the bed. Now..it wasn’t like his dad to sleep so deeply. In fact, he was a rather light sleeper. Always catching his son trying to sneak out and go smash something outside in the early hours of the morning. A hesitant step was taken forward and Devon gave the upper section of the body a small shake. “Hey. Fucking wake up Dad c’mon. The station keeps calling.”

“......”

“DAD! Are you fucking deaf? I said. The. Station. Keeps. Calling.” Each word was punctuated by a shake and agitation grew when he got no answer. Nothing. Not even a mumble to give him a second.

“.......” Worry began to worm it’s way into his stomach in exchange for that frustration and fingers curled around the fabric of the bedspread; he tugged it away with the flourish of a magician trying to keep dishes on a table for his magic trick.

“...Dad?”

The man was pale, sheen of sweat staining his brow and fatigue obvious on a pained face. Chest heaved in shallow breathes and Devon dropped the blanket to the floor and immediately moved forward.

“Fuck Dad. What’s wrong? What’s--” As he stared, realization hit him. He looked like the people in the hospitals; the people who news crews barely got glimpses of. Cautioning against contact. Warning what to watch for. The infection was merciless. Those who showed such symptoms were past the point of help.

Panic gripped his chest and Devon shot backwards, hands coming upwards to wring at the back of his neck. His dad couldn’t get sick. Sure the guy could be a prick at times but. He was his dad! He was all Devon had!

“Shit..I. You’re. You’re alright right? I’ll just get you some dayquil and..you’ll be fine.” Legs pivoted and the punk rushed out of the room, shutting the door behind him. Back met the wall opposite his father’s door and he slid down, blue eyes darting around as he tried to figure out what to do. He could..he could call the other cops but then they’d come in and take him away.

No that wouldn’t be good. Up he went, bounding off to the bathroom. Raiding the medicine cabinet, he’d managed to make a cocktail of various cough syrup and grabbed a cold sprite from the fridge, as if that would fix his father. Because the man totally wasn’t becoming a zombie.

No he wasn’t.

No.

He pushed open the door once more, supplies gathered up in his arms only to be promptly dropped by the sight that greeted him. In the short time he’d been gone, hell had broken loose within the bedroom.

The place was a wreck; dark blood staining the white of sheets and bedside table turned over, the lamp that had been atop shattered. A deep guttural groan came from the other side of the bed and Devon, wide eyed and careless, stepped over the growing puddle of cough syrup to make his way over.

“D-Dad? You. You sound like shit.” It was an attempt at humor, a desperate one, the younger hoping his dad would laugh and tell him off for his language. Instead he received a snarl before the man was hacking something up. Whatever it was was wet, the unfamiliar splosh of liquid hitting wooden floor coming from the short distance. Devon stood at the corner of the bed, peeking down at his father’s hunched figure and he watched, in growing horror, as the man raised his head, black bile dripping from lips.

His eyes looked wrong. Infected. Blues mutated into blended hues of greens and reds. Like a twisted art piece.

Dumbass must have been in contact with someone on the job. Bitten. Wouldn’t have told anyone..that was the type of man he was. Wouldn’t wanna be a bother.

“................”

A hand reached for him and Devon jolted back, realizing standing there meditating over the situation was going to get him into trouble. Zombies. The infection. Whatever it was. His dad wouldn’t want to be alive for that. Maybe he’d gotten himself bitten on purpose. So he could escape what was bound to come after.

Knew that going home was his last night. Maybe that’s why he’d cooked dinner for once.

God dammit.

“You’re going to make me do this you prick? Gonna make your own son put a bullet between your eyes?”

A growl answered him and Devon barked out a dry laugh, stepping back once more, retreating to the door and slamming it shut. His father kept many weapons around the house; and Devon had some experience behind a gun. Old man used to take him down to the range and let him shoot the targets. Coached him on proper handling and grip.

He hoped he remembered enough now.

The code for the gun safe was his birthday. Month. Day. Year. He punched each number in with shaking fingers, trying not to focus on the fact that he was getting a weapon to murder his father. To murder the man who had raised him; who had tucked him into bed and assured him through nightmares as a child before his mother had left them both.

Ammo was grabbed and he loaded the gun just as he’d been taught, clicking the clip into place and cocking the handgun backwards. Safety on. Safety...on.

The door in the hall received a loud bang and he nearly dropped the gun, arms coming to his chest as he held it tight. Fuck. FUCK!

Part of him wondered if he could just leave; just leave the house and let his undead old man have free reign to the place. But who knew what could happen then. What if someone else came to raid the place and got killed? What if his dad got out and murdered someone? That was the last thing the other would want.  

No. Devon had to be a man.

He had to..to do this.

The door didn’t last very long against the unbridled strength of the undead and Devon raised the gun as the figure lurched forward, out of the hall and into the living room. A slight tremor shook his hold and he swore under his breath at it. No. He can’t miss. He’s not sure he’ll have another shot at this. Devon sucked in a deep breathe and forced his stance to tighten up. Forced himself to click the safety off and let his finger hover over the trigger. Another snarl sounded as his father rushed forward and Devon squeezed his eyes shut as he pulled back on the trigger.

The gunshot was LOUD in the house; it left his ears ringing a moment, deafening the sound of the brains splattering across everything. Blue eyes opened to the gore that greeted him. His father’s expression was twisted in an ugly snarl and arms reached out for him. Then his body fell, hard, against the wooden floor and Devon watched as a puddle of blood formed from the gunshot wound.

It took a few minutes for the reality of the situation to fall on him. When it did, he dropped the gun and shaking hands came upwards to tug desperately at his dyed hair. The body on the floor is his father. That’s his fucking dad. His dad. Never mind the fact that he tried to attack him. That he’d have killed him. Thick tears start to fall and Devon looks up at the ceiling, knees buckling beneath him. He lays there a long time. The day shifts into the night in the background before he’s even gotten the strength to push himself back up. There’s a smell in the house. Decay. Death. He knows it vaguely, having smelled it once or twice on his dad’s clothes when the man came home late at night.  

No one had come over at the sound of the weapon being fired. No sirens had sounded and perhaps, that was a sign that the times were already changing. Months later, the neighborhood would ring out with them.

Hands came upwards to wipe pointlessly at his face and Devon finally climbed to his feet. Some morbid curiosity beckoned him over to the body and he stared blankly down at the scene. His father’s corpse seemed out of place; of course it did. People didn’t just have dead people laying across their living rooms.

The blood stains had already started to warp the wood beneath them and Devon wiped at his face once more, a slow head shake leaving him. He couldn’t stay here; staring at his dead dad. No. The movies always urged survivors to leave. To seek out company and stick together.

He could try.

He’d never been much of a people person.

The next day Devon had his plan in mind. Showered and packed, he’d filled a military backpack up with supplies. Some food. Water. Change of clothes and basic toiletries. A handgun and ammo alongside a GPS. Who even fucking knew if it would still work; if anyone was still maintaining the satellites but..he had hope.

Barely.

But it was there.

He’d dragged his father back into his room, trying to make it seem like he was simply sleeping once more, comforter thrown over a still body when Devon had hoisted it back up onto the bed.

With one final glance towards his father, the male shook his head and closed the door gently.

“Later Dad. Sleep tight.” 

[buslimpan]

If Only

If only Dark had been a bit faster.

An AntiDark fic. Un-edited.

Anti tried to pull the hood down even more over his face than it already was, but he knew it wouldn’t cover him up much more than this. He kept his gaze into the ground simultaneously while he kept an eye on where he was walking. He didn’t want to bump into someone, drawing attention to him.

The market was crowded and Anti couldn’t decide if he was happy about it or not. On one hand, there was so much demons there so barely anyone would notice the addition of another. But on the other hand, there were more people that could recognize him for what he was, and he knew that wouldn’t be pleasant.

He muttered an excuse as he pressed past an incubus, hurrying to the stand that would sell him what he needed. He hated being at the demon market, but he couldn’t exactly find these things at a human one. So he had to bite his tongue and keep quiet as he hoped that no one would take a second glance at him.

He found the stand he was searching for and let out a small sigh of relief. Soon he would be out of here. He approached it and took a quick look at the price.

“See anything that interest you?”

Anti’s eyes snapped to the seller, a being with insect wings, too many arms and claws. He searched his mind for the name of the being but gave up when it seemed like he couldn’t remember.

“Yeah, I want three of those, one of that and five of this,” he mumbled as he pointed at said things, keeping his voice low in order to not draw attention to him but loud enough for the seller to hear him.

“Alrighty, then! Just a sec. Say, you’re not one of the usual people I see around the market,” the being said as it started to collect the things. Anti kept his eyes on the table, but he felt the seller’s eyes burning holes in him.

“I don’t usually come here, seldom do I need something from this place,” he mumbled, nervousness slowly growing inside his stomach. He didn’t like that the being was staring at him like that and now he just wanted to hurry back home. Maybe he could visit Dark after this. The thought of something nice made him relax slightly.

“Alrighty, that will be 3 gallons,” the seller said and Anti quietly pulled out the money and handed it over. He was given his things and he quickly turned around and started to hurry back. He couldn’t contain the shiver that ran down his back when he felt the eyes from the seller still burn into him.

He took a deep breath and let it shakily when he reached the edge of the market. Now he only needed to travel through the town a bit further before he would be in a ‘safe’ zone and from there he would be able to make it home safely.

“Hey, halfie!”

The shout made Anti’s heart leap in fear and he started to walk faster. He couldn’t get into a fight today, he was too weak.

“Fucking halfie, we’re talking to you!” The shout was angrier than a moment ago and it sent Anti sprinting. It didn’t take long before Anti could hear the thunderous footsteps from his pursuers, the sound letting him know that it was probably a hell demon or something in that class that was chasing him. He cursed under his breath as he tried to focus in at his glitching in a try to shorten the way towards the safe zone. It was risky since he still hadn’t been able to master the ability, but anything was better than getting caught.

All it did was making him dizzy. And the next thing he knew, he was thrown into a wall. He let out a gasp as the air let his lungs but he wasn’t given the chance to recover as a hand found his throat and pressed him against the wall. His hands found the wrist that was pinning him down and he glared at his attacker. A red hell demon was grinning down at him, four more demons behind the first.

“Look at this! We caught ourselves a halfie!” it said with glee. The other snickering and whistling like they had caught a prey.

“Get the fuck off me, ya piece of shit!” Anti growled as he tried to claw at the wrist and kick the other demon. His attempts were futile, making everyone around laugh.

“You shouldn’t even call that a halfie, it doesn’t have the strength of a demon! Just call that thing a Virus and dispose of it!” someone called, but Anti couldn’t see who.

“Fuck off!” he hissed and the sound of static was heard before the hell demon roared in pain as Anti shocked him. The hand that held him retreated and Anti landed on his feet, immediately kicking the other demon in the stomach. The demon bent over and stumbled back a little, glaring up at Anti. Anti sneered at it as he got into a defensive stance. He really wished he could get his knives.

The other demons roared in outrage and Anti had to dodge an assault from another. He knew he wouldn’t be able to keep this up with so many, but he wasn’t to go down without a fight.

He was grabbed from behind and he immediately drove his elbow between the person’s ribs, quickly getting free. He dodged another attack, but was tripped by a tentacle. He didn’t get the chance to get up before he was grabbed by his arms and was forced up and being held in place.

He glared at the hell demon that was slowly approaching him.

“You piece of scum, you are lower than the worms that crawl through the dirt. Why do you think you deserve to walk among us, pure blood demons?”

Anti snorted. “If I’m lower that the worms, than ye are my doormat that I lay on!”

The hell demon growled and grabbed Anti over the mouth.

“You better watch it, Virus.” Anti was barely able to open his mouth, but when he succeeded in doing so, he bit down hard. The foul taste of pure demon blood flooded his mouth as the demon roared in pain. it snatched back its hand before kicking Anti in the stomach. The air left Anti again and pain blossomed through his body. He wheezed for air but forced himself to look up when the hell demon was towering over him.

“Hmph. Your kind should get weeded out as the cockroaches you are,” it said and Anti glared at it. Blood was in his mouth, a mixture of the pure demon blood and his own. He spit what he could at the demon, hitting it on the chest.

“That is just pitiful,” the hell demon snorted.

“Just kill the thing already,” one of the demons holding Anti complained. Fear made it’s way through Anti. He didn’t want to die. The ugly grin that slowly grew on the hell demon’s face made Anti pale.

“I have a better idea. Let’s try to cure it.”

“‘Cure it’?”

The hell demon nodded. “Let’s try and see if we can turn this parasite into a full blown demon. Or a full blown Virus.”

Anti’s heart was beating so loud he was barely able to hear anything else. “No! Don’t-!” He was hit in the face, making him cough up blood.

“You don’t have any say in this, worm. If this succeed, then we will have a way to get rid of those parasites forever!” All of the demons were cackling as panic filled Anti. He knew that wouldn’t work. He and Dark had already looked it up.

“Ya piece of shit! Let me go!” he yelled as he struggled against the hands that held him. He screeched and cursed as he was dragged away.

---

Dark kept his eyes trained on the page he was reading, but he felt how Infelix was staring at him. The other demon had just waltzed into his home without his consent and plopped down in a chair far enough from Dark not to hit him, but close enough so he could stare at him. Dark hadn’t really been bothered by this, since it used to happen quite a lot before he had started to see Anti.

“What’s so interesting to stare at?” he eventually asked, his eyes flickering up from the page for a brief moment before he looked down again.

“Why?”

Dark furrowed his eyebrows and looked up to give Infelix a questioning look. “What do you mean?”

“Why do you keep letting a halfie come inside your home?” Infelix questioned as he tapped the wood of the chair. The question immediately turned Dark’s curious state of mind sour, and he glared at his acquaintant.

“Why do you care?” he asked as he marked the page he was one and closed the book.

“Because you are my friend and halfies are untrustworthy,” Infelix stated easily and had to duck away from the book that was thrown at him.

“Do not speak about Anti that way!” Dark growled, anger rising up inside him. He wouldn’t let anyone speak about Anti like that.

“Chill out, dude! Besides, I’m honestly curious!” Infelix defended himself and put his hands up in front of him.

Dark gave him a suspicious look. “Are you really now?”

Infelix rolled his eyes. “Yes.”

Dark let out a sigh and leaned back in his seat. “Are you seriously curious on why I let Anti come here?”

“Dude, yes! Especially on why you give him these looks you give him!”

“Are you seriously this dumb?”

“Are you seriously an idiot?”

The two stared at each other for a while before Dark sighed again. He looked up at the ceiling and thought about his reasons for taking care of Anti. A small smile appeared on his lips.

“He’s the most beautiful creature there is, you know? He holds this beauty that no one can hold, demon or human. I’ve never seen someone like that. The succubus and incubus can’t even reach his level of beauty. He’s smart and a quick learner. He’s a dork where his eyes lit up from the silliest things. He’s more cunning than any I know, just in his own way. He might not know the way of a demon, but he does a lot of things that weigh that up,” he said. He imagine Anti in front of him, smiling a bit bigger.

“By all of the seven princes, are you listening to yourself? You are sounding like one of those lovesick human fools- wait. Are you telling me that a halfie-” a glare from Dark “-succeeded in seducing you, something not even the most beautiful succubus and incubus have failed to do? Are you seriously telling me that?” Infelix said with awe. Dark let out a frustrated sigh and pinched the nose bridge. Infelix leaned back in his seat and just stared with wide eyes at Dark.

“Who I’m seduced by is none of your business, Infelix. Now when you have this information, care to tell me why you came here in the first place,” Dark said with his voice dropping with annoyance. He became alerted when Infelix’s expression became nervous.

“Uh… Just some rumors really,” Infelix said with a nervous laugh as he rubbed his neck.

“What rumors?”

“I heard that some other demons caught a halfie at the market.” Infelix gulped as Dark tensed and the whole room seemed to get chillier. He had to force himself not to move when Dark slowly got up and walked over to him, way too calmly.

“What else did you hear?” Dark asked with a smooth voice and a small smile, scaring Infelix even more.

“That the halfie fought back, that it was wearing a black hoodie and had green hair.” Infelix shivered as the room got even colder. He didn’t dare to fully look Dark in the eyes.

“Tell me, my dear friend, do you might know what they planned to do with this…. halfie?”

“There were talks about trying out some cure.” Infelix yelped when the sudden cold disappeared as suddenly as it came. This was bad. Really bad.

He let out a breath of relief when Dark sharply turned his back to him and walked away.

“I’m going to find those fuckers,” Dark growled as he began to travel towards the market.

~

It took too long according to Dark to find someone who was willing to talk. But when he did, he couldn’t rush enough to the location where Anti was supposedly hold.

He didn’t bother to knock at the door when he found it, he simply broke down the door and walked in. There were two demons that jumped in surprise at the sudden noise and got into fighting stances, but both of them shrinking back when they saw who it was. Dark glared at them, his eyes black and full of rage.

“Where is he?” he growled, his voice bouncing between the walls. The two demons looked at each other before one of them opened their mouth, Dark already seeing the lie on its lips.

In the blink of an eye he was in front of said demon, pressing it against the wall and staring at it with his eyes. “Where. Is. He?!” The demon began to shake under his hold.

“T-the halfie are in two rooms down!” the demon gasped and Dark didn’t waste a second. He threw the demon away and hurried towards the door leading further in. He soon found the room that was mentioned. And he didn’t like the sight.

Three demons were in the room with Anti being tied down in the middle of the floor. He didn’t have any clothes on and his wounds was barely visible under the blood. What scared Dark the most was how pale Anti was and how still he was.

“What the fuck are you doing?!” The roar from one of the demons in the room broke Dark’s fixation with Anti and he turned his gaze towards a hell demon.

“I could be asking you the very same question,” Dark said in a calm voice, hiding the anger that was threatening to overwhelm him. It was a hell demon that took Anti in the first place. Seems like he found the traitor.

“I’m not the one busting down other’s door in their home!” the hell demon growled. Dark closed his eyes for a brief moment and exhaled slowly.

“Listen. I’m going to give you one chance, and I suggest that you take it. I’m willing to let you go. If you leave right now and do not bother me,” he said in a low voice and two of the demons scampered off immediately. The hell demon stood there and was glaring at Dark.

“Get out of my home, you snide,” it sneered and Dark stared at it.

“I’m going to lay this out very clearly to you. I’m not going to leave without my halfie.”

The hell demon glanced down at Anti’s still form. “Your halfie?”

“Correct. My halfie. If you had bothered to check, you would have known that he is mine.” Dark was barely holding it together. When the hell demon shrugged and let out an ‘oops’ he snapped.

The hell demon didn’t have time to react before Dark was in front of it, hitting it in the face and making it fall down. It stared up at him with big eyes as he let his anger roll of him freely.

“I hope you enjoy eternal darkness,” he growled and hit the hell demon in it’s chest, forcing it’s body to collapse on itself and efficiently killing it. He stared at the spot where the other demon had been before he looked towards Anti. The anger disappeared at the sight.

“Anti!” He hurried over to the halfie, for once not minding the blood. He sunk to his knees by Anti’s head and took in the sight. Anti’s chest wasn’t moving. He felt panic rising inside of him and he quickly looked at the restraints, breaking them before returning back towards Anti. He gently lifted up Anti’s upper body and carefully touched his cheek.

“Anti?” he mumbled, his voice straining just a bit. Anti wasn’t cold. But he was always cold, always wanting to be near Dark and steal his his warmth. But now, Anti wasn’t cold.

“Anti, I’m here, you can wake up now,” he said with a shaking voice, his hold on Anti tightening. He leaned down and let his forehead rest against Anti’s. He stared at the closed eyelids and he just wanted them to open up. To look at him with a satisfying smirk, knowing that he was able to trick Dark.

“Come on, this isn’t funny.” Dark didn’t feel another breath mingling with his own. He didn’t feel the muscles twitch under his fingers. He didn’t hear a heartbeat.

Dark denied the tears that started to fall from his eyes. He denied his begging for Anti to wake up. He denied him holding the limp body close as sobs wracked his own body.

This was just a dream. A bad nightmare.

Right?

[aurriii]

30 Most Haunting Books You’ll Ever Read

There’s finally a fall chill in the October air, now let’s send that chill to our spines and get all Halloween creepy and moody.

The Color Out of Space by H.P. Lovecraft

H.P. Lovecraft’s classic short story about a terrible alien presence that descends upon a rural area, with dire consequences for surrounding life.

Misery by Steven King

The #1 national bestseller about a famous novelist held hostage by his “number one fan” and suffering a frightening case of writer’s block—that could prove fatal. One of “Stephen King’s best…genuinely scary” (USA TODAY).

House of Leaves by Mark Z. Danielewski

The story remains unchanged, focusing on a young family that moves into a small home on Ash Tree Lane where they discover something is terribly wrong: their house is bigger on the inside than it is on the outside.

The Descent by Jeff Long

We are not alone…In a cave in the Himalayas, a guide discovers a self-mutilated body with the warning–Satan exists. In the Kalahari Desert, a nun unearths evidence of a proto-human species and a deity called Older-than-Old. In Bosnia, something has been feeding upon the dead in a mass grave. So begins mankind’s most shocking realization: that the underworld is a vast geological labyrinth populated by another race of beings.

The Lurking Fear by H.P. Lovecraft

Twelve soul-chilling stories by the master of horror will leave you shivering in your boots and afraid to go out in the night. Only H.P. Lovecraft can send your heart racing faster than it’s ever gone before. And here are the stories to prove it.

The Hot Zone by Richard Preston

The bestselling landmark account of the first emergence of the Ebola virus. A highly infectious, deadly virus from the central African rain forest suddenly appears in the suburbs of Washington, D.C. There is no cure. In a few days 90 percent of its victims are dead. A secret military SWAT team of soldiers and scientists is mobilized to stop the outbreak of this exotic “hot” virus.

Requiem For A Dream Hubert Selby Jr.

In this searing novel, two young hoods, Harry and Tyrone, and a girlfriend fantasize about scoring a pound of uncut heroin and getting rich. But their habit gets the better of them, consumes them and destroys their dreams.

Something Wicked This Way Comes By Ray Bradbury

For those who still dream and remember, for those yet to experience the hypnotic power of its dark poetry, step inside. The show is about to begin. Cooger & Dark’s Pandemonium Shadow Show has come to Green Town, Illinois, to destroy every life touched by its strange and sinister mystery. The carnival rolls in sometime after midnight, ushering in Halloween a week early. A calliope’s shrill siren song beckons to all with a seductive promise of dreams and youth regained. Two boys will discover the secret of its smoke, mazes, and mirrors; two friends who will soon know all too well the heavy cost of wishes…and the stuff of nightmares.

Haunted by Chuck Palahniuk

Haunted is a novel made up of twenty-three horrifying, hilarious, and stomach-churning stories. They’re told by people who have answered an ad for a writer’s retreat and unwittingly joined a “Survivor”-like scenario where the host withholds heat, power, and food. As the storytellers grow more desperate, their tales become more extreme, and they ruthlessly plot to make themselves the hero of the reality show that will surely be made from their plight. This is one of the most disturbing and outrageous books you’ll ever read, one that could only come from the mind of Chuck Palahniuk.

Red Dragon by Thomas Harris

Feed your fears with this terrifying classic that introduced cannibalistic serial killer Hannibal Lecter.

FBI agent Will Graham once risked his sanity to capture Hannibal Lecter, an ingenious killer like no other. Now, he’s following the bloodstained pattern of the Tooth Fairy, a madman who’s already wiped out two families.

To find him, Graham has to understand him. To understand him, Graham has only one place left to go: the mind of Dr. Lecter.

We Need To Talk About Kevin by Lionel Shriver

Lionel Shriver’s resonant story of a mother’s unsettling quest to understand her teenage son’s deadly violence, her own ambivalence toward motherhood, and the explosive link between them reverberates with the haunting power of high hopes shattered by dark realities.

The Whisperer In Darkness by H.P Lovecraft

The Whisperer in Darkness brings together the original Cthulhu Mythos stories of the legendary horror writer H.P. Lovecraft. Included in this volume are several early tales, along with the classics The Call of Cthulhu, The Dunwich Horror and At the Mountains of Madness.

The Lottery By Shirley Jackson

The Lottery, one of the most terrifying stories written in this century, created a sensation when it was first published in TheNew Yorker. “Power and haunting,” and “nights of unrest” were typical reader responses. This collection, the only one to appear during Shirley Jackson’s lifetime, unites “The Lottery:” with twenty-four equally unusual stories. Together they demonstrate Jack son’s remarkable range–from the hilarious to the truly horrible–and power as a storyteller.

The Haunting of Hill House by Shirley Jackson

First published in 1959, Shirley Jackson’s The Haunting of Hill House has been hailed as a perfect work of unnerving terror. It is the story of four seekers who arrive at a notoriously unfriendly pile called Hill House: Dr. Montague, an occult scholar looking for solid evidence of a “haunting”; Theodora, his lighthearted assistant; Eleanor, a friendless, fragile young woman well acquainted with poltergeists; and Luke, the future heir of Hill House. At first, their stay seems destined to be merely a spooky encounter with inexplicable phenomena. But Hill House is gathering its powers—and soon it will choose one of them to make its own.

Pet Semetary by Stephen King

When Dr. Louis Creed takes a new job and moves his family to the idyllic and rural town of Ludlow, Maine, this new beginning seems too good to be true. Yet despite Ludlow’s tranquility, there’s an undercurrent of danger that exists here. Those trucks on the road outside the Creed’s beautiful old home travel by just a little too quickly, for one thing…as is evidenced by the makeshift pet cemetery out back in the nearby woods. Then there are the warnings to Louis both real and from the depths of his nightmares that he should not venture beyond the borders of this little graveyard. A blood-chilling truth is hidden there—one more terrifying than death itself, and hideously more powerful. An ominous fate befalls anyone who dares tamper with this forbidden place, as Louis is about to discover for himself…

The Shining by Stephen King

Jack Torrance’s new job at the Overlook Hotel is the perfect chance for a fresh start. As the off-season caretaker at the atmospheric old hotel, he’ll have plenty of time to spend reconnecting with his family and working on his writing. But as the harsh winter weather sets in, the idyllic location feels ever more remote . . . and more sinister. And the only one to notice the strange and terrible forces gathering around the Overlook is Danny Torrance, a uniquely gifted five-year-old.

The Beach by Alex Garland

Richard sets off with a young French couple to an island hidden away in an archipelago forbidden to tourists. They discover the Beach, and it is as beautiful and idyllic as it is reputed to be. Yet over time it becomes clear that Beach culture, as Richard calls it, has troubling, even deadly, undercurrents.

American Psycho by Bret Easton Ellis

In American Psycho, Bret Easton Ellis imaginatively explores the incomprehensible depths of madness and captures the insanity of violence in our time or any other. Patrick Bateman moves among the young and trendy in 1980s Manhattan. Young, handsome, and well educated, Bateman earns his fortune on Wall Street by day while spending his nights in ways we cannot begin to fathom. Expressing his true self through torture and murder, Bateman prefigures an apocalyptic horror that no society could bear to confront.

The Wasp Factory by Iain Banks

Meet Frank Cauldhame. Just sixteen, and unconventional to say the least:

Two years after I killed Blyth I murdered my young brother Paul, for quite different and more fundamental reasons than I’d disposed of Blyth, and then a year after that I did for my young cousin Esmerelda, more or less on a whim.

That’s my score to date. Three. I haven’t killed anybody for years, and don’t intend to ever again.

It was just a stage I was going through.

Helter Skelter by Vincent Bugliosi, Curt Gentry

In the summer of 1969, in Los Angeles, a series of brutal, seemingly random murders captured headlines across America. A famous actress (and her unborn child), an heiress to a coffee fortune, a supermarket owner and his wife were among the seven victims. A thin trail of circumstances eventually tied the Tate-LeBianca murders to Charles Manson, a would-be pop singer of small talent living in the desert with his “family” of devoted young women and men. What was his hold over them? And what was the motivation behind such savagery?

Let the Right One In by John Ajvide Lindqvist

It is autumn 1981 when inconceivable horror comes to Blackeberg, a suburb in Sweden. The body of a teenager is found, emptied of blood, the murder rumored to be part of a ritual killing. Twelve-year-old Oskar is personally hoping that revenge has come at long last—revenge for the bullying he endures at school, day after day.

But the murder is not the most important thing on his mind. A new girl has moved in next door—a girl who has never seen a Rubik’s Cube before, but who can solve it at once. There is something wrong with her, though, something odd.

IT by Stephen King

Welcome to Derry, Maine. It’s a small city, a place as hauntingly familiar as your own hometown. Only in Derry the haunting is real.

They were seven teenagers when they first stumbled upon the horror. Now they are grown-up men and women who have gone out into the big world to gain success and happiness. But the promise they made twenty-eight years ago calls them reunite in the same place where, as teenagers, they battled an evil creature that preyed on the city’s children. Now, children are being murdered again and their repressed memories of that terrifying summer return as they prepare to once again battle the monster lurking in Derry’s sewers.

The Exorcist by William Peter Blatty

Inspired by a true story of a child’s demonic possession in the 1940s, William Peter Blatty created an iconic novel that focuses on Regan, the eleven-year-old daughter of a movie actress residing in Washington, D.C. A small group of overwhelmed yet determined individuals must rescue Regan from her unspeakable fate, and the drama that ensues is gripping and unfailingly terrifying.

Rosemary’s Baby by Ira Levin

Rosemary Woodhouse and her struggling actor husband Guy move into the Bramford, an old New York City apartment building with an ominous reputation and mostly elderly residents. Neighbors Roman and Minnie Castavet soon come nosing around to welcome the Woodhouses to the building, and despite Rosemary’s reservations about their eccentricity and the weird noises that she keeps hearing, her husband takes a shine to them.

Shortly after Guy lands a plum Broadway role, Rosemary becomes pregnant―and the Castavets start taking a special interest in her welfare. As the sickened Rosemary becomes increasingly isolated, she begins to suspect that the Castavets’ circle is not what it seems…

Johnny Got His Gun by Dalton Trumbo

This was no ordinary war. This was a war to make the world safe for democracy. And if democracy was made safe, then nothing else mattered—not the millions of dead bodies, nor the thousands of ruined lives…This is no ordinary novel. This is a novel that never takes the easy way out: it is shocking, violent, terrifying, horrible, uncompromising, brutal, remorseless and gruesome…but so is war.

Night by Elie Wiesel

Night is Elie Wiesel’s masterpiece, a candid, horrific, and deeply poignant autobiographical account of his survival as a teenager in the Nazi death camps.

1984 by George Orwell

Winston Smith toes the Party line, rewriting history to satisfy the demands of the Ministry of Truth. With each lie he writes, Winston grows to hate the Party that seeks power for its own sake and persecutes those who dare to commit thoughtcrimes. But as he starts to think for himself, Winston can’t escape the fact that Big Brother is always watching…

A startling and haunting vision of the world, 1984 is so powerful that it is completely convincing from start to finish. No one can deny the influence of this novel, its hold on the imaginations of multiple generations of readers, or the resiliency of its admonitions—a legacy that seems only to grow with the passage of time.

Carrion Comfort by Dan Simmons

THE PAST… Caught behind the lines of Hitler’s Final Solution, Saul Laski is one of the multitudes destined to die in the notorious Chelmno extermination camp. Until he rises to meet his fate and finds himself face to face with an evil far older, and far greater, than the Nazi’s themselves…

THE PRESENT… Compelled by the encounter to survive at all costs, so begins a journey that for Saul will span decades and cross continents, plunging into the darkest corners of 20th century history to reveal a secret society of beings who may often exist behind the world’s most horrible and violent events. Killing from a distance, and by darkly manipulative proxy, they are people with the psychic ability to ‘use’ humans: read their minds, subjugate them to their wills, experience through their senses, feed off their emotions, force them to acts of unspeakable aggression. Each year, three of the most powerful of this hidden order meet to discuss their ongoing campaign of induced bloodshed and deliberate destruction. But this reunion, something will go terribly wrong. Saul’s quest is about to reach its elusive object, drawing hunter and hunted alike into a struggle that will plumb the depths of mankind’s attraction to violence, and determine the future of the world itself…

The Tell-tale Heart by Edgar Allen Poe

Written in 1843, “The Tell-Tale Heart” is a dark and eerie tale of a man’s unhealthy obsession that leads him to commit murder. Will his paranoia get him caught? This is one of Poe’s finest and most memorable short stories.

Amityville Horror by Jay Anson

The classic and terrifying story of one of the most famous supernatural events–the infamous possessed house on Long Island from which the Lutz family fled in 1975.

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