zafill

[zafill]

Fan-fiction: Cold Warnings. 

What would you do when ur stuck in a snowstrom?

pt.1

death, rope, suicide etc. read on our own, your mental health matters

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Y/n nodded, wasting no time as she stepped off the icy road and into the snow-covered clearing. The flashlight’s beam bobbed in front of her, illuminating the uneven path as the wind howled around them. The snow was deep, clinging to their legs as they trudged forward, each step harder than the last. 

Mitsuri followed close behind, her breath coming in sharp, visible puffs. “This better not be one of those ‘too good to be true’ situations,” she muttered, though her voice lacked its usual sarcasm. 

Y/n glanced back briefly, her face set with determination. “Let’s just get inside and figure it out from there. We’ll warm up, and then… we’ll deal with whatever this is.” 

Chapter 2: Whispers in the Frost 

The cabin came into full view as they trudged closer, its outline jagged against the backdrop of dark trees. It was small and weathered, the kind of place that might have been abandoned years ago. The snow gathered heavily on its slanted roof, and the windows were frosted over, giving no hint of what lay inside. A faint curl of smoke drifted from the crooked chimney, an eerie sign of life in the otherwise desolate forest. 

“Smoke,” Mitsuri said, her voice hushed. “So, someone’s here.” 

Y/n stopped at the base of the cabin’s steps, her flashlight beam lingering on the weathered wood. The front door looked ancient, the paint long faded and peeling. She glanced back at Mitsuri, her expression unreadable. “We knock,” she said simply. “We don’t have another option.” 

Mitsuri’s hesitation was palpable, her fingers twitching nervously at her sides. “And what if they’re… not the welcoming kind?” 

Y/n shrugged, her breath visible in the cold air. “We’ll deal with it.” Without waiting for further debate, she stepped up to the door and rapped on it firmly. 

The sound echoed unnaturally loud in the stillness of the woods. For a moment, nothing happened. Mitsuri shifted uneasily, glancing over her shoulder toward the tree line as though expecting something—or someone—to emerge from the shadows. 

Then, slowly, the door creaked open. 

It swung inward, revealing a dimly lit interior. A fire burned low in the hearth, casting flickering light across a sparsely furnished room. A chair sat empty by the fire, and a table bore the remnants of what looked like an unfinished meal—crumbs on a plate and a mug half-filled with something dark. 

But no one was there. 

Y/n glanced at Mitsuri, who stared back with wide eyes. “Looks empty,” Y/n said, stepping cautiously across the threshold. “Hello?” she called out, her voice steady but sharp, cutting through the crackle of the fire. 

No answer. 

“This is a bad idea,” Mitsuri whispered, lingering just outside the door. Her instincts screamed at her to turn and run, but the biting cold convinced her otherwise. Reluctantly, she followed Y/n inside, closing the door against the wind. 

The cabin was eerily quiet save for the fire’s soft popping. Shadows stretched long and distorted across the wooden walls. Y/n swept her flashlight around, revealing a few more pieces of worn furniture—a sagging couch, a bookshelf lined with dusty, unidentifiable objects. “Whoever’s here couldn’t have gone far,” she said, her voice low. 

“Or they’re watching us,” Mitsuri replied, shivering despite the warmth creeping in from the fire. 

Y/n ignored the comment and walked further in, her boots creaking on the floorboards. On a small shelf near the fire, she spotted a single photo in a tarnished frame. Picking it up, she wiped away a layer of grime to reveal an old black-and-white image of a man standing in front of this very cabin. His expression was blank, his eyes piercing as if staring directly at her through time. 

“What is it?” Mitsuri asked, stepping closer. 

Y/n held up the photo. “I think this was his place.” She placed it back on the shelf carefully, though the man’s unsettling gaze seemed to follow her. 

Before either of them could say more, a loud thump echoed from somewhere deeper in the cabin, making both women freeze. 

“Tell me that was the wind,” Mitsuri whispered. 

Y/n shook her head, her grip tightening on the flashlight. “Stay here,” she said, though her own nerves were beginning to fray. 

“Like hell I will!” Mitsuri hissed, grabbing Y/n’s arm. “If you’re going to check that out, I’m coming with you.” 

Y/n didn’t argue. Together, they moved toward the source of the sound, each step hesitant. The thump had come from a door at the far end of the room, its frame slightly ajar as if inviting them to explore. 

When they reached it, Y/n pushed it open slowly with the end of the flashlight, revealing a narrow staircase descending into pitch-black darkness. 

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Mitsuri muttered, her voice trembling. Y/n and Mitsuri exchanged uneasy glances as the dim light of Y/n’s flashlight revealed what lay below. The narrow staircase opened into a small, cold room that resembled an old bunker. The concrete walls were cracked, and the air was damp and heavy, carrying a faint metallic smell. Shadows danced along the edges, cast by a single flickering candle. 

Cans of food and water bottles lined a few rusty shelves on one side of the room, though most of the storage was conspicuously empty. A rumpled, heavily used sleeping bag lay abandoned in one corner, with a small pile of clothing nearby, damp and stained. The scene felt both abandoned and lived-in at the same time, as if someone had left in a hurry—or wasn’t planning to stay much longer. 

“What the hell is this?” Mitsuri whispered, her voice barely audible over the sound of their footsteps. 

“I don’t know,” Y/n replied, shining her light over the shelves, the corners of the room, and finally to the center. There, on a plain wooden table, sat a neatly placed journal and the single lit candle. Its flame danced faintly as though it had been waiting for them. 

“That’s... unsettling,” Mitsuri said, her eyes locked on the journal. “Who lights a candle and just leaves it burning like that?” 

“Someone who plans to come back,” Y/n replied, though her tone was far from confident. She stepped closer, her flashlight beam fixed on the table. The journal looked old but well-kept, its cover dark leather, cracked along the edges. A small pencil rested on top of it, as if inviting them to open it. 

Mitsuri lingered near the stairs, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. “Don’t touch it,” she said sharply. “This feels like a trap.” 

Y/n ignored her, her curiosity overpowering her caution. She reached out, hesitated for a moment, and then picked up the journal. It was surprisingly cold to the touch, the leather stiff under her fingers. Slowly, she opened it. 

The first few pages were blank, but as she flipped further, neat handwriting began to fill the pages. The words were written in short, hurried sentences, some lines underlined multiple times as if the writer was desperate to emphasize their meaning. 

Mitsuri crept closer, unable to resist. “What does it say?” she asked, leaning over Y/n’s shoulder. 

Y/n read aloud, her voice steady but strained: 

"Day 14. The snow hasn’t let up. Supplies are running low. The forest is too quiet—it’s not natural. I swear I hear footsteps outside at night, but no one’s ever there." 

She paused, flipping to another page. 

"Day 18. They’re watching. I don’t know who—or what—but they know I’m here. Every time I go outside, I feel it. The staring. The breathing. It’s like the woods are alive, and I’m not welcome." 

Mitsuri’s face paled as Y/n continued to read. 

"Day 21. I found tracks in the snow, but they didn’t lead anywhere. Just… disappear. I don’t think I’m alone in here anymore. I’ve locked the door, but I don’t think that’ll matter. If anyone finds this—" 

The entry ended abruptly, the last line scrawled so violently it tore through the paper. 

Y/n closed the journal and set it back on the table, her hands trembling. She glanced at Mitsuri, whose face was frozen in a mix of fear and disbelief. 

“This can’t be real,” Mitsuri whispered. “Someone’s messing with us. This is some kind of sick joke.” 

The flame on the candle flickered violently for a moment, casting frantic shadows around the bunker, before it snuffed out completely. The room was plunged into darkness, save for the narrow beam of Y/n’s flashlight. 

“What the—” Mitsuri started, but her voice cracked into a nervous whisper. “Okay, that’s creepy. Let’s get out of here.” 

Y/n didn’t argue. She clutched the flashlight tightly, its glow trembling as much as her hands. They moved quickly back toward the narrow staircase, their footsteps echoing unnaturally in the bunker’s oppressive silence. 

When they emerged into the main room of the cabin, the chill seemed sharper, the air heavier. Mitsuri’s eyes darted around the room, her unease growing. “Let’s just grab our stuff and go,” she said, her voice tight. 

Y/n nodded, heading toward the corner where they’d dropped their bags. She picked hers up, slinging it over her shoulder. Mitsuri moved to grab her own, but her movements were frantic, as if she couldn’t get out of the cabin fast enough. 

“Alright,” Y/n said, her voice cutting through the tense silence. “Let’s—” 

She stopped mid-sentence as she reached for the door. Her hand turned the knob, but it wouldn’t budge. She tried again, this time with more force, but it was no use. The door was locked. 

“What’s wrong?” Mitsuri asked, her voice high-pitched. 

“The door,” Y/n said, her voice strained as she tried again, pulling and twisting the knob. “It’s… locked.” 

“That’s not possible,” Mitsuri said, rushing over. She pushed Y/n aside and tried it herself, yanking hard at the knob. Nothing. It didn’t even rattle, as though it had been sealed shut. 

“What the hell?” Mitsuri hissed, her breath quickening. She pounded on the door, the sound echoing dully in the cabin. “Hey! Is someone out there? Let us out!” 

Y/n’s flashlight beam danced across the room as she glanced around, her mind racing. “We didn’t lock it,” she muttered, more to herself than to Mitsuri. “It wasn’t locked when we came in…” 

Mitsuri whirled on her, panic evident in her wide eyes. “You’re saying it locked itself? That’s insane, Y/n! Doors don’t just lock on their own!’’ 

The air in the cabin was thick with tension, the minutes stretching endlessly. Mitsuri had fallen silent after her outburst, pacing back and forth in the small, dimly lit room. Her frustration was palpable, her breath shallow and rapid. Y/n, on the other hand, had retreated to the far side of the room, staring blankly at the door, hoping against hope that it would somehow unlock. But time had passed, and the door remained stubbornly shut. 

Her hand found the journal again. It lay on the table, its pages still open to the final, haunting entry. The weight of the situation pressed down on her, the cold biting through her clothes as the hours dragged by. The cabin felt smaller with every minute, suffocating them in a sense of helplessness. 

Y/n picked up the journal, the paper cold beneath her fingertips. She stared at the empty space below the last entry, wondering how much longer they would be stuck here. Mitsuri had finally collapsed on the floor, sitting against the wall, her eyes vacant but filled with an unspoken terror. 

Y/n swallowed hard and began to write, her handwriting slow and deliberate. The pen moved across the page, a desperate attempt to document everything before it all became a distant memory. 

Day 1 

We arrived at the cabin after our car broke down in the snow. It was isolated, but it seemed like our only option. We’ve been here for hours, and we’re still stuck. The door is locked, and no matter what we do, it won’t open. There’s something strange about this place. It feels like it’s watching us. We heard a noise earlier, and I swear I saw shadows moving in the dark. 

Y/n paused, her hand hovering over the page. She couldn’t bring herself to write any more. The words were too heavy, too final. She glanced over at Mitsuri, who had curled up into a tight ball against the wall, her eyes wide and unblinking. She was almost catatonic now, her face pale and drawn. The air felt thicker around them, as though the walls were closing in. 

The sound of a floorboard creaking above them snapped Y/n back to reality. She glanced up, her heart hammering. It was louder this time, closer. 

“Y/n…” Mitsuri’s voice was barely a whisper, a ghost of a sound that trembled through the silence. 

Y/n didn’t reply. She stood slowly, setting the journal back down on the table. The flashlight trembled in her grip, its beam flickering in the dim room. She stepped cautiously toward the door, her breath coming in sharp, shallow gasps. The floor creaked beneath her, but it wasn’t her footsteps. 

The faint, unsettling creak of the floorboards below them seemed to echo through the small cabin, filling the space with an eerie, oppressive silence. Y/n’s heart raced as her eyes darted from the door to the basement stairs, the source of the sound. The air felt colder, the shadows stretching longer as if the very walls were alive and watching them. 

“Y/n…” Mitsuri’s voice trembled, barely more than a whisper. Her eyes were wide with fear, her hand gripping the edge of the table as if it could anchor her to reality. 

Y/n swallowed hard, fighting the rising panic in her chest. She turned slowly, her flashlight beam trembling, casting erratic shadows against the walls. The creaking noise grew louder, closer. It seemed to be coming from the basement, the floorboards groaning with the weight of something moving—something that shouldn’t be there. 

Mitsuri’s breath hitched. “It’s coming from down there…” she whispered. 

Without thinking, Y/n moved backward, her body instinctively pulling away from the ominous sounds coming from below. She had no idea what was waiting for them in that basement, but it was enough to freeze her in place for a moment. Her mind raced with thoughts—thoughts of escape, of survival, but all of them seemed to slip through her fingers like sand. 

Then, with a small, desperate prayer to whatever gods might be listening, Mitsuri reached for the door once more, her fingers trembling as she grasped the handle. Y/n froze, her breath catching as she held her own breath. The door—it had been locked before. What if it was locked again? 

Mitsuri turned the handle. 

It clicked. 

The door opened. 

The cold wind rushed in, sharp and biting, but to both of them, it felt like the first real breath of freedom they had had in hours. Without a second thought, they bolted. 

Mitsuri was ahead, her legs moving as fast as they could through the heavy snow, her boots sinking into the drifts with every step. Y/n followed closely behind, her body moving on sheer instinct. She didn’t dare look back at the cabin, but she could feel the oppressive weight of it behind them, watching them with unseen eyes. 

They ran. The snow whipped at their faces, and the wind cut through their coats, but they didn’t care. They just had to get away, away from that place, away from whatever had been lurking in the shadows. 

Mitsuri slammed the door behind them, her hands shaking as she pulled the door closed with a force that left her breathless. She didn’t even look back—she couldn’t. 

As they stumbled through the snow, breath coming in short, desperate gasps, they finally glanced around. The clearing they had run into was different now—more expansive, more isolated. The road that had been so close before now seemed impossibly far away. They had been running toward the road… but it was no longer there. They weren’t near the crash site anymore. 

In fact, there was nothing but snow in every direction. The trees around them had turned into dense, oppressive shadows that seemed to go on forever. 

Mitsuri looked at Y/n, her face pale, her breath visible in the cold air. “Where… where are we?” Her voice was hoarse, cracking under the weight of their reality. 

Chapter 3: into the unknown 

The icy wind howled through the endless expanse of snow, its mournful wail sending shivers down their spines that had little to do with the cold. Y/n and Mitsuri stood in the vast clearing, the white blankness stretching on in every direction like a cruel, featureless void. The trees that once seemed so close now appeared impossibly distant, their dark shapes hunched on the horizon like shadowy phantoms. 

Mitsuri’s voice trembled, cracking under the weight of their reality. “Where… where are we?” Her words seemed to vanish into the air, swallowed by the endless, oppressive silence that surrounded them. 

Y/n didn’t answer at first, her own breath catching in her throat as she turned in a slow circle. There was no sign of the road, the crash site, or the cabin. Only snow, stretching out into infinity. The flashlight in her hand barely made a dent in the darkness; the beam reflected uselessly off the thick blanket of white. 

“We have to keep moving,” Y/n finally said, her voice steadier than she felt. “Standing here isn’t going to help.” 

Mitsuri hesitated, then nodded. She wrapped her arms tightly around herself, as though she could ward off the creeping chill. “Fine,” she muttered. “But where are we even going? There’s nothing here!” 

“We’ll find something,” Y/n said firmly, though she had no idea what that “something” could be. The certainty in her voice was a fragile facade, one she clung to as desperately as Mitsuri clung to the warmth of her coat. 

They began to walk, their boots crunching against the snow with every step. The wind whipped at their faces, leaving their skin raw and stinging. The sky above was a murky gray, offering no clue of direction, no promise of light. It was as if the world itself had conspired to erase them. 

As they trudged forward, Y/n glanced over her shoulder to check on Mitsuri. She paused, her heart skipping a beat. Mitsuri was gone. 

“Mitsuri?” Y/n’s voice rang out, sharp and urgent, cutting through the stillness. She turned around in a frantic circle, her flashlight beam searching the snow. But there was no one there. 

She felt a chill deeper than the winter air settle in her chest. “Mitsuri!” she shouted again, her voice cracking with panic. 

Somewhere behind her, there was a faint echo: “Y/n!” 

Y/n spun toward the sound, her flashlight trembling in her hand. Mitsuri’s voice had come from a different direction than where she’d been just moments ago. It wasn’t possible—was it? Y/n started running toward the sound, her boots sinking into the snow with every step. 

“Mitsuri! Stay where you are! I’m coming to you!” 

But no matter how far she ran, the sound of Mitsuri’s voice never got closer. Instead, it grew fainter, fading like the last notes of a distant melody. Y/n slowed, her breathing ragged, and stopped. She turned in another slow circle, her heart pounding. The snow seemed thicker now, the horizon swallowing her whole. 

“Y/n!” 

This time, the voice came from a completely different direction. She froze, unsure where to go. 

Y/n’s voice was everywhere and nowhere all at once. Mitsuri stood frozen, her breath puffing out in frantic bursts, her chest tightening as panic began to claw at her. She screamed again, her voice cracking. “Y/N! Where are you?!” 

From her left, a faint reply: “Mitsuri!” 

She turned sharply, stumbling a step in that direction, but before she could move further, the call came again—this time, faintly behind her. 

“Mitsuri!” 

Her pulse thundered in her ears. “Y/N! STOP MOVING!” she yelled, her throat raw, but even as she screamed, the calls kept coming, unpredictable and disorienting. From the right, from the front, loud and close, then faint and far. It was as if Y/n’s voice was circling her, an invisible phantom playing a cruel game. 

Mitsuri began to turn in circles, her flashlight jerking wildly as she tried to pinpoint the source of the voice. “This isn’t funny!” she screamed, tears streaming down her face. Her legs trembled, threatening to give out beneath her. “Just stay still! Please!” 

But Y/n’s voice came again, this time right behind her. “Mitsuri…” 

Mitsuri spun around, the flashlight shaking so badly it barely cast a steady beam. There was no one there. Only the swirling snow and the empty silence that pressed down like a heavy weight. 

Mitsuri’s breath caught in her throat as her eyes locked on the tree above her. Dangling from a thick, knotted rope was Y/n, her lifeless body swaying gently in the icy wind. Her head lolled to the side, and her face was pale, her eyes half-open and glassy. The flashlight slipped from Mitsuri’s hand, its beam now erratic as it rolled across the snow. 

“Y/N!” she screamed, the sound ripping from her chest. She stumbled back, unable to look away, tears streaming down her cheeks. 

But then, in the corner of her eye, something shifted. 

She turned, and there was Y/n again—lying in the snow, a crimson pool spreading out from her motionless form. Her throat was slit, the blood stark against the white landscape. Mitsuri’s knees buckled, and she let out a guttural sob, her hands gripping her head. “No… no, no, no!” 

Another movement caught her attention. She spun around, her wide eyes darting from shadow to shadow. 

Y/n was everywhere. 

Y/n, crushed beneath a fallen tree, her limbs bent at unnatural angles. Y/n, her body broken and charred as if struck by lightning. Y/n, gasping for breath, clawing at her own chest, her eyes wide with terror before they dimmed forever. 

“Y/n!” Mitsuri shrieked, her voice cracking as the scenes played out before her, one after another. Each vision more grotesque, more horrifying than the last. She tried to shut her eyes, but the images burned into her mind, vivid and unrelenting. The wind seemed to mock her, carrying a distorted echo of Y/n’s voice. "Mitsuri... why didn’t you help me?” 

“Stop it!” Mitsuri cried, clutching her ears as though it would block out the horror. She rocked back and forth on the snow, shaking her head violently. “This isn’t real! You’re not real! Stop it, STOP IT!” The snow swirled faster, the visions spinning around her like a nightmare carousel. She opened her eyes just a crack, and her heart stopped. 

Standing just a few feet away, a figure that looked like Y/n stared back at her. But her face… it wasn’t right. Her eyes were hollow, her smile too wide, too unnatural. 

The figure tilted its head. "Mitsuri…” it whispered in a voice that was almost—but not quite—Y/n’s. 

Y/n’s lungs burned as she trudged through the snow, her legs heavy with exhaustion and fear. The cold gnawed at her, but it was nothing compared to the dread that had settled in her chest. She kept calling out for Mitsuri, her voice hoarse from shouting. Every time she thought she heard a response, it was faint, distorted—like it wasn’t coming from Mitsuri at all. 

“Mitsuri!” she yelled again, desperation breaking through her voice. “Where are you? Please answer me!” 

Silence. 

Her flashlight beam wavered as she scanned the unending expanse of white. The snow muffled everything, the world reduced to nothing but her pounding heartbeat and the sound of her boots crunching against the frozen ground. She could barely see a few feet in front of her, the storm swallowing everything else. 

“Mitsuri…” she whispered, her voice cracking. Her hands were trembling now, not just from the cold but from the creeping certainty that something was very, very wrong. 

Then she saw it. A shadow, just ahead, barely visible through the swirling snow. 

“Mitsuri?” she called, her voice tentative, hopeful. She hurried forward, her feet slipping slightly in the uneven snow. But as she got closer, her steps faltered. 

The figure wasn’t moving. It was just standing there, waiting. Y/n stopped, gripping the flashlight tighter. “Mitsuri?” she asked again, though doubt was beginning to creep into her voice. 

The figure turned. 

Y/n’s breath caught in her throat. It looked like Mitsuri—or at least, it was trying to. The features were familiar, but wrong. Her eyes were too dark, her expression eerily blank. When it smiled, the corners of its mouth stretched too far, the teeth too white, too sharp. 

“Y/n…” it said, in a voice that mimicked Mitsuri’s but carried an undertone of something else. Something ancient and malicious. 

Y/n stumbled back, her heart slamming against her ribs. “No,” she whispered, shaking her head. “You’re not her. This isn’t real.” 

The figure tilted its head, its smile widening. “Why are you running, Y/n? Don’t you trust me?” 

Y/n didn’t answer. She turned and bolted, her flashlight beam bouncing wildly as she ran. The snow clawed at her, slowing her down, but she didn’t stop. Behind her, she heard the figure’s voice, clear and cutting through the storm like a blade. 

“Y/n… don’t leave me.” 

She didn’t look back. 

Chapter 4: who is lurking. 

Y/n’s lungs screamed for air as she pushed herself forward, her legs trembling with each step. The storm seemed to conspire against her, the snow heavier, the cold sharper, slicing through her coat and biting into her skin. The flashlight in her hand wavered, its flickering beam a tenuous connection to sanity in the encroaching madness. 

Behind her, the voice persisted. 

“Y/n…” it crooned, soft and sing-song. “Why are you running? You said you’d never leave me…” 

The words twisted in her mind, a perverse imitation of things Mitsuri had once said, now tainted by that unsettling cadence. Y/n clenched her teeth, trying to focus on the sound of her own breathing, the crunch of snow beneath her boots. Anything but that voice. 

She stumbled, falling to her knees, the flashlight flying out of her grasp and landing several feet away. It cast an uneven glow, illuminating the swirling snow and the eerie silence around her. Panic surged as Y/n scrambled to her feet and grabbed the flashlight, the light barely steady in her shaking hands. 

For a moment, she allowed herself to glance behind her. 

Nothing. 

The snow was undisturbed, a blank canvas stretching into the void. But she knew better than to trust it. Y/n turned back and pushed onward, her steps uneven and desperate. 

“Where are you going?” The voice was closer now, chillingly intimate, like it was speaking directly into her ear. Y/n shuddered but didn’t stop. 

She had to find Mitsuri. She had to find the road. 

But the forest had changed. The trees were taller now, their gnarled branches clawing at the sky. The storm muted all sound except for the crunch of her footsteps and the dreadful whispers that seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere at once. 

“Mitsuri!” Y/n screamed, her voice cracking. “Mitsuri, please!” 

The storm’s howl lessened as Y/n stumbled forward, her legs heavy and her lungs burning. She didn’t know how long she’d been running, but the oppressive whispers had dulled, replaced by a suffocating quiet. 

Then, through the curtain of falling snow, she saw a figure. 

“Mitsuri!” Y/n cried, her heart leaping. She ran toward the shape, her flashlight beam bouncing wildly. “Mitsuri, it’s me!” 

The figure turned slowly, her face barely visible under the hood of her coat. “Y/n…” the voice called softly, trembling with relief—or was it something else? 

Y/n closed the gap between them, grabbing her by the shoulders. “Mitsuri! Are you okay? I was so scared—I thought I lost you!” 

Mitsuri smiled faintly, her face pale and glistening with frost. “I’m fine. I’ve been looking for you too.” Her voice was calm, too calm, like a steady stream cutting through the chaos. 

Y/n blinked, her instincts stirring uneasily. “How did you find me?” 

Mitsuri tilted her head, her expression unreadable. “I heard you calling, and I followed your voice. I thought…” She trailed off, her lips curling into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “I thought we’d never find each other.” 

Something about the way she said it made Y/n step back. “I didn’t think you’d hear me through the storm,” Y/n said carefully, watching her closely. 

“Oh, but I always hear you, Y/n,” Mitsuri replied softly. “Like the time you called for help, when you got stuck in the basement all those years ago..” 

Y/n’s blood ran cold. 

“What… what did you say?” she stammered, her voice barely audible. 

Mitsuri’s smile widened, sharp and unnatural. “The basement, remember? You said you hated being alone in the dark. You begged me not to leave you.” 

Y/n’s heart pounded as realization struck. “I never told you about that,” she whispered, her voice shaking. “I never told anyone about that.” 

The figure froze, her smile faltering for just a second before twisting into something monstrous. Her eyes darkened, hollow pits of malice. 

“Oh, Y/n,” it said, the voice warping into something guttural, inhuman. “You didn’t have to tell me. I already know everything about you.” 

The world dissolved into darkness, and for a moment, there was only silence. Then, faintly, a dull, rhythmic pounding echoed through the void—a sound Y/n hadn’t heard in years but couldn’t forget. 

Her younger self sat huddled in a corner of a damp, cold basement. The walls were bare concrete, cracked and weeping with moisture. A single, dim lightbulb swung from the ceiling, casting long, distorted shadows that seemed to mock her trembling form. 

Little Y/n clutched her knees to her chest, her face streaked with dirt and tears. Her small, fragile body shivered, not just from the cold, but from fear. She flinched as the pounding continued—louder, closer. 

The older Y/n stood frozen, watching the scene unfold like a ghost in her own memory. She reached out instinctively, but her hand passed through the air, unable to touch her younger self. 

“No…” Y/n whispered, her voice trembling. “No, not this. Not here.” 

The pounding grew more insistent, shaking the walls. The younger Y/n whimpered, burying her face in her knees. “I’ll be good,” she whispered hoarsely, her voice cracking with desperation. “I’ll be good this time. I promise.” 

The older Y/n felt a crushing weight on her chest. She wanted to scream, to break through this terrible memory, but she was powerless, trapped in the nightmare of her own past. 

The basement door creaked open, and harsh, blinding light spilled down the stairs. A shadowy figure stood at the top, faceless but radiating an oppressive, suffocating presence. 

“You think crying will save you?” the figure snarled, its voice a distorted blend of anger and mockery. It descended the stairs slowly, each step deliberate, echoing like the toll of a bell. 

The younger Y/n scrambled back, pressing herself into the corner as if she could disappear into the walls. “I didn’t mean to!” she cried. “I didn’t mean to! Please, I’ll do better!” 

Y/n stiffened as cold, unnaturally sharp fingers gripped her shoulders. The mockery in the creature’s touch sent a shiver through her entire body. The voice of “Mitsuri,” now a sickening parody of her friend’s, dripped with venom. 

“You remember this, don’t you?” it whispered, leaning close to her ear. “Weak. Pathetic. Just a scared little girl crying in the dark.” 

The words hit like a hammer, each one digging into the raw wound of Y/n’s memory. She stared at the scene in front of her: her younger self trembling, begging, utterly powerless. 

“Stop it,” Y/n hissed, her voice trembling but laced with defiance. She tried to shrug off the creature’s hands, but its grip only tightened, anchoring her in place. 

“Why?” the creature cooed mockingly. “This is who you are, Y/n. Who you’ve always been. You think you’ve changed? That you’re strong now? Don’t make me laugh.” 

The shadowy figure in the memory turned its faceless head, as though sensing the older Y/n’s presence. Its featureless gaze locked onto her, and Y/n’s breath hitched. The oppressive weight of its attention was unbearable, suffocating. 

“She knows, doesn’t she?” the creature behind Y/n whispered, its tone gleeful and cruel. “The real you. Afraid. Broken. Doomed to fail.” 

“No!” Y/n shouted, her voice breaking with desperation. “I’m not that person anymore!” 

The creature’s laugh was a harsh, grating sound, like nails dragging across metal. “Aren’t you? Look at yourself, Y/n. Look at her. Nothing’s changed. You’ll always be this little girl.” 

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Mitsuri stood frozen in the snow, her breath hitching as the figure before her shifted slightly, tilting its head in that unnatural way again. It still wore Y/n’s face, but it was wrong—warped, too smooth in places, too jagged in others. The eyes glinted like shards of broken glass. 

“Are you alright, Mitsuri?” the not-Y/n asked, its voice syrupy sweet, layered with something cold and venomous underneath. “You look scared.” 

Mitsuri’s fists clenched at her sides, her instincts screaming at her to run, but her legs wouldn’t move. She could barely breathe, barely think over the thunderous pounding of her heart. “Where’s Y/n?” she demanded, her voice cracking. “What did you do to her?” 

The figure’s smile widened, almost splitting its face. “She’s right here,” it purred, spreading its arms as if to present itself. “I’ve always been here. Haven’t I, Mitsuri?” 

“You’re lying,” Mitsuri hissed, stepping back despite herself. The snow crunched loudly under her boots, the sound echoing in the unnatural stillness. “You’re not her. You’re not my friend.” 

“Friend?” the figure sneered, its voice distorting. “Is that what you tell yourself? That you’re her friend?” 

Mitsuri flinched, the words cutting deeper than they should have. “Shut up,” she muttered, shaking her head as if to dislodge the doubt the figure’s words stirred. “You don’t know anything about us.” 

“Oh, but I do,” the figure countered, taking a slow step forward. Mitsuri stumbled back, nearly tripping. “I know everything about her. About you. About what you’re really thinking when she looks at you with those hopeful eyes. The lies you tell her… and yourself.” 

“Stop it!” Mitsuri screamed, her voice breaking. “You’re not her! You don’t get to say that!” 

The figure stopped, tilting its head again, as if studying her reaction. Then it smiled again, cruel and mocking. “What’s wrong, Mitsuri? Afraid I’m telling the truth?” 

Mitsuri’s breathing quickened, her chest heaving as the figure’s words seeped into her mind. It wasn’t just mimicking Y/n—it was trying to destroy her from the inside. 

“No,” Mitsuri whispered to herself, her fists tightening. “You’re not real. You’re not her.” 

The figure’s smile twisted into something sharper, more knowing. It took a slow step closer to Mitsuri, its voice a haunting whisper that seemed to creep into her mind. 

“You think I don’t know?” it said, its voice now a guttural rasp, like a thousand voices all speaking at once. “I know everything about you, Mitsuri. Every secret you buried so deep. I know what you did to her.” 

Mitsuri’s breath caught in her throat. She stepped back, shaking her head, but the figure continued, its words like daggers. 

“You remember the time you pushed her down the stairs when you were kids? She didn’t deserve it. But you did it anyway, didn’t you? You thought it was funny, thought you’d get away with it, just like everything else.” The figure’s smile stretched wider. “She never told anyone, Mitsuri. She never even blamed you. But she felt it. Every time you lied to her. Every time you let her down.” 

Mitsuri’s knees buckled as the weight of the words hit her. Her vision blurred, and she closed her eyes tightly, trying to block it all out. 

“Do you think she’s still not aware of it?” The figure pressed, its voice low and venomous. “Do you really think you’ve fooled her all this time? She sees the way you look at her, the way you pretend to care. But deep down, you hate her, don’t you? You hate that she’s the one everyone turns to, that she’s the one people love, while you stay in the shadows.” 

Mitsuri’s chest tightened as memories—ones she had buried for years—flooded her mind. The times she had looked at Y/n with envy, the sharp words she’d said under her breath when no one was listening. The jealousy that had twisted her thoughts whenever Y/n was praised, whenever someone else noticed her. 

“You remember the time you lied about her, don’t you? The time you told everyone she was the one who broke your favorite necklace, when it was really you? You knew she’d take the fall for you. Always did.” The figure’s laugh was chilling, cruel. “You know you’ve been lying to her, to everyone, for so long.” 

“No…” Mitsuri whispered, her voice barely audible as her mind raced with guilt, with shame. She shook her head again, desperately trying to block out the figure’s words, but they kept coming. 

“And don’t think I’ve forgotten about the time you left her when she needed you most. When you ran off, when she was hurt and confused. You promised you’d always be there for her, Mitsuri. And yet, you left. You always leave.” 

Tears burned her eyes as the truth hit her, each word like a knife twisting deeper into her heart. She had always been the one to walk away, to abandon, to pretend. 

“You’ve never truly cared for her, have you?” the figure continued, its voice now a venomous hiss. “You only care about what she can do for you. The attention, the validation, the love that she so freely gives you. You don’t deserve it, Mitsuri. Not the way you’ve treated her.” 

Mitsuri trembled, her body shaking as the weight of the figure’s words crushed her. She could barely breathe, her vision clouded with tears, as the guilt, the shame, the lies all came crashing down on her. How could she have let it go on this long? How could she have been so blind? 

"You want to believe that Y/n is your friend," the figure sneered, "but you’re not fooling anyone. Least of all her." 

Mitsuri could barely stand under the pressure of the figure’s words. She wanted to scream, to make it stop, but no sound came out. All she could do was fall to her knees, her body wracked with sobs. 

“You’re nothing but a liar and a coward,” the figure spat, its voice low and full of contempt. “And you always will be.” 

The figure’s voice faltered as the sound echoed through the trees, a low, bone-chilling howl that sent a shiver through the air. Mitsuri’s sobs quieted as the noise grew louder, reverberating in the snow-covered landscape. The howl was sharp, unnatural, something that didn’t belong in this world. It echoed deep in her chest, a primal warning that sent the figure stumbling back. 

The figure’s cruel smile vanished, replaced by fear. The edges of its form began to shimmer, warping as if it were no longer sure of its own shape. 

“What… what is that?” it hissed, its eyes darting toward the sound. The creature began to shrink, its body twisting as if trying to flee from something it couldn’t escape. 

Before Mitsuri could even register what was happening, the figure transformed completely. The mocking face, the twisted smile, melted away into something more familiar—more natural. It became a deer, its fur mottled with patches of white and gray. The antlers twisted and cracked as if the creature’s transformation was only half complete, and with one last, frightened glance at Mitsuri, it bolted into the woods. 

The howl echoed again, louder this time, sending the deer darting into the trees. The woods fell silent, the air still, as the echoes of the distant creature’s call faded into the snow. 

Mitsuri blinked in confusion, trying to understand what had just happened. She could feel it. The eyes. 

Not the eyes of the creature she had just seen, but the eyes of something else. Something watching her. The hairs on the back of her neck prickled as she stood up, her breath shallow and uneven. She was alone, but not really. The feeling of being observed lingered in the cold air. 

The trees loomed over her, their branches creaking in the wind, and for a moment, she swore she saw something move in the distance, just out of the corner of her eye. 

The howling stopped, but the unsettling presence remained. Something out there, in the woods, was waiting. Watching. Mitsuri didn’t know what it was, but she felt its eyes. 

She forced herself to take a step forward, trembling. Her gaze flicked around, scanning the shadows. Was it still following her? Was it still out there? 

With one last glance over her shoulder, Mitsuri swallowed her fear. She had to keep moving. She had to find Y/n. 

But the forest felt different now. The trees seemed to close in around her, darker, heavier. The feeling of eyes on her intensified. The snow beneath her feet crunched unnervingly loud as she walked, the silence of the woods broken only by the occasional rustle of branches above. 

She was no longer alone. Something else was out there. 

And it wasn’t just watching—it was hunting. 

Mitsuri’s breath caught in her throat as her gaze darted between the trees. Shadows flickered in the corners of her vision, too quick and too large to be her imagination. They glided between the gnarled trunks with an unnatural speed, their forms distorted, elongated. The movement was almost hypnotic—fluid and silent, like smoke weaving through the air. 

“What… what is that?” she whispered, her voice trembling. Her flashlight flickered as if it, too, was afraid. The light cut through the thick snow but failed to catch the moving shapes, as though they were slipping just out of its reach. 

One of the shadows paused, looming at the edge of her vision. It was tall—unnaturally tall—and gaunt. Antlers crowned its head, twisted and sharp like gnarled branches. The body was too thin, almost skeletal, and its limbs were stretched in proportions that made her stomach churn. The outline was unmistakable, but its details remained shrouded by the darkness of the forest. 

Mitsuri froze, her heart pounding as her instincts screamed at her to run. But her legs refused to move, rooted to the ground as though the snow had turned to ice around her boots. She didn’t know what it was—didn’t want to know. But it was there, and it was watching her. 

The shadow moved again, vanishing into the trees. Then another appeared on her left, closer this time, its head tilting unnaturally as though studying her. 

“Mitsuri…” a voice whispered, faint and cold, carried on the wind. It was Y/n’s voice—or at least it sounded like it—but something about it was wrong. It was too soft, too hollow, like an echo of something that had long since faded away. 

Mitsuri’s stomach twisted. “No,” she murmured, shaking her head. “You’re not her. You’re not her!” 

The voice came again, this time from her right, soft and lilting. “Mitsuri… help me.” 

Tears blurred her vision as she spun in circles, the flashlight beam trembling in her shaking hands. The shadows darted closer, circling her now, their movements quick and predatory. The whispering continued, overlapping in a cacophony of haunting voices. Some were pleading, others mocking, but all of them wore Y/n’s voice like a mask. 

The forest felt alive, closing in tighter around her. The shadows flickered just beyond the reach of her light, each movement sending a jolt of terror down her spine. Mitsuri’s breaths came in shallow gasps, her mind racing for a way out. 

Then she saw it. 

Just ahead, between two massive trees, the shadow stood still. It wasn’t trying to hide anymore. The antlers curved grotesquely, and its hollow eyes gleamed faintly in the darkness. A sense of dread rolled over her as it lifted one spindly arm, pointing directly at her. 

Mitsuri stumbled back, her flashlight falling from her grip and plunging her into near-total darkness. The only light was the faint glow of the snow beneath her feet, and the dim, eerie gleam in the creature’s eyes. 

As Mitsuri’s trembling breath fogged the air around her, a deep, resonant voice sliced through the silence. It wasn’t guttural or monstrous, as she might have expected, but smooth, velvety, and chillingly magnetic. 

“Lost, little one?” it purred, the sound rolling over her like a winter wind, sharp and cold. It was almost soothing in its cadence, yet every syllable carried an undertone of malice. 

Mitsuri froze, her heart pounding so loudly she could feel it in her throat. She didn’t dare respond. 

The figure tilted its antlered head, the faint glimmer of its hollow eyes never leaving her. “Running from the shadows,” it continued, the voice both intimate and mocking. “Running from the truth. And yet…” It took a deliberate step forward, its movements unnervingly graceful. “You’ve found me instead.” 

Mitsuri’s knees buckled, and she sank to the ground, her body trembling uncontrollably. “What… what do you want?” she managed to choke out, her voice barely a whisper. 

The creature let out a low, rumbling chuckle that sent a shiver down her spine. “Want?” it echoed, savoring the word as though it were a foreign concept. “Oh, little one, you misunderstand. I do not want. I am.” 

Its voice dropped lower, the words pressing against her like an invisible weight. “But you… you are an interesting morsel. So much fear. So many secrets.” 

Mitsuri’s breath hitched as the creature leaned closer, its skeletal form clearer now in the dim light. The antlers seemed almost alive, twisting subtly, and its face—if it could even be called a face—was an unnerving void, a hollow abyss that seemed to pull at her very soul. 

“Tell me,” it murmured, its voice soft now, intimate, as though it were whispering a secret meant only for her. “What will you give to escape? To be free of all this… pain?” 

Mitsuri’s lips parted, but no sound came out. Her mind raced, torn between the urge to flee and the pull of the creature’s voice, which was as seductive as it was terrifying. 

“You’ve already lost so much,” it said, its tone shifting, almost gentle. “Why not lose a little more?” 

‘’would you let me take Y/n, for the sake of your life spared?’’ 

Mitsuri’s breath caught in her throat, and her eyes widened in shock. “What?” she whispered, her voice trembling. The words felt like ice against her skin, chilling her to her core. 

The creature didn’t move closer, but its presence seemed to engulf her, filling the space between them like a suffocating fog. “You heard me,” it purred, the smoothness of its tone belied by the cruelty laced within. “Your life for hers. A simple exchange.” 

Mitsuri shook her head frantically, her hands gripping fistfuls of the snow beneath her. “No,” she choked out. “I… I can’t—” 

The creature tilted its head again, as though bemused. “Can’t?” It chuckled softly, a sound like bone scraping against stone. “You’ve made sacrifices before, haven’t you? Lies to protect yourself. Betrayals to save your own skin. What’s one more, little one? Especially when it ensures your survival.” 

“No!” Mitsuri cried, louder this time, the sound echoing weakly through the trees. She scrambled back, her eyes darting wildly for any sign of escape. “I won’t do that! I can’t let you take her!” 

The creature’s hollow eyes gleamed faintly, and its voice dropped to a low, predatory growl. “You hesitate,” it hissed, the warmth of its earlier tone evaporating like a fleeting illusion. “You waver. You’re wondering… what if?” 

Mitsuri’s heart thundered in her chest, and she shook her head again, tears streaming down her face. “I’m not… I’m not that person anymore!” she screamed, her voice breaking. 

The creature leaned closer, its antlers casting jagged shadows over her. “Aren’t you?” it murmured, a cruel echo of her own doubts. 

Mitsuri clenched her fists, her entire body trembling with a mixture of terror and defiance. “I’ll never give her to you,” she spat, forcing the words out despite the quaking of her voice. 

For a moment, the forest was silent, save for the sound of her ragged breathing. Then the creature straightened, its towering form seeming even more imposing in the dim light. 

“Brave words,” it said, the mockery in its tone cutting like a blade. “But bravery doesn’t last long… when you’re alone.” 

With that, it turned, its shadow melting into the trees as if it were part of the forest itself. But its voice lingered, a haunting whisper that seemed to come from all around her. 

“Remember, little one… offers like this don’t come twice.” 

Mitsuri stared into the darkness where the creature had disappeared, her chest heaving. The weight of its words pressed down on her like the snow-heavy branches above. She wrapped her arms around herself, trembling—not just from the cold, but from the lingering fear. 

Her mind was a storm of confusion and terror. And then, unbidden, a stray thought broke through the chaos: 

Why was he kinda— 

“No! NO!” she shouted, slapping her own cheeks with her gloved hands. “What the hell, Mitsuri?!” Her voice cracked, and her face burned, even in the freezing air. “What is wrong with you?! Focus!” 

She turned on her heel and broke into a run, the snow crunching beneath her frantic steps. Her flashlight was still gone, but the pale glow of the moon and snow gave her just enough visibility to navigate through the dense forest. 

“I’ve got to find Y/n,” she whispered to herself, as if saying it aloud would make it real, would keep her moving forward. Each step felt like a battle, the oppressive silence and shadows closing in around her. But she didn’t stop. She couldn’t stop. 

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[zafill]

IMAGINE MOUTHWASHING WITH SUPERPOWERS?!?!?

So ive been thinking. what if how jimmy killed yk daisuke, Anya and swansea. how about how they died is their superpower 😨😨 but like imagine, so like Anya spits toxic waste cuz she overdosed, Swansea can like see into the future bc he got shot in between the eyes, and Daisuke can like see 360, like here me out. he can open the wound wide and eyes pop out making him look really well, and curly got like fire powers :3 and jimmy... can suck my big toe, he gets no powers. PLEASE GIVE ME SUGGESTIONS I KINDA WANNA MAKE A STORY ABT THIS!!?!?!!

[zafill]

Fan-fiction: Cold Warnings. 

What would you do when ur stuck in a snowstrom?

pt.2 death, rope, suicide etc. read on our own, your mental health matters

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Chapter 1: The Gathering Storm 

The sound of a suitcase zipper echoed through the small, warmly lit apartment. Y/n sat cross-legged on the floor, methodically folding sweaters and stuffing them into her worn duffel bag. The snowstorm outside had already started, whispering against the windows like a warning. 

“We’re going to be fine,” she said, more to herself than to Mitsuri, who was pacing back and forth, her phone pressed to her ear. 

“Mom, I know it’s late,” Mitsuri said, her voice tight with frustration. “But we don’t have a choice. We need to get there before morning. Can you just—yes, I’ll call when we get there. If I can. The signal might be bad.” She paused, her expression softening. “Love you too.” 

Hanging up, Mitsuri tossed her phone onto the couch and let out a long sigh. “She thinks we’re crazy for driving in this weather.” 

“She’s not wrong,” Y/n muttered, stuffing an extra pair of socks into her bag. “But we don’t exactly have options. If we wait, the roads’ll be completely impassable.” 

“I know, I know.” Mitsuri flopped onto the couch and stared at the ceiling. “It’s just… this storm feels different. It’s like it’s alive or something.” 

Y/n raised an eyebrow. “You’ve been reading too much of your creepy folklore blog again.” 

Mitsuri smirked faintly but didn’t argue. Y/n stood, zipping her bag shut with a decisive motion. “We’ll beat it. We just need to stick to the plan. It’s a four-hour drive if we don’t stop. If we leave now, we’ll be at the cabin before it really picks up.” 

Mitsuri didn’t respond right away. She sat up, fidgeting with the edge of her sweater. “Are you sure about this place? I mean, it’s kind of in the middle of nowhere.” 

“Exactly why it’s perfect,” Y/n replied, her tone firm. “A weekend off-grid, no emails, no stress. You said you needed a reset, didn’t you?” 

“I didn’t mean freezing my ass off in the wilderness,” Mitsuri shot back, but there was no real heat in her words. She stood, brushing imaginary dust off her jeans. “Fine. Let’s do it. But if we end up in a true-crime podcast, I’m haunting you.” 

Y/n rolled her eyes and grabbed her keys from the counter. “Noted. Now grab your bag; we need to move before the roads get worse.” 

Y/n slung her duffel bag over one shoulder, motioning for Mitsuri to follow. The cold hit them immediately as they stepped outside, the wind biting at their faces and scattering snowflakes around their heads. Their boots crunched against the freshly fallen snow as they made their way to the car parked a few steps away. 

“Ugh, it’s like an icebox out here,” Mitsuri grumbled, pulling her scarf tighter around her neck. 

“Welcome to winter,” Y/n quipped, fumbling with her keys. She unlocked the car, and they both hurried to get inside, slamming the doors shut against the howling wind. 

The interior of the car was even colder than the outside. Mitsuri shivered, rubbing her hands together. “Start the car. Quickly. I’m about to become a popsicle.” 

“Hold on,” Y/n said, jamming the key into the ignition. The engine sputtered for a moment before roaring to life. She cranked the heat up as high as it would go. The vents sputtered weakly at first, but warm air began to trickle out. 

“Not fast enough,” Mitsuri muttered, blowing into her hands for warmth. 

Y/n glanced at her and smirked. “You’ll survive.” She reached over to plug in her phone, scrolling through her playlist. 

Y/n’s fingers hovered over the screen for a moment before she tapped the song title. A familiar, haunting melody began to fill the car, the rhythmic hum of "Headlock" by Imogen Heap wrapping around them like a warm, invisible blanket. 

“Seriously?” Mitsuri raised an eyebrow, though her lips curved in a faint smile. “This song? Are you trying to set a vibe or something?” 

Y/n grinned, drumming her fingers lightly on the steering wheel as the beat picked up. “It’s called ambiance. Besides, it’s a good distraction from the freezing cold.” 

Mitsuri chuckled softly and leaned back against the headrest, closing her eyes for a moment as the layered vocals and electronic beats seemed to sync with the rhythm of the snow hitting the windshield. “Alright, fine. I’ll allow it. But if you start singing, I’m ejecting myself.” 

The car eased onto the snow-covered road, the tires crunching steadily through the light powder as the music played on. For the first hour, it was almost peaceful. The snow fell softly, drifting lazily in the headlights, and the road ahead, though blanketed, was still visible enough for Y/n to drive with confidence. 

Mitsuri occasionally glanced out the window, the faint glow of distant porch lights visible through the trees as they passed small clusters of houses. “See? This isn’t so bad,” she said, her voice carrying a trace of relief. “The storm’s probably not as bad as they said.” 

Y/n smirked but kept her focus on the road. “Don’t jinx it.” 

They drove in silence for a while, the warmth of the heater finally offsetting the chill in the car. The music wove its way through the stillness, a strange comfort against the stark backdrop of the storm. 

But then, almost imperceptibly, the snowfall grew heavier. What started as a gentle dusting quickly became a thick curtain of white. The road ahead blurred, the edges disappearing into the swirling flurries. The porch lights vanished, and soon, it was as if they were driving through a world that was only snow. 

Y/n’s grip on the wheel tightened, and she leaned forward, squinting through the windshield. “This isn’t good,” she muttered, her voice tense. She reached over and turned the music down, the cabin falling silent except for the hum of the engine and the relentless hiss of snow against the car. 

Mitsuri sat up straighter, her earlier lightheartedness replaced with unease. “Y/n, can you even see where we’re going?” 

“Barely,” Y/n admitted, her jaw clenching. The windshield wipers worked furiously, but they could barely keep up. The high beams only made it worse, reflecting off the snow in a disorienting glare. She switched them back to low and kept her speed slow, the tires crunching through deeper drifts. 

Ahead of them, the world had dissolved into white. No horizon, no markers, just an endless, shifting void. It was like they were driving through a snow globe, and someone had given it a violent shake. 

“This storm is alive,” Mitsuri whispered, her earlier comment suddenly feeling far less like a joke. Her hands fidgeted in her lap, her breath fogging the window as she stared into the nothingness ahead. 

“Don’t start,” Y/n snapped, though her voice lacked its usual bite. Her knuckles were white on the wheel, her eyes scanning for any sign of the road. She slowed even more, the car crawling forward. 

“We should stop,” Mitsuri said after a moment, her voice tight. “Wait it out. Pull over.” 

“And risk getting buried or hit by someone else? No,” Y/n said firmly. “We keep moving. Slowly, but we keep moving-” 

Y/n’s words were cut off as a figure darted across the road ahead, a blur of motion illuminated by the headlights. It was impossibly fast, unnaturally lean, and its limbs moved in an unsettling, jerking rhythm. 

“What the hell!” Y/n yelled, instinctively jerking the wheel to the right. 

The tires skidded on the snow-slicked road, and the car spun slightly before careening into a shallow ditch. The impact jolted them both forward, stopped only by their seat belts. 

“Y/n!” Mitsuri shouted, gripping the dashboard as the car came to an abrupt halt. Her heart pounded in her chest, her breaths shallow and panicked. “What was that?” 

Y/n’s hands stayed frozen on the wheel, her wide eyes fixed on the road ahead, which now appeared empty. The figure was gone, swallowed by the storm as if it had never been there. “I—I don’t know,” she stammered, her voice shaky. 

The engine sputtered, a sad, wheezing sound, before falling silent. Y/n turned the key in the ignition, but the car gave nothing more than a weak click. She tried again, her movements frantic, but it was no use. The car was dead. 

“Great,” Mitsuri muttered, her voice trembling as she looked out the window. The ditch was steep, and the snow around them was piling up fast. “We’re stuck, aren’t we?” 

Y/n let out a frustrated groan, slamming her hands against the steering wheel. “Yeah, we’re stuck,” she admitted, leaning her head back against the seat. “The car won’t start, and there’s no way we’re getting out of this ditch without help.” 

The biting cold hit them like a wall the moment Y/n opened the car door. A gust of wind whipped through the snow-covered trees, sending icy flakes stinging against their faces. Y/n pulled her coat tighter around her, shivering as she stepped out into the deepening snow. 

Mitsuri followed reluctantly, her boots crunching into the thick layer of white as she joined Y/n at the front of the car. She hugged her arms to her chest, her breath visible in the frigid air. “It’s freezing out here,” she muttered through chattering teeth, glancing nervously at the surrounding darkness. “How bad is it?” 

Y/n crouched down, brushing snow away from the car’s front tires. The ditch they’d skidded into was deeper than it had looked from inside. The car’s wheels were sunk into the snowbank at a sharp angle, almost buried entirely. She reached out to test the tire but pulled her hand back quickly as the icy rubber burned her fingers. 

“It’s bad,” Y/n said grimly, standing up and brushing her hands on her pants. “The tires are completely stuck, and there’s no traction. Even if the engine were running, we wouldn’t be able to drive out of this.” 

Mitsuri’s face fell, her eyes darting toward the dense forest on either side of the road. The trees loomed like silent sentinels, their branches heavy with snow. “So, what do we do now?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. “Wait here and hope someone drives by? Because I don’t think anyone’s coming, Y/n.” 

Y/n opened her mouth to reply, but her words caught in her throat. Her gaze drifted past Mitsuri, toward the dense wall of trees on the other side of the ditch. Through the swirling snow, something was emerging, faint but unmistakable—a break in the forest. 

She blinked, half-convinced she was imagining it. But there it was: a small clearing, its edges outlined by the faint, warm glow of light spilling from between the branches. Squinting, she could just make out the silhouette of a cabin nestled among the trees. 

“Am I losing it,” Y/n muttered under her breath, “or is that…?” 

Mitsuri followed her gaze, turning slowly, and gasped. “A cabin? Are you serious?” Her voice was a mix of disbelief and cautious hope. She stepped closer to Y/n, her breath hitching. “That wasn’t there a second ago. Was it?” 

Y/n shook her head, her stomach twisting with unease. “No… I don’t think so.” She glanced around them, as if the snowstorm might hold an explanation. But there was nothing else, just the unyielding wind and the eerie quiet of the forest. “Maybe we just didn’t notice it before,” she said, though she didn’t believe her own words. 

Mitsuri’s eyes narrowed, her instinct for skepticism kicking in. “Notice a whole cabin? Right when we need it? Come on, Y/n. That’s too convenient. It’s weird.” 

“Convenient or not, it’s our best option,” Y/n replied, her voice firm. She grabbed the flashlight from her bag and tested its beam, the light cutting a path through the snow. “We can’t just stay out here and freeze.” 

Mitsuri hesitated, glancing back at the car. The idea of stepping deeper into the woods, toward that impossibly timed cabin, made her skin crawl. But the growing numbness in her fingers reminded her they didn’t have much of a choice. “Alright,” she said finally, pulling her coat tighter. 

[zafill]

WHAT YALL THINK

What would yall think about

Six strangers awaken in an eerie, abandoned hotel with no memory of who they are or how they got there. As they explore the hotel's dark, twisting corridors, they encounter strange and supernatural occurrences—whispering shadows, flickering lights, and cryptic messages. Forced to rely on one another, they must uncover the secrets of the hotel and their shared past. Each clue they find brings them closer to the truth, but also closer to a malevolent force that wants to keep them trapped. To escape, they must face their deepest fears, work together, and reclaim their lost identities before it's too late. 

BUT its demon slayer chacters?!?!?!?!?!?!!? (also sorry for not posting for awhile, ive been REALLY FUCKING BUSY AT SCHOOL RAGHHHH)

[zafill]

DEMON  SLAYER PT.3 

note: this is very short, im sorry but i have been really busy! school and stuff. but if yall want me to contiune, just say it in the comments!! Love you guys!

------------------------------------------------------------------------------ A few months had passed since that harrowing night, and life within the Demon Slayer Corps had shifted for (Y/N). Her hands, once so integral to her strength and skill as a Hashira, were now numb, the nerves damaged beyond repair by the boiling water she had poured over them. The once vibrant warrior was now a shadow of herself, burdened by the consequences of her actions. 

The physical pain had subsided, replaced by a persistent numbness that served as a constant reminder of her despair. Yet, it was the emotional pain that weighed most heavily on her, a crushing sense of guilt and isolation that refused to let go. The Corps had granted her a leave of absence, a "break" they called it, though it felt more like an exile. She was no longer fighting on the front lines, no longer training with the others, no longer a part of the life she had once known. 

The days blurred together in a monotonous routine of rest and reflection. She spent her time in solitude, avoiding the others as much as possible. The once proud and fierce Hashira now found herself in a place of deep introspection, haunted by the choices she had made and the impact they had on her future. 

Despite the break, (Y/N) was not completely alone. Kagaya visited her often, his presence a constant reminder that she was still part of the Ubuyashiki family, despite her self-imposed isolation. His visits were quiet and gentle, filled with words of comfort and understanding, though they did little to ease the ache in her heart. 

"You're still needed," Kagaya had told her during one of his visits. "The Corps is not complete without you, (Y/N). But you must heal, both physically and emotionally. Take this time to find your strength again, in whatever form it may take." 

But even with his encouragement, (Y/N) struggled to find her place. Her hands, once so skilled with a sword, were now clumsy and unresponsive. The numbness made it impossible to feel the hilt of a blade, to grasp it with the strength and precision that had once defined her as a Hashira. The thought of returning to the battlefield seemed impossible, a dream that had been shattered the moment she had let that boiling water sear her skin. 

Dinner with the Ubuyashiki family had become an event filled with a mixture of comfort and quiet tension for (Y/N). The warmth of being surrounded by those who cared for her was undeniable, but it was also a painful reminder of the role she could no longer fulfill. The once skilled and formidable warrior now felt awkward and out of place, her hands betraying her in even the simplest of tasks. 

As they sat around the table, the younger siblings chatted cheerfully, their innocent laughter a soothing balm to the otherwise heavy atmosphere. Kagaya and Amane exchanged gentle smiles, their presence a calming influence over the household. Despite the love and acceptance that filled the room, (Y/N) couldn’t shake the feeling of inadequacy that gnawed at her. 

“Big sister,” her younger brothers piped up, his voice full of trust and affection, “can you fill my cup with water, please?” 

(Y/N) nodded, forcing a smile as she reached for the jug. The simple request should have been easy to fulfill, something she had done countless times before without a second thought. But as she wrapped her numb fingers around the handle, the weight of the jug felt foreign and unstable in her grip. 

She tried to pour the water, her movements careful and deliberate, but her hands trembled uncontrollably. The numbness made it impossible to gauge the weight properly or to feel the coolness of the water against her skin. The liquid splashed over the rim of the cup, spilling across the table and onto her brother’s lap. 

There was a moment of stunned silence as everyone at the table froze, watching the water pool and drip off the edge. (Y/N)’s heart sank, a wave of embarrassment and frustration crashing over her. She quickly withdrew her hands, staring at them with a mix of anger and despair. 

“I—I’m sorry,” she stammered, her voice shaky as she struggled to maintain her composure. “I didn’t mean to…” 

But before she could finish, her younger brother reached out, grabbing her hand with his small, warm fingers. “It’s okay, big sister,” he said with a reassuring smile. “It was just an accident. Don’t worry about it.” 

His words were meant to comfort, but they only deepened the ache in her chest. (Y/N) felt the weight of her failure even more acutely in that moment—her inability to perform even the simplest tasks, the loss of the strength and control she had once taken for granted. 

Kagaya, who had been quietly observing the exchange, reached over and gently placed his hand on hers. His touch was calm, his expression filled with understanding. “(Y/N), it’s alright,” he said softly. (Y/N) forced a smile and nodded in response to Kagaya’s comforting words, but the tightness in her chest didn’t ease.  

“Thank you,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. She could feel the weight of everyone’s eyes on her, their concern like a heavy cloak she couldn’t shake off. 

“I… I think I need some air,” she said, excusing herself from the table. “I’ll be back in a little while.” 

Without waiting for a response, she stood and quietly slipped out of the room, the cool evening air a stark contrast to the warmth she had just left behind. She walked aimlessly at first, letting the breeze wash over her as she tried to clear her mind. Her feet eventually led her to a familiar path, one that wound its way through the trees to the training grounds where she had once spent countless hours honing her skills. 

The sight of the open space brought a flood of memories, both comforting and painful. She remembered the days when her body moved with precision and strength, every swing of her blade confident and powerful. It felt like a lifetime ago. Now, she stood on the same ground, but everything felt different. 

Drawn by a deep, almost desperate need to reconnect with that part of herself, (Y/N) approached the weapon rack where a row of bamboo practice swords stood. She hesitated for a moment before reaching out and grasping one of the swords. The wood was smooth and familiar in her grip, but the connection she once felt was gone. Her hands, still numb and weak, struggled to hold it properly. 

Stepping into the center of the training area, (Y/N) assumed a basic stance, her feet planted firmly on the ground. She tried to recall the movements that had once come so easily, but as she swung the sword, it felt clumsy and uncoordinated. The blade sliced through the air with none of the force or precision she had once commanded. 

Frustration surged within her as she tried again, and again, each attempt more desperate than the last. But no matter how hard she tried, the sword wouldn’t obey her. Her muscles ached from the effort, and the numbness in her hands made it impossible to maintain a proper grip. The bamboo sword seemed to mock her, refusing to yield even the slightest bit of damage to the air around her. 

Panting from the exertion, (Y/N) finally stopped, her shoulders slumping in defeat. The sword hung limply at her side as she stared at the ground, her vision blurring with unshed tears. The realization that she was no longer the warrior she once was hit her with brutal clarity. As (Y/N) stood there, panting and defeated, she felt a familiar presence approaching. The sound of footsteps on the gravel was unmistakable, and when she looked up, she saw Kyojuro Rengoku standing at the edge of the training grounds, his usual bright smile replaced with a concerned frown. 

"(Y/N)," Rengoku called out gently, taking a few cautious steps toward her. "I saw you leave the house. Are you alright?" 

She stiffened at his words, her anger flaring up before she could control it. The last thing she wanted was pity, especially from someone like Rengoku, who always seemed so strong, so unbreakable. His concern felt like salt in the wound, a reminder of everything she had lost. 

"I'm fine," she snapped, her voice harsher than she intended. "I don't need you or anyone else checking up on me. Just leave me alone." 

Rengoku halted, his brow furrowing in confusion. "I'm not here to judge you or to pity you, (Y/N). I just—" 

"I said leave me alone!" she interrupted, her tone edged with bitterness. The anger bubbling up inside her was uncontrollable, born from the frustration of her helplessness and the fear that she was truly lost. "You think you understand, Rengoku? You don't. None of you do. You've all got your strength, your purpose. I have nothing!" 

Rengoku's expression softened, but the sadness in his eyes only fueled her anger further. She couldn't stand the way he was looking at her, like she was some fragile thing in need of protection. It was a far cry from the respect she had once commanded as a fellow Hashira. 

"You're wrong," Rengoku said calmly, though his voice held a firm resolve. "You are more than your sword, (Y/N). You’re still needed, still valued. You don’t have to carry this burden alone." 

But (Y/N) couldn't hear him. Her mind was too clouded with pain and resentment. "Stop pretending like you care!" she shouted, her voice cracking. "You're just like the others. You see me as a failure, as someone who doesn’t belong anymore. I’m just a burden to all of you!" 

Rengoku's eyes widened, and he took a step closer, but she recoiled, backing away from him as if his presence alone was too much to bear. "You don’t know what it’s like," she continued, her voice trembling with the weight of her emotions. "To lose everything that ever mattered, to be left with nothing but scars and broken dreams." 

Rengoku remained silent, his face a mix of sorrow and understanding. He didn't argue or try to refute her words. Instead, he simply stood there, offering his presence as a silent support, but to (Y/N), it felt like another reminder of how far she had fallen. 

"I don't need you," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "I don’t need any of you." Before she could take another step back, Rengoku moved swiftly and without hesitation, wrapping his strong arms around (Y/N). The warmth of his embrace was unexpected, and for a moment, she froze, stunned by the sudden contact. She could feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against her cheek, a stark contrast to the storm raging within her. 

“I’m here, (Y/N),” Rengoku whispered, his voice gentle but firm. “You don’t have to go through this alone.” 

The walls she had built around herself, brick by brick, began to crumble. All the pain, anger, and fear she had kept buried deep within her erupted to the surface. The numbness in her hands, the frustration of her helplessness, the overwhelming sense of loss—it all came crashing down like a tidal wave. 

Before she could stop herself, she broke down, her body trembling as the sobs she had tried so hard to suppress finally escaped her. She clung to Rengoku, her fingers gripping the fabric of his haori as if he were the only thing keeping her from drowning in her sorrow. 

Tears streamed down her face, soaking into Rengoku’s shoulder as he held her tightly, offering the support she had so desperately needed but had been too afraid to ask for. He didn’t say anything, didn’t try to offer empty words of comfort. He simply held her, letting her release all the pain she had been carrying for so long. 

For the first time in what felt like an eternity, (Y/N) allowed herself to be vulnerable, to let someone else shoulder the weight of her grief. And in Rengoku’s arms, she found a small glimmer of solace amidst the darkness that had consumed her. 

Rengoku continued to hold her, his embrace unwavering as she sobbed into his shoulder. His hands moved gently, one softly patting her back in a rhythmic, soothing motion, while the other cradled the back of her head, his fingers threading through her hair with a tenderness that spoke louder than any words ever could. 

He understood that she needed this moment to let go, to release the pent-up anguish that had been tearing her apart from the inside. There was no rush, no urgency to pull away or to speak. Rengoku knew that sometimes, the most profound comfort came from simply being present, from offering silent support in the face of overwhelming pain. 

As (Y/N) continued to cry, her sobs gradually began to quiet, her body still trembling but slowly calming under the steady reassurance of his touch. Rengoku didn’t move, didn’t break the embrace, allowing her to take all the time she needed to find her way back from the edge of despair.  ------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Tags: @imagineshazamlokimight @mlobski @nousija @i-hate-most-insects @fatkish @thefantasticlemon

[zafill]

Demon slayer pt.2

DEMON SLAYER PT.2 

WARNINGS!!: self-harm, fights, bad thoughts.

pt.1

------------------------------------------------------------------------------ The air was thick with the scent of pine and the lingering warmth of a setting sun. Five years had passed since Kagaya Ubuyashiki had taken me in, and in those years, I had changed. I was no longer the scared, broken child who had been dragged across the cold ground by a mother who wished she had never given birth to me. That girl was gone, buried beneath layers of strength and determination that I had forged with my own hands. 

In the beginning, the other recruits had received guidance, training, and instruction from seasoned Demon Slayers. But not me. I had always been different, set apart by my past and the darkness that still clung to me. I had learned early on that if I wanted to survive, I would have to rely on myself. And so, I trained alone. 

Every morning, before the sun had even risen, I would leave the camp and head deep into the forest. There, in the silence of the early hours, I taught myself the ways of the blade. My katana became my closest companion, its cold steel an extension of my will. I learned to move with precision, to strike with speed, and to endure pain with a stoicism that came naturally after years of suffering. 

The forest became my teacher, the rustling leaves and the calls of distant birds my only company. I would practice for hours, my body moving through the forms I had observed the other trainees perform.  

When I wasn’t practicing my swordsmanship, I was honing my physical strength—running, climbing, pushing my body to its absolute limits. I knew that I had to be stronger, faster, and more resilient than anyone else if I was going to make it as a Demon Slayer 

One day, as the sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows across the forest floor, I was deep in my routine. I had just completed a particularly grueling series of strikes against a makeshift wooden dummy when I sensed a presence behind me. Startled, I whirled around, my katana raised defensively, only to find Kagaya Ubuyashiki standing a short distance away. 

His appearance took me by surprise. His hair, a cascade of dark waves, framed a face that was both gentle and severe. His eyes, or rather, the one eye that was still unclouded, observed me with a mixture of curiosity and understanding. The other eye was obscured by a faint, purplish mass, a sign of the blindness that was slowly creeping across his vision. He was not yet fully blind, but the signs were there, a reminder of the burden he carried as the leader of the Demon Slayer Corps. 

“Master Ubuyashiki,” I breathed, lowering my sword and bowing respectfully. I hadn’t expected him to come so far into the forest, much less during my training. 

He smiled softly, the kind of smile that held both warmth and sadness. “You’ve grown much, (Y/N). Your dedication is evident in every movement you make.” 

I felt a flush of pride at his words but quickly suppressed it, focusing instead on the humility I had learned to adopt. “Thank you, Master. I’ve been training hard.” Kagaya nodded, his expression shifting slightly, as if he was about to share something important. “Your progress has not gone unnoticed, and I am pleased to see how far you’ve come on your own.  

But I have another reason for coming here today, (Y/N). We have a new member joining the Demon Slayer Corps, and I wanted you to be among the first to know.” 

A new member? My curiosity piqued as I wondered who this person might be and why Kagaya had chosen to share this news with me personally. 

“His name is Gyomei Himejima,” Kagaya continued, his voice filled with a quiet respect. “He is a man of great strength and even greater compassion. Though blind, his senses are extraordinarily sharp, and he has a deep connection with the world around him. He possesses an unmatched inner strength that I believe will be invaluable to our cause.” 

I listened intently, intrigued by this new addition to the Corps. A blind man with such strength and presence—it was both surprising and inspiring. I wondered what kind of person Gyomei must be to earn Kagaya’s high praise. 

But as Kagaya continued to speak, a knot of unease began to form in my chest. “Gyomei has faced many challenges in his life,” Kagaya went on, “but he has emerged from them with a heart full of kindness and a spirit unbreakable by the hardships he’s endured. I believe that the two of you could learn much from each other.” 

His words were meant to reassure me, to make me feel a sense of camaraderie with this new member, but instead, they stirred something dark and unwelcome inside me—an emotion I hadn't expected to feel: jealousy. 

Kagaya had always been a guiding light in my life, the closest thing I had to a father. He had taken me in when I was lost, nurtured my potential, and given me a purpose. I was the first person he had "adopted" into this strange, new family of Demon Slayers, and in many ways, I had come to think of him as mine alone. The idea of someone else stepping into that space, especially someone as remarkable as Gyomei, made me feel threatened. 

I tried to suppress the bitterness rising in my throat, but it was difficult. Kagaya had always been kind and supportive, never showing favoritism, yet the thought of sharing his attention and approval with someone else made me irrationally hostile. I didn’t want to feel this way, but I couldn’t help it. It was as though this new member, despite having done nothing wrong, was somehow encroaching on the bond I had so carefully built with Kagaya. 

"Master," I began hesitantly, trying to keep my voice steady, "are you sure... are you sure we need someone like him? I mean, with his blindness and everything, won’t he be at a disadvantage?" 

Kagaya’s expression softened, as if he could see right through my facade, recognizing the fear and insecurity I was trying so hard to hide. “(Y/N),” he said gently, “Gyomei’s blindness is not a weakness. If anything, it has made him stronger, more attuned to the world in ways we might never understand. But I can see that you’re worried.” 

As Kagaya continued speaking, my irritation grew, feeding on the sense of encroachment that Gyomei's arrival represented. The calm demeanor I had worked so hard to cultivate began to fray, replaced by a surge of anger and resentment I couldn't quite control. My hands clenched into fists, and I struggled to keep my voice steady. 

“Master,” I said, my tone sharper than I intended, “I appreciate your confidence in this Gyomei Himejima, but I don't see why we need to bring in someone new right now. We’ve been managing fine on our own, haven’t we?” 

Kagaya’s smile faltered slightly, his gentle gaze assessing me with a mixture of concern and sadness. “(Y/N), it is not just about our current capabilities. Gyomei possesses unique qualities that will be invaluable to our mission. His strength is not diminished by his blindness; rather, it has been shaped by it.” 

I could feel my pulse quickening, the anger bubbling up despite my efforts to suppress it. “But why does he have to come here now? Why can't we just stick to what we know? Adding someone new... it’s disruptive. I’ve worked so hard to prove myself here, and now it feels like it’s all being undermined.” 

Kagaya’s eyes softened with understanding, but his expression remained steady. “(Y/N), it’s natural to feel apprehensive about change, especially when it feels like it threatens what you’ve worked so hard to build. But remember, the strength of the Corps comes from our unity, from our ability to accept and support each other. Gyomei is not here to diminish your place but to enhance our collective strength.” 

My jaw tightened, and I struggled to maintain control over my emotions. “I just— I don’t want to feel like I’m being replaced or overlooked. I’ve worked so hard for this, and it feels like now I have to compete with someone who is being praised for qualities I don’t understand.” Kagaya's gaze grew more intense, though his voice remained calm and reassuring. “(Y/N), you are a part of the Ubuyashiki family. You are like a daughter to me. Your place here is not in jeopardy. No one can replace you or diminish the importance of what you’ve accomplished. You are needed, just as much as ever.” 

Despite his heartfelt words, I felt a storm of frustration brewing inside me. The notion of being told I was needed, while comforting, seemed insufficient in the face of my growing insecurity. I felt as though Kagaya’s assurances could not bridge the gap between what I had come to believe and the reality he was presenting. 

“I’m sorry, Master,” I said, my voice thick with frustration. “I appreciate what you’re saying, but it’s hard to just accept that everything will stay the same. It feels like everything I’ve worked for is being overshadowed by someone who hasn’t even proven himself yet.” 

Kagaya’s expression did not waver. He stepped closer, his voice carrying a gentle firmness. “(Y/N), I know this is difficult. Change often is. But your value is not determined by how you compare to others. It is inherent in who you are and what you’ve done. You have a unique place in this family, and no one, not even Gyomei, can take that away from you.” 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

Years had passed, and with each new addition to the Demon Slayer Corps, my sense of displacement and hostility grew. The family I once thought was my own had expanded beyond recognition, and with every new face, I felt a little more like an outsider in the world I had fought so hard to be a part of. 

When Gyomei Himejima joined, his presence had been intimidating but not unwelcome. He was a reminder of the change Kagaya had spoken of, the new dynamic I had to adapt to. I had grudgingly accepted him, though it took time for me to see his value. The same could not be said for every new member that followed. 

Tengen Uzui, with his flamboyant demeanor and larger-than-life personality, seemed to clash with everything I valued. His bravado grated on me, and I struggled to understand his place in our ranks. His presence felt like an intrusion into a space that was already crowded with my insecurities. 

Sanemi Shinazugawa arrived with a fierce intensity that mirrored my own frustrations. His abrasive nature and fierce attitude seemed to resonate with my own feelings of anger and resentment. It was as if his presence was a reflection of my own hostility, magnified. 

Kyojuro Rengoku brought a fiery passion that was undeniably inspiring but also made me feel inadequate. His unwavering optimism and dedication seemed to cast a shadow on my own struggles. I felt a growing sense of competition, a fear that I would never measure up to his bright, burning spirit. 

Giyu Tomioka, stoic and reserved, was a calming presence but also a constant reminder of the expectations I struggled to meet. His quiet strength was both reassuring and intimidating, a contrast to my own volatile emotions. 

Mitsuri Kanroji arrived with a warmth and kindness that was difficult to reconcile with my own growing bitterness. Her gentle demeanor and unyielding support seemed to highlight my own struggles to connect with the others. 

Obanai Iguro’s strict discipline and unwavering commitment to the Corps served as a constant reminder of the standards I felt I was failing to meet. His dedication, though admirable, only deepened my own insecurities. 

Muichiro Tokito, with his enigmatic and detached nature, was a mystery I struggled to understand. His aloofness felt like a barrier to the camaraderie I longed for, and his presence seemed to accentuate my own sense of alienation. 

Despite my efforts to push past my feelings of resentment, I found it increasingly difficult to accept the growing number of members. The constant influx of new faces only heightened my sense of isolation, making it harder for me to find my place within the expanding Corps. 

Tengen Uzui was hard to ignore—everything about him was larger than life. From the flamboyant way he dressed to the booming voice that seemed to command attention wherever he went. He was always at the center of everything, with a confidence that bordered on arrogance. For someone like me, who had spent so much time in quiet solitude, his presence was overwhelming. 

One afternoon, as I was practicing alone in a secluded part of the forest, I heard the unmistakable sound of his voice cutting through the air. Even before he came into view, I could feel the vibrations of his footsteps, heavy and deliberate. My sensitive ears twitched in irritation. 

"(Y/N)!" he called out, his tone bright and enthusiastic as he approached. "Why are you always hiding away in the shadows? Come join us, we’re all family, you know!" 

I grimaced, trying to focus on the movements of my sword rather than the intrusive sound of his voice. Tengen wasn’t someone you could easily ignore, though. He strolled right up to me, his presence impossible to overlook. 

“I’m not hiding,” I replied curtly, keeping my eyes on the blade in my hands. “I’m training.” 

He chuckled, a deep, resonant sound that made my ears ring. “Training alone is fine and all, but it’s no fun if you never get to show off what you’ve learned. You should come spar with us sometime—let’s see what you’ve got.” 

His words were friendly, even encouraging, but to me, they felt like a challenge. The thought of sparring with someone like Tengen, with all his bravado and flair, made my stomach twist. It wasn’t that I feared losing; it was the idea of being under his scrutiny, of having to endure his overbearing energy. 

“I prefer to train by myself,” I said, trying to keep my tone polite but firm. 

Tengen tilted his head, his expression curious. “You know, you’re way too serious for your own good. Lighten up a little! We’re all here to support each other, not compete. What’s the point of being so isolated?” I narrowed my eyes at Tengen’s remark, a spark of annoyance flaring up. His relentless optimism and insistence on camaraderie grated on my nerves. “Maybe some of us don’t need to be surrounded by people to feel validated,” I shot back, my voice carrying a sharp edge. “Not everyone thrives on being the center of attention.” 

Tengen raised an eyebrow, clearly taken aback by my snarky tone. But instead of backing off, he smirked, a glint of mischief in his eyes. “Oh, is that what this is about? You’re just too cool for the rest of us, huh? Or maybe you’re just worried you won’t measure up?” He leaned in a little closer, his voice dropping to a teasing whisper.  

“You know, for someone who’s supposed to be part of the Ubuyashiki family, you don’t really look the part.” 

That was the last straw. 

The blood rushed to my face, and before I could stop myself, I exploded. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” I shouted, my voice shaking with fury. “You think because I don’t look like them, I don’t belong? I’ve fought for my place here every single day! I’ve bled for it! And you—” I jabbed a finger toward his chest, “you have no idea what it’s like to feel like you don’t belong anywhere! You with your perfect family, your perfect everything!” 

Tengen’s playful expression faltered as he realized he’d struck a nerve, but I wasn’t done. 

“You have no idea what it’s like to be taken in out of pity, to constantly feel like you have to prove you’re worth the space you take up! So don’t you dare stand there and question my place in this family just because I don’t fit your picture of what it should look like!” My voice rose with each word, the frustration and pain I had kept buried for so long finally erupting in a torrent of emotion. "You think it's easy, don't you? Being surrounded by people who were born into this, who have families and histories that tie them to this cause? You think I haven't noticed how everyone looks at me, how they wonder why Kagaya chose someone like me?" 

I was dimly aware of others gathering around, drawn by the commotion. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw familiar faces—Gyomei, Sanemi, Mitsuri, and the others—watching with various degrees of surprise and concern. But I couldn’t stop now, not when all the hurt and anger I had bottled up for so long was finally spilling out. 

“And you, Tengen,” I continued, my voice cracking as I fought to keep the tears at bay, “you with your flashy demeanor and your perfect life, you stand there and judge me? Do you have any idea what it feels like to be constantly reminded that you don’t belong? To know that every time you walk into a room, people are wondering why you’re even here?” 

Tengen, who had been so confident and carefree just moments before, looked stunned. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. The others looked just as shocked, their eyes wide as they listened to me unleash years of pent-up frustration and insecurity. 

“I’ve fought tooth and nail to be where I am,” I went on, my voice trembling with emotion. “I’ve trained alone, bled alone, cried alone, all because I didn’t want to be a burden. I’ve seen how the rest of you bond, how you look out for each other, and I’ve never once felt like I was truly part of that. And now—now you’re telling me I don’t even look like I belong?” 

The silence that followed was deafening. I could feel my heart pounding in my chest, my breath coming in ragged gasps as I stared at Tengen, daring him to say something, anything. The weight of everyone’s eyes on me only made the tension more unbearable, but I couldn’t bring myself to look away. 

Finally, Tengen took a step back, his face serious and his voice low. “(Y/N), I didn’t mean to make you feel like that. I was just… I was just trying to understand.” 

But I wasn’t done. The presence of the other Hashira, the ones who had unknowingly made me feel like an outsider, only fueled the fire inside me. “Understand?” I scoffed bitterly. “You can’t understand. None of you can. You all have your places, your roles, your families. But me? I’m just the stray Kagaya took in. The one who doesn’t fit, no matter how hard I try.” My voice trembled as I continued, the words tumbling out like a dam that had finally burst. “You think you know pain? You think you understand what it’s like to be unwanted?” I could feel the tears welling up, but I refused to let them fall. I needed them to hear this, to understand why I could never just fit in like the rest of them. 

“My father… my so-called father, wasn’t even really mine,” I spat, the bitterness seeping into my tone. “He was a drunk who hated the sight of me because I wasn’t his. My mother—she had me with some man she hooked up with, and when my father found out, he made my life a living hell. He couldn’t stand to look at me, to touch me. And when I tried to reach out, to be a part of their lives, do you know what they did?” 

I held up my hands, the scars still faintly visible from where the boiling water had seared my skin so many years ago. “They poured boiling water over my hands. They told me I was filthy, disgusting, that I didn’t deserve to touch them. They wanted to destroy me, to break me, and they almost did. But I survived. I survived all of it, and for what?” 

The others were silent, their expressions a mix of shock and horror as they listened to the ugly truth of my past. But I couldn’t stop now, not when everything I had buried for so long was finally coming to the surface. 

“My real father didn’t want me either,” I continued, my voice cracking. “I found him once, and he looked at me like I was nothing. Like I was a mistake he wished he could erase. And my mother, she was no better. She sold me to Kagaya for 5000 yen, like I was just some piece of trash she needed to get rid of.” 

My chest heaved with the effort of holding back my sobs, but I forced myself to keep going. “So don’t stand there and tell me I belong here, or that you understand. You don’t know what it’s like to be cast aside by everyone who was supposed to love you, to have to fight every day just to prove you’re worth something. Kagaya… he saved me, but even now, I feel like I’m just that unwanted child he took in out of pity.” 

I finally let the tears fall, unable to hold them back any longer. “I’ve been fighting my whole life, not just against demons, but against this feeling that I’ll never be enough. That no matter what I do, I’ll always be the girl who wasn’t wanted, who didn’t belong.” 

The weight of my confession hung in the air, heavy and oppressive. The Hashira stood there, their faces pale with the realization of just how deep my wounds ran. They had seen me as strong, maybe even intimidating, but now they saw the broken pieces beneath the surface. 

“Maybe… maybe I don’t belong here,” I whispered, the words barely audible as I finally let the despair take hold. “Maybe I never did.” 

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The warm glow of lanterns filled the dining hall of the Ubuyashiki estate, casting a soft light on the low table where Kagaya and Amane Ubuyashiki sat, waiting for the evening meal to be served. The gentle hum of conversation from their children filled the room, but there was an undercurrent of unease that neither Kagaya nor Amane could ignore. 

Kagaya’s usually serene expression was tinged with concern as he glanced at the empty space at the table. “(Y/N) hasn’t arrived yet,” he murmured, his voice gentle but laced with worry. “She’s never this late.” 

Amane nodded, her eyes reflecting the same concern. “It’s unusual for her to miss dinner. She’s always been so diligent about joining us, no matter how intense her training.” 

Their children, who had been quietly conversing among themselves, began to notice the absence of their elder sister. One of the younger girls, a delicate child with soft, dark hair, looked up at her parents with wide, innocent eyes. “Where’s big sister?” she asked, her voice small and worried. “Is she okay?” 

Kagaya reached out to gently pat his daughter’s head, offering her a reassuring smile. “I’m sure she’s fine, my dear. Perhaps she’s still out training and lost track of time.” 

But even as he spoke the words, a sense of unease settled over him. (Y/N) had always been a pillar of strength within their family, someone who, despite her struggles, had always made an effort to be there for her younger siblings. Her absence now felt like a dark cloud over what was usually a peaceful evening. 

Amane rose from her seat, smoothing her kimono as she did. “I’ll go check on her,” she said softly Amane was halfway to the door when Mitsuri Kanroji burst into the dining hall, her usually serene expression now marked by a flurry of worry and urgency. “I’m so sorry for interrupting,” she began breathlessly, her cheeks flushed from running. “But something’s happening, and I thought you should know right away.” 

Kagaya and Amane exchanged a glance, their concern deepening. “What is it, Mitsuri?” Kagaya asked, his voice steady but laced with apprehension. 

Mitsuri’s eyes were wide with alarm. “(Y/N) and Tengen… they’re fighting. It’s not just a verbal argument. It’s a full-on hand-to-hand fight. They’re outside, and it looks like it’s getting out of control.” 

The room fell silent as Kagaya’s face hardened with determination. He stood abruptly, the calm demeanor he usually projected replaced by a stern urgency. “Amane, stay with the children,” he instructed. “I’ll handle this.” 

Amane nodded, her face pale but resolute. “Please, be careful.” 

Kagaya and Mitsuri hurried outside, the cool evening air hitting their faces as they made their way toward the training grounds. The sounds of grunts and the clash of limbs grew louder, guiding them to the scene of the confrontation. As Kagaya and Mitsuri approached the training grounds, the sounds of the fight grew louder, their urgency pushing them faster. They rounded a corner to find (Y/N) and Tengen locked in a fierce struggle, their movements a whirlwind of punches, kicks, and defensive maneuvers. 

Tengen was clearly showing signs of exhaustion, his breathing ragged and his stance unsteady. His speed, which had been his advantage, was faltering under the relentless assault from (Y/N). Despite his agility, he was struggling to keep up with the sheer intensity of (Y/N)’s assault. 

(Y/N) was equally battered, her face streaked with sweat and dirt, her breathing heavy but determined. Her eyes were focused, each strike driven by a mix of anger and frustration. Her movements were fierce and precise, each punch and kick a testament to her inner turmoil. 

Kagaya stepped forward, his voice cutting through the chaos. “Enough!” His tone was commanding, carrying the weight of authority that both combatants could not ignore. 

For a moment, both (Y/N) and Tengen paused, their bodies freezing mid-action as they turned toward Kagaya. The intensity of their fight still lingered in the air, but the immediate clash of fists and feet ceased. 

Kagaya’s eyes softened with a blend of concern and disappointment as he took in the sight before him. “This is not the way to resolve your conflicts,” he said, his voice steady but heavy with emotion. “We are a family, and families support one another, even in times of disagreement.” 

Tengen, breathing heavily and visibly wounded, looked down, his face flushed with both anger and regret. “I’m sorry,” he managed to say, his voice hoarse. “I didn’t mean to push her so far.” 

(Y/N) stood there, her chest heaving as she struggled to regain control of her emotions. Her anger had dissipated, leaving behind a raw vulnerability that was difficult to hide. She looked at Kagaya, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. As Kagaya called out to (Y/N), trying to bridge the gap that had formed, she ignored him, her steps quick and purposeful. The weight of the confrontation, combined with the emotional strain she had been carrying, propelled her forward with an urgency that left no room for pause. 

Her room was her sanctuary, a place where she could hide from the eyes of others and the expectations placed upon her. She rushed through the hallway, her heart pounding in her chest, and threw open the door with a force that made it slam against the wall. 

Inside, she collapsed onto her bed, burying her face in her hands as the tears she had fought so hard to contain finally spilled forth. The raw vulnerability that had been exposed during the fight now gave way to an overwhelming sense of despair. She had always prided herself on her strength, but in that moment, she felt utterly defeated. 

As the tears streamed down (Y/N)’s face, the weight of her own anguish became unbearable. Her room, once a refuge, now felt like a prison, enclosing her in her darkest thoughts. She buried her face in her hands, the raw emotion making her shoulders shake with each sob. 

In her desperation, (Y/N) reached for a pot she kept hidden in the corner of her room. It was a vessel she had used in the past to punish herself—a cruel reminder of the torment she had endured. She filled it with water from the small kettle she kept on a low flame and watched as it began to heat. The steam rising from it seemed almost to mock her, a cruel echo of the suffering she had faced. 

The minutes ticked by painfully slow, each one amplifying her internal struggle. Finally, she lifted the pot, her hands trembling with both anger and fear. The boiling water sloshed ominously, a dark promise of the pain she was about to inflict upon herself. 

She hesitated, her breath catching in her throat. The old scars of her past—her mother’s harsh punishment, her father’s neglect—flared up in her mind. The boiling water was more than just a tool of self-harm; it was a symbol of everything she wished to escape but felt unable to. 

In a moment of bleak determination, (Y/N) held the pot over her hands. The thought of finally ridding herself of the hands that had once been subjected to such cruelty was almost seductive. Yet, a part of her clung to the hope that there might still be a way out of the darkness that had consumed her. Her grip tightened on the pot, the steam curling around her hands and face as she wrestled with the decision. The weight of her past pressed down on her with unbearable force, and in her mind, the boiling water symbolized a final escape from the relentless torment of her memories. 

With a shuddering breath, (Y/N) tilted the pot, and the searing hot water cascaded over her hands. The immediate pain was intense, a white-hot agony that sent sharp cries escaping her lips. The sensation of the scalding water was like a cruel echo of the suffering she had felt throughout her life. 

As the water flowed, the agony became a paradoxical release—a physical manifestation of the emotional pain she had struggled to articulate. The searing heat burned not just her flesh but also her heart, giving a fleeting, tangible form to the suffering she had been grappling with in silence. 

The burning sensation intensified, and (Y/N) gasped, her eyes widening in shock and torment. She dropped the pot, the remaining water splashing onto the floor, leaving her hands red and blistered. The pain was blinding, almost overwhelming, but in its brutal clarity, it forced her to confront the depth of her self-destructive desperation. 

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pt.3? anyone??

[zafill]

HELP ME FINISH THE DEMON SLAYER PT.2 STORY if you cant pick 2. pick 1 from above and coment the other

[zafill]

Demon Slayer

warning: abuse. neglect. child-abuse words: 1.678 ------------------------------------------------------------------------

9 hours. It took my mother 9 hours to give birth to me. I was breached or, as people say it ‘’born legs first’ the year is 1891, we didn't have prober medical equipment. Since my parents were poor, they didn’t have the money for a doctor, nor a child. My parents also didn't want a child. I was an accident. My parents agreed that when I was born, they would give me away. Sell me to some random person. 

But they didn’t. Not straight away. When I was born, I had (H/C). Like, really (H/C). My mother doesn’t have (H/C), she has white hair, and my father has black hair. 

As I grew, it became evident that I was a constant reminder of their unwanted responsibility. My mother, resentful and overwhelmed, resorted to harsh words and neglect. My father, drowning his sorrows in alcohol, was hardly present in my life. 

At the tender age of seven, I learned the truth about my origins. My parents had never intended to keep me. I was merely a burden they couldn't afford, a mistake they wished to erase. The revelation left me feeling adrift, like a ship without a compass, searching for purpose and belonging in a world that seemed determined to cast me aside. 

When I was 8, I tried so hard to make my parents proud, but whatever I did seemed to make them angry. One wrong move and they would explode. Sometimes, they made me watch them eat dinner, and didn't let me eat any.  

Sometimes, they wouldn't even let me sleep in my bed. But that wasn't as bad as the other punishments. The worst one is when they would put boiling water over my hands. They only did this when I touched them. They would say ‘’you are filthy! You are disgusting, you must never touch me again!’’ The reason for the Boling water was in hopes my hands would fall off. Or become numb so I couldn't move them.  

When I was 9. My mother was in the kitchen, making lunch, I was trying to explain to my mother that I wanted attention, as I had just fallen on the ground and my knee was bleeding. Nut I didn't even get my words out before she swung at me. I managed to get out of the way. My reflexes had always been really good. But she did manage to cut me on my lip.  

The sting of my mother's blow seared through me, both physically and emotionally. As I stumbled backward, clutching my bleeding lip, a rush of anger and defiance surged within me. How could a mother, the one person who was supposed to nurture and protect, inflict such pain without a second thought? 

Fueled by a mixture of adrenaline and desperation, I refused to cower in submission. With trembling hands, I wiped away the blood trickling down my chin, my gaze locking with my mother's cold, indifferent eyes. In that moment, something within me shifted. 

"No more," I whispered, my voice trembling with a newfound resolve. "I won't be your punching bag anymore. I won't let you break me." 

The words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of my defiance. For the first time in my young life, I dared to stand up to the oppressive force that had held me captive for so long. The fire of rebellion burned bright within me, igniting a spark of courage that refused to be extinguished. 

As my mother stood frozen, her hand still poised in midair, I turned on my heel and fled from the suffocating confines of our home. Blood mingled with tears on my cheeks as I stumbled into the unforgiving embrace of the outside world. 

I did end up walking back home. Not without consciences... no food for a week, no bed. And No sunlight. Those were some of the darkest days I had ever experienced. 

Hunger gnawed at my stomach, the cold seeped into my bones, and the absence of sunlight cast a shadow over my already heavy heart. I wandered the streets, a mere ghost of a child, desperately seeking solace from the harsh reality that had become my life. 

With each passing moment, the echoes of my mother's cruelty reverberated within me. The pain in my lip served as a constant reminder of the violence I had endured. Yet, a newfound sense of strength and determination burned within me, refusing to be extinguished. When the week finally ended, I had my first meal. Though it was cold. It was so nice to have something in my stomach. 

When I was 10, my father found out my mother had an affair with another man. He understood now. I was not his, the man my mother had an affair with was also a (Y/H/C) head. This information only seemed to make the hatred my father felt for me became even bigger.  

He became more abusive, not only to me. But also, to my mother. In the end. I couldn’t handle it anymore. I ran away. I ran into the city, in hopes of finding someone who would care for me. Someone who would take me home. The town was called ‘’the red light district’’  

In the red light district, there were a lot of...naked Woman. The red light district was known as the ‘’prostitute land’ since there were so many people selling themself, just for a bit of cash. As i was walking down the streets. I saw a man asking everyone he came across ‘’Have you seen a woman named Solji (L/N)?’’ Solji was my mother's name. 

I walk up to him, gently tugging at his Haori to get his attention. When he looked down at me, he was confused. Why would a child want to talk to him? ‘’Solji is my mother’ I said to him. He looked shocked. Thats when I realized he had the same hair color as me. ‘’Are you, my dad?’’ ‘’HELL NO!’’ he yelled. ‘’I DONT WANT A KID WITH SOME WOMAN I SLEPT WITH ONCE!’’ Everyone's eyes were on us. I felt so embarrassed. I started to cry.  

He yanked his arm away from me. Before storming off. I was so destructed. I've just met my real Father and he also doesn’t want me. I keep doing something wrong. Why will nobody take care of me?   When I walked home. My mother was outside. I just knew she had a beating for me. ‘’WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?’’ she yelled at me. My eardrums felt like they were going to burst ‘’i-ive been at the city...’’  ‘’You are such a disgrace.’’ I know my mother was harsh. But I didn't expect her to say that straight to my face. 

  My mother's words cut through me like a knife, and the weight of her disappointment hung heavily in the air. I could feel her anger radiating, suffocating any hope that had dared to linger in my heart. As she advanced towards me, the shadows cast by the dimly lit street seemed to dance with malice, mirroring the turbulence within our fractured relationship. 

Without warning, her hand lashed out, striking my cheek with a force that sent me sprawling to the ground. The sting of her slap echoed in the still night, a painful punctuation to her harsh words. I dared not look up, keeping my eyes fixed on the cold, unforgiving pavement. 

"You think you can just wander off whenever you please?" she seethed, her voice a venomous hiss. "You're nothing but a burden, a constant reminder of the mistake I made. I should have given you away when I had the chance." 

Her words pierced through me, reopening old wounds and pouring salt into the fresh ones from the recent encounter with my supposed father. I felt the familiar burn of tears, but I refused to let them fall. I wouldn't give her the satisfaction of seeing me break. 

In the midst of her tirade, a flicker of defiance ignited within me. Rising to my feet, I locked eyes with her, determined not to cower beneath the weight of her disdain. 

"I may be a disgrace to you, but I won't let your words define me," I declared, my voice trembling but resolute. "I'll find my own path, one that doesn't lead me through the darkness you've created."    ‘’YOU BRAT!’’ she yelled, as she pulled my ear. ‘’YOU WOULD BE LUCKY IF ANYONE WANTED YOU! A MISTAKE!’’  

Her grip on my ear was merciless, sending a jolt of pain shooting through me. I bit back a cry, refusing to give her the satisfaction of seeing me flinch. With every ounce of strength, I could muster, I wrenched myself free from her grasp, the taste of blood filling my mouth from where I had bitten my lip to suppress the pain. 

I tried to stop her, but with all the neglect, and being underweight, I had no chance. She dragged me across the cold earthy ground. I don't know how long she dragged me. But when she finally stopped. She threw me Infront of someone's feet. ‘’5000 yen for her.’’ she explained ‘’very well then’’ the mysterious man replied and handed her the money. And then she walked away 

I looked up to see a man with short black hair and pale skin. He had some kind of purple mass on his forehead. ‘’what's your name young one?’’ he asked me with a smile ‘’(Y/N)... (Y/N) (L/N)’’ I replied. I've always been taught to be respectful to everyone. Even if they give you a weird feeling. ‘’My name is kagaya ubuyashiki. I'm the leader of a foundation called the ‘’Demon Slayers’’ 

If I may. I would like you to join us when you are of the right age... how old are you know (Y/N)?’’ he asked. ‘’I'm 10’’ I replied with a small voice. I wasn't sure if he heard me. ‘’then we should start now. I'll have someone teach you, my child.’’  ‘’Welcome to the world of demons’’  ---------------------------------------------------------------------- tell me if you all want a pt.2 (update: pt2 is in the working)