#im still just hung up on the fact that the remaining survivors will never know what they did for them

[irn-bru]

their sacrifice and bravery still remains unknown and thrass doesn't even get a name drop. makes me sick sick sick to my stomach

#i have never been so done dirty by a book in my life #im still thinking about this weeks later. i just want to rest #listen. i get that outbound flight is the prequel and thats where all the emotional pay out is at. i really do #im still just hung up on the fact that the remaining survivors will never know what they did for them #that they still view lorana with contempt. they dont even know about thrass's existence #not even luke and mara really believed that lorana helped these people or that she was a hero #i am deeply mentally unwell how am i supposed to cope with this lmaoo #timothy count your days #lorana jinzler #thrass #luke skywalker #mara jade #thrawn #survivors quest

[slashthedice]

Gifts - Max Thompson Jr.

This is my (long overdue) half of a trade with @malokhim! I’m so thrilled to be doing this exchange with you, dear! Magg made this incredible piece for me, and I will cherish it forever (it’s currently my lockscreen on my phone). I love Max with all of my little heart, he deserves the world. Thank you for giving me a chance to write more about him ♥ This might be the only time that a killer face-camps out of love rather than hate.

“He’s here again.”

At the sound of Jake’s voice, you looked up from the gauze you were rolling into neat little bundles. You scanned the gloom that hung at the edge of the clearing, just outside the reaching fingers of firelight. Sure enough, there amongst the shadows was the sinister figure of the Hillbilly.

The others said that he had never been one of the usual monsters that stalked among the twisted trees and dry grass, watching them outside of the trials. They claimed that it wouldn’t be unusual to see the Shape or the Ghost Face, sometimes one might even spot the shimmering silhouette of the Wraith or hear the wheezing of the Clown, but never the crooked outline of the chainsaw wielder. This change in the killer’s behavior had apparently come about shortly after you had arrived in the Entity’s realm.

You remembered your first trial, hunted and cut down by the whirring chain of the mechanical saw. Delirious from pain and blood loss, you had hardly noticed when he picked you up, disfigured arm snug around your waist as he hoisted you onto his shoulder. You had screamed, and screamed, and screamed when the hook first pierced your shoulder. Only when your screams had died to whimpers and sobs did you notice that he was still there, standing before you, staring at you. He made no noise except for his gurgling, rattling breathing and his glowing eyes never left your pained, blood-splattered face. He was the last thing you saw before the Entity took you.

After that trial, you had spotted him out there in the dark. Those same glowing eyes boring into you from across the clearing. At first you had been scared, certain that he would kill you again, but your fears had been assuaged by the others, explaining that the Entity allowed the killers no closer than the ring of light provided by the campfire. Claudette was the first to note how unusual it was to see the Hillbilly there, but the others quickly agreed.

You wondered what it was you had done. The others said that sometimes killers grew to have a particular distaste for certain survivors. You had heard stories of survivors hitting, kicking, and even stabbing killers, but you hadn’t had the presence of mind to do so. You hadn’t been disrespectful, in fact he had caught you with a fair amount of ease. You were, afterall, unfamiliar with running for your life. 

Your confusion only grew when, upon encountering him next in trial, he merely followed you around the map. There was no heart-stopping growl of whirring chain, and he never once made to hit you with the bloodstained cattle hammer. He simply loped along as you ran for your life amongst the cornstalks. You escaped that trial, but frankly you weren’t sure how. It felt a lot like he had let you go.

You didn’t know how to broach the topic to the others. What could you say? That you thought a killer might be letting you live for some reason? Maybe he felt bad for you. Maybe he saw how much worse you were at surviving than the others, and thought you weren’t worth the effort of killing. Whatever his reasoning, you were thoroughly confused by it.

Slowly, you began to notice odd things showing up at the edge of the clearing near where you typically resided between trials. Small things like bottles of vegetable oil and spark plugs, or even the occasional primer bulb seemed to appear among the tall grass. You took them back to the others, hoping that maybe someone would be able to find a use for them, maybe one of the more mechanically inclined survivors would know what could be done with them. Yet the mystery of their origin remained unsolved.

You continued on as you had. Working with the others. Making offerings to the Entity. Going into trials. Living. Dying.

Eventually, the little objects you found began to change. A number of plastic cattle tags started to appear, littered in with the usual assortment of items. They were battered and often bloodstained, each one emblazoned with a worn number in black ink. Any other letters had been rubbed away with the exception of the occasional Coldwind Farm. Some of the others told you they used to find those around quite often, burning them as offerings tended to result in a trial on the decrepit farm. You held onto them. Just in case.

The mystery was solved suddenly and unexpectedly.

In a particularly brutal trial, you had been found almost immediately by the Nurse, and despite the most valiant efforts of your friends, had quickly met your demise. After the pain and the blackness, you found yourself awakening at the edge of the clearing. Awareness came back to you slowly, your mind sluggish in the wake of yet another death.

You realized suddenly that you were not alone.

There, only a handful of feet away within the shadows, was the Hillbilly. He was bent over, crouching beside the patch of grass in which you always found the strange items. He was frozen in place, eyes trained on you with apparent surprise. Despite the slow return of your faculties, you understood that he had not expected to see you there. You followed the length of his outstretched arm to his hand, where his fingers were wrapped around something that sparkled in the outer reaches of fire light.

You blinked a few times before opening your mouth to say something. What exactly you planned to say, you had no idea, but before you could even attempt to come up with something, he dropped what he was holding and ran. His twisted back turned to you as he hobbled deeper and deeper into the darkened forest, leaving you to gather your roiling thoughts

After a few lingering heartbeats, you leaned forward, parting the strands of long grass to find what he had dropped. A glimmer of silver winked up at you. As you reached for it, you recognized the shape of a little heart. When you picked it up, a delicate silver chain came with it. As you turned the necklace over, you realized that it was a fine locket. In the lowlight you could just make out “E+M” engraved in it. Had he left this for you?

You were nearly crushed under the weight of the sudden realization that the Hillbilly had been the one leaving all those things for you. You thought he hated you, why would he bring you things? Not just things, gifts. You wanted to ask him. Wanted to know why.

Which brought you to the situation at hand.

“I’ll get rid of ‘im,” David declared, rolling up his sleeves as if he was going to do more than yell obscenities at the killer standing there staring at you.

“No,” you said, standing quickly and catching his elbow. “I’ll handle it.”

David looked at you like you had grown a second head, and you could feel the eyes of the others on your back, but eventually the scrapper relented. “Fine. Have at it.”

You took a deep breath and squared your shoulders before marching towards the edge of the firelight. You could feel the comforting weight of the locket around your neck as you closed the distance between the Hillbilly and yourself. You wanted answers, and there was no time like the present to get them.

#max thompson jr #max thompson jr x reader #the hillbilly #the hillbilly x reader #dbd hillbilly #DBD #dbd imagines #malokhim #i'm sorry this took so long honey

[ravingj]

hey there!

okay so im Raven/1bitheartboy and this is the...uh...very much belated secret santa fic as part of the @fatesandawakeningss2k16 for @yatonoryunoko!

...i am so sorry holy shit but like! to make up for it i made this fic super long! and i also packed in quite a lot of punch and effort to make up for the delay! really, i apologize for this, it's quite rude of me to do it

So here you go! A Zerokamu fic to rock your socks off! :>

Stairways to Heaven

A Fire Emblem: Fates fanfiction

Today, too, the forest was quiet.

The crunch of leaves against his boots as he walked, the slight chill in the air, as winter slowly crept along the edges.

This deep inside, he could just barely see the sun. A few stray rays broke through the filter of leaves above; all that surrounded him was darkness and unusually bright, jewel-like patterns from the foliage casting kaleidoscope shadows on the floor.

Frost and darkness.

This feels familiar.

The scent of the forest is like the scent of home to him now.

...Maybe he's been walking for too long.

He scouts the area until he finally finds a safe enough spot to sit and rest under.

The bag makes a clinking noise as he pulls it off, landing in a heap on the forest floor. As he sits down against the tree, leaning against the bark.

This was bad.

He couldn't even muster up enough strength to lift his head.

Before he even knows it, he's already fallen asleep.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

He doesn't sleep too deeply these days. A habit, and an ironic one in these times.

Because in the back of his mind, there's a part of him that always stays awake.

He stays awake...and he hears it.

Echoes of his breath in his body and his ears. Sometimes, if he 'concentrated' hard enough, he could feel the pulse in his body.

Almost.

Feel it slipping through his fingertips, almost.

Figuratively speaking. It's a bit disturbing to think about so he tries not to.

He...tries.

In this quiet solitude, he 'drifts' along. A sea of sorts between consciousness and unconsciousness, vagrant and undreaming.

Until he finally hears it.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Crack.

The crunch of the leaves, underfoot, a familiar sound.

And he wasn't the one making it.

He opens his eyes and sits up, gritting his teeth at the fatigue dragging on his limbs.

He'd grown too complacent. This forest, it wasn't safe anymore, it seems.

Good.

His fingers were getting clumsier on the bow these days.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

He's lived a long enough life to know people. Tell them apart.

It helped in his job quite a bit. When he still had one.

And even right now, after so long, it comes way too easily to him. Second nature.

The person in front of him hadn't noticed him yet and he hadn't given him the opportunity to. He remained seated on the edge of the log, a book of some kind on his lap.

And he didn't need to study the intricate design of his clothes, nor the obvious gleam of the sword on his hip to know that he wasn't exactly the average survivor.

Days upon days of solitude followed by this. Apparently someone up in the heavens fancied themselves quite the jokester.

And he could hardly just stand here any longer.

He takes a breath and steps forward.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

He certainly startled easily.

He's been purposefully vague...or trying to be.

"...What?" The stranger pipes up then, "What is it?"

"I'm just thinking how convenient it is that you've lost your memory."

He says those words, finally. Maybe he'd been quiet for longer than he should have. The stranger certainly looks more than a little put off.

Or it could be the fact that he's seen another person in so long. He knows that feeling, at least.

"Well, I have." The stranger says, somewhat peevishly, "I have no idea why either."

"Really."

This was like the beginning of a bad joke. He's chuckling for some reason.

"The end of the world isn't something that you could forget that easily."

Something in his expression changes then. There's confusion.

A shadow of something else flitted across for a mere second.

"You...keep saying that."

"Hm?"

"The end of the world. You keep...saying that. What does it mean?"

"Exactly what I said." He says easily, so easily, a reiteration of something he's come to terms with long ago.

"The world ended 3 months ago and dragged everyone to hell with it."

The stranger falls quiet, on his face there was more of an expression of disbelief rather than desperation.

He already knows. Not surprising in the least.

He probably even came from the ghost city less than a hundred miles away, even if he 'doesn't remember'.

The stranger looks back up at him then, and he sighs.

"I should ask you this question and get it out of the way."

A formality, more than anything.

"Ask me what?"

"If you're going to try and kill me."

He watches the stranger's expression change again, surprise. Eyes widening, he doesn't know what to do with his hands or his words.

He doesn't understand the words.

"Of...of course I won't!" The stranger says, and he looks legitimately surprised, "Why would I?

"'Why would you?' I couldn't possibly know." He says easily, "I'm just covering all of my bases and making sure you won't."

Something seems to dawn on him then, "Have you met...them?"

"Them?"

"Any others. Like other...survivors?"

"That's usually the first question I hear." Is his answer.

The stranger waits for another one.

In contrast to his clueless expression and demeanor, the stranger's eyes were unusually sharp.

"Are there?"

It's the first and also the last question he ever hears.

"No. Not any more."

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

He doesn't dream much anymore.

Or if he had any dreams, he certainly doesn't remember them.

...There was some irony in there somewhere. He thinks as he opens his eyes again.

Immediately, he sees the glare of fire.

He's about to sit up, his hand on his arrow and something moves out of the corner of his eye.

"..."

Right. It was night-time. This was the campfire they made.

Once he's relaxed, a yawn makes its way up. On the opposite side, he sees the stranger's figure shift slightly. Fast asleep.

Completely defenseless. It's bizarrely jarring to see.

He looks up.

He can see the faint glow of leaves even now.

He's slipping.

"Hey."

No response. He takes a deep breath and stands up.

A little bit of rough shaking on the shoulder and he's elicited a response. Blurry, unfocused eyes, panic as the stranger looks to his face.

"Wh...what is it?"

"We need to move."

"What?" He sits up and peers at him, "What do you mean?"

"Look up."

The stranger does. And he blinks, nonplussed.

"Leaves...the leaves are glowing?"

"They are."

"This...I could be remembering this wrong, but they're not supposed to glow right?"

Even with the sense of impending doom upon him, he has to laugh. It sounds kind of hysterical. "No, they shouldn't. Which means this forest is no longer safe to stay in."

The stranger looks back towards him and nods. "What do we do?"

Still with the plural.

"We should move."

They douse out the fire and start to move.

Quick steps through the forest, the grass barely rustles under their feet.

The wind rustles behind them.

"What was that?" He hears the stranger call behind him.

Does he answer?

This close, he doesn't need to worry for subtlety any more.

"What caused the end of the world."

When did the stranger catch up to him? He feels a tug on his shoulder.

The wind is so furious now, it billows at their feet.

Something was chasing them.

He resists the urge to look back.

He stops dead just then, the stranger almost doesn't.

"Watch out!"

"Huh...?"

A painful yank on the stranger's cape and he just stops short.

The brush of a branch against the stranger's hand. And where the soft leaves meet skin, there's a tear of red, of blood in his flesh.

"...Ugh!"

"Don't touch that." He says lowly, evenly, pulling the stranger away. He can't speak too loud.

It doesn't matter if he does, though.

There's no room left to run.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

When did the world end? He doesn't quite remember.

Then again, was he ever aware of when it did?

It came in the dead of night, before the forests started to die.

When did the world end?

He doesn't remember because he never knew.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

He remembers the day after the end. For some inane reason.

Maybe because he was about to meet his own soon.

He slowly turns and looks at the monster. He can hear the stranger gasp.

It had no form, a shapeless mass, whatever shape it took, it took to the beholder's eyes.

It had many forms, whatever shape it took, it took to the beholder's fears.

What did he see?

Distinctly, he feels the scar over his eye twinge.

"Don't move." He says calmly to the stranger; in response, the stranger turns to look at him.

"I...what..."

Ah, he sees the beast open its mouth. The void and stars in its throat.

Jagged teeth and yellowed eyes.

The face of an old friend.

"What is...?"

"The end of the world."He says again and feels shivers along the stranger's skin.

The end of the world was sudden, malicious.

The monster growls.

Tempermental.

Something was making it more aggressive than usual.

"I..."

The stranger resumes speaking.

"I...don't..."

Speaking.

"I don't...want to."

Speaking to...?

From the corner of his eye, he can see the stranger's hand tighten over the cover of his book.

"Don't...!"

"You...?"

"Don't go near him!"

He hears the creak of the very earth when the stranger takes a step.

Like an opening door.

The hand he was holding was thin, he absently thinks that he could snap such a thin wrist if he wanted.

He thinks in the short, few seconds before he sees those fragile fingers glow.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

The end of the world came with the advent of the 'monster'.

A cloud of death that hung over its victims, in the air they breathe, in the light they see. A shadowy mass that swirled through their mind, through the blood in their veins, poisoning them slowly from the inside. Inhibiting their breath, their hunger, their thirst, their will to live.

But even then, the poison wasn't what truly killed them.

It wasn't needed.

The sights they saw were more than enough for them.

He knew that most of all.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

By the time the stranger wakes up, it was 4 in the afternoon.

Two weeks after the monster had died.

He wakes up slowly, seemed to be in agonizing pain. Grimacing, he looks around until their eyes meet.

"..."

"Are you awake this time?"

"I..." The stranger's voice wavers, "...awake?"

"You slept for a while."

The stranger looks around.

"The forest..."

"It wasn't safe to stay there so I took you back home."

"Home?" Curiosity, back in his eyes. Clearly, he was feeling much better.

"Where I lived before the disaster."

The stranger seems to be considering this, then moves. Sits up. Stares at the blanket covering his body, at him sitting across the room.

"You...lived here?" The stranger asks.

"I did." Is the response.

"..."

The chair creaks as he gets up. It's loud in the silence.

He should fix it when he has the chance.

"Sleep a bit more. You're in no shape to get up now."

"O-okay."

When he's at the doorway though, the stranger speaks up again.

"Zero?"

He stops.

...What...a strange thing.

It's been such a long while since he'd even heard his name in someone else's voice.

It feels foreign in this silence.

"...Yes?"

"...Thank you."

Gratitude. That was even stranger.

He doesn't know what to reply. So he moves, walks out of the room.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

The end of the world and he's still here.

He's still here somehow, even now.

How did he live? Honestly, he'd like to take it as a testiment to his own skills.

But in reality? He doesn't know.

And yet, he does. In the back of his mind, that's his theory anyway.

Two words, contravening in meaning and yet every bit as real as the magician in his room.

Willfull ignorance.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

"Wait...what am I again?"

"A magician."

"Magician?" The stranger blinks up at him, completely lost. The bread drops from his hand to the plate, slipped through loose fingers. "I...what does that word mean?? Is it a title of some kind?"

"You've never heard of it before?"

"No, I don't think so. It doesn't taste familiar."

"Taste?"

"Some words do. Your name doesn't, but it does in the meaning of the word. Zero. The number. And the words 'bed', 'air', 'fire' do." The stranger pauses, "It's like I can remember what they are, but not where I learnt them from."

"Are you sure it isn't the butter?"

The stranger frowns at him and Zero snorts. So you don't recognize the word 'magician'?"

"No?"

"Hrm...I see. Well, we do refer to them as 'mages' in the old texts...so do you recognize that?"

"No..."

"Is that so."

"What", The stranger considers his words, "what exactly are mages?"

"Depends on the texts that you read." Zero says. Thinking about his next words, "They're portrayed in either the best of ways or the worst of ways. Either a hero or a saviour. But the fact remains that they're usually powerful enough to perform impossible feats."

"Such as?"

"Grow life from nothing, walk through fire, water, stop time. Things like that."

Next to go is his fork. It makes a loud clang on the plate as he dropped it.

"Th-they can do all that?!"

"Most of their legends are written in storybooks." Zero admits, "So, they can't really be taken at face value. But they did supposedly exist in historical records at one point."

"So...they could have existed?"

"Probably. They could have been just shady enough to have the townspeople spread rumors about them." Zero smirks, "Apparently they never lived for very long."

"Right..."

"What you did was something close to a fire spell. I saw fire of some kind, at least."

"It was burning along my arm. It felt like that." The stranger grimaces, "It's still numb."

Explained the clumsiness. If it even was unusual for him.

"Maybe avoid that."

"Mm-hm."

"Should be easy to do that, at the very least." Zero looks towards the window, where the dying sunlight gleamed against the frost on the glass, "We have to stay here for now."

"The forest?"

"It's not safe. You saw what happened to your arm."

The stranger looks.

A gash. A singular, long and surprisingly deep-looking gash from the tip of his finger, spider-webbed along his palm and onto his arm.

"You're lucky that you can't feel most of that." Zero remarks, "It's not pleasant."

"How did...how did this happen?"

"It looks worse than it actually is. And it's because you touched a part of the forest that was under the Void."

"The Void?"

"A 'spell' that made it impossible for humans to touch anything it covers. Leaves, grass, tress. Homes, glass, stone."

"A spell? Wait." The stranger frowns, "Did...wait, did you say spell?"

"Yes, it's exactly that."

Rapt attention, the stranger holds his breath as he realizes the implication.

"They apparently weren't as imaginary as we thought they were."

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

The end of the world.

It came quite suddenly, he tells the stranger, and unlike what those doomsday cults and the half-insane shouted in the streets, it seemed sudden. It wasn't even painful, from what he gathered.

It took half of his city dying before people even considered an epidemic.

"An epidemic?"

"Meaning that too many people had died of the same thing, at the same time."

"Half the...people?"

"More than half in this city and more, apparently, from the foreign lands. They'd detected it long ago apparently, but by the time they'd even found a cure, many of us had died."

"A cure?"

"It didn't work. If anything, it made it easier for them to die."

"Was it poisonous?"

"No, it was tainted by the Void. Which was how we found out about the Void in the first place." Zero knocks on the wall behind him, "Somehow, it had encroached on the healers' grounds; they couldn't even touch it; they practically died on the spot."

"Ah, right."

"The joke of it all was that there were those who were immune to the effects of the disease. The Void, on the other hand, seemed to affect even those who were immune."

The expression on Zero's face was of mirth, but it wasn't genuine.

"Someone really wanted humanity to die. Either a vengeful god or a vengeful mage. And considering that one's sitting across the room from me, the second part's easier to believe."

"..."

"But that's only one explanation for it."

"Huh?"

"And it's the most fanciful one." Zero shrugs, carelessly. He picks his own fork back up again, "Not many people give fairytales much heed in times of crises."

"...Oh."

And in silence, they resume eating.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

When they next wake up, the sky had turned pink and stars hung from the clouds.

Naturally, the stranger is more than a little nonplussed about this.

"That's a good sign." Zero says, and the stranger manages to peel away his gaze from the window to look at him, "That means nothing bad will happen today."

"I'd think it's a bad sign if the sky turned pink."

"But if it's pink, it won't rain glass today." Zero says, matter-of-factly.

"...Are you sure you gave me the proper painkillers yesterday?"

"You'll see for yourself when we step outside. Come on."

"I'm...? Wait a minute!"

The stranger hastily pulls his cloak on himself, and almost stumbles as he makes his way outside. Blinking as the cold air hits his face.

"Where are we going?"

"We're looking for food."

"Food?"

"This city hasn't been abandoned for long. There should still be some food around here somewhere."

"Oh."

"Unless you could magick some out of thin air?"

"I don't...think so?"

"Thought as much."

As expected, the stranger had already noticed how much Zero lagged behind him.

And maybe even the bow he carried by his side.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

By afternoon, the sky had turned purple. Clouds had gathered in the sky and the sunlight shone still.

"That means it'll rain glass soon."

The stranger looks up in disbelief, "Did you say even one word that made sense today?"

"Depends on what your 'sense' relies on." Zero says blithely, inspecting their rations, "How are you even supposed to know if that makes sense?"

"I may not know who I am exactly, but I remember what the sky looks like, Zero."

"That's some picky amnesia you have there."

The stranger sighs and starts rummaging through the cabinets again.

"Are you sure no-one lives here?"

"Hm? Yes, probably."

"Probably?"

"They didn't come back in the week that I kept watch."

"...That really doesn't make me less anxious."

Zero chuckles, "Why? They won't ever come back now."

"..." The stranger looks back to the cupboards again, pursing his lips.

He doesn't like to be reminded of this. There's a strange kind of impatience in his expression.

Tough luck.

He keeps searching.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

By the time they return, the sky is pastel purple.

Puddles seemed to have formed in the ground,

"Ah, don't touch them. Those are made of glass."

"Glass?"

"Glass. It's liquid glass."

"I-Is that why it's sparkling so much?" The stranger asks, peering at the puddle. If it weren't for the bag of food over his shoulder, he would have reached for it already.

"When I said it'd be raining glass, that was mostly a lie. Or a half-truth. Technically what happens is that glass gets pulled up into the clouds."

"...Isn't that...the opposite of raining?"

"Maybe. But regardless, it still looks like rain for some reason."

"Huh."

"You'll see for yourself, tomorrow."

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

And when tomorrow came, he did.

He watched the glass recede to the sky like rain, reverse rain, glittering in the sunlight. Wide-eyed, mouth hanging open, obvious shock.

It was so comical that Zero had to laugh.

"Your first rain that exciting?"

"It's beautiful." The stranger says, awestruck. He barely takes his eyes away from the window, hands pressed up against the glass.

"It probably is."

"Didn't you see it? Do you want to?"

"Nah. Not interested." And Zero looks back to the book he was reading.

Not really reading.

He can feel the fatigue press into his mind, exhausting dragging on his body.

The strain on his neck in the uncomfortable chair, and somehow, somehow he wants to sleep through this.

No.

Like he's said. If he sleeps, he may never wake up.

And yet, he would have to eventually.

The last thing he remembers seeing is the look on the stranger's face.

The last thing he feels is regret.

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This time, he dreams.

He dreams of the past.  

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It didn't take long, before he asks the unavoidable question.

"Exactly whose house is this?"

"Hrm?"

"I saw photos in the hall. I didn't see you there."

He looks irritated for some reason.

"I wasn't very photogenic as a kid." Is Zero's response and the stranger scoffs.

"Zero, please. Wasn't this supposed to be your house?"

"Well, yes. But I lied." He admits easily.

"..."

"You look worried."

"I am! How can you be so casual about it?!"

"Casual?"

"We-we're just casually living in a stranger's house!"

"I'm used to it."

"Used to it?"

"You haven't figured it out yet? Look how fancy this place is." Zero smirks, "Do I look like I come from money?"

"..."

"Though this is the first time 'stealing' a whole house, I'll admit."

"...Unbelievable."

"It was either this or dying in the forest, y'know?"

"Still!"

"It's not like they're gonna be coming back anytime soon. Might as well take full advantage of it."

"...Full advantage?"

"A roof over our heads and the added benefit of a few jewels to hold."

He sighs. Then smiles. A rueful smile.

"We can't really eat them, can we? Jewels, that is."

"Can't really burn them up for fire either. Although, I know another way to do that..." Zero suggests. For that, he receives a poke on the forehead and a chuckle.

He doesn't laugh for too long these days.

Silence falls again over the two, masked somewhat by the soft rain outside.

"Zero..." He tries again.

And Zero doesn't want to listen. Zero tries to speak...but he's interrupted.

"You can't stay here forever, Zero."

"..."

"The town is dying. The Void is catching up to this place, faster than you thought."

Zero looks at him.

He's deathly serious.

"I don't want you to get caught up in this."

"Really? You're saying that now?"

"...I didn't. Not you."

"It's too late now."

"It doesn't have to be."

Determined eyes, meeting, holding his gaze.

"You can still leave."

"...And do what? You said it yourself, right?"

"..."

"The world is about to end."

It's been a while since Zero said those words. He flinches, looks away guiltily as Zero continues, "Whatever you say, it always comes true."

"That..."

"Whatever you hear, too. Like...hey. Look at that."

Zero gestures to the fire, a gesture of mirthless humor.

"The fire's made of diamonds."

The words are barely out of his mouth before the soft golden glow is replaced by white, the crackling replaced with the gleam of a wealthy man's star.

"And you said the end of the world is coming. In two days, all of humanity would be dead."

Zero takes this moment to lean back and shrug. These days, he's developed a taste for dramatics. "So, I assume that means me too."

"That-!"

"I wonder what you'd do by yourself. Weren't you a sheltered young master until recently? Of course", Zero chuckles again, "You'd probably be happier like this. All alone."

"Zero!"

"Isn't it true?"

There's a desperate look on his face now.

"It's not! That's not true!"

Zero's hands are cold, his is warm. When they intertwine, Zero thinks they reflect the fire in his eyes.

"I would never be happy like that."

Yes, you would.

"I don't want to be alone."

You just said so.

"And I don't want you to leave, either. I don't."

"That's hard to believe." Zero does say this.

"I..."

Feverish whispers, like the madness mantra in the back of their mind.

"I wish I...had never said that."

"But you did. It's going to happen soon."

And just like that, that fragile facade seems to wither.

"It's fine." Zero says, even as he hugs Zero. His hair was still damp from the rain and his skin was cold in contrast with his hands.

Shivering like a kitten in Zero's embrace.

How pitiful.

Zero sinks his face into the boy's hair, the scent of rain and something else.

"I can stay beside you for that long. I wouldn't die so easily."

Feeble fingers grasping at Zero's tunic.

Soft lips seeking his.

Just for a little while.

It's only until his time is up.

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It's just for a little while. That's all it should have been.

But then, Zero wakes up alone the next day.

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He wakes up with a sense of dread.

What time was it?

He can't remember.

The light outside had disappeared. He'd slept for too long.

What time was it?

He can't remember.

He can't remember what he dreamed and he tastes the dread like bile in his throat.

He doesn't have long to think about it though.

He hears the screams from the next room over.

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The end of the world...and it was brought about by a single person.

A rich young master, sheltered from the ways of the world.

A fairytale in poor taste, wasn't it? Zero would have laughed, if it wasn't so tragic.

Tragic. A tragedy.

The same young master he'd met on one of his raids, who met his eyes with curiosity instead of fear.

There was something in his eyes that seemed to...resonate with him.

And even if he never wanted to see him again, the young master clearly did.

2 days after the meeting, Zero sees the young master in town.

3 days after the meeting, Zero walks up to talk to him.

4 days...5.

They met many more times.

He'd apparently been marked the young master's new plaything. Something about that rubbed him the wrong way.

And yet, he kept meeting up with him.

A month...several months.

The days were shorter, the wind grew chilly. Time passed quickly.

Quick enough for them to meet again and again.

But then...he stopped.

One day, Zero was all alone.

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"I don't know what changed between then and now. I'd probably never know."

The breath was sucked away from his lungs, black slime that represented that night sinking into the floorboards.

On the other side of the room, the monster's gaze meets his.

And then he looks away.

"A curse? Like a cliched fairytale. The princess, cursed by a jealous witch, to bring sorrow all around her."

Drip, drip, drip, the monster's 'hand' presses up against the floor and it seeps through, its back creaking with horrible bone-grating sounds.

And in the middle of it all, his body.

His eyes, his mouth, from his neck to his chest, his limbs trapped, devoured by the jet-black.

"I'm not sure. And I don't really care. Just...one day, whatever you spoke would come true."

Zero looks up at the monster and chuckles.

"We learnt this the hard way, when your family died in front of you. The family that loved you, that wasn't your own. The other family that owned your blood, that loved you. That you didn't love."

Ultimately, that was all it came down to.

Desperation, love.

"You didn't want to see them anymore. So they died. Simple as that. And then to the world that shut you away."

His eyes were shut, the monster roars above him as he sleeps.

"Even the symptoms were straight out of the fairytale that you adored. Something that was quick, that didn't cause any pain. And then..."

The monster...shies away from Zero's outstretched arm.

"Before I could die, it stopped. The disease, the...Void. Everything."

Zero walks forward.

The monster pulls back.

"I couldn't...I didn't realize why at first. It didn't even cross my mind until I met you again."

When he kneels beside the boy, he feels the monster's breath on his neck. A mixture of smells, good and bad, familiar and unfamiliar.

"Amnesia. You couldn't affect what you couldn't remember. It's just the type of solution you would come up with."

All it takes is for him to brush the slime away. And the dreaded monster that had chased him to the ends of the earth...it just vanishes.

Because there was no weight behind the bite of its fangs.

"It was too late. All the humans were dead...save for me. Even so, you chose this."

No weight. Even so...

It still sought him relentlessly.

Zero...he was smiling again.

His hand tenderly grazed the boy's cheek.

"Kamui."

The name that defined him. It didn't fit him so much now.

When he takes Kamui in his arms, the monster disappears completely.

And Kamui murmurs, turns his head towards Zero's shoulder.

"...It's fine. Just a little longer."

And behind him, masked in the dull echoes of his footsteps...

...he hears the monster growl.

"I'll let you dream. Just a little longer.

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#zerokamu #kamuzero #feif #fatesandawakeningss #yatonoryunoko #really really sorry for the delay! i hope you like it!!