Hello! 25 - she/her I'm a huge Cartinelli and Mevie shipper and lover of f/f ships and/or queer ships in general, so I created this blog to celebrate them with fanfiction! I focus mainly on Cartinelli, Mevie, Clintasha, Cophine, and Clexa, but there could be a smattering others in there as well. Hope you enjoy! (Requests: Closed)
my heart rly actually melts whenever grls do that thing where they fix ur necklace when its backwards or tuck a piece of hair behind ur ear for u like……………….. wow thats all goodnight girls are literally all Gifts and should be treated with loyalty, respect, gentleness, and One Million Kisses im so in lov w girls, conceptually and literally. A+ job @ god
“he just left in the middle of an argument” dump him
“he rolls his eyes when I start to cry” dump him
“we never agree on what movie to watch and we always go with his choice” dump him
“when he’s mad he’ll stand up straight and tower over me” dump him
“his friends make me uncomfortable” dump him
“he didn’t appreciate the gift I made him” dump him
“I don’t like that he drinks every day” dump him
“sometimes he ignores what I said during sex unless I say it again” dump him
“he told me he doesn’t like it when I wear my favorite sweater” dump him
“he threw something when he got mad once” dump him
“he won’t yell but sometimes he’ll just stop responding until I stop talking about it” dump him
“he doesn’t want me to go to my friend’s parties without him, but he never wants to go” dump him
“he pouts and says his last girlfriend did it for him” dump him
“he plays pranks on me that I don’t like” dump him
“he doesn’t think my jokes are very funny and makes fun of me for it” dump him
“he wants me to wear more make up” dump him
“he got angry that I cut my hair” dump him
“he still hasn’t met my parents” dump him
“he talks about me giving him kids, but we’ve never talked about our future” dump him
“he whines that condoms don’t feel as good” dump him
“I like having a boyfriend, but I have to put up with a lot for this one” dump him (:
So I haven't had a ton of inspiration to write lately, but I really want to give you guys more fics. Send me prompts, ideas, whatever, and I'll turn them into fics this weekend!
I'll be taking them till Sunday evening. I'm open to any and all pairings or characters. I'm even willing to try things I haven't written for before.
Hi! I hadn't seen you in the fandom before, so welcome? Idk, maybe you are an old timer and I'm just being a dork? Anyway, for the Dizzy prompts: since we all agree that she is "adopted" by mevie maybe you can start by telling a bit about how that came to be?
Here you go! A fic about our tough little VKs and how even on The Isle Evie is a big softy. Enjoy!
Leaning against the wall next to Lady Tremaine’s Curl Up & Dye, Mal popped her gum and rolled her eyes. Evie was supposed to be done over a half an hour ago, but she still hadn’t showed. Eyes half-lidded, Mal watched the grungy citizens of The Isle trudge past wearing surly glares that dared people to mess with them. Boredom almost pushed Mal to start a scuffle with one just to entertain herself until she felt a hand on her shoulder.
“Sorry it took so long.”
She turned to find Evie’s apologetic face offering her a small smile. The desire to fight melted away at the sight, but she maintained her look of chilly indifference. She shrugged. “Whatever.”
“Evil stepmother would not shut up about her granddaughter.” Evie linked her arm through Mal’s, and they strode down the street together, eliciting more than one terrified glance from passersby. “It was ‘lazy Dizzy this’ and ‘Dizzy never’ that. If she hates the little twerp so much, why doesn’t she just kick her out? Ugh, it was torture.”
“Sounds like it. We should hurry. The boys are expecting us.”
Evie stopped, jerking Mal backward. “Isn’t that little Dizzy Tremaine right there?”
Mal followed Evie’s gaze to where a scrap of a girl with streaks of color in her hair cowered against a wall. The glasses perched on the tip of her nose made her eyes look twice as big and magnified the horror in them. Three large girls loomed over her with cat-like smiles spread across their sharp faces.
“Yeah, that’s her.”
“No, please, I don’t have anything to give you. I promise. I really don’t,” Dizzy pleaded as she pressed closer to the wall as though she might melt right through it if she willed it hard enough. Evie and Mal watched the three girls advance, their smiles stretching, as they reached for the trembling child.
“We don’t care,” said one with thick rings of eyeliner around both eyes.
“You’re just so much fun to toy with,” purred another with green feathers in her hair as she reached out to stroke a strand of yellow hair that had fallen loose from Dizzy’s ponytail.
“Yzma’s girls,” Mal grumbled as she narrowed her eyes at them. “Always causing trouble.”
Evie crossed her arms and eyed Mal. “Like you’re one to talk.”
“This is my territory.”
“What should we do with her, girls?” asked the third girl, her yellow eyes flashing as she circled Dizzy like a predator preparing to pounce.
“Feed her to the goblins,” the first girl cackled and gave Dizzy a shove that sent her stumbling sideways into the second girl.
“Drop her off the tallest tower!” cackled the second girl and pushed Dizzy so hard she slammed into the wall. They continued shoving her back and forth between them cackling and suggesting all the cruel things they could do to her until the third girl caught her and wrapped her bony hands around Dizzy’s shoulders.
“No,” she grinned so wide it showed off every one of her teeth. “I have a better idea. Drop her in the ocean.”
“Stop!”
Five heads swivelled to stare at Evie. Dizzy stared in wide eyed shock. Yzma’s daughters narrowed their eyes in anger. Mal looked at her with exasperation.
Rolling her eyes, Mal let her arms swing down to her sides, and stepped forward. “Back off. This is my territory, so she’s mine to torture, not yours.”
One by one the looks of disgust on the girls’ faces broke into sneers. They turned away from Dizzy and marched toward Mal and Evie in unison.
“What are you going to do about it little pixie?” the second girl with the green feathers in her hair asked.
Mal cocked an eyebrow as a lopsided smile cut across her face. “Do you really want to find out?”
The third girl’s yellow eyes twinkled as she dug her nails into Dizzy’s shoulder and made her whimper. “I’m dying to know.”
A green handled knife whizzed through the air and grazed the girl’s shoulder. She hissed and shoved Dizzy to the side as she leapt out of the path of the knife. Dizzy fell to the ground with a thud and a groan. She scrambled out of the way as Mal pulled out a second knife from the holster at her hip and pointed it at the three girls.
“I’m not in the mood for this,” Mal growled.
“Then just give up,” retorted the girl wearing too much eyeliner.
“Not a chance.” Mal sprang forward and caught the yellow-eyed girl with her knife. Chaos broke out as they all leapt at her. Evie jumped to Mal’s defense. She jammed her elbow into the solar plexus of the feathered girl and knocked the wind out of her. Mal shoved a boot into the gut of the yellow-eyed girl and was rewarded with a howl of pain.
The eyeliner girl’s fist connected with Evie’s jaw and sent her reeling backward. She recovered quickly, but Mal had jumped forward to shove the girl backward into the wall next to Dizzy. The girls regrouped and lunged for Evie and Mal. Mal’s knife glinted as she swung it through the air, and Evie moved with a grace and ease that looked more like dancing than fighting.
When Mal’s knife sliced through the sleeve of the yellow-eyed girl’s shirt, the three sisters stared at Mal with a seething hatred. They backed away, eyes angry and teeth bared.
“Don’t think this is over,” the feathered girl hissed before the three of them turned and fled.
Mal turned, hands on her hips and annoyance flashing in her eyes, to level a glare at Evie. “Did you really have to do that?”
“I couldn’t watch them hurt her. She’s just a little kid, M.”
“So what? We terrorize little kids all the time,” Mal shot back as she flexed her wrists, testing if she’d gotten injured in their scuffle.
Evie shook her head. “No, not like what they were going to do. Did you see the way they looked at her? They were really going to hurt her.”
“Oh my god.” Mal rolled her eyes. “For an Isle Kid, you sure do have a bleeding heart.”
Evie flipped her off and turned to where Dizzy sat huddled against the wall where she had fallen, cradling her head in her hand.
“Hey, you okay?” Evie asked as she kneeled down in front of Dizzy. The little girl stared wide-eyed at her and tried to scoot away, but with her back already against the wall, she had nowhere to go. Her gaze flitted around the dirty alley as she searched for an escape.
Evie reached out and rested a hand on her arm. “It’s okay, we’re not going to hurt you. Can I see?” She reached for where Dizzy had her hand pressed against the side of her head. When Evie pulled it away, she found blood soaking into the little girl’s hair.
“That doesn’t look so good. You should come with us, and we can help you get that taken care of,” Evie offered with a kind smile.
“Why would you help me?” Dizzy asked, her voice small.
“Come on, people are starting to look at us funny. Either you come with us or we’re leaving you here,” Mal interjected with her signature impatience.
“Come on,” Evie offered a hand to Dizzy, “You’ll be safe with us.”
“How do I know you’re not trying to trick me?” Dizzy asked, eyeing Evie’s hand.
Evie glanced back at Mal and gave a nod in Dizzy’s direction.
“Yeah, sure, whatever Evie said,” she replied with a dismissive wave of her hand.
Dizzy’s face lit up, and she threw her arms around Evie’s neck. “Oh thank you, thank you, thank you!” she squealed.
Evie laughed and patted her hair. “You’re welcome.
Mal eyed her and mouthed, “This is a terrible idea.”
“Hush,” Evie mouthed back as she pulled Dizzy to her feet.
“Let’s go.” She linked her arm through Mal’s and took Dizzy’s hand. The little girl was bouncing up and down with sheer excitement. Together they started down the street once more to seek out the boys.
“Oh my gosh, I cannot believe this,” Dizzy gushed. “I’ve always thought you guys were so cool. I can’t believe I get to actually hang out with you.”
“God, I’m going to regret this,” Mal grumbled.
“Don’t be such a grump,” Evie shot back and elbowed Mal in the side. Mal tried to glare back, but the smile on Evie’s face made it hard to be mad, so she smiled back instead.
“I guess if I can teach Carlos to be scary, I can teach you too.”
“Yay!” Dizzy clapped her hands. “I promise I won’t disappoint you.”
“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, kid,” Mal said. Dizzy looked nervous until she caught Mal wink at her.
With Dizzy hugged close to Evie’s side they disappeared down a dingy alley in search of the boys, a satisfied smile pulling at the corners of Mal’s lips in spite of herself.
“You’re lying,” Evie accused even as she continued to cling to Mayor Mills for support. There was no question in her mind now. This had to be a dream. She must have passed out when she hit her head back in the castle and was still asleep.
Wake up. Wake up. She thought to herself as the mayor’s face came in and out of focus before her eyes.
“No, I’m not. These scars,” she turned Evie’s arm to display the three jagged lines, “I know how you got them. I was there. I remember.”
Evie froze. She looked at the mayor, searching her face for some indication that she wasn’t telling the truth. “I don’t believe you.”
“You were barely a year old when it happened-” Regina’s voice hitched, and her eyes glistened with tears she tried to hold back. Her gaze wandered to the scars. Her finger ghosted over the raised skin, and she bit her lip. “The woman who tried to take you hated me. Oh did she hate me.”
“Why?”
Mayor Mills’s eyes found Evie’s again. They looked sad and pained. “Because I wasn’t a good person, and I was very unkind to her. She wanted to get back at me for it, so one day, she tried to take you away from me.”
“And she succeeded.”
“No,” Regina shook her head. “Not that time. The time you got those scars she sent a flock of crows to steal you away. If I hadn’t been on my way to check on you-” She had to stop again and take a deep breath. A tear escaped and streaked down her cheek. Evie watched it, mesmerized. She’d never seen an adult cry before.
“I think she knew she wasn’t going to succeed that time because she sent a curse with the crows. When they cut your arm they passed the curse on to you. From that moment on you were bound to her and she could sense your presence. She always knew where you were. It made it so easy for her to find you, no matter where I tried to hide you.”
“She came back for me.”
Regina nodded as more tears escaped. “Six months later we were at my northern castle. I had every single soldier in my army guarding that castle, but still she managed to waltz in and take you from right under my nose.”
“Grimhilde isn’t my real mother.” It wasn’t a question. She looked down at the scars on her arm, really looked at them in a way she hadn’t in years. She preferred to pretend they weren’t there. But now she looked at them, inspecting the way the red lines cut through her white flesh in jagged lines that looked like her skin had been ripped apart. It had been, by the claws of angry crows trying to steal her again.
“She’s not my mother,” she said again, the words felt strange on her tongue. She’d spent so many years trying to please Grimhilde and live up to her impossible standards. She remember the weeks of fasting when Grimhilde had thought she needed to lose weight. There were days when her face had bled from the number of times Grimhilde had made her take her makeup off and do it over because it hadn’t been perfect. She thought of the years full of misery and isolation on The Isle cooped up in the castle with a woman who wasn’t even her mother in the first place.
Her hands shook. She couldn’t make herself meet the mayor’s gaze.
“No, she’s not.”
“I think I’m going to be sick,” Evie moaned as her head spun and her stomach lurched. This was all too much.
Strong arms wrapped around her back and under her legs. She felt herself being lifted off the floor just like she had earlier when Jay had carried her, but this time she rested her head against a softer shoulder. She could smell perfume. It smelled of apples. She liked it.
“You’re going to be okay, Evie,” Mayor Mills murmured as Evie felt the soft bed beneath her again.
“I’ll pull the car around, while you get her ready.” Evie had forgotten they weren’t alone. She opened her eyes in time to see Sheriff Swan leave the room. The doctor had already left, but Evie wasn’t sure when.
Mayor Mills perched on the edge of Evie’s bed and smoothed the blankets over her. “Would you like to come home with me?”
“Will I still be able to see Carlos and Jay?”
“Of course you will. Once we get you settled I’ll send Emma to get them. They’ve been worried about you.” she patted Evie’s hand.
This took Evie by surprise. She could believe Carlos was worried about her. Back on The Isle the two of them had developed a kind of friendship, but Jay had no reason to care about her. He was Mal’s friend, or more accurately, her accomplice.
Sheriff Swan appeared in the doorway. “The car is ready whenever you two are.”
The Mayor turned to Evie. “Ready?”
She searched Mayor Mills’s face to make sure she wasn’t trying to trick Evie, but she found nothing but a genuine smile.
Hot rivulets of blood dripped down Clarke's arm from her clenched fists. Something sharp pressed into her palm from where blood oozed out between her fingers. She unfurled them to reveal a crude blade pierced through her palm. Horrified, she yanked it out, sending pain shooting up her arm. She dropped it, and the blade clattered to the floor.
"Princess," a familiar voice whispered. She searched for the source of the voice, hoping it would explain the ache of grief in her chest, but instead she found looming shapes pressing in around her.
Shadowy hands reached toward her.
"I'm scared," the voice whimpered. Knots formed in her stomach. The words echoed in her head. I'm scared.
She remembered. The blood. The knife. His limp body.
Panic festered in her stomach as tendrils of blood snaked up her arm coating her hands and forearms. It burned her skin as if trying to set her on fire. She could still hear Finn's voice just out of reach: I'm scared. She would never be able to reach him.
Her eyes stung from tears she tried to hold back as the blood consumed her body. It reached her face, spilled into her mouth, and filled her ears and nose. She lost all sense of the world around her as she gagged on its metallic taste and listened to its steady pulse drown out everything but Finn's pleas.
When the blood reached her eyes, the world turned red.
Clarke lurched up in bed her strangled cry echoing through the dark. Shaking, she pressed a hand to her chest gulping down air to fill her aching lungs. Through the open balcony doors, the moon peeked in at her from a sky of blue velvet. Just behind her she heard the steady breaths of Lexa still asleep with her arm draped around Clarke. She was safe. She was in her room. Nothing could harm her.
She looked down to find her hands still coated in blood and devastation ripped at her insides; she shoved Lexa's arm away and raced to the basin in the corner. Her tears spilled into the water as she plunged her hands in it and scrubbed at the blood. His blood.
"Clarke?" She heard Lexa shift on the bed.
"Go back to sleep," Clarke’s voice shook as much as her hands.
"Another nightmare?"
"I'm fine.” It was a lie, but Lexa accepted it, rolling over to let sleep claim her once more.
Clarke turned back to find shadows on her hands where she had just seen blood. Gripping the sides of the table, she took steadying breaths and tried to remind herself it had only been a dream. Once she slowed her racing heart she padded to the couch in the corner, curled up under a spare blanket, and fell back into a troubled sleep.
Sunlight poured in through the open doors and Clarke woke to find Lexa standing before a dingy mirror combing her hair. "Morning," she greeted.
"Morning." Clarke rolled off the couch and stumbled to the basin. She splashed water onto her face and scrubbed away the streaks her tears had left behind. By the time she was done, Lexa had started braiding an intricate pattern into her hair.
"A meeting of the thirteen clans," Lexa explained in response to Clarke's curious gaze. "You should get ready."
"Right." She pulled on a fresh set of clothes and joined Lexa at the mirror, brushing the tangles out of her own hair. Despite visible circles under her eyes, she felt better. When she was finished she picked up the jar of black war paint and helped Lexa smudge it across her eyes.
As she fastened Lexa’s red commander’s sash, Lexa extended her hand. “Ready?”
“Always.”
Clarke laced their fingers together, and they descended into the city. Together, they strode through the streets, the crowds parting for them, and entered a tent where the other ambassadors waited. Each bowed to Lexa as she and Clarke took their seats on the dias above them.
Before they could begin, a round faced warrior burst into the tent, cheeks flushed and eyes wild.
“Heda!”
One of Lexa’s guards stepped forward, drawing his sword. "Get out! You aren’t allowed here."
The warrior threw her shoulder's back. "Indra sent me with a message for Heda.”
"I don't-"
Lexa held up a hand to quiet him. "What message do you bring?"
"The Ice Queen is preparing her warriors for battle. She plans to attack on the new moon.”
Lexa narrowed her eyes.
"One of your spies sent word. Dria is her target."
In one fluid motion Lexa rose, grabbed her knife and flung it at the messenger. It whizzed past the warrior's head, grazed her cheek, and embedded itself in the pole behind her.
"Everyone out!"
The messenger fled and the ambassadors shuffled out, their urgent whispers fading as they went.
Clarke looked at Lexa, searching for evidence of the rage she’d seen flash across Lexa’s face before she’d thrown the dagger. Lexa betrayed nothing, staring straight ahead, her expression made of stone and ice. She reached out to take Lexa’s hand, but Lexa yanked it away.
“I know this must be hard-”
Lexa shot her a single sharp glare and Clarke’s words faltered. Clarke looked away, pretending to be interested in a rip in the side of the tent. She should have known better than to pry. Tension filled the silence until Lexa’s generals arrived.
Clarke maintained her silence as the warriors discussed strategies for the impending battle. Clarke snuck glances to check for cracks in Lexa’s mask. She found none.
By the time she returned to their room, exhaustion seeped into every inch of her body. She kicked off her boots and dropped onto the bed, savoring the rare chance to rest. Lexa appeared soon after, but when she saw Clarke she looked away.
She removed her sash and picked up the worn rag from the basin. The air in the room crackled with the strain of unspoken words. It made Clarke’s chest tighten as she watched Lexa dip the rag into the water. She crossed to Lexa’s side and took the rag.
"Let me." She wiped the rag over the war paint, rubbing it away. Lexa closed her eyes, leaned into Clarke's touch, and let out a satisfied hum.
"How soon do you think your army will be ready?”
Lexa reached up and laid her hand over Clarke’s. "Let's not talk about that now." She took the rag, dropped it back into the water, and grasped Clarke's hand. Leaning forward she pressed her lips to Clarke's.
Ignoring their exhaustion and the impending battle, they clung to each other. Lexa traced patterns into Clarke's skin leaving behind trails of heat in their wake. Reaching up, Clarke tangled her hands in Lexa's hair to pull her closer. Their kiss deepened, and they fell into the warmth of each other. Soon they were only hot breaths, tender kisses, and lips against skin. Everything between them was soft, loving, and gentle.
In the light of day Lexa was made of strength and icy masks, but here away from prying eyes she was soft, full of hesitant smiles and loving glances. Clarke loved this side of Lexa. This secret side that surfaced only for her.
When their hearts were bursting with warmth and happiness they settled in each other’s arms. Clarke lay with her head resting on Lexa's shoulder, while Lexa toyed with the ends of her hair.
"Lexa?" Clarke began to run her fingers over Lexa's collar bone.
"Hmmm?"
"Were you hoping for this war?"
Lexa's hand stilled, and Clarke looked up to find Lexa’s familiar stony mask. "I hope only to save my people from further suffering at her hand."
"It's because of her, isn't it?"
Lexa’s muscles tensed into tight coils. "It is because of my people. The Ice Queen needs to suffer retribution for each one who has died at the hands of her warriors” Her voice was tight. A warning.
"And her. You need to make the person who killed her suffer like she did."
Lexa untangled herself from Clarke's arms. She pulled on a loose robe and crossed to the balcony, leaving a frigid hostility in her wake.
Clarke followed. "You can't run from her ghost forever."
"You're one to talk of ghosts," Lexa laughed with sharp disdain. “You spend your nights screaming for Finn, the boy who shed my people’s blood for you."
Clarke stopped in her tracks, barely able to stay upright. Pain burst in her chest, radiating out as hot tears clouded her vision. It had been so long since she'd heard his name aloud.
She gritted her teeth and marched out onto the balcony.
"You're right. Every day I see him in my dreams, begging me to save him."
"In your nightmares.”
"I love him, but he's gone, and I'm the reason why." Clarke's throat tightened, "I'll never be able to forget, and I'm tired of pretending losing him doesn't kill me every single day."
"This pain you let yourself feel is weakness."
"You can’t tell me you don't relive Costia's death every day," Clarke snapped. "I hear you cry out for her at night."
"She's dead, Clarke. What do you propose I do about that?"
"Stop pretending she wasn't important to you."
"This conversation is over," She spoke to Clarke as though Clarke were merely another warrior receiving her orders.
"That is not how this works! You don't get to dismiss me when you don't like what I have to say."
"We are done."
Clarke studied Lexa’s face. As always it was empty, her eyes icy and lips pulled into a fierce grimace. Tears burned Clarke’s eyes and anger made her cheeks burn. Her heart ached with the weight of the blood on her hands, yet Lexa didn’t care about any of it. Clarke couldn’t take it anymore. She was tired of grieving alone.
"Fine. If you want to continue to pretend nothing affects you, I won’t stop you. ” She turned and left.
Lexa didn't follow.
Clarke navigated through empty halls until she came to a familiar door. Pushing it open, she stepped inside, blinking back tears. She swallowed sobs eager to escape and crossed to her bed. She took comfort in the familiar art scattered round the room. Nothing moved but a little moth fluttering around her open window. Climbing into bed, she curled in on herself and listened to the frantic wingbeats of the moth as it searched for an escape.
Clarke didn't return to Lexa's room. Not that day, nor the next. She remained tucked away, lost in her own thoughts. At night she lay awake plagued by the faces of the dead.
She was tired of hurting and pretending she didn't. Memories of Finn, of Wells, of Maya, of all the nameless faces she’d killed - they picked away at her heart and refused to let her forget what she had done. What she had taken from them.
On her fourth night alone Clarke couldn't face the piercing stares of the ghosts in her memories any longer. She crawled out of bed and crept around the room lighting candles. Shrouded in their soft light, she surrounded herself with paper and pencils. Art had always been her escape. She needed that now more than ever.
As soon as the tip of her pencil touched the paper, Clarke lost herself to the sound of lead scratching across its surface. When the face of Finn looked up at her from the page, she hesitated. It hurt to see him, but she felt the need to continue. To finish.
Soon there were more. Charlotte, Wells, and Maya all stared up at her as she brought them to life.
The moon rose and fell. When daylight came, Clarke crawled into bed, finally able to sleep. When night returned, she returned to her work.
She felt weightless as she drew. For the first time in a long time, her heart felt light. With each drawing she let herself remember, let tears slip down her cheeks. It was melancholy work, but she didn't have to pretend to forget anymore.
She was so engrossed in her work, she didn't hear the sound of approaching footsteps. A knock at the door yanked her from her trance.
Lexa stood in the doorway, eyes uncertain. The smile disappeared from Clarke's face and her features hardened.
"What are you doing here?" Her words sounded harsher than she'd intended.
"You've been avoiding me."
"You didn’t seem to mind." Clarke returned to her work.
"Clarke, I-" Lexa faltered and Clarke’s hand paused. "I'm sorry.”
Clarke leaned down to scratch out a shadow across Anya’s brow as the fearsome warrior glared up at her.
"It's just--it's hard to--think about her."
Clarke felt her anger start to drain away. She couldn’t have held onto it even if she wanted to. "I know."
"They took her because they wanted to break me.” She stared at her hands, gaze hard even as her voice trembled.
Clarke set down her pencil. In Lexa’s broken voice, Clarke could see cracks forming in the walls Lexa had so carefully constructed. Her shoulders slumped and her bloodshot eyes betrayed more than one sleepless night. She’d apologized, and Clarke could only hope Lexa was tired of this game of pretend. She stood and closed the distance between them, pulling Lexa into a tight embrace. Lexa didn’t move, but as Clarke pulled her close, Lexa’s resolve weakened and broke. She tightened her grip and buried her head in Clarke’s shoulder.
"I loved her," Lexa admitted, her voice just loud enough for Clarke to hear.
Clarke pressed her cheek into Lexa's shoulder. “Those were the words I said to Finn as I killed him.”
“You saved him from a great deal of suffering.”
Clarke broke their embrace, but caught Lexa’s hands before they fell to her sides. "I still killed him." Clarke stared down at their joined hands. "I've killed so many. I am soaked in blood."
Hesitant, Lexa reached out to brush a lock of Clarke's hair out of her face. "You've done what you had to for your people. Not many could bear the weight you carry."
Clarke remembered her dreams and the image of her hands stained with blood.
"I don't want to carry it anymore.” She’d taken so many lives. "How can you act like it doesn’t bother you?"
Lexa cupped Clarke's cheek, brushing away the tears. Clarke leaned into Lexa's touch, focusing on the way Lexa's hand trembled, her only betrayal of emotion.
"I do what I do for my people.” She spoke as if choosing each word with the utmost care. “They need a leader whose strength can withstand the worst pain. I must not be weak or I risk everything."
"You’re only human."
"For them I must be more."
"You aren't alone in this anymore, Lexa." Clarke pressed her hand over Lexa's. "I can help you carry this."
Lexa let her forehead rest against Clarke's. They stood that way until Clarke’s feet began to ache, tears streaking their faces as they let the pain of their losses seep out into the cool night air.
"Will you draw her for me?" Lexa asked, her voice breaking.
“It would be an honor.” Clarke pulled Lexa down to sit in the ring of candlelight. "What did she look like?"
"Her laughter was made of sunlight, and she had skin that was the warmest brown I've ever seen.” Lexa picked up one of Clarke's pencils. “You would have liked her. She always tried to make me smile the way you do.
“Her eyes were gray,” Lexa spun the pencil in her palm, “not like storm clouds, but the color of a dove’s feathers. She had freckles too, and hated them.” A ghost of a smile graced her features. “I loved them. Her mother called them kisses from the sun.”
Little by little a face came to life. Words flowed from Lexa so freely Clarke almost couldn’t keep up. At last a girl, barely more than a child, with braids piled atop her head and eyes shining with life stared up at Clarke. She was beautiful. Setting down her pencil, she turned the drawing for Lexa to see.
"Costia."
Lexa crumpled in on herself. The mask she'd worked so hard to build cracked in half. Behind her careful walls lay the sharp ache of death Clarke had come to know all too well since landing on the ground. Tears spilled from Lexa and soft, grief-stricken sobs shook her body.
Clarke's heart ached to watch as Lexa came undone before her. She set aside the drawing and gathered Lexa in her arms. Lexa leaned heavily against her. Clarke led them to the bed, and Lexa cried until she had no tears left. Neither of them spoke - they had done this so many times before, curled in each other’s arms, as natural as breathing, only now a new openness lay between them.
Dull gray light seeped into the room through the ragged curtains. Clarke jolted awake, her whole body shaking as painful sobs poured out of her. She buried her head in her hands and tried to breathe, images of blood and lifeless bodies imprinted in her mind. A tender hand pulled her back down until she lay enveloped in Lexa’s arms.
"You're okay. It was just a dream," Lexa murmured, rubbing soothing circles into Clarke's arm.
More sobs burst from Clarke, but not from her nightmare. She buried her face in Lexa hair and wrapped her arms around Lexa. It was her turn to sob uncontrollably as Lexa held her.
"Thank you," she whispered.
Lexa pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. “You don’t have to face this alone.”
Their game of pretend was over, and though neither would say so, they were both relieved.
Malvie where Mal is secretly really scared of horror movies, but doesn't admit it cause Evie' s excited for a Halloween horror marathon please *for the ship short fic thing
Sorry this took me so long. Apparently I am incapable of writing simple stories. Everything always has to be so complicated! Who is good at writing things less thank 1k words? NOT THIS GIRL. Buuut anyway….I hope you enjoy it! Malvie is always so fun for me to write!
“Which one should we watch first?” Evie asked as she dropped a teetering stack of movies on the desk. Mal’s eyes wandered from the paper, to the movie, then to Evie’s face.
“What’s with the sudden horror obsession?” she asked and quirked a brow up at Evie.
“Because it’s Halloween! Haven’t you noticed all the creepy decorations around?”
“I wouldn’t call construction paper jack-o-lanterns and tissue paper ghosts creepy,” Mal grumbled and turned her attention back to her homework.
“M, come on!” Evie reached out and pushed Mal’s book away. Before Mal could protest Evie had grabbed her hands and pulled her up out of her chair. “Halloween was always your favorite holiday back on The Isle-”
“Yeah, because people know how to celebrate Halloween there. None of this cutsey costumes and haunted houses that wouldn’t scare a baby.” She crossed her arms and stared up at Evie with an impressive pout.
Evie rolled her eyes. “Since we can’t go torment kids I thought we could watch people on TV tormenting kids. You can pretend it’s you.”
Mal couldn’t help her laugh. “How thoughtful of you.”
She got up on her tiptoes and pressed a kiss to Evie’s cheek to hide the pink that crept into her cheeks. Evie blushed and wrapped an arm around Mal’s waist. With one arm still wrapped around Mal, she used her free hand to scoop up the movie, and steer them both toward the couch in the corner.
“E, come on, I can think of a dozen other more fun things we could do,” Mal protested as Evie dropped her onto one side of the couch. She grabbed a fistful of the back of Evie’s shirt as she tried to dart away and pulled her backwards. Evie landed on the couch with an “oof”, and before she could get away Mal snaked her arms around Evie’s neck and leaned in close.
She let a tantalizing smile play on her lips as she leaned close enough that they could feel the heat of each other’s breath. “All sorts of fun things.”
Evie’s breath hitched, and she knotted her hand in Mal’s shirt. For a second Mal thought she’d won until Evie pushed her back and sprang back to her fit. “No, Mal. I’m going to make you have fun on Halloween if it kills you.”
“I think my idea sounds like more fun,” Mal grumbled. She slouched back into the couch and watched Evie slide one of the DVDs into the player perched on top of the TV. Looking very pleased with herself she turned back to Mal and sank down onto the couch next to her.
“You can put that pout away now,” Evie teased as she pulled Mal to her side and wrapped an arm around her shoulders.
“Make me.”
“I know what you’re trying to do, and I’m ignoring it.”
They both looked back to the screen as it faded to black and the movie began. Ten minutes into the movie, and Mal was glued to Evie’s side. With every scare she buried her head in Evie’s shoulder and tried not to scream; though, there were several involuntary screams that made embarrassment color her cheeks.
Evie’s fingers danced up and down her bare arm in comforting swirls, but it was not enough. By the half hour mark she was curled so tightly into herself that her joints were starting to stiffen and hurt. Her mouth tasted like blood from where she’d been chewing on the inside of her cheek, and she had her head buried in the safety of Evie’s shoulder more than she ever looked at the screen.
The sound stopped and Mal looked up to find Evie had paused it and was watching her with obvious annoyance.
“You know what, nevermind,” she grumbled as she pushed away from Mal and stood.
“E?” Mal watched confused as Evie turned off the TV and marched across the room.
“I know this wasn’t your ideal Halloween, but you don’t need to be mean about it,” Evie snapped as she spun back around.
“What are you talking about?” Mal demanded.
“You have spent the entire movie taunting me, playing like you’re some scared, wimpy kid or something. Yeah, I know nothing scares you. That doesn’t mean you have to ruin the fun for the rest of us.”
Anger burned bright in Evie’s cheeks as she glared at Mal, and Mal had to look away. She stared down at her hands still shaking in her lap as heat creeped into her own cheeks for an entirely different reason. Tension crackled in the air as she felt Evie’s eyes bore into her.
“I wasn’t pretending, okay,” she muttered.
“Right. Sure.”
Mal looked up, her eyes clouded with embarrassment. The anger melted from Evie’s face, and she stepped forward.
“You’re not scared of anything.”
“Well, I’m scared of horror movies. There. Happy?”
“Why would that make me happy?” she rushed back to the couch and caught Mal’s hand in hers. “Why didn’t you just say something?”
“Uh, I don’t know, because I’m big bad Mal from The Isle - Maleficent’s only daughter. I’m not supposed to be scared of anything.” Mal refused to meet Evie’s eyes, but held tight to her hands.
“You don’t have to pretend with me, M,” Evie murmured as she guided Mal’s chin up so they were eye to eye. “I know about all of your soft squishy bits.” She cracked a smile and winked at Mal.
“Oh my god, Evie,” Mal laughed and shoved her hand away.
“That’s better,” Evie chuckled. She reached over the couch and pulled Mal into a bone crushing hug.
“You don’t have to hide this kind of thing from me, though, okay?”
Mal nodded and pressed a kiss into Evie’s shoulder. They stayed that way, Evie running her fingers through Mal’s hair and Mal listening the steady thrum of Evie’s heart. Neither wanted to be the first to let go.
“Should we go see what trouble the boys are getting into?” Mal asked as she looked up at Evie.
“I think they’re throwing water balloons at trick-or-treaters from the second story windows.”
A grin cracked across Mal’s face. “Now that sounds like my kind of fun.”
Mal twined her fingers through Evie’s and they rushed out of the room to see what mischief they could cause, the stack of horror movies abandoned and forgotten.
Okay my lovelies, I know I said I'd write some Clexa for you, and kind of dropped the ball....
BUUUUUUT since it is Halloween I want to make it up to you! Send me prompts from your fav ship, Halloween related or not, and I'll write little 300-500 word drabbles all day!
Hi. I just wanted to let you know that I am enjoying your Malvie Fanfics, especially your Descendants/OUAT crossover. I can't wait to read more from you.
This absolutely made my whole week! You are so lovely, and I’m so happy you’re enjoying my stories! I’m excited to share more of them with you lovely people!!! These types of sweet comments are what make me want to write more! You’re amazing!!!
Hey guys! So together with the lovely @clexabrasil, we have decided the world should be blessed with more Clexa content, so we’re going to do a continuation of Clexaweek2017- this time centered around Tumblr’s favorite holiday, Halloween! Halloween is almost here so let’s celebrate with new Clexa content!
(You can also help by sharing this and sending ideas to your favorite artists in the fandom!)
Post it on the right day using the tag #ClexaHalloweenWeek
THEMES
***SPECIAL CLEXA TRICK OR TREAT***: Any day of the week, send a “Trick or Treat!” ask to this blog and you’ll receive a Halloween prompt to fill whatever way you want! Post your work for it on 10/30, the free day.
October 25th - Horror Movie
Anything related to horror movies! You can make a Clexa AU based on a movie (It au, Paranormal Activity AU, etc), you can write about them watching a movie or making a movie. It could even be a show (Lexark, anyone?)!
October 26th - Thursday: Vampires, Werewolves, Ghosts, Zombies
Halloween creatures night! Again, whatever you want- is Lexa an ancient vampire Clarke accidentally woke up? Is Clarke a grumpy ghost haunting Lexa’s home? A Zombieland AU, or a Lexark au? You decide!
October 27th - Friday: Trick or Treat
Are Clexa going trick or treating? Is it a PWP? Is it a fluff fest about girlfriends playing with each other? This one is good to use your imagination.
October 28th - Saturday: Party & Costumes
Did Clarke win a bet so she gets to choose a costume for Lexa? (is Clarke laughing all night because she forced Lexa to costume as a raccoon, or is she having heart palpitations because God Lexa looks hot in that war paint?). Do they meet at a party? Have fun.
October 29th - Sunday: Historical AU
Medieval witchcraft? Original!Carmilla au? Ghost stories in old mansions? Even finding a cursed book that takes them to the past counts. Anything that happens in the past and fits in a Halloween story.
October 30th - Monday: Free Day (aka. SPECIAL TRICK OR TREAT DAY!)
This is the day you can do anything you want! Trick or treat! Post your own choice and/or post your filled prompts from the special Trick or Treat. If you need another idea, you can still go ahead and send an ask to receive a prompt!
October 31st - Tuesday: Halloween Night (or Witches)
IT’S HALLOWEEN!!!! Any story that happens on a Halloween night, or you can celebrate the day with a witches AU. Harry Potter AU, Charmed AU, Little Witch Academia AU, etc- it’s a great day for fics and art!
Guidelines
The same guidelines from the March Clexaweek2017 apply, just send your submissions to me with the tag #ClexaHalloweenWeek, and it will be added to a masterlist that will be made after the completion of the week!
A reminder to all the lovely ladies who follow me. You don't have to do something just because society tells you to. Do what you want and be who you want. You don't owe society anything.
The bed beneath Evie felt like laying on a cloud, and she swore her toes had never been so warm in her whole life. She fought against the approach of wakefulness and yearned to remain warm and lost in her dreams, but as she felt the aches and pains from her earlier ordeal, she knew she couldn’t fight it. Begrudgingly she opened first one eye then the other and took stock of her surroundings.
She lay in a narrow bed with bars on the sides with a tube hooked up to her arm. There was a small counter in the corner with a sink and pamphlets about washing your hands. The lights had been dimmed and the blinds on the windows were shut. She appreciated the solitude for the chance it gave her to assess her injuries.
She still felt the dull throb from where she’d hit her head and her shoulder ached from where she had landed on it. Her throat felt raw from breathing in the debris back in Maleficent’s castle, and a deep exhaustion that reached deep in her bones made her want nothing more than to close her eyes and go back to sleep.
“Mayor, what a surprise to see you here.”
Her gaze flitted to the glass door where she could see a sliver of the hallway beyond. A man in a white coat stood talking with two women, a blonde in a red leather jacket, and a brunette who had the kind of presence that drew attention when she entered a room.
“We heard there was an incident that I might have some insight into,” the brunette explained and Evie assumed she must be the mayor.
“You mean the children.”
“We do. We’d like to speak with the girl,” replied the blonde. The woman glanced through the glass at Evie, and Evie snapped her eyes closed so they wouldn’t know she had woken.
“She needs to rest,” the man protested.
“Listen, we don’t know who they are or how they got here. The faster we get in front of this thing, the better. Who knows who or what else might have come through with them,” pressed the blonde. Evie opened one eye just enough to watch the blonde take a step forward so she could loom over the small man. He stood his ground as he glared up at her.
“You have fifteen minutes,” he grumbled and backed away.
“Thank you, doctor.” The brunette gave him a polite nod as he shuffled away. Both women turned to Evie’s door, and the blonde pulled it open. Evie settled into her pillow and steadied her breathing to make them think she was still asleep.
“I know you’re not asleep.” She recognized the voice of the blonde.
Her heart skipped a beat and she peeled her eyes open. The two women stood at the foot of the bed watching her. The blonde stared stony faced, while the brunette offered a kind smile. Unease churned inside Evie’s chest at the thought of what she must look like right then with blood caked in her hair, grime and dust from the castle coating her face, and she was sure more than one bruise speckled across her arms and face. She was happy there wasn’t a mirror nearby.
“Hello,” the brunette greeted. She rounded the bed to stand next to Evie and offer her hand. “I’m Mayor Regina Mills and this is Sheriff Emma Swan. We came by because we have a few questions for you.”
Evie eyed her hand, but didn’t take it. “Where am I?”
“The women exchanged glances.
“You don’t know where you are?” Sheriff Swan asked.
“If I did, would I be asking?” Evie snapped back.
Mayor Mills offered her another smile in an attempt to hide the concern that clouded her eyes. “You’re in a town called Storybrooke. Do you have any idea how you got here?”
Evie looked away and bit her lip. The memory of Mal using her magic to send them away replayed in her mind. She knew exactly how she’d gotten there, but she wasn’t about to explain to them what had happened. They had no right to know.
“No,” she murmured in a voice that shook more than she had intended. The Sheriff gave her a sharp look that Evie knew meant the woman saw right through her lie.
“Anything you might know could help. Did you open a portal to get here? Did someone send you here?” Sheriff Swan pressed.
“Even if you could just tell us where you’re from,” Mayor Mills added. “That would be an immense help.”
“Where are Jay and Carlos?”
“They’re fine. The white haired boy is off getting patched up and the other one is getting something to eat. You can talk to them later,” Sheriff Swan explained. Evie could hear a hint of impatience in her voice as she crossed her arms.
Mayor Mills reached down and clasped Evie’s hand. “I know this must be-”
The contact made Evie flinch. She yanked her hand away and held it out of the mayor’s reach. “Don’t.”
The mayor’s jaw dropped and she froze hunched over the bed, her gaze locked on Evie’s arm. Evie’s gaze glanced down and found the mayor staring at a series of jagged red lines that cut across Evie’s arm, a scar she’d had for as long as she could remember. Shame roiled inside her, and she shoved the arm under the blanket and out of sight. The scar was her one blemish, her one flaw and Evie hated it.
You could have been so beautiful. She heard her mother’s voice murmur in her head.
“No, I’m sorry - I didn’t mean -” the mayor stammered. “ I just - where did you get that?”
“I don’t know. Mother would never tell me,” Evie murmured and averted her eyes so she wouldn’t have to look at the intense stare of Mayor Mills.
“Emma, we need to talk,” Mayor Mills murmured, then turned and offered a smile to Evie that didn’t feel as genuine as the first one. “Try to get some rest. If you remember anything or need anything just let us know.”
“I will,” Evie lied, and the women left.
She let their footsteps fade down the hall before yanking the blankets away. At some point they must have changed her out of her clothes and into the thin blue sheath of fabric she wore. Her clothes and shoes were nowhere in sight, but she didn’t have time to care. As fast as she could she yanked off all the things connecting her to the machines surrounding her. Ripping the tube out of her arm only pinched a little, not near as much as the ache in her head from her earlier fall.
The cold of the floor felt familiar under her bare feet as she leapt out of bed. She’d spent many a morning back home sprinting across the room in bare feet in search of her slippers, so she barely noticed it as she shuffled toward the door. As soon as she was on her feet and moving the room blurred around her, and she couldn’t keep track of which way was up and which was down.
Her stomach lurched, and she had to resist the urge to let herself sink to the floor. She had to find the boys and make sure they were okay. The three of them had to get back to The Isle and save Mal. Maleficent had her magic now, and it would be utter chaos. If Mal had somehow managed to survive the castle collapsing, she would need their help. They had to get back, and they had to do it fast.
Her face smacked into the cold tile before Evie had even realized she’d fallen. The hard ground beneath her made everything hurt worse. Her head throbbed and her breathing hurt, but she ignored all the pain as she tried to push herself back up on shaky arms. The boys needed her. Mal needed her. She had to be strong like they were.
“Evie!” Someone shouted nearby. She thought it was Mal, and her heart leapt, but the voice had been too deep and sounded much too old.
Someone crouched on the ground next to her and helped Evie struggle into a sitting position. She noticed for the first time that something was beeping erratically behind her. The sound echoed in Evie’s ears, and she had to bite back a groan.
“What are you doing out of bed?” A hand rested against her cheek and guided Evie’s face upward. The blurry face of Mayor Mills swam before her.
“Let me go,” Evie said, but didn’t make any effort to fight against the arms holding her up.
“Is she okay?” came another voice that Evie recognized as Sheriff Swan.
“Doctor, I’d like to take her home. I think she’ll be more comfortable there,” the mayor said.
This time Evie did struggle. She pushed against Mayor Mills’s touch and tried to drag herself to her feet. “No, I’m not going anywhere with you.”
“Evie. Evie, listen to me. You’re okay. I’m not going to hurt you,” the mayor’s grip was strong, and Evie couldn’t get away. “Calm down. It’s okay.”
The mayor reached up and brushed a lock of sweaty blue hair away from Evie’s eyes with more gentleness than Evie had ever experienced before. Even when Mayor Mills had pulled her fingers away, Evie could still feel the echo of their touch against her skin. She froze and stared into the mayor’s soft gaze, all her protestations dying on her tongue.
“I’ve been looking for you for so long,” Mayor Mills breathed as she gave Evie a teary smile.
“Why would you be looking for me?” Evie breathed, almost certain now that she must be dreaming. The air around her felt thick and warm. She couldn’t feel the cold floor beneath her anymore. Her head swam. Colors were too bright and her body felt so heavy, like it was dragging her deeper into this bizarre dream.
Summary: The war is over. Peggy and Angie have settled in to a happy life in the house they borrow from Howard. Life goes on in a comfortable routine of bliss until one night Angie is late getting home.The sounds of screaming outside send Peggy reeling out of the house to find Angie in the clutches of a monster.
A monster who had been locked away in a coffin of blood for centuries. A monster named Mircalla.
The fire burned low in the grate from neglect, hiccuping sparks every few minutes. Peggy sat with her works splayed across the table in front of her, paying no attention to the dying fire. Her brow scrunched in frustration as she squinted down at the crime scene photos she’d been looking at on and off for the past three hours trying to pick out any details that might give her a clue about what happened.
The old grandfather clock in the corner bellowed out the twelve chimes that signaled midnight. Peggy looked up with a start. The room had gotten much darker since the last time she had looked up and long shadows crept across the floor from the dim light the lamp on her desk cast around her. She stared at the clock as if she didn’t quite believe it was midnight already.
“Angie, darling, are you home?” Peggy called as she stood and stretched. Rehearsal should have ended half an hour ago which meant Angie should be home by now, but Peggy hadn’t heard her come in.
“Angie?” she called again. Her stockinged feet were silent on the thick rug as she plodded out into the hall, flipping on lights as she went. A glance at the coat rack next to the front door told Peggy that Angie wasn’t home yet. Rehearsal must have run late. Though, it was unusual for Angie to stay late without calling to let Peggy know.
Pushing aside her concern, Peggy continued on to the kitchen to get a pot of tea ready for when Angie did finally get home. She hummed a soft tune to herself as she filled the kettle and set it on the burner. As it heated up she stretched and twisted, listening to the popping of her joints with satisfaction.The kettle whistled merrily, and still Angie wasn’t home.
Peggy shoved aside her worry as she readied two cups of tea and carried them off to the parlor where she rekindled the fire and tidied her desk. The clock ticked, and Peggy started to pace. Her eyes flitted to the clock every time she passed her desk. Her fingers brushed against the drawer where her gun was tucked away. It had been almost an hour, and still no trace of Angie. Unable to put aside her mounting worry, Peggy sat back down at her desk and dug through her drawers in search of the number for the theatre.
A scream from outside shattered the silence that had persisted for the past several hours. Peggy dropped the phone receiver and raced out into the hall, her gun in her hand. She didn’t bother with a coat or shoes as she burst out the door and ran down the walk toward the street. She knew that scream from many late nights running lines.
“Angie!” she shouted as the cold pavement stung her feet and loose pebbles ripped at the soles of her stockings.
From behind a bush she heard whimpers and a strange gurgling sound. Careful not to make any noise, she tiptoed around the bushes and trained her gun on the shadowy figure hunched on the other side. Her eyes adjusted to the darkness of the street, and the shadowy shape solidified. Horror made her stomach lurch, and she had to clench her teeth from being ill right there in the middle of the sidewalk.
A creature with pallid skin and sunken eyes hunched over Angie’s frozen frame. Her teeth were buried deep in the tender flesh of Angie’s neck as she made strange slurping noises that sent a shiver up Peggy’s spine. Tendrils of crimson blood stained her cheeks and chin and soaked into the collar of Angie’s dress. The scene was like a nightmare - worse than a nightmare.
“You get away from her,” Peggy demanded as she stepped forward, gun raised and eyes full of angry fire.
The creature - no, the girl, it was a girl - glanced up and stared at Peggy with a lifeless gaze that made the hair on the back of Peggy’s neck stand on end. At the sight of the gun her eyes widened, and she pulled her teeth from Angie’s neck. Angie whimpered and turned a desperate gaze on Peggy.
“It’s alright, darling, I’m here,” Peggy called out in the calmest voice she could manage.
“I said, let her go, or I’ll bury a bullet in your brain,” Peggy said, looking back at the girl, the anger seeping back into her voice.
“Can’t kill.” The girl rasped out, her voice as dry as the yellowed pages of books untouched for centuries.
“You clearly don’t know me,” Peggy spat back.
They stared at each other. Lifeless, empty eyes watched Peggy as though wondering if she really would pull the trigger. Her grip loosened, and Angie fell to the ground with a hard thump that elicited another whimper. As soon as she was free, Angie dragged herself toward Peggy, too panicked to try to stand.
Gun still trained on the blood stained girl, Peggy stooped and pulled a terrified Angie to her feet. With Angie tucked close to her side Peggy felt the tightness in her chest dissipate just a little, but not enough. Angie clung to her side, shaking and gasping as blood still oozed out of the deep wound in her neck. She needed medical attention immediately, but Peggy couldn’t just let the girl get away.
“Who are you? What are you?”
Agony flashed across the girl’s face, and she clutched her stomach. “Hungry. So hungry.”
Peggy raised her voice, her face hardening. “What is your name?”
The girl reached for them. Peggy took a step back, yanking Angie with her.
“Please,” the girl breathed her voice as hollow as her eyes. A string of gibberish fell from her lips, and Peggy realized the girl was speaking another language. She recognized it from her years in the war - German.
Peggy tried again, this time in the broken German she had picked up over the years. “Who are you? What are you?”
The girl’s eyes sparked to life at the familiar language, but darkened as she shook her head. “Just shoot me. It will be better.”
The despair in the girl’s eyes as she looked away, down at her blood soaked hands left an ache in Peggy’s chest that made Peggy want to squirm with discomfort. “Not until you tell me who you are, and why you are here. Who sent you?”
“No one.”
A cold breeze kicked up around them and sent a shower of dead leaves fluttering to the ground. The brisk wind seemed to pull Peggy out of the strange trance that had fallen over the three of them. She glanced up and down the empty street and felt the urgent need to get out of sight. She was sure at least one person had likely heard Angie scream, and Peggy didn’t really want to explain the current scene to the neighbors.
“You’re coming with me. Go, into that house.” She brandished her gun toward the house she and Angie still borrowed from Howard, it’s door left hanging open in Peggy’s haste to get to Angie.
The girl raised her eyebrows. “What?”
“You heard me. Go. Unless you want the neighbors to find us out here like this.”
Fear flashed in the girl’s eyes. Her hands opened and closed several times before she turned and skittered toward the house, her eyes never leaving Peggy’s gun. Peggy gathered Angie to her side, tightened her grip on her gun, and followed. She could feel her heart hammering in her chest as she followed the girl, or creature, or whatever she was up to the house and wondered what horror she was bringing into her and Angie’s life.
Once inside Peggy instructed the still shaking Angie to bolt the door as she marched the girl through to the kitchen where Peggy knew she had a sturdy length of rope tucked away in one of the drawers. The girl didn’t even protest as Peggy ordered her into a chair and proceeded to tie her to it.
“If you even think about trying to escape while I’m gone, know that you won’t get very far,” Peggy warned her before all but turning and running from the kitchen. She found Angie slumped against the wall in the hallway, eyes closed and breathing fast and shallow.
“Come on, love. You’re alright,” Peggy murmured as she hoisted Angie back to her feet and hurried her upstairs where she could better assess her injury. Peggy hoped it wasn’t too severe, she didn’t know how she would explain the strange bite marks to the doctors at the hospital. They looked like something out of a horror movie, and the monsters out of horror movies didn’t exist.
tangentwithtanner
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