Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Have you heard…”

“…blood spread across all the bookshelves!”

“I’ve heard it’s a result of those behind the door–”

There really is no way to find where these mutterings began. This is the problem with such large organizations. Whispers are common in such dark hallways and gossip is king in the mess hall. When underlings number in the hundreds and everyone seems to hold a different story deal, well, one could say fog is clearer.

“Do you think it’s a dead Exorcist?”

“I’ve heard it’s the wrath of an angle.”

“A lost soul of a Finder perhaps?”

Even harder is this venture of untangling threads of rumor if the very organization rests on impossible stories.

“Ghost…”

“Must be innocence.”

“…Akuma in our midst!”

“Hevlaska in human form?”

Really who knows how it started. Rumors are rumors, stories are stories, gossip is almost always incorrect. Who cares how the story began? Rather one should care about its factuality.

“I saw it!”

“There really wasn’t any blood.”

“Didn’t look dead…”

“Hevlaska’s too polite.”

“If it was an Akume we’d be dead.”

“…not an Exorcist.”

“Angles are holy, not gostly,  idiot.”

People are odd. Stories become coping mechanisms or explanations for the unexplainable. They aren’t always supposed to make sense or even be understood. Humans spend too much time attempting to comprehend the scattered whims of fickle writers that often they forget that stories are an explanation of reality. They really wouldn’t wish to apply such fiction, to question their world, by perusing idle gossip.

“… ghosts don’t exist.”

“Just fun to talk about.”

“Really livens the place up.”

“Why would I care if the rumors are true?”

“No one goes in the library anyway.”

“Bah!”

“Rumor.”

“Gossip.”

“Fiction.”

“Imaginative.”

“Lies.”

Who really can say how the rumor started?

A chuckle echoed from the darkness, amused and ghoulish. Unseen they remained as they watched oblivious shadows donning the masks of birds, question gossiping fools. The man examined an elegant hand, fingers of pianist, slender wrist, pale skin. A normal human hand. Now… if only it wasn’t spectral.

"Well..." They smirked, "I believe this shall prove to be quite interesting."

Chapter Text

Ignorance is bliss. It pays to be stupid. Just turn a blind eye. Knowledge is suffering. There are just somethings you don’t need to know. They who have nothing to trouble them will be troubled by nothing at all. Allow the veil of an innocent unknowing to overtake your person, ignore all that disturbs and horrifies. Keep moving, keep working, keep thinking, anything is better than the burden of sight, of understanding. Forgot the softly splattered tears and all the screams that echo through these haunted halls from the sun to moon, dawn to dusk. Sleep in your mind so that you may never feel the rough and unsightly touch of reality.

It really was the logical thing to do in this situation, repress instead of facing the insane truth. Live with a complete mind for another day even though there would be a terrible shattering to come. Dip into such a rage-filled grief that the world becomes just as gray as it metaphorically appears. Quite frankly, into would have been child’s play to kill them all with the single, critical uttering, of one deceivingly innocent word. That would be to venture into a whole other realm of dangerous thought and emotion, one that should be scarcely touched and never fully explored. Froi liked thinking of himself as a happy, optimistic young man, one that could still hope for bright futures and a more stable living. A time where he could draw freely and not utter the peaceful word of ‘art’ in the midst of battle.

Yet, like all of those oh-so cursed by luck exorcists, he had his darker moments. Such times when children of all ages were dragged past him by those dressed in such awful red cloaks. They would kick those needle-thin limbs and scream with a voice so gravely that Froi could feel the wounds upon his soul. He would gaze into eyes of every color, different shades same emotion, they all knew what was to come from their meeting with Hevlaska. For standing and watching, forbidden by the very people who named him ‘General’ to help, he knew that would be his sin to carry for eternity. To walk the path to damnation despite knowing deep within his bones that one person could never save every broken, bruise, deprived, neglected child, but… he could do his very best.

As a general, he could now take on apprentices. Perhaps save those forsaken children blessed with the ability to wield innocence. That blasted, beautiful, innocence. The one that seemed to save the world by gifting it destruction, how wonderfully, beautifully, dreadful. It would make a wonderful drawing if only he could find a quiet space. One wherein solitude, he could allow cleansing of the more difficult and frustrating parts of his mind and soul. Away from the prying eyes of the Crow and jealous eyes of dedicated Finders. The path of a destroyer was nothing to old envy towards, but Froi could understand their position and how his would have that appeal.

The lounge had been a rather poor idea previously. He had scarcely drawn a line before a rare, airborne mug of scalding coffee met his paper. He supposed that if one looked at it at the correct angle it could be considered an impressionist piece, but the second-degree burns had certainly been a downside. Head Nurse as always was sympathetic in her ‘I’ll rip your head off with my teeth if you idiots aren’t more careful’ kind of way. Froi supposed that the library would likely be a better venture. The silence was practically guaranteed since, well, it was a library. Normally, only the scientific division and Crow entered in there to nab a book or remove part of the archived records, respectively. It was large enough that Froi was sure that he could find a solitary corner to curl up with his notepad and pen. Rumors be damned.

Froi popped his head through the library doors, scanning the rows upon rows of towering bookshelves. The supposed ‘library ghost’ would just have to put up with the very irritating sound of pen on paper. Making his way paced the more obvious seating, he traveled deeper into the scent of old ink and paper, shadowed by the bookshelves and dim candles. Froi was happily surprised when he stumbled upon a perfectly cushioned chair situated pleasantly in front of one of the many bookshelves. Without much more though he had settled himself into the little nook and begun to draw. Pen on paper and nothing else; various still lifes, the shadowed horror of the order, Lau Shimin, and really anything else that came to mind.

“Your rather good.” An unknown person complimented.

Froi didn’t bother to spare the stranger a glance, instead of focusing on getting the lines of the library just right. He gave a slight mutter in thanks.

“I really can’t draw anything worthwhile.” The person continued.

This time a halfhearted nod of agreement.

“Although I doubt I could draw anything now,”

Froi continued sketching.

“I can barely manage books…” The stranger sighed. “being transparent and all.”

Yes, that would definitely pose a challen– his mind halted, and with it the rest of his movement. Turning slightly he took in the appearance of what was most definitely the ‘library ghost’. He appeared rather young, he was the owner of two sharp and molten silver eyes as well as long red-hair that cascaded down his shoulders. He was dressed rather scolarly and would have looked perfectly in place among the shelves had he not been, aforementioned, transparent and, of course, missing his entire left arm. Froi watched morbidly as fresh blood appeared to drip down from the wound.

“Oh…” He started lamely, “You must be the rumored ghost.”

It wasn’t stated as a question, but it appears that the specter answered it as such.

“Hmm,” The ghost began, eyes flickering, “I’ve never been a fan of rumors, especially incorrect ones.”

Froi blinked at the reply. Before returning to his usually carefree smile. Where all spirits this polite?

“Ah! Then forgive my rudeness! Perhaps you could clarify.” He prodded gently.

It was rather ironic to be labeled as an Exorcist and yet have no idea what to do when faced with the supernatural. So, in his typical fashion, Froi decided to take it in stride and deal with more complex thoughts later.

“Well… I’m not dead…” The ghost began, “I believe I merely misplaced my body due to someone’s interference.”

The ghost waved his single hand in a dismissive gesture.

“I’m sure I’ll find it sooner or later, but for now… it seems as though my soul latched on to the place that held a majority of my personal objects.”

Froi’s eyes once again shifted to the missing arm. Perhaps this spirit was a former Order member in denial?

“Why the library?” He questioned out of curiosity.

The ghost crinkled his nose in disgust, eyes once again flickering with some unknown emotion.

“Someone moved all my books to this library. Rather impressive considering they were all charmed thoroughly.” The specter sighed.

Froi was familiar with magic. Several Crow and various other non-innocence members of the Order had their own supernatural techniques. From heeling fish, constraining seals, and whatever the hell Cross used he had seen his fair share of magic.

“If you don’t mind me asking; what kind of charms?” He asked, really just his own curiosity leading the conversation at this point.

An evil glint entered the eyes of the spirit and a maniacal demon-toothed grin spread across his features. He waved a chiding finger in the air.

“Now, now,” He scolded, “A good gambler never reveals his cheats!”

Froi was fairly sure that wasn’t the expression. He attempted to ignore the maniacal laugher that fits rather well with the stranger’s ghostly appearance. Returning to his sketch pad, Froi began to sketch this strange character. Shading dark blood and adding just the right amount of darkness in the lines to portray the paleness of his transparent flesh. It was long after the laughter had stopped and the impromptu portrait had been finished, did Froi look up. Blank silver eyes stared at him with an appraising glint.

“The library is a good place to escape when the walls close in and basic knowledge is denied. For silence, knowledge, or piece, it always stands to offer a reprieve from reality. As long as you do not bring harm to helpless paper I won't give you nightmares that would make every hair on your body relinquish its hold on your flesh.” The ghost finished fiercely.

Froi blinked. Was that… an invitation? Slowly a grin spread across his features. Some people. They just couldn’t spit out anything soft.

“I may just take you up on that offer.” He smiled.

The ghost nodded firmly before disappearing among the bookshelves. Froi returned to his drawing, a frown decorating his face. Oh bother… he had forgotten to exchange names. Perhaps next time…

Chapter Text

Men, more often than not, are deplorable creatures. They appear to walk the streets of the world with britches much too tight and voices roaring loud. They act as important and imposing as mountains when in fact they are a common pebble anything put alone upon the street. They are only above the scum-like men who cling to fine shoes without reprieve and have a deplorable tendency to stain. Of course, as with most opinions, not all men are bad. There is a minority of those hideous males that take the form of shining gemstones, unique as they are rare. As the expression goes, they are diamonds in the rough.

Although, several ladies may be inclined to say that men dressed in fool’s gold are just as good as scum. Such a pity that scum, pebbles, and the fool’s gold are quite common among the streets of, well, everywhere. Such accusations could be considered slightly unfair without considering the other side as well. Most women, instead of laws of stone, metal, and gems, followed the rules of flowers, animals, and storms. Women loved to dress as roses and proclaim themselves as poppies all well withholding the storms of emotions inside them. Beauty was a must, for without beauty what really is a woman? Such ladies must always remember to act soft, sleepy with their passiveness. Thus, the winds of true emotion are withheld to maintain this incorrect image.

That isn’t most women were roses or poppies. It is actually proof that one is deceived to believe these disguises to be the only truth. Most ladies, poor or rich, pretty or not, were the most common daisy. But if society demands it, the daisy shall become wrought with sleep and bleed its petals crimson. With men as sidewalk pebbles and women daisies sprouted up through pavement cracks, the same in most all fashions, non-conformity is odd, strange, despised. Perhaps, not too long ago, Klaud had thought herself a common daisy. Before her flower had bloomed, back when she was still only green. It was not a critical misconception but lead her slightly astray all the same.
For she was not a common daisy. Perhaps she was green like them in the beginning and her flowers still turned out white, but she was a different bloom all the same. She found other girls her age disconcerting in their normality and desires. Perhaps it was her upbringing, beastmaster of some unnamed circus. She was strong, hard-willed, and terrifying with a whip. She could understand the wish to be beautiful and carry that silly grace, but Klaud could never understand why other girls would hide their storm. Other ladies may call her frank or even boorish. Odd considering all she ever did is express her true emotions.

Really. Becoming an exorcist hadn’t been all that terrifying or particularly heart-wrenching. Her sorrow was towards the death of her husband rather than her own gruesome initiation. There were definitely aspects of the organization and their business that she didn’t like, but Lau Shimin made everything worth it. Klaud really wouldn’t mind charging her adorable little monkey on that useless Cross, and she was quite sure that Socalo was insane, but really, she didn’t care that much. The only other general she really didn’t mind was Tiedoll. His kindness was unconditional and he too saw no reason to withhold emotion for the sake of image. It was because of this that most people tended not to notice when he was acting stranger than usual. Klaud most definitely did.

The older gentleman had been disappearing more frequently from the lounge and cafeteria. Slipping through the halls inconspicuous to everyone except herself. He had once again begun to adopt that concerned fatherly expression he usually adopted when faced with an unfortunate child. Unlike normal, however, Tiedoll hadn’t felt the need to chat insistently about it. He was strangely silent. Klaud would be lying if she said her curiosity hadn’t gotten the better of her. She slipped through the halls, following him with practiced ease until he stopped in front of large doors. She had seen them in passing many times before but had never had the pull to go through them. Klaud watched with slightly narrowed eyes as the doors were pulled open and Tiedoll ventured inward. With a hasty breath, she stalked after him into the strange room.

Klaud was slightly startled by the sight that greeted her; a normal library. Tall shelves cast in shadow with a separate area for study. A lone scientist sat at a desk in the corner, but overall the room was quite empty. Admittedly, she had assumed that Tiedoll was wandering into a place of horrifying experiments and unrivaled terror. A pleasant low lit place of study was actually quite a relief. Tiedoll was found settled into one of the darker nooks between the shelves, settled into one of two rather cozy-looking chairs. His sketch pad was, of course, in hand.
“This is a nice spot you have found.” She stated offhandedly, settling into the other chair.
Tiedoll looked up with a pleasant smile and gave her a polite nod, quick to return to whatever he was sketching.

“It is indeed much cozier than other places.” He smiled, “Company isn’t so bad either once you get over the fact that he’s dead.”

Klaud blinked at that statement, slightly thrown off. Before finally figuring that Tiedoll had finally lost it. Not at all unexpected in this line of work, Socalo is a wonderful example. Klaud fingered the scar painting her face. She supposed that at times even she could be considered rather insane. A tall imposing woman with a whip and a cold personality. Bemused, she watches as Lau Shimin scurried off into the library, content with exploring the new space.

“I was unaware that there was undead company.” She stated frankly.

Tiedoll raised a thin eyebrow. Setting down his sketch pad on his lap he turned to her with a grin.

“I suppose you haven’t heard the rumors?” He stated good-naturedly.

Klaud, in turn, raised her own delicate eyebrow. The Finders had indeed been gossiping more than usual lately, but she hadn’t paid them any mind. She had just figured that one of the generals had done something particularly strange while she had been on a mission.

Tiedoll continued, “There’s a ghost haunting this library. Rather polite fellow. He’s really only here because some of his books ended up in the Order. He decided to take on the role of a librarian for time being.”

Klaud had just been about to comment when Lau’s familiar screech met her ear. She watched with slight surprise as he came hissing and spitting with a book clamped between his teeth. He ran up the chair and settled for hiding behind her neck and under her hair. Someone must have spooked him.

“Tiedoll!” The sudden unknown voice made her jump.

Eye’s immediately flickered over to where a blood cover figure was currently moving through the bookshelf on their right. He was a young man with long hair, transparent and pale. His left arm was missing and spectral blood dropped to the floor only to disappear upon contact. He looked angry.

“How can I be of service, Allen.” Tiedoll smiled peacefully.

The ghost, Allen, pointed at her. Klaud was taken aback. A sudden sense of foreboding suddenly filled her.

“That damn monkey stole my book! I can’t even steal it back because I’m transparent!” He shouted.

Tiedoll made a sound of understanding and adjusted his sketchbook.

“Would you like me to do something about that?” He questioned innocently.

Allen’s eye twitched. Klaud, deciding to intervene, pulled the book from Lau’s mouth and placed in on a nearby table. Really she shouldn’t have been surprised. Akuma existed and so did that weirdo the Earl, she supposed that innocence was also quite strange. Ghosts actually appeared much more reasonable to think about. The ghost gave her an appraising glance.

“I’ll return it to the proper shelf upon my exit.” Klaud supplied.

The ghost nodded.

“Thanks.” He returned before vanishing.

Tiedoll gapped at her for several moments. Growing uncomfortable, she glared at him.

“What.” She questioned.

He snapped out of his shock.

“Allen’s never said thanks to me!” Tiedoll whined.

Chapter Text

Hello guys!

I fully intended to update today, but something rather urgent has come to my attention regarding the colleges I have applied to. As it turns out, my high school is incompetent and somehow managed to forget that my online Calculus course midterm grades needed to be submitted to said colleges. My calc teacher submitted them to my school and they are literally in my grade book. I am so freaking stressed, worried and mad, that I'm probably going to end up writing half a dozen emails tonight so I'm not screwed over from the aforementioned incompetence. I probably won't be able to write anything decent tonight, I might, but I just didn't want to get your hopes up. The thing about how I work is that I will not be emotionally affected if a college rejects me off of my own merit, that is perfectly acceptable because I know I would have been able to make any big improvements if I went through the process again. However, I shall be in literal tears (I don't cry easily) if a judgment was made upon me from someone's idiocy. I would also like you to understand that since my colleges never received my calc grade, it basically means I didn't finish a course by the given time period. That makes me look like a bad student. I don't appreciate that most because I suffered through calculus to get an amazing 84 and I want my efforts to be realized. So please excuse me for not updating, because murder takes time and I like to have good plan. (Note: HarkinTheDestroyer does not mean they shall actually commit murder. They are merely saying they are going to be throwing a fit the entire night and contemplating the philosophy of murder.)

Chapter Text

Hello!

This author would like to formally apologize for not updating in a timely fashion. My week was rather chaotic and quite honestly, I didn’t need another obligation on my plate. My schedule is going to begin tampering down now that it is the end of March, and I have many new stories planned to come. April is going to be pretty slow so hopefully I get quite a few chapters released. For all those that are interested, I have created an update schedule so you guys can bother me when I haven’t updated. Thank you for being so understanding and supporting!

• HarkinTheDestroyer

Sunday:

1. Consume My Flesh and Die of Food Poisoning (03/28)

Monday:

1. Scarlet Stalker (03/29)

Tuesday:

1. That’s the Spirit (03/30)

Wednesday:

1. Experimental Dango (03/31 and every other week)

Thursday:

1. Exorcists Don’t Get Vacations (04/01)

Friday:

1. The Shinobi Shopping District (04/02)

Saturday:

1. The Three Demons of Konohagakure (04/03)

Coming Soon (In the Future):

Desultory – Multiple Chapters (MHA/BNHA)

Little Ones – One Shot (DGM)

The Freedom Owned by Dogs – Multiple Chapters (BSD)

A Certain Lack of Transportation – Multiple Chapters (DGM+BE)

Adulting – Multiple Chapters (DGM)

Inconsequential – Multiple Chapters (DGM+Pilot)

Revival of the Third Side – Multiple Chapters (DGM)

Suprises Come in Many Colors – Multiple Chapters (DGM+RK)

Just For You I’ll Play Villain – Multiple Chapters (DGM)

The Pirates of the Black Order – Multiple Chapters (DGM+OP)

Chapter Text

Hello faithful readers!

I would like to start off by saying that I am quite thankful to those of you who have persisted with both my bad writing habits and admittedly questionable writing. I have come to grace you with the unfortunate news that I am leaving ao3, and that I shall be orphaning my account by the end of this week.
I feel as though I have improved as a writer exponentially over the past couple of years, and I’m not going to lie, some of this writing kind of embarrasses me. I plan to help out some friends with some of their fics, but my main goal at the moment is to focus on more original works.
Not all is lost though! Those, aforementioned friends agreed to pick-up and improve some of my previous fics!
WannabeOneWithWords has agreed to pick up my series Delirious Memories, That’s the Spirit, and maybe Experimental Dango.
i_reproduce_through_mitosis isn’t necessarily new to the fanfic world, but it’s her first time posting so be nice! She’s agreed to fiddle with Consume my Flesh and Die of Food Poisoning despite STILL not being caught up on the D.Gray-man series.
I will also be working on a project with Wanna to hopefully push out a longer, Scarlet Stalker concept-based, D.Gray-man fic, so keep your eyes open for that!

Bye guys!

~Wanna