"Kol is in the ROTC and Caroline is his Commanding Officer." –StefQ

"There are some songs on youtube sung by YanagiNagi and written by a guy called Jun Maeda that always tell these really tragic stories, and I can't help by cry when I listen to them. They're in Japanese but they have subtitles. You might be able to get some inspiration from them, and I'd love to see you write them into a prompt. I'll give you my favourite ones, but you don't have to do all of them, because you keep saying you'll never finish with all the prompts you're getting haha :)

1. Muteki no Soldier (The Invincible Soldier)
2. Owari no Sekai Kara (From the End of the World)
3. Hifukiyama no Mahoutsukai (Magician of Fire Mountain)
4. Executioner no Koi (Executioner Love Song)
5. Killer Song" –blue eyed sins

The most random prompts is always by StefQ, Always. And I thought the pizza one was random. So I didn't fully follow this cause I had/have no interest in the ROTC so I did something else.

Inspired by Catherynne M. Valente's Deathless.

Caroline feels old, weathered through blood and time like her battered uniform. Tears and stitches decorated the once pristine black uniform, now tattered and a weathered grey. She can't remember feeling young, when she was a newborn, all fragile and starving for the world. Now the familiar hunger aches in her belly like the ticking of a clock and her fangs lengthen until they bite into her bottom lip, the droplet of blood that follows could've made any starving vampire nearby berserk.

Everybody was hungry and tired. Everybody wanted for this senseless war to end, no one really knowing when it began. Vampires and werewolves decorated the streets of New Orleans for decades now and no one could quite remember when the blood war began. Witches whispered of myths about brothers falling for the same girl over and over and yet Caroline only knows one thing – it is all for naught.

Her fingers, brittle with age and yet still lighting quick, trace the maps of the streets of blood-soaked New Orleans and tries to remember parades and people running in the streets. She tries to recall colorful floats and men and women dressed to the nines. She tries to recall a different world and fails. It's almost as if that world never existed.

The door of her room opens and comes in the newborn she's turned. Newborn, is he? She can't recall anymore. He's still young anyway, less than fifty, his eyes not like the blank resignation of hers yet.

"What's your name?" She asks as he stops in front of her. His uniform is still a vivid black, graying at the edges but still passable. She surmises he's got pluck for surviving as long as he has. Newborns fell every day, their bodies feasted on by wolves like they were easy prey.

"Kol," He answers curtly. "Don't you remember anymore, Caroline?"

Sometimes sputters in her memory, his name on her breath on lonely nights when she can't bear sleep in a cold bed, his touch on her skin, sure and strong. Does she know him more than a soldier she sends to the battlefield? Or is it all in her head?

"Caroline?" He moves closer and grasps unto her brittle fingers in his youthful, strong grip. "Caroline?"

She feels so old and she just wants to go to sleep and never awaken. Maybe she'd walk into the sun in the morning without her ring and let it all end. It feels long due. She contemplates this as his fingers move from her hand, to her arm and then to her shoulder, squeezing as if to bring her back to herself.

"Come back to me," He tells her softly. "It's over. The war is over."

"Is it?" She touches his hand on her shoulder, his hands feel warm. Odd. "Is it finished?"

"Yes. A long time ago."

"I feel old."

"I know." He kneels down in front of her and his hand falls of her shoulder to hold her hands on her lap. "It's all over now."

She recalls something like a blood-soaked street and a man screaming at all the loss, bodies littering every corner and Caroline shaking underneath a pile of them, terrified to move. Then Kol finding her and taking her home. It was over. It was done.

She tries to grasp unto the thought before it inevitably slips away. She looks up at the young soldier standing in front of her and thinks he must be a newborn. When did she turn him? "What's your name?"

His eyes echo a blank resignation like the ones in hers as he says. "Kol. My name is Kol."