#Tabitha The Dark Silver Eye

[amyravenel]

McKenna and Tristan

McKenna and Tristan are the two main characters of WHITE SPIRIT, the first book in my RESTLESS SPIRITS series. He is a cinnamon roll of a psychic who can see the past. She is an overly-confident ghost hunter who can feel and influence other people's emotions.

This scene didn't make it into the first book, but I still love it.

***

McKenna chewed on her bottom lip. He was getting used to seeing that thoughtful look on her face. When she seemed to come to a decision, she walked over to his bed. Holding out her hands to him, she sat down. “Read me.”

Tristan’s eyebrows shot up.  “What?”

“Use me for practice. Try to focus on me and only me. Maybe if you hold my hands, it’ll help.”

The anxiety filled his stomach. “I’m sure our dinner will be here any minute.” He reached for the remote. “Are you sure you couldn’t find anything on TV?”

McKenna wrapped her fingers around his before he could reach the remote. “Tristan, if you hide from this forever, it’ll eat you up inside. I tried to keep all the emotions of the world out, and it only made things worse. This ability is a part of you just like mine is a part of me. You think you failed to save that girl.  You can’t let Drew down, too.” She took his other hand. “I’m an open book, baby.  Do your worst.”

Tristan swallowed his nerves, the fear causing his hands to shake.  McKenna gripped tighter and nodded encouragement. He felt the calm, relaxed feeling bloom in his chance, and he knew she was trying to help. He sighed and closed his eyes.

He imagined his wall sliding downward as he focused on McKenna. He could feel her warm, soft hands in his, and that seemed to anchor him more than anything else had before. Images formed on the back of his eyelids. 

McKenna and Jason stood in a bedroom with dark green walls and posters slathered all over them. Jason packed a large suitcase, stuffing the clothes in haphazardly. McKenna sat next to him on the bed, braces glittering from her teeth.

“Mac, don’t you have somewhere else to be?” Jason asked.

“Nope.” McKenna shook her head. “I was hoping you’d give me your stereo when you leave.”

Jason shook his head as he pulled more clothing from his chest of drawers. “You can’t have it, but you can use it.”

“But you’ll want something bigger and better when you graduate.”

“You’re not getting it.”

“Oh, come on. It’s my birthday.”

Grinning, he stopped packing and crossed his arms over his chest. “Well, I do have something for you.” He then reached into his top drawer and pulled out a silver necklace. Handing it to her, he said, “I know how you like silver jewelry.”

McKenna took it, her face filled with joy. “Thank you.”

Tristan heard his own voice from far away, relating what he was seeing to present-day McKenna. Her voice reached his ears faintly.

“Not even Aaron, Tabitha, or Drew knew about that necklace. I put it away in a jewelry box after Jason’s death.”

The image switched to a different scene. McKenna huddled in a corner, tears streaming down her face. Judging by the way she clutched her necklace, Tristan knew this was right after she had heard about Jason’s death.  A stream of light fell across her face, and someone came into the room. Tristan couldn’t hear the person so he concentrated harder.

All of a sudden, the scene changed. McKenna was nowhere to be found, nor did he think he was seeing from her point of view. The setting was the hotel room they were in, only it appeared to be the sixties. A man and a woman argued.

“Shit,” Tristan said.  “I’m picking up the room.”

McKenna tightened her grip on his hands.  “Focus on me, Tristan. Don’t think about the room or anything else. Just me.”

Her voice and the emotions she shared calmed him. The vision transitioned from the fighting sixties couple back to McKenna. He saw her working at the center with Aaron, saw her smiling and laughing as a teenager, saw her lose her favorite doll at age eight.  McKenna, McKenna, McKenna.

With a sigh, Tristan replaced the wall and opened his eyes. McKenna sat there smiling at him, contentment in her eyes.

“You did it.  You...” He didn’t let her finish the sentence.

[sculderfan]

Never Give Up On A Miracle

Also on AO3

Mulder sat quiet, not daring to breathe, not daring to hope, the anger in his gut white hot as it burned out of control. Here he was again, at her bedside and this time was just too Goddamned close. ‘Why?’ He asked of Whatever it was “out there”. ‘Why are you doing this, what’s your grand plan?’

Scully’s faith had always been such a part of everything she was. Her unbending Irish Catholicism had always been the one thing she counted on. He knew this, because she had told him this many, many times.

“I just wish I could believe”, he murmured. “but how can I when You keep pulling this shit?”

He slowly got to his feet, his knees aching with their refusal to kneel and pray. Walking to the window, he looked up at the sky where a shadow of a sliver of moon floated in the not night of the city lights. Leaning his forehead on the cool glass of the window, he closed his eyes over tears of pain left over from years of loss and broken hopes.

“I can’t.” he cried softly, “I can’t!”

The door to the hospital room opened softly and a nurse entered. She was tall and sturdy, with dark hair cut in a short bob. Mulder turned as she entered and was met with the kindest, most loving gaze he could remember. She smiled gently and reached out to touch his arm. The anger that had been raging within him at the unfairness of the situation and his own impotency to do anything dissipated with that one touch. He felt the love coming from this woman in a wave that quenched the burning embers of his soul and instead left a soft wonder.

“I’m Nurse Owens”. She said. “I’m here to care for Dana.”  

“I’m ….” The lump in his throat kept him from speaking.

“I know.” She said moving towards the bed where Scully lay unconscious. “It’s so hard when they’re beyond our reach. We just have to trust and have faith.” She looked up at the sound of Mulder’s derisive snort and waited until he met  her gaze.

“You always have wondered how she never wavered. How she always believed so fully in the face of challenges. Faith knows that no matter what the situation, in our lives or someone else's that things will turn out for good; that there’s something bigger than us at work, guiding us; watching out for us.

You think yourself a non-believer, yet you trust so deeply. Your faith in her would stun her if she could feel it.”

“How do you know?” he asked quietly, overwhelmed that someone he just met would know him so well.

“I know.” She said almost in a whisper.

Nurse Owens bent to softly kiss Scully’s forehead and looked up at Mulder standing by the window, transfixed by grief and the feelings he wasn’t used to experiencing. “You were right to come tonight. Dana has a choice to make and you always are at her side for the hard ones. She needs you here.”

She straightened the sheet covering her patient lovingly and left the room almost without sound leaving Mulder in the not-silence of beeping monitors and Scully softly breathing.

Walking slowly to her bedside, he gently took her hand as if it were a fragile baby bird. He stood silently, the truth within him swirling in his gut and squeezing the breath from his lungs.

“Scully, I hope you can hear me.” He said choking on the lump in his throat. “I’m here. I have to tell you. You can’t leave me. Please! I need you…. I …I… I love you” he sobbed.  

He crumpled at her bedside to his knees, his forehead bowed, remembering all the times he could have said something but was too scared by the enormity of what he felt for the diminutive redhead, her prone form belying the strength and power she had within her. His lips found the back of her hand, disturbed by the loop of IV tubing taped there.

“Scully, please”, he whispered. “Come back to me”.

The IV pump started alarming on the other side of the as the infusion was complete. One of the other nurses came in quietly to check it and turn it off, looking at the broken man before him. His own eyes burned with tears for the shattered man before him. Mulder didn’t even look up. Another person entered and spoke softly to the nurse.

“Time to drain the tubing and do my vent check. How’s she doing tonight, Mike?”

“Holding her own”. Said the nurse.

The Respiratory Therapist nodded and stepped over to where Mulder knelt in front of the vent. She lightly rested her hand on his shoulder.

“I’m so sorry to bother you, Sir, but I need to get behind you. Are you all right? Is there anything I can do for you?”

Mulder looked up into young old eyes. The RT didn’t look like she had been long out of high school yet had a wisdom and a weariness of having seen too many things for her age. No judgment was there, only kindness. He sniffed and stood up, moving out of her way but still holding Scully’s hand.

“Sorry” he mumbled.

“Oh it’s no problem,” she said, “I just need to do my vent check and I’ll be out of here.”

As she was checking the seal of the tubing and the machine breathing for the woman in the bed, she reached over and thumbed the nurse call button. Mulder heard the beeping outside the room and Mike came back in, looking askance at the standing occupants.

“You rang?” he said with a small smirk.

“Yeah, Thought you should know, she’s starting to fight the vent. Might want to let her doc know”.  

Just then the alarms began going off on the monitors and the ventilator. Mike quickly went to assess the patient and the screens. Assuring Mulder that this was probably nothing while he urged him out of the room, he quickly pulled the curtains. Closed out and dismissed, Mulder looked around, seeing the hospital around him for the first time in hours. He stepped to the Nurses’ Station.

“What’s happening?” he asked.

“Hard to tell, we’ll see. Don’t worry. Mike’s one of the best and Tabitha knows her stuff.” The nurse at the desk told him. “Why don’t you go get something to eat while they’re busy? You’ve been there for hours without a break. You’re no use to her if you don’t take care of yourself.”

Mulder was obviously not in the same world she was, so she stood and reached across the desk to him, lightly touching his arm. “Agent Mulder. I know you don’t want to leave your partner, but you need to take care of yourself. Go. Grab something downstairs. I’ll call you if anything changes, I promise. I have your cell number.”

Mulder nodded slightly and turned to walk off towards the elevators like a lost little boy, each step dragging with the weight of his sadness. The nurse at the desk watched him go and shook her head, sitting back down. “Hmph,” she mumbled. “Just partners my ass”. At the next desk, another nurse smirked and shook his head.

“I know, right?” he said. “Who does he think he’s fooling? That man is in love!”

Just then Mike came out of Scully’s room with a kilowatt smile. “Call Dr. Daly. Stat! I think we’re waking up! Too early to tell, yet. ”

“No shit?! Well, all right!” she said reaching for the phone as Mike returned to his patient.

***

Mulder wasn’t hungry as he came out of the elevator, but he knew the nurse upstairs had been right. He had to eat something. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had anything. He got himself a cup of coffee and a bagel, almost breaking down again as he reached for the silver foil packet of cream cheese – they had regular and light. ‘I’ll never let her eat light cream cheese again’, he thought to himself, remembering how she always made it a point to go light or diet conscious whenever possible. He chucked to himself at her constant war against calories. He found a table off to the side and sat down, lost in his thoughts.

“Excuse me. Mr.  Mulder, is it?”

He looked up to see the Scully family priest, Father McCue standing there.

“I thought it was you. I was in the hospital for another parishioner and was going to stop in to see Dana while I was here. You look like you could use a friend.”

Mulder motioned for him to have a seat. With a sigh, he told him what he knew and didn’t know. There was something about the man that just made it easy to talk to him.

“You know she has to make up her own mind about this. Dana has always been a stubborn little thing.”

“You’ve known her a long time?”

“Her mother and I go way back, to before she married Bill. We were in school together. I know all the Scullys. Look, Mr. Mulder. I don’t know if you are a religious man, but I think you know there’s more than meets the eye out there. Sometimes you just have to have faith that things will work out. It’s hard sometimes in the face of struggle, but you can’t give up on miracles.”

Just then Mulder’s cell phone rang. He almost dumped his coffee on the priest in his hurry to get it out of his pocket. As he listened to the caller, a smile began and grew. He looked over at the priest as he disconnected the call and held out his hand.

“You’re absolutely right, Father. Miracles happen every day. Scully woke up. I have to go.”

As he hurried out of the cafeteria with a spring in his step, Father McCue looked heavenward and smiled to himself and nodded.

[irisbleufic]

First of all I would like to say that I love your fics, they are wonderfully well written and one can see the amount of creativity and love you put into both the writing and the source material (the wayleska and JeromeFive fics are everything to me ❤️)

You have a preference for Gotham (and I understand) so I would like to ask: what attracts you so much to this universe specifically? Do you like comics? Im not trying to be offensive, but I would love to know your thoughts!

First of all, anon, thank you so much for your kind words about my Gotham fic! And I also want to start by reassuring you that your question is not offensive in the least.

Gotham, at least in its early seasons, had what felt like a fresh take. I was deeply intrigued when I first started watching; there were a handful of performances that kept me riveted. I was watching because of Fish (I hate forever that they killed her off; this is why she's still alive in like 99% of my fic series), Oswald (I had never seen a take on Penguin that I liked before; it was refreshing to see a blatantly queer character), Edward (forensics-tech-era Ed was just...*chef kiss*), Tabitha (another WOC I am incensed they killed off; the way she stood up to her scumbag brother and got Silver to safety was amazing), Barbara (she's just so unbelievably shameless and shrewd; she and Tabitha together give me heart eyes), and of course Bruce and Jerome/later on Jeremiah (I had never seen a young Bruce so well acted before; as for the twins, well, anything Cameron Monaghan touches is electrifying).

Above all, though, I loved that nobody in the show, and I mean nobody, was what I'd call a truly good person. Everyone was flawed and showed their darkness time and time again, Bruce included. It felt like a universe where maybe there wouldn't be a Batman (even though I know that was their endgame; the point is that it gave off that vibe), and that was intriguing to me as a premise when it came to writing fic. You've probably noticed that Bruce does not become Batman in any of my Gotham stories.

I haven't read much of the comics, although I do like comics and graphic novels. My familiarity with the comics pretty much begins and ends with Batman: Europa, The Long Halloween, and Arkham Asylum: A Serious House on Serious Earth. What I love, though, I mean absolutely adore, is Batman: The Animated Series. That show was my introduction to Batman—to DC, full stop. The way Gotham was shot, dark but vibrant, reminded me of B:TAS.

[12timetraveler]

May You Always Be The Wild One (Parts 1 and 2)

Reader is kidnapped on a job gone wrong, and Hosea is prepared to burn all of Lemoyne to the ground if he has to in order to get her back.

Hosea/f!reader

CW: kidnapping, torture, attempted sexual assault, descriptions of violence

(I try not to be too graphic but please be advised that part one is quite dark.)

Hey all so this is a two part story I've done. Part 1 is all about the kidnapping and the rescue. Part 2 is all fluff and smut months after the event in part 1

Part 1 is posted here and part 2 is the chapter that immediately follows.

And in the morning when the sun comes up

And it brings you to your knees

May you always be the wild one

May you always be free

~~~~~~~~~~~~

It had been a solid plan. Well of course it was, it was Hosea's plan. But the master con man had been conned. Or maybe you all had underestimated just how perverted the target was.

You and Hosea had spent the morning making yourself look rumpled and dirty. Hosea had been smearing some dirt on your cheek. You suggested, only half kidding, that you and he just step out of camp for a quick romp. That usually got you looking plenty disheveled. Your beloved had laughed and lamented that you were too short on time, but promised he’d take you out for a night after this job was over.

Once you looked perfectly exhausted, skirt dirty, hair ruffled, like you’d been tossed from your horse and walking all night, Arthur had taken you out to the road, about a mile down from the target’s house.

“Alright. You start walking, and I’ll join the others near the house. Hosea says the target always spends his mornings on the front porch. Once you get him away from the house, we’ll be in and out. Mrs. Adler is waiting for you in Rhodes to take you back to camp so you’ll be long gone from town before he even gets back home to see he’s been robbed. Even if he does realize you were in on it, he won’t find you.”

“Understood,” you said as you slid off the back of his horse.

“Yeah, well even still, you got your gun?” He asked. You nodded and patted your thigh. Hidden under your skirts was a small pistol. Nothing special but it would protect you.

“You think I’m dumb enough to work a job without something to protect me?” You asked.

“No, s’pose not,” Arthur chuckled. “That and I doubt Hosea would have let you do this if he didn’t have some back up.”

Hosea trusted you completely, but he was far too wise to ever think that just because you were quick on your feet and good in a fight, that you’d be fine without some sort of weapon. As he was helping you get dressed this morning, Hosea had carefully strapped the little pistol to your thigh, planting a few sweet kisses around it before moving on to helping you lace your corset.

“Alright well, see you back in camp,” Arthur said, giving you a lazy salute.

“You boys stay safe,” you called.

“You’re the one who’s taking a ride with the man to town. You stay safe,” Arthur replied as he trotted off. You stood there for a minute, letting Arthur ride ahead of you before you started your walk down the road.

The Lemoyne sun was harsh, only just rising but already beating down on you. Within minutes you were sweating. You cursed Arthur for dropping you off so far away from the house, but your exhaustion would make your story more plausible, easier to act out.

By the time the house came into view, you were miserable. Thank god you had your hat to protect your face from the sun.

Just like Arthur had said, the man was sitting on his porch, sipping some coffee and watching the world start it’s day when you hobbled up.

“Good Mornin’ miss,” He called from his porch, looking you up and down as you rested against his fence.

“Howdy, Mister,” You sighed.

“Are you alright?” He asked, sitting up slightly as he took in your ragged state.

“I’ve been better, I’ll admit,” you said. “My horse spooked on the road during the night. I’m not sure if it was a snake or what. But he spooked and tossed me in the dirt and ran off. I’ve been walking for hours now.” You sighed.

“Can I give you a ride somewhere?” The man asked, standing up and downing his coffee.

“If it’s not too much trouble. My sister is waitin’ for me in Rhodes.” you said gratefully. The man nodded.

“Sure. I can get you there. Give me just a moment to hook up the wagon,” He said, stepping inside to put his mug away before heading out to the barn out back.

You glanced off into the trees near the house. You caught a glimpse of Arthur’s hat. You gave a small nod, letting him know it was all going to plan. A few minutes later the man came around the house, leading a black Tennesse Walker pulling a simple wagon.

“Alright, Miss, let's get you to town.” He said, helping you into the wagon before climbing into the driver's seat. With a flick of the reins, you were off. You slumped in the seat, happy to be off your feet.

“Name’s Dawson. Ephriam Dawson,” He said, reaching out to shake your hand.

“Tabitha Sanderson,” You said, using one of your aliases. You shook his hand

“Good Lord is it hot,” You sighed, fanning yourself. Dawson chuckled beside you.

“You ain’t from Lemoyne, are you?” He asked. You shook your head.

“No. I’m from West Elizabeth. Strawberry to be exact. It’s cool and wet and rainy there.”

“What’re you doing all the way down here?” He asked.

“My sister and I came to visit our sick aunt in Saint Denis,” You lied, thinking quick on your feet. “My sister went to Rhodes yesterday morning. I wanted to spend one last day with Aunt Susan before heading back, so I said I’d meet her in Rhodes last night.”

“Well, I’ll get you to your sister safe and sound, don’t you worry Miss,” He said.

The rest of the ride was pleasant, punctuated with idle chit-chat now and then. On occasion Dawson would point out a landmark or something he found interesting. You’d nod along and listen with fake interest. Dawson sat a little too close, in your opinion, but it was a small wagon, so maybe there just wasn’t room.

Finally the water tower of Rhodes’ train station peeked up over the hillside. You sighed in relief.

“I was starting to think I’d never get here. I would have been walking for hours yet without your help. Thank you,” You said, giving Dawson a grateful smile.

“You’re welcome,” Dawson said, tipping his hat. “Now, where is your sister waiting for you?” He asked.

“She should be at the general store. If not there, then maybe the Parlor House. If you just drop me off by the statue I can walk from there.” You said.

“Nonsense. I’ll make sure you and your sister are reunited.” Dawson said as the cart rode into town. Instead of parking near the butcher like you thought he would, he turned the cart up the hill, past the church.

“Sir, where are we going?” You asked, trying to keep your outlaw paranoia at bay. But something did not feel right.

“I’m just parking up here,” He assured you, pulling off just past the gallows. “It’s easier to get out of town if I park up here and walk,”

“Well, thank you very much for the ride Mr. Dawson,” you said, beginning to climb down from the wagon. He grabbed your wrist, stopping you.

“Just a moment, darlin’,” He said. “We still need to discuss my payment.”

“Oh, of course, how silly of me,” you said, reaching into your bag. You’d brought a little silver watch and a few bills to pay the man with, should he ask. You’d earn that back and more, if Hosea were right about the score. “I don’t have nearly enough to thank you for your help. But… here.” you said, pulling out the bills and the watch and handing it to Mr. Dawson before climbing down off the wagon.

“Thank you again, I really must be going,” You said as Dawson climbed down from the wagon. “My sister must be worried sick for me.” he came around the side of the wagon, and the glint in his eye made your heart drop.

“Hang on,” He said, “This isn’t the payment I was looking for,” He said, holding up the pocket watch and small stack of bills.

“I… I don’t have anything…” Before you could say another word, the man grabbed you and pressed you against the wagon, his lips slamming against yours. You struggled against him, trying to push him away. Finally his lips released yours, and he allowed you to push him a couple steps back.

“Sir!” you exclaimed, “I don’t know who you think I am, but I ain’t that kind of girl!” You said, scrubbing his saliva off your mouth. “I appreciate the assistance, but I really must be going,” You were stopped by his hand slamming into the wagon, blocking your exit.

“I don’t care what kind of girl you think you are,” He whispered dangerously. “The way I see it, I helped you with something you needed. Now you help me with something I need.” His other hand came down to his trousers, undoing the buttons. “You say you ain’t a whore, fine. I won’t use your cunt. But you’re gonna get on your knees for me and put that mouth to good use.”

You met his gaze a moment, weighing your options. Your pistol, though hidden conveniently on your person, wasn’t easy enough to reach so that you could do it before he did something to you. However, if you could get your skirt out of the way...

You gave him a defeated nod, pretending to concede. Very slowly, you did as he instructed, sliding down onto your knees. You adjusted your skirt underneath you under the pretense of getting comfortable, then looked up at Mr. Dawson looming over you.

He gave you a wicked smile, and patted your head. He moved to pull out his cock, but before he could, you’d reached under your skirt and retrieved the pistol from your garter, cocking it and aiming for his manhood.

“Sorry mister, I think you have me misunderstood,” you said, standing once more, gun rising with you until it was pointed at his chest. “I won’t be doing anything with your disgusting prick. So you can either take the money and the watch and let me go, or lose something you can’t grow back.”

You and Mr. Dawson stood still a moment, staring each other down, waiting for the other to cave first. He never dropped his disgusting smile, and he still had a glimmer in his eye that you didn’t like one bit.

“On your way, mister,” You said, waving your gun slightly.

In the blink of an eye, he swung his arm up, grabbing the gun and forcing you to point it away from him. His other hand came up to your neck, slamming you back against the wagon and pushing the air from your windpipe. He slammed your wrist against the wagon a few times, until the gun fell to the ground.

You squirmed against him, trying to get your knee up into his crotch, find something of his you could bite, anything to get him off of you. But his grip on you was tight, and the hand on your neck was squeezing until spots danced across your vision.

“Little Jezebel,” Dawson cooed in your ear, “You’ve led the wrong man on. I’ll get what I want, just you wait.”

“Sadie!” You screamed, desperately hoping your voice would travel far enough. “Sa--” Dawson slammed your head against the wagon once more, and it all went black.

[abduct-me-helen]

Class 108's Apocalypse Field Trip | Chapter 1.

The world ended on a Tuesday. Quite suddenly, halfway through class. After the sky split open and green light bathed the earth, things changed. Some lived.

Some didn’t.

Class 108 stayed together, for the most part. They took up a base in the school, and boarded up the windows and doors.

Sydney was the one who first learned they didn’t need to eat. Other revelations of that sort followed. Sleep was not needed, nor was water. Air seemed to be, though, as they learned after Cal passed out from holding their breath.

The first one to die was Cú.

They don’t talk about Cú.

-

Of course, some things are unavoidable in the end. Logically, Sydney knew it was only a matter of time before something managed to slip under the cracks and they’d all get killed; god knows they’d narrowly scraped by enough times to be considered cosmically lucky. Tabitha had been spreading rumors, as was her nature, about the school itself being sentient, trapping them inside with false promises of safety.

On the worse days, Sydney believed it.

Sydney stepped into the classroom slowly, craning her head to where Tabitha and Rosie were explaining their theories. She didn’t know which theories, but she’d heard most of them by now.

“G’morning.” She said.

It was night.

No, she thought, the sky is dark, but that doesn’t mean it’s night.

Rosie gestures towards a desk, and she avoids the chair toppled over at her feet as she sits down on top of it. She takes not of who else had decided to attend this “session” of theirs today. There are 12 students left out of the thirty who had originally made up the class. Ten of them had disappeared after running away from the school in shock after the eye in the sky had first opened. They hadn’t been in homeroom during the “blink,” which is what they’d taken to call the eye opening, and hadn’t seen any teachers since that day.

She remembered it vividly.

Ms. Bruis had tensed, eyes wide in shock, before telling them to calm down and stay indoors. She immediately went outside the room to check on everyone else.

That was the last time they’d seen Ms. Bruis, but not the last time they’d seen her face.

Besides the initial chaos, there wasn’t anything attacking the school. It was just shouting and screaming and running. Sydney had stayed in the classroom, clumsily trying to close the blinds on the window.

People just, left. And they didn’t come back.

The first venture was when they lost Cú. She doesn’t like to talk about him, never mind think about him. Nonetheless, her mind often drifts towards his death.

It was about four hours after the chaos. People had been nearly sucked out of the building, teachers included. The only ones that remained were the thirty students of 108.

Sydney didn’t know why they were the only ones to remain. She still doesn’t now.

The students decided to have a short party go out and scout. Sydney, Katie, Cú, Tabitha and Rosie. Four survived, one did not.

Rosie was always the thinker of the group, and as such she took the front. Katie was chosen for her seemingly nonchalant disposition to going, and Tabitha for her mind, which was always going too fast and often arriving at far-out conclusions. Despite this, she was a quick-witted person and had been selected for her dexterity and speed. Cú was selected for his physicality. He was a teddy bear, but a strong teddy bear.

It didn’t save him in the end.

And Sydney, well, she was cautious. She wonders if she could’ve saved Cú if she’d been just a little bit wearier.

They wandered a few blocks before hearing the sound of skin and bone splitting. Tabitha immediately ran toward the sound, as was her nature. The rest, Rosie at the lead, followed, hiding behind a corner.

Katie didn’t make a face, but even she was visibly pale.

When the sound came again, louder, and a creature made of wet flesh and twisted muscle stepped out of the alleyway, she became practically white.

Sydney retched. She’s not ashamed to admit it, you would’ve too. Anyone would’ve retched if they saw that sight.

It got worse.

“Hello?! Someone! Help me, please!”

It was Ms. Bruis-no, it looked like Ms. Bruis.

Cú ran. He dodged the creature, running to Ms. Bruis and starting to try to pick her up off the ground, before he noticed she was rooted to the cement. His eyes widened as blood ran down her face

She smirked.

Sydney will always remember the flash of teeth before she plunged her hand-no, her claw-into his stomach. He made a choked sound before the creature bounded back over and ripped his jaw clean off.

They ran. They ran. They ran.

And then they came back to the classroom, and they wept.

There were more expeditions after that. They lost seven more after that, but in those ventures, they collected knowledge. This knowledge went on Rosie’s list, though it also doubled as a rulebook.

-

THE LIST

1. Some creatures can make copies of people you know in order to trick you. They don’t bleed, so your best shot at not meeting eyeball daddy up close is to yeet the fuck outta there//bold of you to assume I don’t want to meet eyeball daddy uwu//

2. Don’t trust meat. Ever. Meat comes alive. WE ARE VEGANS IN THE YEAR OF OUR LORD 2018(?)

3. Don’t answer the door, even if you’re armed. No, Eric, we do not count your big muscles™ as a weapon.

4. If you MUST answer the door, don’t. You have been stopped.

5. A short section on the happenings of the places(?) known to us as “nightmares.”

Nightmares trap humans in these crazy places. We’ve only seen two, but they are extremely dangerous, and both encounters ended in casualties. They trap your mind and make you experience terrible things, and like the rest of the world (to our knowledge at least) don’t follow normal time or space rules. Basically, if you want to avoid a ,’ , |,’_’, you should not screw with that shit.

6. Always check with someone else before eating or drinking. Sometimes, your mind will play tricks on you and you won’t notice that you’re eating something…not good. Honor cal for their sacrifice regarding this matter (sorry cal)

7. Always shut the blinds. Eyeball daddy is watching you//YOU DID NOT NEED TO SAY THAT TABITHA

8. Don’t leave the building without consulting all of class 108.

9. Don’t read books that others haven’t read first, especially if it says it’s from the library of Jurgen LeitnerSTUPID IDIOT MOTHERFUCKING JURGEN LEITENER GOD DAMN FOOL BOOK COLLECTING DUST EATING RAT OLD BASTARD SHITHEAD IDIO//yes, Riko, we get it, but good point. Be Jared, 19.

10. Don’t invite anyone in.

-

“What are we on today?” Sydney asked.

“Tabitha’s on about the categories again.” Cal said.

“I really think it could work!” she said loudly. “Look, there’s consistencies in every single encounter we’ve had. Think about it. Remember what happened at the theater?”

Katie grimaced silently. “How could we forget?”

Tabitha ignored her. “The webs. Spiders and the rest of those insects are different categories. The wriggly silver worms are more like, bugs and wriggly things and judging from the infestation we had they all work together.”

“Like a hive?” Cal asked.

Tabitha nodded. “Exactly like that. Spiders are different though; you saw how many were crawling about during the amphitheater incident. And that whole thing was about control. All those people who were laughing…they, they were there. They didn’t want to do it! They didn’t want to laugh, you saw their eyes. They were being controlled. And when,” she paused, gritting her teeth, “and when Marcy died she was being controlled too. Puppeted.”

That’s two. Then we come to the next one, guns and murder and war and shit like that. Simple enough. But I think it has to be humans killing humans, because the thing that killed, killed Cú wasn’t like that. It was, it was different. I don’t know. I’ll get back to that.

“Then we have the cover up, or the anonymous things. Things like those little creatures that hide in your plates that you can’t notice are there until someone tells you. That’s why I’m confused, because I think the weird fleshy creature we faced was aligned with that but also with those meat things that broke Rosie’s leg. I don’t know how to explain it, but, ah. Sorry. I think they’re the same category.”

“I’ll humor you; can a thing be two categories?” Katie questioned her dully.

“I think so. Maybe it’s like colors? Really angry colors. They’re all separate, but the same because they’re all made of the same stuff. And they all blur together sometimes?”

“Yeah,” Katie snorted, “we’re being killed by really angry colors.”

Tabitha flushed. “Hey! It was just an analogy.”

Rosie seemed to be considering what Tabitha had said, before she looked up. “I believe you.”

“Y-you do?” Tabitha blinked, taken back.

Rosie nodded. “It makes sense. Really angry colors.”

“Really angry colors.”

-

A few hours-well, time was weird, but Sydney supposed it was hours-later, the class was doing yoga. Well, not “yoga” per se. They were beating each other on the head with torn up yoga mats.

“Hey!” Riko shouted as Tabitha tripped over her mat while chasing Cal. “Watch it! This is where I sleep!”

Tabitha stuck her tongue out and Katie snorted, not looking up from her book. Sydney wondered how she did that; Katie always seemed to have an astounding amount of situational awareness at all times.

“Real mature.” Katie groused.

Tabitha grinned, and Rosie smiled softly.

“I’M GOING TO MAKE YOU MEET EYEBALL DADDY!” she shouted to Cal, who’s eyes widened in mock fear.

“Oh no! The horror! OwO!” They said dramatically.

“Did they just say “OwO”?” Sydney asked in a deadpan. Rosie nodded solemnly.

“You ever wonder…” Sydney trailed off, the muffled shouting of their peers drowned out into the background.

“Wonder what?” Rosie tilted her head in question.

“What happened to Mr. Sims.”

“He’s probably…not with us anymore.”

“Yeah. Still, could you imagine? He was a bloody cryptid. He’d probably take all this with no sweat.”

“Maybe he’d give us concerts too.”

“Good ole Jonny D’Ville.”

Rosie snickered.

“You know how he always drew eyes everywhere? During tests?”

“Oh god, don’t mention that to Tabitha, I don’t need her going on about another conspiracy.”

Sydney grinned to herself and Rosie groaned.

“Well, I was thinking, maybe it was an omen.”

“An omen?”

“Yeah. I’ve never been spiritual really, but the worlds gone to shit so who knows what’s real. Maybe the Mayans were just a few days off.”

“Ah, the apocalypse calendar.”

“Indeed.”

-

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

A noise rang out from the entrance to the school, loud and imposing. Sydney’s heart started to thump wildly in terror.

They all shot up, and Katie got her switchblade out from her pocket. She was lucky enough to have it on her at the blink, and it was their best weapon.

Cypress shot inside the classroom silently, eyes wide, red curls bouncing. He clicked the door shut quietly, pale. “The others sent me. They’re hiding in place. I think we should just stay put.”

Rosie nodded, gesturing him to come over. She placed a finger over her lips in order to get them to stay silent, then nodded to Katie. Katie had always been gifted with really good hearing, and it had saved their assess more than enough times for Rosie to know that letting her try to hear who was at the door was the best safe bet for situation and the time being.

Katie closed her eyes, but after a quarter of a minute shook her head.

That’s when they heard it.

“Hello!”

Sydney brought a hand to her mouth to clamp down a scream.

It was Cypress.

Eyes wide, she glanced over to Cypress, her Cypress, who’s expression was now glazed over. Was his skin always that waxy? Why was his hair so smooth? It looked like that of a dolls, curls made of softly bent plastic.

Katie saw the flicker of light before she saw the blade, and she lunged.

Her switchblade pierced his skin-no, his stuffing, with a sound akin to ripping a toy. It didn’t seem to stop this not-Cypress.

Oh god, Sydney thought, today is the day I die.

There was a sound like static now in the air, and the faint smell of burning. Sydney began to feel sick, almost lightheaded.

The door swung open, and Sydney whipped her head around to see Cypress, who was trailed by…Mr. Sims?

[crowleyellestair]

Sun and Moon - Geralt OS

AN// This turned out much longer than I intended. Send in requests!!!

Summary: An old wives tale leads to the marriage of Geralt and Y/n.

  Adrenaline pounded through her as she rounded the hill, practically sliding down the rest. The rocky bottom kicked up dust as her landing was rough, and she stumbled as she tried to run immediately after the landing. Her feet slid as she tried to move faster than they were able, but Y/n still pushed forward. The door to the cottage built into the hill appeared in her view, and she tried to calm herself. Geralt would have heard her approaching, so he should be ready when she breaks in. Another deep breath was pulled through her before she put everything into kicking the door. The wood slammed into the wall as it opened, but what she found froze her instantly.

The old woman was scurrying around the witcher’s legs, her hunched back making her as tall as his waist. A large cape was draped over his broad shoulders and he looked astounded. Despite the door being thrown open, the woman paid Y/n no mind. Geralt’s golden eyes shown in her direction, but didn’t look like he needed help. The lady dragging a chair to the front of him took her attention. She struggled, but with Geralt’s help, the lady stood, shaking arms reaching to place a crown on his head. She still couldn’t reach, so he bowed, letting her crown him. His arms circled her, helping her from her stool and the woman turned to face Y/n once her feet planted on the ground.

“Ah, High-noon, you’ve finally arrived.” Y/n’s brow shot to her hairline as her gaze bounced back to Geralt’s. “Give me a moment, if you will grace me with it.” She shuffled into the next room, and Y/n rushed to her witcher’s side. Her hands shot out, lifting the cape, and looked for any injury. Her hands flew to his cheeks, moving his face about to try and catch any distortion in his eyes, but found none. He was perfectly safe.

“What happened? Why did you leave without me?” Geralt tilted into her left palm as he quirked with confusion. His white hair framed his face, some strands lacing through his new crown. It was made of blackened twigs and some sort of silver herb. Dark scarlet berries scattered throughout, and seemed to have a golden base that held it all together. As if the crown was made for him. The cloak was black, with an even darker fur lining the edges. Geralt truly looked like a god, though she couldn’t place what his power would rule over.

“I told Jaskier to tell you.” Y/n’s hands slid from their spot to find purchase on her hips.

“The bard is entertaining to try and make up for all the coin he owes me. He kept losing, and I told him his bets could go on credit. He really is bad at Gwent, and I don’t know why he keeps playing me.” Y/n easily went on a tangent as she lost herself in the deep treasure of his irises. She shook her head, before looking to the ground. “So why did you come alone?”

“Realized it wasn’t any one of those ‘crones’ they had asked us to take out. The trail of magic turned out to lead to the Pellar.”

“Soooo why are you here then?”

“Tabitha knows me somehow, so I followed her. She keeps calling me Midnight, but she knows me.” Her gaze shifted back to his features that were turned to look at where ‘Tabitha’ disappeared. There was a look of wonder, but another she hadn’t seen before. One would call it fear- she would call it fear, and Y/n knew he felt it. How a small woman could pull it from him though, was the wonder of it. Y/n’s hand rested on an arm under his cape, and gave a gentle squeeze.

Said woman came back from the room hold a flowing armful of silk and another crown. Tabitha reached a hand out, and Y/n quickly realized the older woman was blind. She placed her hand into the woman’s, and the lady’s free hand gestured to the ground. The younger woman kneeled after looking for confirmation in Geralt. Yellow silk was thrown around her shoulders, intricate embroidery of different hues of gold lacing throughout it. It was lined with white fur. It was something that only a queen would be seen wearing. Tabitha’s hands cup her cheeks, letting her thumbs rub along the skin before pulling the crown off her arm. It was full of strong green leaves and different white flowers. Little, pale orange ribbons fell from it, twisting into her hair more with every turn of her head. Y/n stood, not knowing how to feel, but thanking her anyways.

“She’s deaf.” Her gaze gave a quiet thanks to her witcher before grabbing the woman’s hand, and placing a small kiss to the back of it. Tabitha started giggling, and playfully swatting at her.

“Oh, you’re too kind. I already have received your blessings. You don’t need to spoil me.” She still gave a sweet smile before her head snapped towards the door. The two companions look as well, a strange orange painting the sky. “It’s time! Go! Go and wait for me in the front!” Tabitha quickly shooed them out the door, and they were both entranced by the view.

An eclipse was taking place and the moon almost fully covered the sun. They shared the sky, painting it a color Y/n had never seen before. The sun gave the warmth of orange, but was tamed by the chill of the moon. Looking to Geralt, she found the warmth kissing his face, but the chill setting throughout his hair, almost igniting it in a cold flame. He truly looked ethereally beautiful.

Y/n didn’t understand what was happening. Why they were dressed in capes and crowns was a mystery, but she went along because Geralt had. She would always follow in anything he would get into, and this strange moment was something she’d happily do again. Despite the unease she witnessed earlier, the calm that seemed to wash over him made it all worth it. His gaze left the sky to turn to her, successfully stealing her breath, just as he had her heart months ago.

Tabitha rushed out, standing in front of them. Her hands launched into the air, holding a long sash. One end had a beautiful laced sun, and the other a just as fair moon.

“The Gods of Fortune now join us in witnessing the eclipse. The moon and sun finally sharing the sky, becoming one.” She turned back to them, grabbing their hands, and placing them into each other. Quickly, she tied the sash around the linked appendages. “With the flame of love, sun light and moon light are married in the sky. As the Gods as our witness, their children are now linked.” Still, the younger woman didn’t pay much attention, still not understanding, and getting lost in the feeling of Geralt’s fingers linked in hers. It wasn’t until she could feel him freeze that she looked up to him. A look of shock covered his face as he looked between her and their hands.

“What?” Her tone was calm, and her smile was soft. She couldn’t explain it, but contentment washed over her and the overwhelming feeling of peace pushed her to serenity.

“We… We’re. I’m sorry, I didn’t realize what was happening.” He quickly tried to unwrap the sash, but Tabitha started to belt a tune unfamiliar to the younger woman. Geralt’s eyes snapped the sky, and let out a soft curse.

“What?” She was starting to panic at his hastiness, and it only got worse when he stopped. His eyes found hers, full of guilt.

“I’m sorry, Y/n.”

“As you’ve said.”

“I should have figured it out sooner.”

“Figure what out sooner?”

“This is a binding spell. A… marriage, in the eyes of the Gods.” He started to scold himself, and she looked to Tabitha, who was aimlessly dancing. Her brows furrowed as she raked her brain. She had heard this story before, but she couldn’t remember what had happened.

Until she did.

It was an old tale of elves, who were so opposite, it was like day and night. They had hated each other, but they found a rhythm, sharing the duty of watching over the world. They soon started to fade as the pain of loneliness set in. They chased the other, but kept missing them by showing up to a council meeting too late, or joining the wrong hunt. One day, they finally found the other, much like an eclipse. They embraced, and upon the joining of the sky, they connected and linked their souls together for as long as the sun and moon spun in space. Their love was brought to the surface, and was so powerful, that whenever he looked to the sun, or she the moon, their souls connected through the magic the Gods blessed them with. They never again felt lonely, and no matter how far apart they traveled, they were always together.

But that story had mutual love.

Oh.

Her eyes stayed on the blind, deaf, dancing woman. She looked for Geralt, and knew that Y/n would show up. Tabitha paused, turning to the woman, and smiled. The young woman finally then noticed- the pointed ears of Tabitha. The older woman nodded, and continued to dance, and Y/n looked to Geralt. He still struggled with the not, trying to untie it with one hand. As she blinked, she felt tears in her eyes, but knew they sprung from joy. She placed her free hand on his, effectively stopping him. He looked to her, and again she smiled.

It made sense now. He really did seem like one who would be the child of the moon. His hair made of moon dust, and his eyes like stars. They were sometimes black, washed out by the vastness of space, but they always shone after a while. His quiet and cold demeanor that reflected warmth only when it beamed upon him first. If he was now her moon, she would accept it whole heartedly.

Geralt’s hand cupped her cheek, thumb brushing a stray tear from her. He looked demolished with guilt and self hatred, but it turned to shock and hope when she said,

“My moon, huh. I happily accept.”

[writefinch]

The Prince’s Offering, Pt.3 (cn: noncon, “historical” fiction, harems, public use, forced prostitution, other fun things)

The hollow feeling grew stronger, but Davai willed himself to push it down inside him. He heard a high giggle and looked at the serving girl who had draped herself over Karim's shoulders. "Lord Davai, I am Tabitha. Would you like to know how I became a serving girl?"

He felt himself nod in response. His mouth was unnaturally dry, and when he picked up his tea to wet it the cup almost slipped from the sweat on his hands.

"My father was a wealthy merchant, and our family lived on an estate north of Samarra. He traded spices, curatives, dyes and fine rugs, which afforded him much land and coin, and our estate had beautiful gardens of jasmine and crocus flowers. We lived in luxury, until he allowed his hirelings to water down the medicines that Imperial soldiers bought and used."

"He threw himself at the Imperial magistrate and begged for mercy when they began to investigate. He knew his own death was unavoidable, but wished to spare his family from the same fate. The magistrate was not an unfair man, but a cruel rival of my father's was present in the court and paid some sum of coin to sway his opinion.

A strange, dreamy look crossed Tabitha's face. "To save my siblings and a small fraction of the family's wealth, my mother and father and I were taken in shackles to a brothel where the forty-four soldiers who had been sickened by weak medicine awaited us. My father was forced to watch as the soldiers ravished his eldest daughter, one, two and even three at a time, hour after hour for two days and two nights. My mother serviced each man before and after they violated me, ensuring that they were able to perform, as the soldiers mocked my bound father for his deceit and cowardice. They told him his wife and daughter both were braver than he, and that we were more loyal to both our family and the Great Empire, especially its soldiers.

"My father was beheaded after this, and my mother and I were sold into slavery to keep my siblings out of the most wretched poverty. I was sold to a harem, trained for a year in every art of pleasure, and sent here. I have not seen my mother since, and I do not expect I will ever see her again." She giggled again, before sitting back on her heels, resuming Karim's shoulder rub.

Davai sat in stunned shock for a moment, questions and thoughts of horror spawning within him and threatening to spill out. He knew of the depraved justice that heathen rulers could mete out, but had never heard it directly from the spoils of these rulings. He found her very demeanor chilling, for she spoke of such things as a knight might speak of his first year of squiredom. It raised the question of whether subsequent events had been so unpleasant that her capture seemed favourable in comparison, or if her trials had molded her so thoroughly that she had become content with her lot. He was unsure which answer was worse, and felt more perturbed by the moment.

What perturbed him further was the sensation of his stiff cock straining against his stockings. His heart thumped and his mouth felt drier still, and he wondered if the subtle incense pervading the room had some form of exciting effect. He sipped his tea again, subtly pulling the hem of his tunic over his lap as he did.

"Might I ask your thoughts on that?" said Karim.

Davai nodded, and considered his answer very carefully. "It seems a dire punishment," he said, "but the crime, too, was a dire indeed. One wonders how many others would attempt such things if they went unpunished, and some men do not fear death alone."

Karim nodded, seemingly satisfied with this response, and the girl behind Thom spoke up.

"Lord Davai, would you care to know how I became a serving girl?"

Against his better instincts, Davai nodded. The girl stepped forward to sit closer, allowing him to see her properly. She had removed her thin veil and she was beautiful indeed, of Far Eastern stock, her cheeks as red as blood and her skin as white as snow. Her jewelry was bizarrely intricate. Her left arm was clad in a series of silver chains, bracelets, plates and rings that fitted together into a complex metal gauntlet, and under her gauzy top her nipples were clearly pierced.

"My name is Mido, lord, and before I became a serving girl I lived in a city of the Old Eastern Kingdoms before the Great Empire swept them away. The rulers of the city were uncaring and indolent, and rather than pay tribute they had the emissaries beaten and sent away. When the forces of the Emperor surrounded the city, the nobles refused to negotiate. They sealed the gates and dug in for a siege.

"All the food in the city was confiscated and rationed. The punishment for hiding food was death by ice, and the punishment for stealing food was far worse. All of the administrators were corrupt, exchanging food for favour, and in the first winter of the siege many citizens starved. My father was a tailor and his services were well enough needed that we ate on most days, but in the spring he took ill.

"The only food inside the city was reserved for the nobles and their soldiers, so I looked outside. At night I snuck out of the city, stole a hen and her eggs from the Imperial camp, and crept back in. It kept my father alive, and so a few nights later, I did it again. I was more cautious this time; I took scraps and grains and picked wild berries in the dark. I did it a third and a fifth time, and my father soon recovered. On the sixth trip, I was caught.

"The men beat me until I fell, and then beat me until I could not stand. The next morning they displayed me. First, I was stripped naked. My legs were tied at the thighs and ankles to a beam of wood, stretching them out to the side until it felt as if they would pop out of my hips. A beam was placed down my back with my wrists bound behind it, the two beams were fixed together in a cross, and then my captors coated two thick, polished wooden poles in grease.

"They forced one pole inside my womanhood and the other in my rear, and when I screamed from the pain of being split open in such a way, the soldiers urinated in my open mouth. They coated my body in filth and pig-slop, then raised me up on a gigantic wooden ladder that came level to the city walls. I was left for the day like this, alongside a dozen other girls who had been sneaking out in the same manner as I, in front of a banner that told the citizens that their defeat was inevitable, that betrayal and surrender were the only options, and that if their demands were not met, the same fate awaited every woman in the city.

"I saw my father standing on the city walls, looking at me. The shame was too much, and he died of heartbreak. Soon after that the city fell, with most citizens faring better than I, but all of the nobles faring much worse." She looked contemplative, and in the dull light of the parlour her brown eyes were entirely black. "The Imperial army had no use for me after that, and while I was forced to warm the bedrolls of horsemen for some time, they soon sold me on. From there, my story is little different to Tabitha's."

The music of the flute had softened, and Davai could hear the groaning of the wind behind it. In his mind, he could picture nothing but the image of Mido with her legs spread wide as rough men forced a pole inside her, her face contorting in pain. He did not know why his cock was twitching.

"Thank you, Mido," he murmured. Karim was looking at him expectantly. "This... siege warfare is a dark thing, and we know this all too well in Rus and Europe. It does not lend itself to mercy or glory."

Karim nodded. "It is an art that the Great Empire has refined in recent years. A siege that ends quickly and terrifyingly is far preferable to one that draws on for months and leaves a city of walking skeletons in its wake. Not to mention, a city that knows that it cannot resist a siege does not, generally, risk provoking one."

A voice whispered in his ear. "I too have a tale should you wish to hear it, Lord Davai," said Bahar.

His heart pounding, Davai could only nod. He did not flinch as she moved around him, but suppressed a yelp as the serving girl took a seat on his lap. Her buttocks were soft and thick, and she had perched herself just-so that his erection was pressed between them. She wore a subtle perfume but with his face all but nestled in her black hair it filled his nose and clouded his senses. He did not know where to put his hands and so pressed his palms awkwardly onto the cushion until Bahar took his wrists and moved his hands onto her soft belly so that he could hold her from behind.

"My tale is a rather more simple one, lord," she said, wiggling from side to side to get comfortable. "My father was a prince, and when my mother passed he remarried. Neither my father nor my stepmother wished me to have any role in either inheritance or succession, so one night I was dragged from my bed, bound and gagged with rough ropes, and locked inside a chest.

"When the chest was opened, I found myself in the barracks of Imperial soldiers. In lieu of spices and a portion of silver, I had been given over to the Great Empire as part of the yearly tithe. Had my father kept back a fraction more silver for himself, I would have been kept virginial and taken as a wife by an Imperial officer, as that would have been the most valuable use of a young foreign princess. But out of cruelty, they tithed extra, and so the Imperial soldiers did not need my full value."

Bahar kept shifting in her seat in a way that made Davai's cheeks turn pink, for each movement sent a twinge of pleasure through his rod. It crossed his mind that she might be doing it on purpose.

"They took this spare value by using me as a pleasure toy for several months," she continued. "The soldiers drew lots each night to pick whose bed I would warm. I was fed no meals; when they ate I would crawl under the tables and give suck to each man in turn, and if I pleased them they would feed me scraps before I was dragged to the next man. They made a game of how many men could take pleasure from me at once."

She turned around, hair whipping gently over Davai's nose, and looked him square in the eye. "Seven men. Two in my mouth, one in each hand, one in my rear, and two in my cunt."

"Sounds uncomfortable," said Thom, loudly.

Davai glared at him. "Obviously."

"I meant for the men."

Bahar had a faraway look on her face. "Sometimes they would use me as a threat, to shake down local peddlers or to motivate their prostitutes if they went whoring. They would tie me to a stool, gag me with my headscarf after using it as a washcloth, and then a dozen of them would each line up to spill their seed on my face. Whoever they wished to bully would be brought in to see me, and the soldiers would tell them, 'Do as we say, or we will do this to your wives and daughters, or to you.'

"The worst part of that was the boredom, waiting in place on an uncomfortable seat with sticky male essence drying on my face. I still find it difficult to sit comfortably to this day," she said, bearing down on Davai's lap until he felt his cock pressed against something snug and mind-meltingly hot. "It ended in a familiar manner: the soldiers needed coin and so they sold me on. I did not need much training after the hands-on experience they had given me, and becoming a serving girl was a natural fit."

She gave Davai a warm smile, and Davai could only mumble out a thank you. She dismounted his lap with leonine grace, but instead of slinking back behind him, she waited at his side. Her hand remained on his lap. Specifically, her hand remained directly on his stiff cock.

"Oh, Master Karim," said Bahar, her voice soft and guileless, "I believe Lord Davai has felt the effects of our tea!"

Davai tensed up. "What's in the tea?" he said, with no consideration to the impudence of his question. He felt sweat beading on his forehead, his hands were shaking, and his cock was so hard that it tingled with pain.

Karim was unbothered by his tone, and seemed genuinely apologetic. "It is not what is in the tea, but what tea is in it. It is a peculiar blend of leaves that can be concentrated to produce an invigorating tincture, and the dilute tea can induce a similar strength in those unused to it. I am deeply sorry for not informing you beforehand, Lord Davai."

"What do I do?" he blurted out, before blushing at the implication.

"I have a few ideas," grunted Thom, but the other men ignored him. He scowled, then scooped Mido up and onto his lap, which elicited a squeak before she began to nuzzle and rub up against him.

"It will pass soon," Karim told the young lord, "and some wine will speed its passing greatly. Fareeh, summon the cup-bearer would you?"

"Yes, Master," said one of the serving girls.

At the edges of Davai's vision black fuzz grew, shifting out of view when he looked towards it, and persisted until he scrunched shut and opened his eyes. The light of the blue torches flickered in a queer manner, the warmth of the room was stifling, and the low wail of the wind had an almost animalistic edge to it, masked though it was by the flutist's music. He could feel the linen of his tunic clinging to the small of his back from sweat, and wished he could cast it off entirely. He inhaled deeply and tried to calm himself: he had known to be distrustful of his host and his companion, but it was another matter to be distrustful of his own senses.

"If my lord has become agitated, I suggest these cloyingly maudlin tales are the cause. Does every girl in your retinue have such a woefully woeful yarn to weave?" asked Thom, sneering. He pointed to the serving girl Pasha, who sat playing her flute. "Did the Imperials pin down your music girl and stuff her gash and arse with her own instruments?"

Davai's eyes went wide at his companion's near-suicidal rudeness, but when Karim and the serving girls burst out laughing he remembered a detail of Imperial custom: the power of insulting remark was proportional to the stature of the remarker. Thom had no land, no great fortune, and no title that was not a pejorative, and hence was incapable of any insult that fell short of treason.

"If such things found their way into my gash and arse, they were put there of my own accord," replied Pasha. "You know how it is I'm sure, you seem the sort who'd misplace his own tools of trade up his arse if given the chance to do so."

Karim laughed uproariously at this, and even in his state Davai couldn't suppress a small smile. Thom's sneer froze in place, but quickly passed into a smug grin. "So what happened to you then, serving girl?"

She placed down her flute, the sounds of wind sharpening as she did, and said, "When I was one less a score in age, I performed with a playing company in the borderlands of the Near and Far East. Many of our homes had been destroyed by the Great Empire, and we acted many plays detailing the depravity of their deeds and the enormity of their conquests so that all might know this horde of men as the monsters they truly were. One fateful night, an Imperial spy caught wind of our performances..."

Davai grimaced. He knew of a pair of troubadours who had sung slanderous tunes about the Prince of Kiev up and down the land before the prince's men arrested them. A thick tome had been written on the hundred tortures used on the two men and the new songs that were wrought from them, and it was bound with their flayed skin.

"They reacted poorly, I take it?" he said quietly.

Pasha shook her head, beaming. "Not at all, indeed the opposite! They saw our plays as a true and honest reflection of their prowess, and they paid us a handsome stipend to travel out to unconquered lands as harbingers of their terror."

Davai blinked. "You are... no longer with them?"

"We traveled far and wide, and I had a great many adventures with my troupe, but after a year in these parts I grew fond of these Western lands—the coolness of the air, the gentle rains, the crisp apples and the strong black bread." Her expression was one of genuine contentment. "At the same time, I grew tired of the constant travel. I made enquiries, and I joined Master Karim's harem. The conditions are luxurious, and the work is very similar."

"I will admit, the similarities are not wholly apparent to me," said Davai distantly, watching from the corner of his eye as Thom licked Mido's neck and mauled her breasts with his thick, hairy fingers. Pasha laughed, smiling.

"A performer can earn a modest wage through spectacular plays in front of swollen audiences, and a very immodest wage through harlotry with the wealthiest attendees. I assure you, lord, my wage was not a modest one." Her smile turned sultry, and she returned to her flute.

The men listened to the music and were pampered by the girls for a while, talking on topics of little consequence, before Davai asked a question that had been weighing on his mind.

"Sir Karim, I must apologize in advance for revealing my ignorance of Imperial customs, but there is something I do not understand," he said.

"Oh, lord?"

"When we spoke earlier of Justyna," said Davai, averting his eyes from the bound and defeated peasant girl, "you told me that when she is gifted to you, you must receive her as a slave, with all the harshness of training that such a thing requires."

Karim nodded. "Yes, this is correct."

"And when Pasha spoke, she said that she was never taken as a slave or prisoner, and is not a slave or prisoner now. Your harem girls are not all slaves."

"This is correct also."

"Then I am confused and curious: why are you compelled to receive Justyna as a slave, if those who are not slaves may also be serving girls?"

"Assuming, Lord Davai, that you still wish to gift her to us."

"Which the Houses of the Amber Plains do wish to do, yes."

Karim leaned forward, stroked his mustache absentmindedly, and then tented his fingers with a thoughtful expression on his face. "That is a fair question, and a good one," he said. "I believe I can answer it: the circumstance of a girl's joining of the harem must determine the circumstances of her living within it.

"Picture three sowers in a field, one a freeman, one a serf, and one a slave. Their function in the field is identical. A corn of wheat scattered in the furrows by a slave grows all the same as one scattered by a serf, a weed pulled by a serf is no different to a weed pulled by a freeman, and a bushel cut by a freeman weighs no more and no less than the same bushel cut by a slave.

"But their function they each serve to society is quite different. The freeman works to pay taxes to his king, the serf works to benefit his lord, and the slave works to obey. Their reasons for work differ, and hence as lords and masters, the inducements to work must differ with them. Tell me, Lord Davai, if one required a task to be seen to and wished a freeman to do it, how would one motivate him to do so?"

Davai considered the question a moment, then said, "At the base level I would offer coin at the proper rate, but beyond that, a freeman has a chosen vocation which they take pride in and see their craft as a form of virtue. The coin brings the work, but their duty to craft brings the effort, and hence you must appeal to these virtues."

"A fine answer that I am inclined to agree with," said Karim, "for I have seen nobles forget such things and reap the consequences. Permit me a second question: how would you motivate a serf to work?"

This question required far less consideration. "In the simplest form, a lord provides protection in exchange for the serf's work on his land. But if such a relationship is to thrive it must go beyond mere expedience, it must be built from fealty and obligation. The serf must love his lord to be willing to toil his land, to bring the greatest tithes and to be an attentive steward, and yet the lord must also love his serfs to be willing to lay down his life and the life of his knights to protect them from banditry and invasion. In other words, you must appeal to the faith and fealty of a serf."

"That is a straightforward answer, yes." Karim grinned devilishly. "And a slave?"

Davai turned up his palms. "It is not a common institution in these lands, though if you know the answer I would be interested to hear it."

"A slave is given life, and gives obedience," said Karim. "He is forced to work by the prospect of a continued existence: of another meal, another drink of water, and another night's rest, as well as by the pain of the lash. But it is a different matter to work than to obey, and an unruly slave may break his tools and skirt his tasks.

"A slave, then, must know terror. Not the simple fear of the whip's bite, but terror of its inevitability. The master must observe him constantly for some time and ensure that no infraction goes unpunished and no mercy is given. The slave must learn that his master knows his every move and error just the same as Allah knows his every sin and virtue, and indeed the two figures should blend together in his mind. Fear will make a slave work, but only awe will make him obey."

For a moment Davai felt paralysed by the intensity of the man's eyes, but he quickly composed himself. "And if you were to treat a freeman as a serf, or a serf as a freeman, you would squander the best qualities of each and reinforce their worst vices."

"A most adroit assessment, yes."

"And because Justyna has not come here to volunteer willingly and wholeheartedly, she must be treated as one who is entirely recalcitrant."

There was a hint of weariness in Karim's eyes. "Yes, unfortunately. The results of any other method are not preferable to any party, not even to Justyna in the end."

Davai nodded. "I thank you for your insight, Sir Karim."

There was another lull in the conversation. Pasha exchanged her flute for a miniature harp, and in the moments of silence between instruments, Davai felt an oppressive sensation from the room around him, the part of an unsettling dream before you realize you're not awake. The air felt thick in his mouth, the blue torches flickered slickly as their smoke rose up towards the vents, and something seemed subtly off about the way every object in the room looked and moved as if all of reality had become smooth and glassy. On the dais in the background the chair was a bestial skeleton and under the dim light the cast-iron dogs twitched like golems rising from their slumber.

He very much doubted that some lustful excitation was the only symptom of the strange tea, and he doubted that the promised wine would be a simple curative. Bahar's hands traced over his chest and thighs and felt like the sole thing anchoring him to his senses. A deep drive to clutch her like a child at their mother welled within him, but even in his state he was unwilling to abandon his decorum. The music soon returned. soothing something within him, and with a few deep breaths the room largely returned to normal.

A husky, feminine voice made him give a start. "Your wine, Master."

Davai turned to the source of the voice and stared.

This serving girl was waifish in comparison to the other, more voluptuous women that lounged around the parlour, with bony shoulders and slender hips, and probably stood a few inches shorter than Davai. She wore no veil and no gown, her top was a sheer chiffon mantle that barely fell over her shoulders and her skirt was a sash barely a hand's width in length. She had a short, boyish bob of auburn hair, her lips were painted a garish red, her eyelids thick with kohl, and her face carried a slack, euphoric affect that came only from rapturous pleasure or powerful narcotics.

She carried a tray carved from walnut and inlaid with gold, and on that tray were four silver goblets and a quarter-gallon jug of wine. The girl did not carry the tray in her hands, however, which were behind her back. The back of the tray was strapped to a leather belt that wrapped around her skinny stomach, and the front of the tray was suspended by a pair of silver chains sloping down at an angle, like the chains on a drawbridge. Both of these chains connected to thick, heavy piercings that went through the girl's bare nipples.

"Ah, Ihsan, thank you," said Karim as the girl knelt by his side. He tousled her hair, eliciting a delighted squeak as she placed the four goblets on the table. Despite her unfocused eyes and dazed expression she filled up each cup with deep, dark wine without spilling a drop. She placed the jug in the center of the table, detached the serving tray from her nipples to place aside, and sat cross-legged by Karim to provide refills as required. Thom stopped nipping at his serving girl's neck just long enough to notice the wine, and the girl who had poured it. He bumped Mido off his lap and leered at the wine girl.

"I met this one last time did I not, Sir Karim."

"You did indeed sirrah, when she was barely a season into her training. I am sure you can see some changes, and if they are not immediately apparent I'd be delighted for you to inspect her further."

"Well then little Ihsan, let's have a look at you," he growled lecherously, beckoning her forward. A look of genuine worry flickered over her face but passed as she stood up. She yelped when Thom grabbed her slender wrist and began groping and squeezing her.

He made crude remarks about her every feature as inspected her. "Her skin is softer... Bit slimmer on the tummy... By God I might take a bite out of these buttocks... Open your mouth, girl," he ordered, and when she complied he stuck two fingers in her mouth to grab the silver stud in her tongue. She whimpered softly, sticking out her tongue as far as she could to avoid hurting herself. "Oh, now this is new," he murmured. "Do you remember the things you did with your tongue the last time we met? Do you?" He tugged on her piercing to hurry her answer.

"Y-yeth!" she replied, her voice shaking.

Davai watched with contempt and not a little disgust as his companion examined the poor wench like a cow at market. He wished to order him to restrain his base lust, but Karim was watching the whole display with delighted amusement and the liberties that Thom was taking were ones explicitly offered up by him. To hold Thom back would be no different than rejecting Karim's hospitality if not worse, for it would imply gross impropriety on their host's part, so he resigned himself to watching out of the corner of his eye, and sipped the wine. It was rich in flavour and in spirit; he'd drank brandies with less kick than this wine, but the heady vapours of the alcohol dissolved the edges of his anxieties at least.

"What else, what else... Udders filling out nicely, ooh, I love the reins," Thom said, tugging the chains leading to the thick piercings through her nipples, eliciting a moan that could have been pain or pleasure. "Smells good, tastes good—" he took a heady lick of her neck, "—now lets see that cunt of yours."

He reached out to pick up a small clay flask of olive oil from the table, spilled it over his fingers with not a little dripping onto the unthinkably expensive rugs below, and slipped his hand under Ihsan's bottom. She squeaked and threw her head back as his thick fingers probed her crack, pressing her skinny back against his chest, her nipple-chains rattling as she took halting, shuddering breaths.

"Open up your legs and let me in," Thom growled softly. Ihsan did so, opening her knees, spreading her skinny thighs wide, and pushing out her hips.

A glint between her legs caught Davai's eye, an intricate decoration made from thick golden wire. He stared for a moment, and his mouth fell open as he realized what the finely-wrought device was: not jewellery but a cage, a cage that fit around a small pair of testicles and an equally diminutive cock, preventing its wearer from becoming hard.

"Ihsan is a man!" he blurted out.

He felt many sets of eyes on him. Sir Karim and Thom the Brigand appeared confused, and Ihsan was plainly uncomfortable. The other serving girls were staring at him too, and the pair of hands that had been pleasantly massaging him had stopped. He felt a tightness in his chest, and something sharp and icy deeper within him.

Thom and Karim burst out laughing, and laughed uproariously for some time. Several of the serving girls tittered softly before returning to their activities, and Davai felt the pair of hands resume stroking his chest once more. Ihsan had closed their eyes, and was trying to push their ass down onto Thom's fingers. The panic faded, but the confusion and vague sense of dread remained.

"I—Pardon my, I did not wish—" he stuttered.

"I assure you that Ihsan is not a man of any kind," said Karim, grinning.

Davai couldn't stop himself from looking directly at Ihsan's cock, bound up in a golden coil. "But there's an, uh..."

Thom scoffed loudly. "If I met a traveler on the road with this little maiden's chime between their legs," he said, slapping Ihsan's cage and eliciting a pained yelp, "and they claimed that a pathetic endowment such as this gave them claim to manhood, I'd bugger them until they admitted otherwise and sell them on to Karim."

Such callous cruelty and open sodomy turned Davai's stomach, and against his better judgement he turned to his host for counsel. His heart thumped in his throat and his cheeks burned red as he spoke.

"I apologise for," he gave a start, "for my, ah, awkwardness. Sodomy is not a custom I am overly familiar with, and I have been taught by the church that such things are dire sins. You have my most solemn word that I do not intend to cause offence."

Karim waved him off, and did not appear upset in the slightest. "Permit me another question, Lord Davai: sodomy is a sin because it is gravely wrong to lie with another man as one would a woman. It is a grave wrong because we owe our fellow man some degree of respect and dignity, and to push a man to the floor and fuck your seed into him as if he were a mere concubine injures him and degrades you. Is this what you have been taught?"

Davai nodded. "That is the rough shape of it, yes."

"But what makes a man, Lord Davai? A man fights and conquers, a man thinks and creates philosophy from aether, a man shows loyalty to his leader and to those men he leads, a man has strength, a man has honour, and if a man is owed respect and dignity it is on account of his honour, and honour depends on one's ability to defend and uphold it."

Two thick fingers slipped inside Ihsan's ass, and as she babbled with pleasure a line of clear fluid drizzled from the tip of her cock to pool on the corner of the table.

"You see, Lord Davai, it is not easy to truly be a man in the eyes of Allah," Karim said matter-of-factly, "but just about any pretty thing can be turned into a serving girl."

"I do not imagine that a man as tall and broad as you would have to worry unduly about such a fate," said Davai wryly.

Karim gave a sly grin. "Do not be so sure, lord, for I know of men who prefer their serving girls to tower over guests. It is true that I have never feared such a fate befalling me. I do not need to worry, for the same reason a lord like you does not need to fear it."

Something in his tone gave Davai a burst of curiosity. "Oh?"

"What separates the slave from a truly free man, Lord Davai?"

"I would say shackles and the sharp end of a spear," said Davai, "but again, it is a custom I am not intimately familiar with."

Karim grinned broadly at him and swigged his wine. "Your unfamiliarity shows, Lord, for the difference is simple: a free man has honour, shown through his willingness to defend what is his, and a slave has none. Some men appear free but are no more than masterless slaves, and would submit to the first soldier to put a boot on his neck."

Davai steepled his slender fingers. "I can see how lack of honour would make one a slave, but I cannot yet fathom how a store of honour would prevent it."

"Because an honourable man cannot submit to slavery; he will resist until he dies or overpowers his captor."

Davai sucked air in through his teeth. "That's a dear proof indeed."

"Yes, and a man's honour is a dear claim." He lowered his empty goblet to the table, where it was immediately refilled by Tabitha. "It is not so different to this land's own feudal arrangement if you consider it: your serfs do not possess the honour of a noble house, so they willingly pledge fealty to those who will fight and die to protect the land. In the eye of my people, noble blood is only important insofar that it predicts noble honour. Your Western societies are stable because true nobles will choose death over submission."

Davai did not consider himself a man of unparalleled bravery, and knew many nobles who were far more cowardly than he. "A system that runs on such honour is most stable when it is never tested."

“And yet an unproven system atrophies from lack of testing until one strong attempt can push it down entirely; such is the fate that befell the Kingdoms of the Far East and the Caliphates of the Near East.”

Davai nodded and recalled the handful skirmishes he had been party to, despite being nobody's picture of a fighting man. "In Rus and across all of Europe we are sometimes too eager to prove such things, I fear."

Karim nodded in assent, and around the table they returned to drinking—excepting Thom—until the first jug of wine was depleted. Mido put the goblets aside and refilled the teacups, falling onto Davai's lap with blatant premeditation. She apologised profusely to Davai, and turned to Karim."Master, Lord Davai is still suffering from the tea," she said, pouting.

"It is quite alright, I do not—"

"May we extend him the hospitality of relieving his tension?"

Karim turned to Davai, grinning widely. "Of course, my dear girl. Tabitha, attend to me in the same manner if you would.”

From behind, Bahar slipped her hands under and up the front of his tunic and hooked her heels over his crossed legs, parting them slightly. She kissed his neck as her soft fingers caressed his nipples, her jewellery cool against his skin, and before he could say a word Mido was in front of him. He looked into her eyes for a moment, so black and yet so gentle, and she pressed her lips to his. The kiss was a brief one, the taste of rosewater and fresh mint lingering on as she made her way down his chest. His heart thrummed in his throat as her hands reached his stockings.

"D-don't—oh!" His protest dissolved into a weak moan as Bahar nibbled his ear, and it was a protest so bereft of conviction that both girls freely ignored it.

Mido pulled down both his stockings and the linen braies under them, freeing his stiff cock. Davai's stomach curdled with embarrassment, as he had last performed a cursory wash with campfire water and damp rags two days ago and had not bathed properly since he had left his estate. His small thatch of pale blonde pubic hair was matted with sweat and he caught hint of his own musky scent through the incense, but it did not seem to bother Mido, who curled her gauntlet-clad hand around the shaft. It had been a long time since Davai had felt any touch there but his own. His toes curled, and he inhaled sharply.

Without breaking eye contact with him for a moment, Mido lowered her head, planted her lips at the base of his cock, and touched her tongue to the shaft. She dragged her tongue up slowly, leaving a generous coating of saliva on his skin as he twitched and fidgeted, her breath oh-so-warm on every inch of him, moment by moment, until she reached the very tip. With her tongue stuck out, Davai could see she had a similar tongue piercing to Ihsan the wine girl.

She closed her eyes and swallowed his entire length.

Davai cried out softly, and as he did Bahar pinched his nipples and bit down on his neck, turning his cry into a squeak. His hands grabbed at the fabric of the cushion, his hips jolted forwards, and if not for the serving girl holding him tightly from behind he would have fallen backwards. He looked down and saw a pool of soft black hair in his lap hiding Mido's face entirely. He didn't need to see her face to feel her nose nestled in his pubic hair and her tongue sticking out past her bottom lip, lapping at his balls.

"Do not be anxious, Lord," whispered Bahar in his ear. "Mido's talents are unparalleled and only available to a select few, so please, enjoy them. You are in good hands, and mouths."

He could think of nothing to say in response, and looked on dumbly as Mido rose up, her warm, wet mouth rising up his shaft with her lips wrapped tight around him, until only the tip remained inside. She looked up at him, brushing hair out of her face with one hand as her other pumped up-and-down his cock. Her studded tongue slipped under his foreskin and swirled around the head. Davai felt as if all the bones in his body had momentarily turned to aspic, and before he could release another girlish moan, she swallowed his entire length again...

Part 4 here: https://writefinch.tumblr.com/post/642674526881284096/the-princes-offering-pt4

[chubbyreaderchan]

Blood and Fur | 1 | Geralt x Reader

Geralt wandered the small town. It was a quiet one, for the most part. However, it seemed a werewolf had been lurking in their forest. It hadn't been very long it seemed, from what he could gather but he knew it would be best if he killed it. The job didn't pay much, as it was again a small town. Barely one or two merchants and no sign of a blacksmith. Apparently the only one they had went with a few hunters to try and take care of the furry problem. That pissed Geralt off, especially when it could have made the problem worse. They were lucky that they were all killed instead of cursed like who ever was lurking in the woods.

He adjusted the swords on his back and rubbed Roach's muzzle. He needed to prepare for the night. A drink and some food would do him some good, that was sure but he was concerned whether or not they would serve him at all. He secured Roach in a horse stall and wandered into the small tavern. It was quite crowded, but he supposed it made sense. They were afraid to leave anyone alone at night.

Geralt pushed through the crowd, golden eyes looking at an older barmaid probably well past her 40th winter. Her eyes still shown bright as she chatted with a man around the same age in a flirty fashion. She chatted away, ignoring the Witcher as he approached the bar.

The white wolf began to speak but stopped as she held up a hand. A younger woman had approached her at the same time.

"Mama" the girl was probably in her late teens. "(Y/n) is walking home alone again. At this hour."

Geralt half groaned in annoyance and a bit of anger at the delay in getting mead and bread. He supposed he'd choose speaking to his daughter over some monster hunter if he was in her shoes. His thoughts paused however, as she mentioned a young girl walking alone at night where a werewolf lived. He growled low and deep.

"Which way does she live?" Geralt interrupted.

The barmaid had a bit on concern in her deep chocolate eyes. She glanced at her daughter and then at Geralt. The daughter was the one to speak. "About a half an hour ride east of town. It's quite deep in the woods. We tell her she needs to come and stay in town but she never listens! She doesn't even have a horse since the last one-" She half whined, tears fell from her eyes she couldn't finish speaking. "She's always been lucky before but I'm worried... She might not always be so lucky."

Geralt let a small his of frustration leave him. He wasn't planning on fighting a werewolf the second twilight hit but damn it, he supposed he had no choice.

"She's alone? No father...?"

The girl looked up at him. Her dark hair held kinky curls that just framed her face, they bounced as she shook her head. "No, she lives alone. Her father was one of the men that..." She whimpered. "Witcher, please find my friend." Geralt grunted again, shoving past the crowd once more. He slammed the door open and hopped aboard his dear Roach.

"Let's go Roach" his voice was gruff as he pulled the reins to turn the horse the correct direction. He dug his heel into the ribs of the horse allowing the horses speed to take over.

"Faster" he grunted as the sun began setting into the greying twilight. He was on full alert as the forest became thick with trees. His nose tingled, there was an earthy and herbal scent all around him. She must've been some kind of healer or at the least grew the herbs. He noticed some berries for an elixir that he may need later but opted for racing to make sure this girl didn't die. He hadn't smelled blood, at least not much. Perhaps the blood of a chicken which would make sense with her living alone. Nothing human. At least not yet.

There it was.

A small cabin in the deepest part of the woods. Surrounded by herbs and--. Shit.

The door had a large gash and the coop of chickens nearby were not gone but eaten. Feathers and blood lined the pen. He growled. Did she get attacked? Maybe she was still inside the cabin? Maybe the wolf was still inside.

Geralt took a deep breath in. It was hard to filter through wolf, chicken and herbs but he could smell her. A faint smell. Nothing metallic besides what was discovered earlier. He sighed again, a small fuck escaped him. A massive gloved hand pushed the door open with a soft creek. It was unlocked. His golden eyes scanned the room. A ripped piece of fabric laid on the ground. A bit of blood stuck to it, glueing it slightly to the floor. He squatted down picking up the piece. He sniffed it. Human. Definitely human. And something sweet.

He groaned, he better find her damn body.

Geralt gripped his silver sword, leaving the small farm allowing his horse to stay where it would be safest. The beast would definitely be in a cave, he knew. He sniffed the air again, searching for any fresh scents.

More hair.

He sniffed it up close, wincing slightly at the musky wet dog smell. "Mm" he grunted throwing it down and following that path. Deeper he went into the woods, not quite sure where he was, he followed it into a small cave. Blood, musk and piss filled his nostrils. A thin and freshly dead body laid in his path. There wasn't a face but he assumed it was the girl. He stepped over it, tensing when he heard a bowl echo through the cavern. The sound of paws against damp earth became louder as a large set of wolves and a large werewolf approached. It hadn't seemed as if they knew he was there yet but it wouldn't be long.

As if on queue a large wolf came bounding towards him, clearly smelling his own scent. Geralt held up his silver sword gracefully slashing the beast.

One after another until it was just he and the werewolf. It lunged at him and he block. He swung and hit. It felt like the damn thing wouldn't die. Geralt cursed at the damn beast when finally his silver sword landed a blow against it's leg. It yelped in the same manner a pup would, running past the Witcher before he could react and out of the cave. He felt sick. Light headed as he fell to the cold dirty floor of the cave.

"Shit." Was the first thing out of the Witcher's mouth. He shifted, a rough blanket caressed his skin as a cool wet cloth ran over his forehead. "What the fuck?" He say up quickly, his muscles body was bare save for a slightly bloodied wrapping around his torso.

"Don't move!" She half shouted. 'She'? He looked around in a slight daze. "What the hell?" He groaned. His golden eyes landed on a woman. She looked around (age). Geralt looked around again, he was inside that cabin.

"You live here?"

She frowned, clearly taking offense. "I suppose I could have just left you in that cave to be eaten by who knows what kind of beast"

A grumble came up from deep in his chest. His body twitched from pain but he was already better than before. "Are you the one who insisted on walking home alone at night during a full moon in a village that has...?"

"Yes. Yes.. I know it's stupid but I really would rather be here alone and risk..."

"Where were you?'

"Last night? I was here."

He grunted. "No, you weren't. I looked."

"I was out looking for wolfbane" Geralt wasn't sure if he believed her but left it alone.

"I know it's stupid.." she sighed.

"No, you were lucky you weren't home when I came. You would've been dead."

"I pieced that together,"

"Hm" he grunted. She grabbed a pestle and poured oil in it, grinding it a bit and grabbing a spoon. "Swallow this. It'll heal you... You are free of bites too... I made sure to look"

Geralt looked at the mashed green on a spoon. He grunted, if she was the one to kill him with green goop so be it. He felt like shit. With one hand he took the spoon shoving the whole thing into his mouth swallowing the bitter leaves in one quick gulp.

"Fuck." He complained. It was awful.

"It's not supposed to taste nice" she grabbed the spoon taking it to a small bucket of water and dropping it in.

He watched her walk across the room to do so, noticing a slight limp in her step. He frowned. Muscles tensed in a painful way. "How did you get me back here?"

"I'm a lot stronger than I look" a shrug accompanied a sweet look of 'no biggie'. "And a lot more patient than I look"

Geralt watched her again as she pulled a loaf of bread from the fire nearby, carefully placing it on a platter. She twirled again, wincing slightly as she filled a bowl with some form of broth. She placed that on the same platter and began slicing the bread.

"Here"

Her strides were sure as she held out the tray. "Eat. This will help you"

His strong brow furrowed. When he did, he felt warm blood begin to leak through the apparent bandage around his head. The woman frowned, leaning over him to fix and clean the wound.

"What is your name?" She asked while her breasts were mere inches from his face. "I know you're a Witcher but--"

"Geralt" he said slowly.

She pulled away, smiling at him now. When was the last time someone smiled at him, he wondered?

"I'm (Y/n)" she introduced herself finally. "I'm sorry the Tabitha was so worried about me"

"She had every right to be. I will say I assumed you to be younger... Since she said you were friends" Geralt wasn't one for small talk but something about her held his curiosity.

"Mm... No. I'm just reaching Tabitha."

The Witcher gently stirred his broth wondering if it may be bitter like the medicine from before. Or poisoned. He sniffed it from the distance before deciding to take a sip.

"I've lived in these woods my whole life. A werewolf isn't going to change things."

Shit. He still had to kill that wolf. Or cure it. He'd prefer to cure it but killing it wasn't far from the prefered.

He hmm'd softly at her words, shifting slightly.

"Were are my pants" he spoke suddenly.

"Outside drying"

"Why?"

"They were covered in dirt and blood" she instantly became defensive.

"No, why did you take them."

(Y/n) rolled her eyes. "I needed to make sure you weren't injured anywhere unseen. Don't flatter yourself" she could feel the tips of her ears burning as she felt embarrassment sink in.

"Mm" he grunted, taking a bite of bread. He could feel his body already getting stronger. He would be fine to destroy the best by night fall by this rate.

He watched as she left out the door and grabbed his hanging clothes. "Here. But you need to rest" she pushed.

"Mm. I'll be fine." He finished his bread and broth grabbing the clothes from her. Instantly she turned as he began shamelessly pulling his clothes on. A soft his caused her to glance over her shoulder. "Do you need help?"

"I've got it." He said gruffly.

He finally pulled the shirt over his head and his pants over his bottom.

"Geralt..." She said softly. "Are you going to kill it?"

He looked up at her, studying the back of her again. Her dress hugged her body in just the right way. (Y/n) turned to face him. He was now looking at her with intention, noticing just how attractive she was. "If it comes down to it. If I can cure him.."

"Or her."

"Hm" Geralt grunted. "If I can I will but if not..."

She winced slightly giving the Witcher a bit of confusion. "I hope you can save them."

Surprise appeared on his masculine features. "Didn't they say it killed your father?"

She looked at him with a bit of a frown. "I suppose so but I know... They wouldn't have if they were..."

Geralt frowned. She knew something.

"Just try to save them. Please." She paused. "You can even take whatever you need."

Geralt felt something was more.

Something in his gut with this girl.

He had a feeling he knew what.

[ladyfireheart-and-buzzard]

The Flames in Her Eyes, Masterlist

An original werewolf story

Summary: Celine Dawn, daughter of the Rosewood Pack's Beta, is not what you would call an ordinary she-wolf. She hides a dark past behind her blue eyes. She has many secrets. Ones she would kill to keep from being revealed. So what happens when she finds out the Moon Goddess has paired her with the Continent's most powerful and feared Alpha?

Tyler Williams is the Alpha of the Silver Lake Pack. The biggest and most powerful pack on the whole Continent. He had been invited to Rosewood to improve diplomatic relations with them. He decided to go to the Mating Ball out of pure curiosity.

He is, however, taken aback when he learns that the Beta's prickly daughter, with literal flames in her eyes, is his mate. He feels drawn to her, wanting to find out every detail about her. But Celine isn't as willing to divulge answers as he'd hoped.

She is so much stronger than he thinks. But, alas, even the strongest among us can break.

***

Chapter 1: The Meeting /// Chapter 2: Tabitha Moore /// Chapter 3: Princess /// Chapter 4: Scars /// Chapter 5: The Mercy of Death /// Chapter 6: The Corpse /// Chapter 7: The Forest /// Chapter 8: Silver Lake /// Chapter 9: Family Dinner /// ???

[signs-of-the-moon]

Moon Rise: Chapter 46

Swiftcloud was one of the first warriors to return home from battle. She was exhausted; aching, bleeding. Almost as soon as she entered through the bramble tunnel she crumpled to the floor. Her chest heaved with effort, tears pooling at the edges of her eyes.

Tabitha hurried over to her in a panic.

"Stars! Swiftcloud, what happened to you!?" She mewled, leaning down to cover her friend with licks. Swiftcloud glanced up at her, whimpering in pain. Goldensong came rushing over, alerted by the scent of blood. She helped Swiftcloud to her paws with Tabitha's assistance, guiding her carefully into the medicine den.

"It's alright now, we've got you," the golden tabby cooed comfortingly. Snowfrost was waiting for them in the heart of the den. Herbs were laid out before her paws in neatly organized piles. She helped guide Swiftcloud into a nest, ordering the injured warrior to lay on her side.

"There's a lot of blood. We're going to need a moss-cobweb combination to soak it all up. Then I think a poultice of broom, horse tail, and marigold would be best to put on her wounds. Goldenrod would work better though, but we'll have to make do with what we have," the older medicine cat noted as she turned.

"How are you feeling, Swiftcloud?" Goldensong asked. But Swiftcloud did not answer. She stared off at nothing, her mind racing. Her hearing was dulled as well, and the world around her felt distant. "She's in shock. Let's give her some thyme and lavender. Some burnet and juniper berries for strength, too."

Snowfrost nodded, picking out herbs with her expertly trained paws. She carried them over to her colleague, seating herself nearby to observe and provide aid.

Goldensong worked hard to gain control of Swiftcloud's shoulder injury. The wound gushed blood, staining the warrior's white fur crimson. Snowfrost passed Goldensong the moss-cobweb mixture, observing for signs of complications.

"Her wounds are deep," Snowfrost noted, leaning closer.

"But she's young. Surely, she will heal quickly." Goldensong added, applying pressure to the wound. Swiftcloud groaned, gritting her teeth in pain.

"Are you sure about that?" Snowfrost countered. Her eyes were narrowed, focused on the patient.

Goldensong looked at her old mentor, an unreadable expression on her face. "Nothing is ever certain," she meowed carefully, "you've taught me that lesson well."

Snowfrost hummed in response, a noise that sounded acknowledging, yet indignant. Swiftcloud didn't know if she was imagining it, or if her mind was playing tricks on her. She was in shock after all. A lot of things didn't feel real to her at the moment.

Snowfrost turned briefly from her partner, leaning down to lick up herbs. She chewed them carefully, spitting them out onto an old oak leaf to settle until Swiftcloud's wounds were under control. After a short while, Goldensong peeled back the cobwebs, assessing the blood loss. Then she scooped up some of the poultice to smear onto the warrior's shoulder. Swiftcloud whimpered and shut her eyes. As she did so, a powerfully sweet scent was stuck under her nose and stuffed into her nest. Swiftcloud took a moment to glance down. Lavender had been placed all around her, it's scent soothing the young molly almost instantly. In front of her, Snowfrost stood waiting to feed the warrior her medicine. Swiftcloud opened her mouth like a baby bird awaiting it's dinner. Snowfrost gave her the herbs, making sure the younger she-cat chewed and swallowed the entire wad of the bitter plants before turning away to create another poultice.

Outside the den, the yowls of various cats broke the silence of camp.

"The warriors are returning!" Lightpaw exclaimed just past the ivy veil, an attempt to summon the medicine cats from their chambers.

"You go, I'll take care of Swiftcloud," Goldensong insisted with a tail flick. Snowfrost looked at her old apprentice skeptically before picking up a bundle of herbs and carrying them with her into the clearing. When the older medicine cat was gone, Goldensong slipped Swiftcloud some poppy seeds.

"Here, take these. They'll numb the pain while the thyme kicks in. Don't listen to what Snowfrost said. You're... you're going to be just fine."

Swiftcloud didn't like the way Goldensong had put that last statement. But she was in no condition to argue or prod for a further explanation. Instead she licked up the tiny seeds, shuffling in her nest to get more comfortable. Not long after, she began to feel drowsy.

"We're going to need more lavender," Snowfrost meowed as she came back into the den. "Tornface's body was just returned home. And some of the warriors reek of his death stench. Myself included."

Goldensong shook her head slowly, pausing whatever task she had began doing to pass the older she-cat some of the purple flowers. A couple of stems she took and wove into Snowfrost's long fur, perhaps as an easier means to carry them, or even to act as a ward against future fowl odors. Swiftcloud could barely register what was going on anymore, her vision blurry and dark at the edges. Her eyes felt heavy with sleep, and before she'd realized it, the warrior had been pulled into a deep dreamless slumber.

Bright evening light slipped past the ivy tendrils of the medicine den, dappling the clearing in orange and gold. Swiftcloud awoke as one beam rested gently upon her face, greeting her kindly to a world of silence. Swiftcloud let out a yawn. It seemed all the craziness from the battle earlier had finally settled down. Good, she thought as she heaved a sigh.

"You're awake," a voice noted from across the den. Swiftcloud turned her head to acknowledge  whoever had spoken to her. She hadn't realized another cat was present until now.

Snowfrost sat a tail-length away, a few rows of berries and flowers set at her paws. She appeared to be reorganizing them. At her side was a fat, uneaten mouse. Swiftcloud's belly rumbled, loud enough for the other molly to hear. Snowfrost's expression became soft, a gentle smile pushing at her muzzle.

"You must be famished after what you've gone through today. It's a good thing I grabbed this prey for you," she mewed as she stood. Carefully, as if handling a newborn kit, Snowfrost picked up the mouse and carried it over to Swiftcloud. She settled it in front of the warrior, giving a quiet purr. Swiftcloud glanced up at Snowfrost, a little confused at the medicine cat's behavior. She wasn't usually this sweet towards anyone except her kin, at least not that Swiftcloud had seen. Yet it'd been some time since she had been left in this particular medicine cat's care. Perhaps this was how Snowfrost's nest-side manner was with all of her patients nowadays.

Swiftcloud let go of the thought for the time being, distracted by the tasty prey laid out before her. As she bent down take a bite, a strong scent wafted from her meal. The mouse smelled a little too sweetly of lavender, caked in the perfume of the hard working medicine cat. It was almost enough to make Swiftcloud lose her appetite. It wouldn't be so bad if she didn't eat it, right? This prey could better serve to feed a hungry kit, or another injured warrior. Besides, Swiftcloud could fetch herself something else later on.

As she lifted a paw to push the mouse away, Snowfrost's tail came upon her, slapping her in the muzzle. Swiftcloud sat up in surprise. The lynx point molly fixed the younger she-cat with a glare, like a mother staring down her fussy kit. Only, the sensation of her ice blue eyes upon Swiftcloud's pelt was not as warm. Any softness the healer had shown before had completed disappeared.

"You must eat," Snowfrost insisted. "You will never heal if you do not get your strength back up. Besides, prey like this in Leafbare is too precious to waste. The other Hunting warriors worked hard to track that mouse down. Now eat." Swiftcloud shrank against the other she-cat's words, recognizing them to be true. Sucking in her breath, she craned her neck and took a slow bite from the prey. Satisfied having seen her at least take a bite, Snowfrost turned around, padding out of the den with a swish of her plumed tail. She took one last glance over her shoulder at Swiftcloud before disappearing from sight. Swiftcloud continued to eat through her prey, enjoying it's meaty flavor until it began to change. Change? Swiftcloud glanced down at the carcass as she swallowed the next mouthful she had taken. A strange red juice oozed from the now open cavity. It was too bright and too runny to be blood. A tingling, almost choking sensation began to scratch Swiftcloud's throat a moment later. She coughed, pushing the mouse away with a now flailing paw as she tried to catch her breath. Her vision began to swim and ears rang with numbness, her heart beating at an irregular rate. What's happening to me?! Swiftcloud began to panic, kneading her claws into the ground by her nest. She wanted to yowl out; beg for someone to come help her, but she couldn't bring herself to do more than gasp. Agony shot through her every nerve; blood roared in her ears. Her life force felt as if it were draining. And soon, everything slipped into darkness.

When Swiftcloud opened her eyes again, a silver shape was hovering above her. Panic shot through the patched molly, causing her to bristle. Oh no, am I in Starclan!?

"Swiftcloud..?" A familiar voice spoke to her, sounding distant and dreamy. Swiftcloud blinked a few times, her vision clearing up to reveal the figure in front of her. She was relieved to see that it was not a Starclan warrior at all. It was Mistyleaf who stood above her, staring down at her with full moon wide eyes.

"Swiftcloud!" She breathed, pressing her forehead to the warrior's. Swiftcloud blinked up at her weakly.

"Wh..at...happ..ened...?" She strained her voice to speak, finding her throat to be incredibly sore and dry. The taste of vomit clung to her tongue, making her scrunch up her nose and smack her lips in disgust.

"Something terrible," Mistyleaf responded, voice barely above a whisper. "Something sinister."

"What..?" Swiftcloud asked again.

"You...you were poisoned."

Poisoned?! Swiftcloud sat up straight in her nest, her head feeling heavy as stone. She flopped down onto her side almost instantly, eyes still wide with fear. Someone had tried to kill her?

"You've been unconscious for quite a while. I'm relieved that I was able to get to you in time. For a while I...I thought the clan was going to lose you. That Shadowfang would lose you. That...I was going to lose you...."

"Oh Mistyleaf..." Swiftcloud teared up, her mate lowering her head to rub their muzzles together. "Wait..how long have I been unconscious?"

"It's been about three days. Though you've been in and out of it for a while."

Three days..? Swiftcloud's belly twisted. Hunger and nausea battled within her system, deciding between themselves which would take over the patched molly's senses.

"How did I even survive?"

"I came into the medicine den from herb gathering, and found you choking on the ground. I fed you some yarrow to see if that would help. It was touch and go for a while... I was so worried about you."

"You saved my life." Swiftcloud was starstruck, looking up at her mate with glossy, grateful eyes. Mistyleaf perked up a little, flustered. She groomed down her chest fur, avoiding Swiftcloud's gaze.

"How could I not..? I love you."

Swiftcloud forced herself to stand, burying her face into Mistyleaf's soft fur. She smelled like mint and honey. A fresh, delicate scent that Swiftcloud was addicted to. Mistyleaf purred, licking Swiftcloud between the ears affectionately.

"I should fetch Shadowfang. He'll be thrilled to see you're finally awake. Starclan knows how much strength it took to get him to leave your side."

Swiftcloud nodded her aching head eagerly, watching the beautiful she-cat disappear behind the den's ivy curtain then reappear briefly after. Behind her, a black shadow came rushing past.

"Swiftcloud!" Shadowfang breathed, wrapping his entire body around his mate. He covered her face with licks, a loud purr rumbling in his chest. "Thank the stars! You're alive, you're ok! Starclan...thank you, thank you. Ooh my Swiftcloud..." The black tom rubbed his cheek against hers between licks, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. Swiftcloud purred back at him, returning her mate's affections.

Mistyleaf watched the pair fondly. Love glowed in her pale green eyes and tears slipped down her star speckled cheeks. Swiftcloud rose briefly. She grabbed Mistyleaf by the scruff, pulling the larger molly down into the nest to create a cuddle pile. Mistyleaf and Shadowfang shuffled around for a moment until they were laying comfortably together, Swiftcloud trapped between them. The mates took this time together to share tongues in silence. The only sound filling the den was their happy relieved purrs.

"I love you both so much," Swiftcloud mewed softly after a while. She shut her eyes, taking in the presence of her mates.

"We love you too," they answered in unison, pressing themselves further into Swiftcloud. The three remained this way for the rest of the night, content to be engulfed in one another's embrace.

But Swiftcloud did not feel so secure as time passed on. An uneasiness had wormed it's way into her heart, festering like a disease. Her mind raced with the thoughts of her possible demise. Someone had deliberately tried to kill her. Swiftcloud was sure the juice oozing out of the mouse she ate was from deathberries. Who would want me dead..? She pondered, going over a list of suspects in her mind.

Treeclan was a prime target to blame. Swiftcloud had been the first to mark a new border within their territory, and had meddled with clan affairs on numerous occasions. And some, including Blazestar, still blamed her for the kitnapping of Skunkpaw. It made sense that someone in Treeclan would seek vengeance on her. But Swiftcloud wasn't willing to believe any Treeclan cat was responsible for this, just as she was sure they hadn't poisoned some of the other deceased warriors in Grassclan. So that only left the possibility of the assassin being within her own borders. Swiftcloud contemplated very hard, trying to piece together clues from the previous poisonings. What were the common factors between all of them? Who was around when all of the poisoned cats were found?

Snowfrost!

Swiftcloud sat up in her nest, eyes wide at the realization. Mistyleaf shuffled beside her slightly, aware of her mate's movements. Swiftcloud settled herself back down, resting her head on her paws as she continued considering the possibility. Snowfrost had been passing by when Swiftcloud had discovered Waspwing's corpse. She was the one to give an excuse for Butterflytail's seizures. Snowfrost had returned moments after Ambereye had collapsed in camp. And she was the one to insist Swiftcloud eat that mouse. It all made perfect sense. But could Swiftcloud really rely on this evidence to prove that the medicine cat was guilty? She wasn't sure.

Fatigue began to work it's way into the weary warrior, pulling her back into unconsciousness.

When she awoke, Swiftcloud found herself in a dimly lit forest. The trees surrounding her were nothing more than blackened silhouettes, the canopy above her a void. Fog pooled around her paws like water, and snow cascaded down from the unseen sky in thick, heavy clumps. A chilling breeze ruffled through the molly's short fur, carrying with it the sickening stench of death.

"Where am I..?" Swiftcloud bristled as she glanced around. In the darkness surrounding her, the patched warrior began to hear the painful cries of other cats. Panic shot through her, forcing her into a defensive crouch. Her heartbeat quickened, drumming loudly in her ears. Yet not loud enough to mask the mysterious sounds of the woods.

Suddenly something brushed past her from behind, and tugged on her short tail. Swiftcloud nearly jumped out of her fur. The scared molly sprang to her paws instantly, taking off into the icy forest as fast as her legs could carry her. The woods seemed to be closing in around her as she moved, narrowing Swiftcloud's path until there was only one way she could go. The ground beneath her paws dipped, pulling her further and further along into the unknown. Swiftcloud began to slip, the frost beneath her paws making her footsteps unsteady.

"Swift...swift...swift..." The forest itself seemed to whispering to her ominously.

Just ahead, a dried up ravine came into view, marking the end of the path. It curved around like a claw, giving way to a dead end. Swiftcloud skidded to a halt by the earthy wall, turning tail to run back in the opposite direction. But when she looked at where she came from, she noticed her exit was blocked by a wall of eyeless cats. Deceased cats, Swiftcloud realized; her clanmates. Poppycloud, Waspwing, Butterflytail, Ambereye, and Heatherwing were here. So was little Dovekit. Swiftcloud recognized Cricketsong's most recent litter among the crowd as well. But there were some other cats surrounding her that Swiftcloud didn't recognize. One looked far too similar to Chicorynose, another closer to Quailbelly. Who were they? What did these spirits want?

Swiftcloud backed away from the ghosts slowly, her hindquarters making contact with the wall of the ravine. Why were they all here, she wondered. Why weren't these cats at peace in Starclan? Was it because they were all murdered? Because their killer had not been brought to justice?

Swiftcloud stared at the cats in front of her, petrified. Frost coated their pelts, red liquid dripping from the their jaws. Their expressions were set like stone; lifeless. Far too uncanny.

"Beware, snow's unyielding frost," one of the mysterious cats whispered.

"Be..beware?" Swiftcloud stammered with a gulp.

"It draws the night closer," Dovekit chimed in, her tiny voice shrill and haunting. "They will destroy the Star. Fortify yourself. Swiftness will save us... Help us all."

"Help us...help us...help us....!" The other cats began to wail, their voices growing louder and louder. The snow fell harder with their caterwauls, filling the ravine within the blink of an eye; trapping Swiftcloud. She tried to yowl for help, urging her limbs to move before she was buried alive. But it was no use. Her voice was swallowed up by the foul smelling wind, her body frozen where it stood. All Swiftcloud could do was cry pitifully as the ghosts of clanmates passed watched on, their bodies encased in ice....

Swiftcloud awoke with a start. Her heart was racing like a rabbit in her chest. The nightmare she had hung heavy in her mind as she sat up in her nest, still panting.

Now, Swiftcloud was certain that Snowfrost was responsible for all of this; for all the wrongful deaths of the clan. Somehow, some way. That had to have been what her dream meant. But Swiftcloud knew other cats would disagree with this conclusion. Snowfrost was a medicine cat, others would reason, she would never cause harm to any cat. Then why did she try to kill me? Swiftcloud thought to herself bitterly, remembering the sickeningly sweet and sharp taste of deathberries in the back of her throat. She shuttered slightly, once again forcing herself to relax for the sake of her sleeping mates. In the morning, she'd have to talk to Whitestar. To tell her of this revelation, and hopefully convince the leader that Snowfrost was dangerous. I have to protect the clan, Swiftcloud told herself. This is the only way. Whitestar must know the truth. But... will she believe me? Will anybody believe me?

[the-ultimate-handheld-gamer]

Cat stories, day 1:

Oden, Tabitha, Cirren(known as Calico), and Stormy

Year of rescue: 2016

Story: I’m putting these four together because they all got to my moms house from the same rescue. So Stormy and Oden are blue Russian cats(dark silver cats with green eyes), Cirren, as her nickname implies, is a calico(white fur covers her most of her fur and the rest is tabby pattern but she’s if anything more observant), Tabitha is a tabby cat(dark green with black stripes). They were brought to my moms house and I was immediately happy to see calico bc she was so cute, they were all cute but calico was smol. I named Tabitha which her original name I gave was tabs, and that’s now her nickname. After awhile of raising them we separated tabs and calico from oden and stormy(bc they weren’t spade and neutered and tabs and calico are sisters, dunno is stormy and oden are related). Eventually they all stopped growing with oden being the biggest and calico still being tiny. Stormy eventually got adopted and oden had separation anxiety. Tabs and calico are resting under the blankets next o me rn

[robustconviction]

[onewiththeglow]

Oddly Specific Headcanons

1. What does your muse smell like?

Tabitha makes her own perfumes, deodorant and soaps. Often times dark, floral scents are what hang around her like a hazy fog, they’re never overbearing but the scent tends to linger whenever she leaves a place. Over that rich surface she smells of clove cigarettes, leather and burning leaves.

2. What do your muse’s hands feel like?

Long fingers with small calluses from working, her palms are soft in comparison as are the backs of her hands. Little scars mark the pale flesh from her hands getting cut while she tends to her garden. Dirt is caked beneath her long nails but is hard to make out due to her black nailpolish.

3. What does your muse usually eat in a day? 

Coffee, coffee and more coffee. Besides that she tends to eat veggies and fruits from her own garden. Tabitha doesn’t necessarily like eating food prepared by others as she doesn’t really trust anyone. She cans her own vegetables each season so she has her own produce even through the colder seasons. Doesn’t eat a lot of meat but loves blue rare steaks on special occasions. Sometimes she would do damn near anything for some blackberry (or cherry) pie.

4. Does your muse have a good singing voice?

It’s a pretty good singing voice! Tabitha isn’t trained in any sense of the word but she isn’t tone deaf. Very quiet voice, it’s hard to hear her unless you know she’s singing and you sneak up on her.

5. Does your muse have any bad habits or nervous ticks?

For bad habits she smokes quite a lot and overindulges in caffeine due to her lack of sleep. Both of them she has developed a reliance on and she will have a difficult time quitting. As for her nervous ticks she has quite a few. Biting her bottom lip, digging her nails into her palm, shuffling her feet. All of them she does when she is ‘trapped’ in a social interaction she is uncomfortable with. It’s hard to notice her doing any of these things, however, as they are fleeting.

6. What does your muse usually look like / wear?

Dresses like the goth queen we all aspired to be in our teen years. Tabitha’s hair is not naturally black, she originally had the same shade of dirty blonde hair that her mother sported; she started dying it when she hit her preteens and hasn’t stopped since. Her lips are always painted a rich red, her eyes are always lined heavily with kohl and she tends toward dramatic looks with her clothing. 

Tabitha loves dresses with long, flowing skirts and plunging necklines or barely-there tank tops coupled with pleather leggings and platformed boots. Rest-assured, everything she wears is black and all of her jewelry is bone and / or silver. A staple in all of her looks is her baby raven skull necklace and the rings that adorn each and every finger.

7. Is your muse affectionate? How much? How so?

It’s hard to get Tabitha to be physically affectionate as she is simply not used to being touched. Tabitha is a woman that expressions affection through actions and she is a very loyal, loving woman beneath her exterior. When Tabitha is used to you and trusts you expect to hold hands when going on late night walks with her, expect her to take a black marker and draw unusual symbols all over your body, expect her to play with your hair. Tabitha is just begging to have someone to devote herself to and she is a ride or die kinda woman.

8. What position does your muse sleep in?

Curled up on herself with her arms crossed over her chest. She has to have a blanket over her no matter what in order to sleep.

9. Could you hear your muse in the hallway from another room?

Absolutely not. Tabitha’s voice is very quiet even when she’s enraged, her words are loud but she doesn’t make her voice any louder to make them have weight. She’s also frighteningly quiet with her giant boots. It’s unknown how it can be so hard to hear her steps.

[dvlwthn]

“  i  can’t  change  into  a  person  i  don’t  wanna  be  .  ”

Is that JOSEPH MORGAN? No, that’s just JAMES DAVIDSON. They were born on 19/05/1980 and are a WEREWOLF (alpha of the crimson shadow pack) living in Northknot Town. They work as a DETECTIVE AT THE POLICE STATION. Some say they're CONSIDERATE and DILIGENT but I’ve heard others say they're GRUMPY and SECRETIVE. When you think of him, don’t you think of A HAUNTED PAST, BRUISED SOUL BUT CRACKING AT TENDERNESS, MOVING HEAVEN AND HELL TO PROTECT HIS FAMILY?

A E S T H E T I C

cracking  at  tenderness  ,  swimming  in  rage  .  scars  covering  the  mind  ,  body  ,  and  soul  .  an  unstoppable  force  .  moving  heaven  and  hell  for  those  he  cares  about  .  dropping  everything  for  family  .  sleepless  nights  with  the  morning  sunlight  being  the  only  indicator  of  time  .  following  the  moon  .  

Q U O T E S

“  whatever  doesn't  kill  me  . . .  had  better  start  running  .   ”   –  cassandra clare.

“  sometimes  we  are  what  we  are  ,  and  we  should  embrace  that  .   ”   –  lucifer.

“  i  bear  it  so  they  don't  have  to  .   ”   –  clarke griffin.

M U S I C    P L A Y E R

“   keep  your  silver  ,  give  me  that  gold  !  you'll  remember  when  i  say  we  can  be  heroes  everywhere  we  go  .  keeping  us  down  is  impossible  ,  'cause  we're  unstoppable  .  ”   unstoppable by the score.

“  i  am  the  eye  of  the  storm  .  inside  i  am  silent  and  strong  ,  just  waitin'  for  the  right  right  moment  to  strike  .  coiled  like  a  cobra  coming  to  life  .  ”   eye of the storm by watt white.

“  keep  pushin'  even  though  it  hurts  !  i'm  chasing  what  i  know  is  true  .  there's  nothing  that  i  would  not  do  .  when  everyone  around  me  drops  ,  i'm  never  gonna  ever  stop  .  i  won't  waste  another  minute  ,  no  ,  i  won't  .  i'm  a  man  on  a  mission  .  ”   man on a mission by oh the larceny.

P E R S O N A L I T Y  

+ loyal, attentive, and confident 

 - quick-tempered, unforgiving, and cunning

The eldest Davidson has been an inspiration for many, but to him, it’s just him doing what’s right. He refused to let his father ruin him and did his best to just stay true to himself, which is has. Always one to pay attention to everything happening around him, whether to be able to help quickly if need be or to fight if needed. Not much got past him anymore. He was always ready for anything.  Wolves are known for their temper, it’s something he can’t fully control no matter how hard he tries. Throughout the years, he has gotten better, but still, when something sets him off, it sets him ALL THE WAY off. This also adds into his unforgiving nature. He gives out two chances, but once you’ve blown those, he’s completely done with you. Doesn’t matter if you try to make things right, the only way he’d forgive someone is if they did something BIG to deserve it. 

H E A D C A N O N S

001. The Davidson family has always been a well known family of wolves form Kaleb’s bloodline. Even despite them living in Europe, they were known in the states as well. They always had family in Northknot, but James’ immediate family only ever travelled to stay there for a short while before heading back home. However, that all changed after the youngest Davidson child was born and their mother died during childbirth. James was eighteen. * 002. Their father, after losing his wife, changed for the worst. While they all took it hard, their father blamed them... mainly James’ youngest brother since his mother died giving birth to him... James being the oldest made sure that his siblings didn’t have to deal with their fathers wrath. Anytime their father was set off, James would jump in and take the beatings so his siblings didn’t have to. He fought everyday to try to get his sibling to be able to leave with him but was denied cause people refused to believe him. So since they couldn’t leave, he didn’t either. He put up with his father for five years before the man took it too far and almost killed Jude while James wasn’t there. It was rare that James left them alone with their father, but the youngest* wasn’t feeling well and James went out to get something to help. Their father was out so he thought it was okay, especially if he rushed. But he walked in before and saw that the man wasn’t going to stop so James jumped in and the two fought. . . only one survived. It was a fight that was years in the making. The sibling hid the fact that James killed their father... burning the body and getting rid of any evidence. James had already been in the process of trying to become a cop, and none of them wanted to ruin his chances. 003. After becoming a cop, James worked hard to keep doing better until eventually he made detective. He’s helped so many people and loves doing what he does. The pack noticed and eventually when the time came six years ago, they nominated him as Alpha. He was honoured and grateful... James has always been the type to put everyone before himself, so while it was what everyone expected, it still surprised him.  004. He is a single father. Three years ago, a one night stand resulted in the best thing that’s ever happened to him. His daughter, Luna Rose Davidson. Luna because she was his moon, his light in the darkness... Rose after his mother. The mother of his child simply disappeared leaving only a note explain who she was to him and a quick ‘i’m sorry’. He’s a little worried that she’ll come back and try to claim her rights to his daughter, but to him, she gave them up when she left with no explanation as to why. 005. In his free time, which he doesn’t get much of, James likes to draw. It’s something his mother was amazing at and she taught him. They did it together all the time. When she passed away, he did give it up and actually picked up piano. It was again something for his mother... she had always told him how she wished she knew how to play... so he learned for her. Nowadays, these two hobbies keep him busy and relaxed when he has the extra time. 006. With the recent killings, he has been a little more on edge. He worried as a detective, alpha, and a father. James is working hard to try to find something that will help him figure it out and will stop at nothing to keep everyone he cares about safe.

C O N N E C T I O N S

SIBLINGS. James is the oldest of four, first it was him, then Jude, followed by Tabs, and finally his youngest brother. James protected them from their father and raised them on his own. *James was eighteen when their mother died and he took on the role of guardian, so Tabi was eight and Jude was fifteen. Their fourth brother needs to have been somewhere in between seven and one (which would but them anywhere between 29 and 24 [hopefully that’s enough age range to work with])... James is very protective of his siblings. The youngest brother didn’t end up having the wolf gene, but could have been changed into a wolf by someone else or even a vampire...  [ 2 of 3 taken: JUDE. TABITHA. ] 

MOTHER OF HIS CHILD. It was a one night stand that resulted in James having a child left on his door steps nine months later. She disappeared without saying anything to him, just a small note. It didn’t say why she left or if she’d be back... so for the last three years, he’s been raising his daughter [ Luna ] on his own. It doesn’t know what he’d do if this woman came back.

BEST MATE. Everyone needs a best friend and James is no different. They can be from the same pack, or maybe they met from work, or even met when they were younger. I just want someone to be close with him outside of his family. [gender doesn’t matter] 

SOMEONE HE HELPED. Due to him being a detective, he’s helped plenty of people. But this person lost they only family they had, so after solving the crime, James takes it upon himself to check on this person constantly and help them with all sorts of things. BONUS if it happened awhile ago and he’s just been checking on them everyday since they were younger. 

ENEMY. Lets be honest, as an Alpha, he’s bound to have a few enemies. Could be jealousy or a wrong that had been done. . . I’m open for whatever. 

SOMEONE HE GOES TO TO WATCH LUNA. Sometimes he asks his siblings or another pack mate, but THIS person is his usual go-to. Being an alpha and detective, he does end up needing a little help... and he trusts this person. [UPCOMING; JOEL]

[transromansanders]

Child of Light and Dark: Chapter 1

A/N: After a bit of a wait, this au is finally here! The post in which I laid out the idea for this is one of my most popular posts, so my enthusiasm for it just grew and grew until I had to write it. Anyway, here it is!

Word Count: 1k

Ship(s): None in this chapter (except Tabitha x Arabella, which you guys who read the Time Travel AU will remember them)

Warning(s): Crying, Remus (but as a child), separation of a family

-

"Happy Birthday, My Loves!" exclaimed Arabella as she threw open the curtain between her sons' 'room' and the living room and kitchen area.

Roman groaned and pulled his blanket over his head.

Remus popped up, smiling brightly. "It's our birthday!"

Arabella laughed softly, ruffling Remus's all-over-the-place hair on her way to tug the blanket off of his twin. "Go on, Mama and I made a special breakfast."

Remus hopped up from his straw mattress, bare feet padding across the dirt floor as he rushed to Tabitha.

Tabitha was placing their breakfast on the table when the slightly younger of her two sons hugged her around her waist. She smiled brightly. "Hi, my big grown-up son!"

Remus grinned a gap-toothed smile. "I'm six now, Mama!"

She chuckled, setting down the platter in her hands and nodding. "Congratulations, Re!"

He giggled.

Arabella walked out of the curtained-off 'bedroom' carrying a grumbling Roman against her. "Someone doesn't want to wake up," she noted.

Tabitha gasped. "Not even for ginger cakes with sugar glaze?"

Roman turned his head at that, one eye opened slightly.

Tabitha chuckled, and Arabella sat Roman in a chair, where he rubbed his eyes and yawned, waking up pretty quickly now that food was part of the equation.

"Morning, Ro!" Remus said happily as he and their mothers sat down.

Roman gave a little wave, still not quite awake enough to talk to his brother.

Tabitha set a small ginger cake in front of Roman, whispered, "Happy Birthday," and gave him a kiss on the head, then repeated the process for Remus. Only then did she and Arabella sit and start on their own breakfasts.

All was going well until there was a knock on their door. Tabitha went to answer it.

The door opened. Someone said something quietly, then Tabitha cried out, "No, please!"

Before long, Arabella was at her side, the boys not far behind her. "What's wrong, Love?" Arabella asked, shooting a worried glance at the man standing in their doorway.

"Boys…" she whispered in response.

The man shifted, obviously uncomfortable. "Um, I'm sorry… Your children have been chosen as the new oracles."

Arabella barely managed to stay on her feet, and Tabitha wrapped an arm around her waist to help support her. "No," Arabella breathed out.

Roman reached over and grabbed his brother's hand, gripping Remus like a lifeline.

"They'll be coming for them soon, I just… wanted to warn you," the man said before departing.

Tabitha closed the door behind him, and she locked it. No one would be coming into her home. At least until she was ready. The thought of running briefly crossed her mind, but then she looked at her wife and her boys, and she knew they just couldn't.

She and Arabella dropped to their knees to hug their boys close to them, and they both began to sob. So Roman began to sob. Remus tried to keep a stiff upper lip, but he wasn't dry-eyed for much longer. Roman and Remus didn't really understand. What did this all mean anyway?

It could have been hours or minutes that the family stayed there on the floor. But eventually they all had to get up, sniffling.

"I'm scared, Mommy," Roman said quietly.

"I know, Baby," Arabella said softly, "me too."

"Why don't we go eat?" suggested Tabitha.

So they did. Quiet and fearful, they finished the breakfast they had left on the table.

"What's going to happen?" Remus asked. He wasn't one to shy away from the hard questions like his brother. "Are we going to die?"

"No, Honey, no," Tabitha rushed to assure him.

"Are you going to die?"

Tabitha winced, and glanced at Arabella only to find her still crying. "Um… Mommy and I have to go away, Re. We're not supposed to be around you anymore."

"Why?" Remus demanded.

She sighed softly. "It's just the way it is, Little One."

"Do you not want us anymore?"

"Remus!" Roman hiccuped out.

"Of course we want you," Tabitha answered. "We love you so, so much."

Arabella nodded through her tears. "Love you… so much," she echoed.

Remus climbed up into Arabella's lap then. Roman was quick to get Tabitha to hold him, just wanting maternal comfort. Tabitha stood with Roman, gesturing for Arabella to follow, which she did. They curled up on their mattress, Roman and Remus between them. And they stayed like that until there was another knock on the door.

Reluctantly, the two women stood, each cradling one of their sons. Though it felt like they had tremendous weights attached to their feet, Tabitha and Arabella walked to the door. Tabitha, again, was the one to open it, after unlocking it.

Two priestesses stood at their front step. One was dressed in the golds and whites of the Temple of Light, with a red sash tied around her waist that marked her the Head Priestess. The other was dressed alike, only in black and silver for the Temple of Darkness instead of white and gold, and with a green sash instead of red. Both of the priestesses seemed ageless and ethereal.

"I'm sorry, I love you," Tabitha whispered to Remus as the Head Priestess of the Temple of Darkness opened her arms first. With that, though Remus tried to cling to his mother, he was handed over.

Arabella sobbed as she watched her wife hand over their younger son, clinging to the remaining child tightly.

Tabitha hugged her, Roman between them. "It's okay, Love, it's okay," she lied. And she took Roman from Arabella and handed him over to the other Head Priestess.

Arabella let out a heart-wrenching wail, as did Roman, not long after, flailing his arms and trying to get back to his mothers. The wives and their boys all sobbed, and even the priestesses looked regretful.

But then the one adorned in white and gold and red, needing to just get it over with, pulled the door closed. This earned her a glare from the other priestess, but it had a finality to it that the family's goodbyes didn't. It was over. And, not bothering to try to comfort the boy in her arms, she began the walk back to the Temple of Light.

Roman and Remus caught one last glimpse of each other on the walk, both with faces tear-stained, red, and puffy. That was their goodbye.

-

General Taglist: @februaryfun @msu82 @roman-sing-despacito @veiledabnigate @minamishipsit-secondround @thegaypasta @urielthealienboio @quoth-the-sparrow @woorenergy @sippinyotearsliketea @gamerfreddie

CoLaD Taglist: @purp-man

[x-mensirens]

just a Walk On The Wild Side drabble~

to anyone who’s interested~

Kurt and Scott were unwilling witnesses to Evan's coming punishment as they got in after school. He'd made a whole scene fighting, and half of Bayville High had seen the whole thing. The administrators were all pretty understanding, but Hank, Ororo, Logan, and Charles did not seem pleased by the younger student's suspension. The city youth was finally settling down, learning to be responsible and part of a team, and handle having other New Recruits look up to him.

This punishment was random and suspect, Logan's dark eyes inspecting the boy for a reason. He wouldn't back peddle without one. He sees his aunt has the same thought track, but she's trying not to glide to nephew's rescue. He was a ward of the school and equal to everyone else, he couldn't be treated special. She's mostly bewildered, wondering why, knowing all they have to lose, he fought.

"Evan," Charles admonished, but his eyes are more worried, than anything. Logan stands beside him with broad arms folded. The telepath did not like to scold or demand, but he would if he was pushed to it. He was getting an answer. "Talk to us. We are here for you."

"Surely, there is good reason?" Hank had seen him come around to nature and find peace in the California redwoods, even with the mishaps of the trip. He too, suspects something else at play. He shares a quiet look with Ororo. "A problem at school we could help with? Give us something." It was hard getting children of this age to open up, and much less boys. He knew all to well.

"A situation for me to mediate?" Logan gestured to his knuckles and nodded, knowing that male adolescence is filled with self loathing and the fear of looking weak (asking for help).

"We are here for you, Evan. All of us. But, your actions have consequences..." The graceful woman wants to believe in her nephew's progress, so badly. He looked down at his white tank top, his frown set deeply in his face. Explaining would be more trouble than it was worth.

"Evan..." Kurt tries, his tail swishing nervously out of habit. They'd all had plans, but it seemed like the institute had another idea.

"Just, tell 'em what's up." Scott tries, now curious to see why his teammate is suspended, and what he needs to do about it. Evan just sighs again, he didn't want to budge. "It's not like you to be so hotheaded. You've learned a lot about thinking your decisions through..." The blue mutant rubs his arm as their leader finds a soapbox to step on.

Evan only huffs, his skateboard quivering underarm. "I'm sorry, Auntie-O. I'm sorry, professor. I just wasn't making smart decisions, nothing more to tell, yo." The hairy instructor almost busts out of a dark t-shirt when Evan makes a move to flee the foyer.

"Porcupine, you wait a minute." The man was a human lie detector, and he smelled lies. Whatever he was scrapping in the schoolyard about, it wasn't over himself. The commotion is momentarily halted when Kitty, Amara, and Jean appear through the doors, smelling sweetly and covered in glitter. The girls of the institute have been swapping clothes and styling each other, hanging together and stressing the boy's wing out. Ever since the random string of vigilante busts ended.

Both Scott and Logan figured out what been going on, and different ways. But the females of the school had been different, ever since. Even the reclusive Rogue. The Canadian man was practically going crazy after she suddenly started socializing. Staying out after school, up all night on the phone, coming and going like the other students. It was almost eerie.

The red head seems to be wearing Kitty's shirt, a maroon button up that leaves a lot of her mid drift exposed. Kitty is dwarfed in a pink button up of the senior's, fitting her like a shirt dress with pink pom-poms with in her hair. And Amara was shrugged in a turquoise, off the shoulder sweater.

"Ah, girls." Charles half sighs, noticing Evan's flushed demeanor.

"Red, how about shirts that fit. And half-pint, pants next time? Brazil, don't get me started... You’re guilty by association." The girls giggle and largely don't pay the grumpy man mind.

"Hey, professor." Jean glides upstairs to find the library.

"C'mon, let's hurry to the Rec room..." Kitty suggests, hooking her arm in the other freshman's.

"Sure. Where's Rogue? I didn't see her after school." Scott folds his arms and tries to look like he isn't eavesdropping (he’s totally eavesdropping).

"I dunno, she got on that lit. college student's bike." The brunette answered with a shrug, Kurt following after her. One of his eyebrows is raised. 

"College student?" He asks, German accent strong. Jean poked her head down the staircase in curiosity.

"College?" She cant hide her pout, like she wasn't already dating the school starting quarterback. "No fair..."

"College?" Hank patted Logan on the shoulder, but it was no use. He wasn't sure how, but he was going to halt the girl power trip before it got out of hand. "This place..." He jabbed a finger towards Evan's bleached blonde hair. "I'm smokin' a cig, and then you're rattin' on whoever is giving you a hard time. They're not getting in the way of your studies." With that, he took off in another direction.

Evan sighed, Scott scrubbing his chin. "He only wants to help." Charles says with a tentative smile.

"Like, we all do." Ororo pressed, her mouth tugging downwards. The fifteen year old didn't even begin to know how to articulate what he was thinking, but he wasn't saying it to his aunt.

"I was just being a hothead, bro. I'm sorry for letting you down. I accept whatever punishment you give me, and will try to make better decisions in the future." Before anyone could formulate a response, he hopped on his board and disappeared from sight. The shaded mutant scratched his head and watched him roll off.

"Any of you buy it?" Hank only shook his head no as Ororo sighed.

"Not a bit."

"He's at such a secretive age..." The african woman can't wonder if she bit of more than she can chew taking him in. She has no children of her own, what did she know about rearing him just because they're both mutants?

"I have a feeling that this, like lots of other things, will resolve itself. Come, let's give him some time. I can hardly punish the crime without motive." The silver haired woman nodded in agreement as they all moved to the kitchen.

Evan made it to the gates of the campus when a blood red motorcycle pulled up, the petite figure of his teammate on the back. He watched in astonishment as she pulled a black helmet off and shook wavy hair out. She's wearing the dress she wore for the musical (which he hadn't seen, since), chunky boots, and a leather jacket over top. "Thanks, Dylan. That was awesome. We'll compare the parallels of Hamlet and Son's Of Anarchy some other time, okay? Bye!"

He closes his mouth when she turns to him with a scowl, but one he's come to learn isn't unfriendly. "Sup, Spyke?" She drawled, wondering what everyone else is up to. He jammed his hands into khaki pockets.

"Yo. Have... Fun?" She ran a gloved hand through her hair in dissatisfaction.

"Sure, Ah guess. Dylan pays me fifty bucks to tutor him." She shrugged, Mystique had raised a hustler. She studies his face closer when she can see one of his eyes is starting to black. "Gettin' your UFC career started early?" His face soured, not this again. He'd rather not talk about it.

"C'mon, Rogue. You don't usually pry. What is this, bizarro world?" Rogue is the queen of defensiveness, so she is not afraid of the younger mutant's lashing out.

"Ah might when my friends are losin' fights. Hell, Evan. We could'a taken it two an' two, they accidentally touch my skin it's li-" She stops when he huffs in frustration.

"That's not... That's not the point, Rogue." Perhaps a few weeks ago, people looked at Rogue as cold. Brutish. Menacing. Everyone knew she went to the freak school and was a redbelt, enough said. But, she's found a confidence (one all the Bayville Siren girls have found) that was changing the way everyone saw her. Talked about her. Thought about her. The loner goth girl was still too far in her own world to notice it, but he saw.

Kitty and Amara welcomed any attention in their budding high school career, and though it baffled Scott, Jean loved the attention. Rogue didn't seem to understand or notice. Maybe, she didn’t even care. She's always done what she wanted and for once, she feels like part of a tribe. Surrounded by girls. They shared a secret and a bond.

He loves to see his friend wear pride in how cool she is, he just doesn't like the chauvinistic commentary coming with it. It's complicated, and she sees in his eyes that she really has no idea what's going on. She folds her arms and plants her feet, daring him to speed away on his board. "So, what is the point, then? This ain't like you." He'd been on time for Danger Room and personal promises and putting forth the effort to turn his leaf around, just like her.

"I wasn't fighting over myself." He admits in defeat, his chin resting in his hands. She dropped her arms.

"Who's gettin' picked on?" She'd handle it, herself.

"It's more what people said." He sat down glumly and waited for the girl to follow. She does so, hesitantly.

"Evan, words are not nothin' worth scrappin' over. Do you know the things Ah've been called, where Ah'd be if Ah fought every time someone tried to offend me?" She reflects for a moment on the south and her face sours. "Was it... Was it that word?" She whispered. If it was, she'd tell the professor or Logan and they'd definitely know what to about it, for his sake.

His eyes soften, but he shakes his head. "It was you, Rogue. And Kitty. Amara. Jean. Tabitha... It's like... Ever since, I dunno..." They weren't aware that all the boys knew what they'd been up to and didn't say anything, but she figures it out. "I think you guys are cool. You guys came together and found a vibe, you're all glowing. Happy." Rogue tries to follow the lingo as he balances on his board. "There's nothing wrong with that. But, for whatever reason... It makes guys... It makes guys..."

"Have pigs for brains?" She arches an eyebrow, amused at Evan's latent protectiveness. He nodded furiously. "Evan, trust me, we know what we were forced to sign up for just by bein' women." His eyes darkened.

"No, you don't know." He refused to repeat the things he heard people, people he was supposed to be friends with say. "All sorts of things about your bodies, assuming they know anything about you, when they don't. You're my friends, people I'm lucky to know." Things he didn’t even want to think about, jokingly. He stomped one of his many boards in half, growling. "They don't know you, that Kitty's saving that part of her life for marriage. Or, thinking Jean's boy crazy or loves a million guys. She loves Scott, anybody who knows her knows that. And you," Their eyes met and he's embarrassed, blinking back frustrated tears. "You can't even... They shouldn't..."

He'd never spared a thought to how both unfair it was to be a woman and for some, be a mutant; he knew now."It's okay, Evan." Her voice is soft. He was the last person she expected this outburst from, but they were all human. Unpredictable. Far from the expected. "Nothin' you need to fight over. Doesn't change anythin'." He looked down at the splintered remains of his skateboard while Rogue hugged herself. He was probably grounded for a month, at least. ‘Ah’m worth it?’

"He'll think before he says it again." He picked up his halves and shrugged, starting lazily toward the mansion. "Matters to me."