#it just so happens I walk the better path heyo

[krazieka2]

me scrawling through my twitter, trying to decide what doodles are worth the effort of putting on here: yes this must be shown to everyone

[solaria222]

P I C K A C A R D

w h a t y o u n e e d

t o f o c u s o n

this is a timeless tarot reading, it can still be applicable to you regardless of when you see it. take a deep breath and ask yourself "what do i need to focus on right now?" and see which pile you are most drawn to.

P I L E 1 ||

(the video game controller)

Hi, pile 1 (´｡• ᵕ •｡`)! currently you seem very focused on yourself. your energy is like that quote, "work in silence and let your success be the noise". you've been very low-key lately. in a no-nonsense mood. you may have done some things in the past that made you worry about your decisions, you're trying to not make any mistakes. you should focus on getting your stuff together. try to relax, don't focus on all this worry you have. if you're moving to a new house, or getting a new job then focus on that as well. be patient and optimistic with your progress. don't be so hard on yourself. please clean your room. don't focus on what's lost. exciting things will unfold for you, pile one!

extras

self worth

the only one who gets to decide your worth is you. it doesn't come from your bank account or the number of friends you have. it doesn't come from what someone else says you are worth. it's called self-worth for a reason - it comes from being you. it comes from being yourself and being proud of who you are. it comes from being someone that you can count on and someone you love. the numbers will change with time, but what won't change is who you are deep inside - beautiful / handsome, limitless, wonderful, creative, strong, capable - and that is where your worth comes from.

(-nikki banas)

growth

everything will work out exactly how and when it's supposed to, regardless of how and when you may want it to. let your faith in the journey be stronger than your doubts and fears be patient with yourself and your growth, knowing that good things always take time. give yourself time and space to try things and explore different paths. you will get there one day, so don't forget to enjoy the journey too.

(-nikki banas)

february

august

june

8 & 7

P I L E 2 ||

(the doorbell)

Hello there, pile 2 (´｡• ᵕ •｡`). everything in your life may be a mess right now. you feel untethered somehow. you feel as if you are attracting miserliness info your life. you haven't been focusing on particularly anything as of now. (you aren't alone, pile two. i feel the same 😔) you may have been focusing on studies, responsibilities, and the likes. right now, focus on your feelings. don't ignore them. treat yourself to things you enjoy. maybe icecream. do the things you enjoy doing. (a small suggestion here : you can try one of those 30 days of happiness (◍•ᴗ•◍) ) know your worth. once you finally understand it, you'll be disgusted at the things you used to settle for. be more responsible. invest in your relationships with your family.

extras

start all over

it's okay to start all over its okay to start everything from the ground up. it's okay to try something brand new. sometimes we forget that we aren't stuck and that we can change our entire life in a day, in a single moment of courage. we can move to a new city, we can say hello to someone new, we can join a new group, we can start writing that book. there is no limit to the things we can do if we choose. don't be afraid to start all over, my lovely friend. this is your life. why not make it wonderfully yours?

(-walk the earth)

just breathe

pause. amidst a the busyness. dyeing the days of back to back appointments, celebrations and meetings. during the moments when life seems to be moving at one hundred miles per hour. pause. take it all in, right where you are now. reacquaint yourself with who you are. remind yourself that you're doing your best and that that is all you can do. pause. allow yourself to take a moment to stretch and fe your muscles relax. let any tension fall away. pause. take in as much as air as your lungs will allow and just breathe. you are doing better than you think.

(-nikki banas)

january

november

october

0

P I L E 3 ||

(the teacup)

Hey there, pile 3. have you been focused on money recently? you may be focused on trying to move on from an ex relationship, platonic or romantic. you're very focused on yourself at the moment. if you're spiritual maybe focus on doing some research on that. focus on your independence. persist. believe in yourself. trust that you do have the strength. don't be afraid to express yourself. this is pretty short, but you're on the right track so keep going 💀

extras

growth

everything will work out exactly how and when it's supposed to, regardless of how and when you may want it to. let your faith in the journey be stronger than your doubts and fears. be patient with yourself and your growth, knowing that good things always take time. give yourself time and space to try things and explore different paths. you will get there one day, so don't forget to enjoy the journey too.

(-nikki banas)

"making you happy makes me happy"

august

march

april

wednesday

"days"

P I L E 4 ||

(the paper origami bird)

heyo, pile four. your energy seems to be focused on getting resources to achieve your goals, independence and general bad bitch energy. right now, you're focusing on spirituality. (I heard that some of you have an astrology blog 👀 drop the link) you've been focusing on resting and self-care. you've been incredibly hard-working lately. you should focus more on self-care, and get some clarity. your advice is to not give up. you can do it! fight for your fairytale ending. cut off ties with people who place limits onto you, toxic or jealous people.

extras

free

be exactly who you want to be. be the person who stand up for themselves and their dreams. be the person who is proud of themselves and proud to be themselves. be the person who is strong and vulnerable ; wild and free. these chains could never hold someone like you, I think it's time you finally break free.

(-nikki banas)

decide

you are the only one in charge of your destiny. unfair things things may happen to you, unfortunate times may come to you, but you always get to choose how you respond. you can live in frustration and bitterness, or just be the bigger person and just play the hell out of the cards you are dealt. the truth is that not a single person can choose the cards they receive, but everyone chooses how they play their cards.

(-nikki banas)

have a great day / night! :)

aut viam inveniam aut faciam

- i will either find a way, or make one.

[the-witch-of-one-piece]

Heyo Val!! Congratulations on your followers babe!! I can't wait to see you get thousands and millions!! ❤️❤️❤️

May I request an oracle read from the Nature's Whisperer deck for Law and a female reader? SFW please! 🥺❤️

Thank you love!! I love you bunches!!

Purple Babe! Awww thank you so much that means a lot to me hun. Thank you fo always being there for me 🥺 ❤️ Yes of course I can do this for you! So the card that popped out was Ideal Course of Action. You can get overwhelmed quickly when planning new events in your life. Form a mental picture and what you would like to complete. Eleminate self sabotage and self doubt in your own self, you are the one that determines you next steps on the path your choose. Babe/love/beautiful what can I say a lot has happened from when we first started talking and now . But you are strong dont ever forget that. I hope you enjoy ❤️

Law x Fem Reader: Ideal Course of Action

Okay just breathe everything will be fine. You were in the bathroom right next to you laying the positive pregnancy test. The two pink plus signs appeared staring back at you. Running your fingers through your hair. What am I going to do... this caught you off guard you didn't expect this at all. Not feeling too well for the past month your sense of smell to certains foods became unbearable to smell. You didn't even dare try the food you may have vomited it all up.

What is he going to think? Would he be mad or upset with me? Will he tell me to get rid of it?  You felt yourself getting worked up. Your heart felt like it was going to burst out of your chest. Hearing the knock on the “Oi everything okay?” Law calling out to you.

“Oh uhhh yeah i will be right out!” responding you threw away the positive test. You couldn’t tell him yet. With the pressure he is under you didn't want another burden on him.Fixing yourself up before walking out.  “Sorry I took so long i uhh.” thinking of something to say. “ I killed a nasty spider.” you said.

“A spider?” he raised his brow at you.

“Yeah it was big.” scratching the back of your head.

Days passed and the sickness was getting worse. The back and forth to the bathroom. You were still trying to figure out the right time to tell him. Leaning over the toilet heaving as you tried to catch your breath.  Light coat of sweat on your face. “Feeling better after you threw up ya?” he asked

“I think it's a stomach bug” you said, hoping he would fall for it.

“It’s not….Your pregnant.” he leaned against the door frame with his arms crossed. Law was not dumb as he wouldn’t have fell for that excuse. No one else was sick on the sub, only you and it was frequent.

“Just by your facial expression you already knew for some time.” you sighed, flushing the toilet, pinning your hair up and began to brush your teeth getting the gross taste out of your mouth.

“What are you going to do?” he asked. This small part of you was excited to be carrying his child but the other part was how was he going to react if you wanted to keep the baby.. Law  sees your eyes looking at your stomach.

This life being held in your womb was all you wanted to protect from harm. “It’s not just my decisions, we made this little person grow inside me…”

“You want to keep the baby?” he asked.

“I can't destroy something we created, our love made this baby.”  you said seeing a bit of an unease look on his face. He didn't know the first thing about becoming a dad. He was preparing himself knowing you were pregnant for a while now and his calm demeanor on the outside but was freaking out on the inside. Law seeing the bit of spark in your eyes expressing your thought he let out a small sigh.

“Do you understand the dangers of people knowing you're carrying my child?” he asked. You nodded at him. Law taking you in his arms as he was holding you closely. In his mind trying to see the positive outcome. “You know you can’t be out of my sight now.”

“Not even going to the bathroom?” teasing him.

Pinching your cheek “smartass… We have to get some blood work done on you. Lets

get going.”

“Lawww i don't like needles.” whining as he began to drag you to his office.”use a small needle please!”

“Okay fine whatever lets go.” Law said he let out a humor hum. Part of him wanted a family with you. Now that it is happening he took every precaution with you making sure everything was going well. Even having bepo as your personal bodyguard if law had to attend to business.

[smelted-applejuice]

I sent this before but I don't think it went through- So heyo! I have plenty of ideas so bare with me lmao- Mayhaps I could request a oneshot/anything really where Bad or someone else finds a child that turns out to be Tommy's sibling/adopted child? Knowing him he would be mad XD -CB(I can be known as CB if you'd like)

Pairing(s); Tommy x Reader (PLATONIC), Badboyhalo x reader (PLATONIC) Pronouns; they/them  Desc; [YourName] does some exploring while being watched by their older brother Tommy. 

Requests r open! :D also! Yes ! Yes I will refer to you as CB!! I’m so excited to have my first anon, whats ur pronouns ??  -

[YourName] nodded as they watched their older brother walk off with Tubbo. Philza had placed Tommy in charge of his little sibling, even Tommy laughed when Phil first suggested the idea, but soon realized Phil was being serious. Tomathy was in charge of his little sibling, [YourName] who was just as adventurous as the rest of their siblings and just as extroverted as Tommy. Who knows what trouble the two would cause as a pair, their brain cells together equal to exactly one half. But [YourName] gets an excuse, they’re only five and still need their brain cell to grow, hopefully to more than just a half. Out of all of Phil’s children, Techno has more than one and Phil was hoping [YourName] would change it from one smart child to two. After today, he was unsure.

Tommy had thought taking [YourName] to see Tubbo was smart, [YourName] liked Tubbo and Tubbo was child friendly- at least most of the time he was. “Let’s get going kid, we gotta head out.” Tommy said dragging his sibling with him, not even letting them speak before walking out the door of their home. [YourName] huffed but went along with it, all they wanted to do was take a nap and drink their juice. “I want to nap, Tommy” [YourName] said, making it clear here and now, Tommy rolled his eyes “It doesn’t matter what you want, kid, we’re going to see Tubbo. Maybe, just maybe, he’ll let you nap at his house.” he said, hoping to give his little sibling some false hope. He couldn’t help but laugh, he just liked being the asshole sibling now and then, that’s what they get for being the youngest sibling it seems- jokes on top of jokes. 

The walk was long, and Tommy would end up stopping at his own house before going on more toward Tubbo. “Stay out here, [YourName]. My house, my rules, and one of my rules are no gremlins.” Tommy says gently patting his sibling’s head, [YourName] blankly stared toward their brother and sighed “Then you shouldn’t be allowed in.” they spoke with geniality in their tone. Tommy growled and flicked their head before entering, all [YourName] did was laugh. Tommy would end up getting easily distracted, so [YourName] would find themselves just standing there with nothing to do. [YourName] glanced around and began following the path until they bumped into someone, “Sorry, I wasn’t watching where I was going” [YourName] spoke quickly. The person glanced down and softly smiled, “Hello little one.” the person said crouching down. [YourName] nervously smiled, “Uhm, hello sir.” they replied, placing their hands behind their back. “I can tell you’re kind of put off, it’s the white eyes and the horns, huh?” He asked, [YourName] flustered being put on the spot like that. The person laughed, which was softer than the child had expected it to be- like something more angelic when he looks so demonic, “I’m Bad, where did you come from?” Bad asked the child curiously. “I was waiting outside of Tommy’s house for him, but he hasn’t come out for like... Hours.” [YourName] replied slightly exaggerating the time length. Bad shook his head, “Poor kid, always gets distracted, he probably;y will be busy for another few hours then..” he said thinking out loud. He understood the child might have dramatized the time length, but he wouldn’t put it past Tommy to take actual hours inside his little-large house. Bad offered his hand and [YourName] took it, they hadn’t known better anyway. Phil hadn’t thought them the stranger danger topic yet, all it had been was them and their siblings for the last five years, rarely did they leave the home. Bad would take [YourName] around the server, just feeding them and letting them nap in his arms. He was gentle with the child, but was upset Tommy had let his little sibling just sit outside and didn’t bother to check on them. Tommy had yet to be reigning fire around the server looking for them, so Bad had assumed Tommy didn’t even notice [YourName]’s absence. Bad looked over toward the sleeping child on his couch and sighed, he shook his head and hoped Tommy would notice soon. Soon would come, Tommy had completely forgotten he was babysitting. Tubbo had traveled back to see where the hell Tommy and [YourName] were because he had a few games planned to play with the two. When Tubbo showed up at the house, he realized Tommy and [YourName] weren’t home, the second place he would check is Tommy’s house. When he entered the home and was confused, where exactly was [YourName]? “Uh, Tommy, where’s [YourName]?” Tubbo asked with concern in his voice, Tommy was confused but then it clicked! “You’re telling me, [YourName] isn’t outside?” he asked, rushing toward the door and answered his own question. Tubbo shook his head and that’s when panic set in. He explained to Tubbo what [YourName] and he spoke about before he entered his home hours prior, “[YourName] probably;y went exploring, they got bored- so let’s get looking.” Tubbo suggested dreading the walking. Tubbo and Tommy looked around the first half of the server and turned up nothing. While walking back toward Tommy’s house, Bad and [YourName] were walking together. Tommy rushed forward and tackled his little sibling to the ground making both Bad and [YourName] yelp at different pitches. “HOW DARE YOU TAKE MY LITTLE SIBLING YOU LITTLE BITCH BABY!” Tommy said turning toward Bad like an animal, “Language! And I didn’t take them, they came to me because you didn’t let them inside the house!” Bad replied, placing his hands on his hips. Tommy went quiet for a moment, “YOU KIDNAPPED THEM!” Tommy accused. Tubbo, Bad, and [YourName] all had the same reaction, which was a done annoyed one, and just gave in. “Whatever, have a nice night you three.” Bad said walking off, Tommy sighed and made sure [YourName] was okay before taking everyone’s leave. Tubbo walked with Tommy and [YourName] back home and made sure Tommy told Philza everything that happened today and didn’t go off-topic. Phil would scold and ground Tommy while he gave [YourName] the stranger danger chat.

[rainydaydream-gal18]

(Bad Batch) Tech x Reader: The Sound of Your Voice

(Author’s Note:   Heyo, I’ve got a little something about Tech that I hope you’ll enjoy.  I’ve got a fever, and the only cure is more Tech.  I’ve been feeling it, so here it is).

   “I just hope we don’t see any of the ‘hostile wildlife’ Cody warned us about in the briefing,” you said, clutching the blaster as your eyes flickered to a spot where you thought you saw branches rustle.

   “The likelihood is rather low,” Tech replied, eyes not leaving the datapad in his hands as he walked ahead of you.  “Though, not impossible.”  You were glad to be scouting ahead with him.  The quality time with Tech was something you enjoyed, even if it was for a mission.  However, with how focused he was on the screen in front of him instead of his surroundings, you were starting to wish Wrecker had come along.  He wasn’t exactly Mr. Stealthy; however, he’d be much-appreciated in a tangle with these creatures.

   “How much longer?”  You suddenly felt the urge to lower your voice.  It was the strangest feeling, like you were being observed.

   “We’re not too far from the point,” Tech informed.  He finally looked up to see the dead end in the path in front of him.  “Huh,” he hummed in interest, eyes darting from the holo-map to the pile of boulders in front of him.  “This didn’t come up on the scan.  We’ll have to find a way around.”

   A snap of a branch caused you to bristle, instinctively pressing your back against Tech as you turned to aim the blaster in your hands.  “I don’t think we have time.”  The two of you watched as a large creature stalked out of the thick surrounding forest onto the path where you’d just come from.  It was dark and scaly with bright yellow eyes that blinked right at you as it tipped its head to the side to observe its prey.  The creature let out a hiss, and Tech pushed himself past to stand directly in front of you.

   Though touched by the protective gesture, the concern was there.  “Tech, that thing is dangerous,” you warned.  “Hope you have your blaster ready.”

   “No need.”  He tapped a few icons on his datapad, and suddenly a piercing screech sounded in the air.  You pressed your face against his armored shoulder as you shut your eyes at the noise.

   The creature didn’t seem to like it either because it slithered back into the shadows at lightspeed.  Once it was gone, you quickly pulled away from Tech as he turned to look at you over his shoulder.  You exhaled in relief at the disappearance of the creature, but your heart was still thrumming under your companion’s gaze.

   “Are you alright?”

   “Yeah,” you nodded.  “Just startled.  What the heck was that?”

   “A cry belonging to the creature’s natural predator,” he responded.  “I downloaded it as a precaution.”

   “Wow, that’s very handy.”  You peeked at the list of icons on his device, each one representing audio files that he had collected on various missions and assignments.  You knew it was a hobby of his, but had never seen him put it to use like this before.  “Can I see?”

   “Sure, but only for a minute,” he said.  “The cry might draw in the predators, and they’re even worse than what we just encountered.”

   You used your finger to scroll rapidly through the list before seeing an icon that stood out to you in particular.  Tech seemed to notice your curiosity with it, and hesitated.

   “Maybe not that one-”

   But you were already pressing the icon, and suddenly your voice rang out from the datapad.  It was the sound of your laughter and voice talking with what sounded like Wrecker.  You recalled that evening; you and the Bad Batch were enjoying a quiet evening without any missions.  No droids.  No blasters.  Just time with the squad.  The memory was a fond one among many, but you hadn’t expected to find the recording on Tech’s datapad.

   You were too stunned to speak as Tech gently tugged the device away, shutting off the sound, and tried to avoid your curious gaze.

   “We really should get to our destination,” he said, though his tone didn’t carry as much tension as you would’ve expected.  He finally met your eyes through the visor of his helmet.  It seemed that he was going to act like what happened didn’t just happen.  As serious as you were about your work, the destination could wait five minutes.

   “Tech, what was that?” you asked.

   He paused just as he had started back around the pile of boulders, turning to face you.  “It was your voice.”

   A smile crept its way onto your face at his somewhat cute attempt to dodge.  “Yeah, but why?”

   “I like the sound of your laughter,” he admitted.  “It doesn’t matter what I’m going through; it makes the situation better.”

   You flashed another smile.  “That’s very flattering.  Thank you.”

   “You aren’t offended?”

   “No, it’s quite the opposite.  To find out the person you like appreciates your laughter is pretty great.”

   Tech’s eyes widened behind his helmet.  “You...like me?”

   You nodded, suddenly feeling bashful that it was really out in the open.  “I have for a while.  I didn’t know if you liked me back or how I’d tell you.” 

   He lifted the helmet from his head, eyes still fixed on you as he took a few steps closer.  “I like you too, __________, and I also did not know how to tell you.”

   “There is one way you can tell me.”

   His brows went up at your indirect suggestion, and Tech took another step closer.  As he neared your space, he suddenly began to show signs of nervousness.  He was avoiding your gaze again, instead preoccupied with the grass.

   “Tech, you don’t have to kiss me,” you assured him.  “I know it’s kind of sudden.”

   “I do want to.  I just...I’ve never done this before.”

   “Well, we are also in the middle of a mission-”

   He cut off your sentence by leaning in and pressing his lips to yours.  It was rigid and awkward for just a moment before you guided yourself a little closer to wrap your arms around his neck and lean into the kiss.  His helmet dropped to the ground with a thud and he put his arms around your waist in return.

You felt the butterflies in your stomach as he pulled away to look into your eyes and press one last peck on your lips.  The two of you separated, and he picked his helmet up to put it back on again.

   Suddenly, Tech’s comm beeped.

   Tech, ________. It was Hunter.  Your signals show you’ve been in the same place for a while.  Everything alright?

   “Yes, Sarge,” Tech replied.  “We ran into some of the wildlife, but we’re continuing on our way.  We have to go around an obstacle, but should make it there at a decent time.”

   Glad to hear it.  Just checking in.  See you two when you get back.

   Once the comm ended, you and Tech exchanged glances.

   “Let’s get moving,” you said.

   “Oh, now you want to get moving,” he joked with a chuckle.

   “Hey, we can stop and see the sights for a minute,” you retorted, smirking.

   “I suppose so.  They are beautiful.”

[danioak7]

A Perfect Day

Heyo! This is Dani here! Finally posting one of my insert reader fanfics on here, and what could be a better way than to start with the first of 4 parts in my Jonathan Crane series! I’ll hopefully post up another random fanfic later on, but here’s part 1 of my A Perfect Life series. Hope you guys enjoy❤️

~~~

“Johnny, c’mon! I’m sure your dad won’t mind.”

“I-I’m not sure, Y/N...”

She stopped running. She then turned to face him and grabbed his hands. She looked almost nervous. Her small problem was that she did this without thinking too much, and she never considered if Jonathan would be okay with this. She looked up into his eyes, and he could see her e/c eyes as clear as day. They were mesmerizing.

“Hey. If he gets you in trouble, I’ll be there to take the blame.”

“I-I don’t want you to do that. That doesn’t seem right.”

“I don’t care if it’s right; I’m not letting you be at fault for this. But if you don’t want to go...”

“N-No! No, I-I want to go. I really do, Y/N. Let’s just go.” If he was being honest, he really just wanted to spend more time with her. With her holding his hands, he felt safe. He wanted to be in a relationship with her so bad, but with his dad’s research picking up, he knew he couldn’t dare be with her. His father was already so hesitant about him going to school, so what would happen if he got a girlfriend?! But at this moment, he just wanted to be with Y/N. So that’s what he did; he stuck with Y/N.

“Really? O-Okay! Yeah! C’mon, it’s this way!” Y/N still held onto one of his hands as the pair raced from the front of the school towards the small town closest to the school. It wasn’t quite considered as being “in Gotham”, but it was a peaceful little town with a low crime rate, considering how heavy the crime was in the large neighbouring city. For a good bit, the teens were running. But Y/N eventually slowed down, because neither teen could successfully run very far. The entire time, Jonathan held her hand tightly. He was afraid that if he let go, then he’d lose her forever. They strolled through the small town just outside of Gotham, just enjoying each other’s company. She led him towards a pier, where there was a safety railing so people didn’t fall into the water. What she did next left Jonathan in awe...

She let go of his hand and ran up to the railing. She stood there holding onto it, and looking at the water and the sky with so much hope in her eyes. The wind blew lightly, and it softly lifted her h/l, h/c hair. Her skirt was blowing behind her in the wind, and her body language showed that she was at peace. The water in front of her was a deep, sparkling blue. The sky was filled with cotton candy shaped clouds, and was coloured a pale blue like the shirt he wore that day.

The breeze became a bit cold for her, so she shivered slightly. In an instant, Jonathan calmly took off his hoodie, walked towards her, and wrapped it around her. She was so grateful for the gesture. She even wrapped an arm around him, as she hoped he would stay beside her. He did indeed.

The pair started towards the open water ahead of them. It was such a calm time in both of their lives; it felt so weird, but in a good way. But the gears in Jonathan’s head were turning rapidly, just trying to figure out how to tell the sweet angelic girl beside him how he truly felt. To hell with what his dad thought; he wanted to be with her. And if that was the last thing that he would do, he’d be glad he did. Y/N on the other hand was in pure bliss. The boy she had fallen for all those years ago was in such close proximity to her, to the point where she could almost hear his heartbeat. She decided to lay her head on his shoulder, which startled the nervous boy.

“I’m sorry, Johnny! I didn’t mean to do anything wrong.”

“N-No! You’re good. Um, if you want to, you can put your head back there. I really liked it...”

“Oh, okay. I really liked it too.”

Once her head landed back on his shoulder, Jonathan pulled her slightly closer to him. His confidence had disappeared in an instant. But Y/N needed to say one more thing before they fell back to their comfortable silence:

“I’m so glad you’re here with me, Jonathan. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“M-Me too, Y/N. I think I’d be pretty lost.”

“You’d still be in the corner, alone at lunch,” the smaller one replied with a chuckle.

“That I would be. That I would be...” and with that, the pair fell back to their peaceful silence. But Jonathan’s head was still trying to figure out how on Earth he was gonna tell her that he felt all these feelings for her.

Bit by bit, his confidence came back. After a while, he did something that even took him by surprise: he lightly kissed Y/N’s forehead and muttered that he loves her. As soon as he did, his face turned an even darker shade of red (if it even could). Where did this come from?! He wasn’t even thinking straight. He started to panic, and wished he hadn’t said that out loud nor done anything at all. During his panic, the small girl looked up at him with large doe eyes.

“I-I’m sorry, Y/N. I-I don’t k-know what-“

“Shut up.”

“I- what?” That got his attention for sure.

“Shut up! You’re so nervous! Don’t be,” she lightly grabbed his chin so that he would look at her, and looked deep into his eyes. Her smile was huge, “because I love you too.”

His mind went blank. Absolutely blank. She loved him?! Oh god, his heart was soaring. He was on cloud 9. All his setbacks in this whole endeavour today had been because he was so nervous and stuck in his head. But all the things that led to something good were when he just shut off his mind, and followed his heart. So that’s what he did.

The lovestruck boy pulled the equally lovestruck girl closer to him, and repeatedly planted sweet kisses to her forehead. The pair were a smiling, blushing mess. But they didn’t care; they had each other. After the many kisses to her forehead, Jonathan mustered up the courage to plant a gentle kiss onto the beautiful girl’s lips. It was sweet and simple, that left the two of them wanting a little bit more. When the two teens pulled away, they instantly wrapped each other in a tight hug.

For Jonathan, he finally found someone to love him and not have the urge to use him for studying purposes. But for Y/N, she now had someone to call her own. She had always wanted someone who loves her unconditionally, and now she finally has that person: her best friend and now boyfriend, Jonathan Crane. And as they watched the cotton candy clouds shift and the sparkling water ripple, their souls intertwined. That single thing caused a symphony of endless love and adoration that rang through the air around them. No matter what would happen in the future, they’d face it together.

But that was all just a pleasant memory now. Now Jonathan sat in a cell in Arkham Asylum, with his back pressed against the wall and a photo in hand. He managed to sneak the photo in, and hide it any time someone came nearby. It was a photo that Y/N had taken that day: she held the camera in a selfie-like fashion, and it showed her with a giant smile. Jonathan was behind her, with his arms wrapped around her waist and his head on her shoulder. He looked so lovestruck in the photo. He still was to this day. The poor boy still twitched with fear as he sat, but that photo- no, the sight of Y/N kept him calm.

She never visited. It was as though he didn’t exist anymore. He would never know if she just didn’t want to come, or if there was something blocking her path. But as long as he had the photo in his hand, he believed he’d be alright. Maybe not today, but maybe tomorrow. Or the next day, even.

“If I could just take us back to those days. If I had one wish, then I could just do that. You used to brighten every empty space, and the words ‘I love you’ replaced any doubt I had. Maybe time wouldn’t try to erase you from my mind. If you could only know that I’d never let you go, Y/N.”

The guard heard Jonathan’s ramblings, and went to check on him. The scared boy saw the infamous scarecrow figure instead, looming over top of him. As soon as the guard got close, he saw the photo. He grabbed it out of Jonathan’s hand, and marched back outside. In Jonathan’s eyes, he saw the scarecrow figure that he hated wrenching his hand open. Then he finally saw the guard, who proceeded to take the photo from the helpless boy. And with that, all his hope disappeared, and he was left completely alone.

“A-And the words ‘I promise, I’ll be back. I’m not leaving you’ r-ring through my head. I-I m-miss y-you Y/N…”

The broken shell of a hopeless boy was all that was left in that cell. And from that point on, there were few words he actually said. All that came from him now were screams.

[hqbbg]

big and bad.

pairing: matsukawa issei x reader

summary: the woods are a dark place.

genre: fantasy

word count: 1.6K

warnings: i didn’t have this beta’d and this was completed at 5:30am so there might be mistakes but uh, none otherwise that i can think of (but please message me to correct me)

author’s note: heyo! 🤪 I’m back with another HQHQ server collab fic! you can check out the other amazing writers’ works here! i have our dear mattsun for both collabs (and both parts are now posted)!! n e ways as always, I hope you guys enjoy! 💕

part two (18+)

Your legs are shaking and you can feel your knees threatening to give out. The cold air burns your lungs as you continue to run through the dark forest, swatting at branches in your way. You don’t know how long you’ve been running, but you know for a fact that you wish you hadn’t skipped gym class all those years ago in grade school.

After what feels like ages, you finally see a dim light ahead of you through the foliage. As if hit with a sudden burst of energy, you try to push through and feel so close to the end, the light practically within reach. Just as you’re about to get to it, your path is suddenly blocked and you’re shrouded in darkness once again. Halting to a stop, you panic, trying to get a grasp of what just happened.

Suddenly, you no longer feel alone and feel every nerve ending stand on edge. Your heart is pounding in your ears and you do everything in your power to refrain from doubling over to catch your breath. The sound of a branch breaking startles you and you whip around.

“You know, it’s not safe for people to be out alone in the woods at this hour.” You’re unsure of what you’re expecting, but it’s definitely not the silhouette of a tall man standing before you.

You open your mouth to speak, but no sound comes out.

“What shall I do with you?” His voice drawls lazily and in any other situation, you might consider being comforted by it.

While you can’t see him, you hear him move. He seems to be circling you and you do your best to remain facing him, though you’re beginning to feel your head spin.

“What’s the matter, doll?” You can practically hear him smirking. “Cat got your tongue?” You jump when his voice sounds right up against your ear.

Before you can react, you feel hands grab you and open your mouth to scream, only to jolt up from your bed in a cold sweat. Your heart is still pounding in your chest and you’re breathing heavily.

It was only a dream.

Laying back down, you sigh softly to yourself. Just as you’re about to close your eyes to go back to sleep, you hear your alarm go off and groan. Great.

You practically throw the blanket off and toss your legs over the edge of the bed, willing yourself up to begin your day. Glancing out your bedroom window, your eyes warily linger on the trees of the forest below before you force yourself to get washed up.

When your parents had asked for you to drop by for lunch, you were more than willing to accept, never one to turn down free food. However, as you begin your walk down the sidewalk towards the bus stop alongside the thick brush of trees, you feel a chill run down your spine and you want to go back home. Something just simply doesn’t feel right.

Swallowing your paranoia, you quicken your pace until you arrive at the small bus stop. You can’t help but feel as if you’re being watched, but when you look around, there’s hardly anyone around and their attention is fixed elsewhere. You hesitate for a moment before turning to glance towards the thicket of trees behind you and nearly jump when you meet a pair of dark gold eyes looking back at you. When you blink, they’re gone and the bus arrives.

Throughout the whole lunch, you do your best to forget the morning’s events. Your parents notice that something is off, but you brush it off with an excuse of just being tired. It’s true; you’ve been exhausted these past couple weeks with moving into your apartment while still trying to maintain the various responsibilities of life. Maybe that would explain the paranoia and the hallucinations—that’s what that was earlier, right?

As you step off the bus, the air feels colder and the sun is already setting. Where has the day gone? You should’ve left your parents’ home sooner before the sun had begun its descent. The streetlights around you flicker on to illuminate the sidewalk, but you see that your path home is blocked due to road work that’s scheduled to last all night long.

You resist the urge to let out a groan. It looks like the construction extends through the whole main road and the designated detour will take you an extra half hour to walk around. You look warily to your right towards the heavily wooded area that separates you and your building, hesitating momentarily. In all honesty, it would be faster to simply cut through the trees and if you’re quick, you might be able to make it before total nightfall.

Weighing your options, you figure you’re just being extra paranoid because of your dream—or rather, nightmare—and simply inhale deeply before stepping off the concrete towards the brush.

The wind whistles lowly and the setting feels eerily familiar. As you listen to the crunching of leaves and fallen branches under your feet, you’re reminded of the stories your grandmother had told you as a child.

“Beware of the big bad wolf,” she had said, though her sing-song voice hardly instilled the same fear that was snowballing within yourself at the moment.

You feel like you’ve been walking for nearly ten minutes, so you should be near the edge of the forest now. However, with the sun finally set, it’s harder for you to navigate your steps and the gnawing in your chest blooms. You try to maintain a straight path, but you could’ve sworn that you passed the same tree five minutes ago.

Deciding to take a brief break, you pull out your phone to check the time and ideally pull up a map to help you navigate your way out. Unfortunately, you have no signal so your phone is deduced into nothing but a glorified clock.

As you had felt this morning, it seems like you’re being watched, followed. When you glance around, you’re alone. Right as you turn back around to face forward, putting your phone back into your pocket, you let out a scream in surprise when a man is standing before you, golden eyes looking directly at you.

“I wasn’t expecting visitors so soon.”

There’s no mistaking that you know this voice; it sounds exactly like the one from your dream. It’s hard to see him clearly, but you can make out the familiar outline of his tall figure as your eyes steadily adjust. You see him take a step forward, making you instinctively take a step back.

“No need to be afraid, sweetheart. I don’t bite.” The low rumble of his voice sends a shiver down your spine. He takes another step forward into a small area illuminated by moonlight seeping through the blankets of leaves above and you can finally see his face.

He has a lazy and almost bored look donning on his features, the upwards tilt of the right corner of his lips being the only thing indicating his amusement at the fear in your eyes. His eyes seem to rake over you, as if evaluating you.

“Are you going to kill me?” You try to steady your trembling voice, unable to look away from him.

“Kill you?” He muses as he takes another step forward. You take another step back. “What’s the fun in that?”

“Well, if you’re looking for fun, I have an idea or two,” you say, trying to look for a way out.

“Do you now?” The man is now smirking. “Enlighten me.”

“For starters, you keep me alive.” He chuckles but it does nothing to calm your racing heart. “Second, you either tell me who you are and how to get out of here, or just cut the formalities and go straight to telling me how to get out of here.”

He laughs as he takes another step forward, taking you another step back. You feel your eyes widen when your back presses up against a tree you were sure wasn’t there before.

“How cute,” he says as his laughter dies down. “I think you’ll be fun to keep around for a little longer.”

He takes two more steps forward until he’s towering directly over you, propping his elbow against the bark above your head. He leans down to be at eye level with you and you can feel his breath fan over your face. You turn your head slightly, wanting to avoid him in any way you possibly can.

“Issei.”

“Excuse me?” Looking up at him with a frown on your face, you realize just how close he is and feel your cheeks heat at the proximity.

“My name. I think you’ve earned it.”

You’ve hardly done anything, so you’re not sure what that means. Before you can question him further, he cocks his head to the side slightly.

“Tell me, doll. What’s someone like you doing in a place like this?”

“Currently looking for a way out of here,” you answer truthfully. You know better than to trust a stranger, especially given the circumstances you’re in and the alarms are blaring in your head.

“You’re sure you don’t want to stay? I’m pretty convincing and can make it worth your while.” He smirks down lazily at you.

“I highly doubt that and would like to see you try,” you say, trying to swallow the lump in your throat. Perhaps you could’ve worded your sentence differently, a fact emphasized when he leans in dangerously closer to your face so you can feel the ghost of his lips brush yours whenever he speaks.

Your instincts are screaming at you to move, but it’s as if your brain and limbs are disconnected, failing to cooperate.

“Don’t tempt me,” his voice lowers. You hesitantly lift your eyes to meet his and see that they’ve darkened.

Well, that can’t be good.

[smuggsy]

heyo! If you feel like a prompt, I'll offer up one for the flyboys? How about, “Am I going to die?" pls <3

Thank you! I always feel like writing for these two! Two prompts in a day, wow, this is unheard of. I would feel accomplished except I should've been working on an essay for my medieval history class so I only feel guilty lmao.

Anyway. Here, have some pining idiots. Bit of angst sprinkled in but really this is just Collins biting off more than he can chew. You know I love putting him in these situations #sorrynotsorry.

Collins has always been the heavier drinker. He's more easy-going, always accepting pints from the younger lads and beating them at cards and joining in on their bets when dark clouds loom close to the ground and they're allowed to leave for the day.

It's usually Farrier keeping him in check, walking him back to base late at night and watching carefully from behind, giving him space but close enough to grab in case he trips over his feet after a good amount of beer has numbed his reflexes.

Collins naively assumes Farrier isn't a booze lover. Isn't that into alcohol in general; he never has more than two pints, not even when Collins refuses to indulge in it does Farrier let himself get too comfortable at the bar or at a table.

Never when Collins is with him, anyway. This is a thought that has just recently taken form, as in, about ten minutes ago when Collins caught up with the group at the local pub after returning from his daily rounds.

Today he walks into the crowded place brimming with pilots as a thunderstorm announces itself outside, and when he takes a seat next to his wingmate on the far-off corner from the door he finds Farrier doesn't look up to meet his gaze.

"Evening," Collins greets, but he's not sure he's heard him over the music and incessant chatting of their peers.

Even if he does, Farrier pays him no mind.

To say that Collins is instantly bugged by it is an understatement. Farrier stares down at something in his lap, he's hunched down and sports a permanent frown and the overall sight of him just looks wrong.

"Ey, alright?"

He realises, but only once Farrier snaps his head up, that his eyes are a bit too glassy, his breath smelling a bit too strong when he sighs in Collins' direction.

"What? Oh, hey."

Collins only sees the paper in a flash, before Farrier tucks it back into the inner pocket of his jacket. The quick motion clearly meant to keep it away from prying eyes is the only reason Collins doesn't ask. Yet.

"Having fun?" he says instead with a smile, trying to brush away the sudden heaviness of a conversation that hasn't even started, and he leans back on his own seat and surveys the table in front. He counts at least five empty pints close enough to Farrier's side.

"Fun," Farrier scoffs with a shake of his head.

Collins finds the irony dripping from the word so strong and uncharacteristic that he leans over and takes a chug or two of his own beer.

"Let them have fun," his mate continues, gesturing vaguely towards the youngest recruits fooling about on the dancefloor, "they don't know what's fucking coming."

At that, Collins can't help but stare.

He gently places his pint back on the table and doesn't tear his eyes away from Farrier, now stumbling out of his chair looking much drunker than he did just a second ago.

"M'gonna head back," he says, trying to walk past Collins who only manages to move his chair back once Farrier's already on the other side.

"It'll be pouring outside!"

Just then, a thunder rumbles low and menacing under the sweet voice of The Andrews Sisters coming off the gramophone. Farrier stops dead in his tracks for a moment and just when Collins thinks he's going to turn around and sit back down, he shrugs and walks away.

"Ah, s'only a bit of rain, innit..."

He only stops by the bar to pay for his round of drinks, pushing through one or two excited couples dancing away the night and apologizing to one of the gals for almost stepping on her foot.

Collins watches the whole exchange from his spot, a bit taken aback by Farrier so easily brushing him off.

He gives himself a few moments to feel hurt and then he stands up and pays for his own unfinished pint, only catching up to him as he rounds the corner and the first droplets of rain start announcing a hell of a storm.

"Yer gonna be wet straight through if ya walk back now!"

"Yeah," Farrier says over his shoulder, lighting a cigarette and sending a sour smile Collins' way, "I am."

His gaze seems only a bit clearer as he stares Collins down, giving him a once over and taking in the sight with an approving nod. It makes something in Collins' stomach turn.

In a good way.

"You go back though, get yourself a nice bird to dance with. Put in all that effort to walk me back like I'm your granny?"

With the dragging of his words and the cigarette he keeps firmly placed in between his lips, Collins almost doesn't understand him.

He lets out an emotionless laugh and starts walking again when Farrier does.

"What effort? I always look like this."

Farrier blows away the smoke and nods again.

"You do."

"Something happen?"

There it is. He asks.

Farrier almost halts, just almost. He looks like he's about to answer but then the cigarette is back in his mouth and he openly ignores his question for a whole minute. Collins gets the cue but he still doesn't turn back. He figures he can play chaperone tonight, like Farrier's done with him so many times before.

Except, he's always ranting on after his round of pints and his wingmate's not much of a talker. No way to fill in the awkward silence. Collins can't help himself.

"You got mail," he tries again, a statement, just a simple comment that doesn't mean any harm and it definitely doesn't mean to make Farrier turn around like that - like he's properly annoyed at him for asking. For caring.

"Just go back," Farrier bites out, harshly, "you just got 'ere. Go on, don't lemme spoil your night."

"You're not."

"Collins..."

"I'll go if you really want me to."

That makes Farrier look at him again, truly look at him like the words have taken a bit of the alcohol off his blood and sobered him up. He stares for a long moment and then starts walking again without a word. Failing to answer again but answering nonetheless.

The lamp-posts they walk past light up the heavier drops of rain as if warning them of what's to come. Collins' hair is still wet from the shower so he doesn't feel much of a difference.

"You're a good kid, Jackie," Farrier says after a while, hands in the pockets of his trousers and looking up to the moonless sky. When he does, he seems to lose a bit of balance that he quickly regains before Collins can actually grab his arm to steady him.

He reckons it's better he didn't get to, judging by Farrier's general snappiness tonight. Can't be completely sure his help would be welcomed. 

"What did you just call me?" he teases with a grin.

He sees a smile tug at Farrier's lips.

"A good kid."

Jackie.

"I'm twenty-fuckin'-five, thank you very much!"

At last, Farrier lets out a laugh. Collins feels like a heavy weight's been lifted off his shoulders.

"You're a fuckin' tease, s'what you are."

It's just as well that mother nature stops him as he intends to give an answer, because the words get stuck in his throat at the implication of that sentence.

The sky goes white for a split second, lightning flaring up above their heads before the cracking of thunder seems to switch on the merciless pouring rain once and for all. They're already far enough that they'd still end up drenched from head to toe even if they walked back to the pub.

"Shit, come on!"

Farrier starts running forward, where there's a couple of leafy pines by the road before the clearing starts the path back to the airbase: a very long and tree-deserted runway and training field.

In short, they're fucked.

Farrier beats him to the cover of the canopy and Collins thinks that perhaps he wasn't that drunk after all.

"Quicker in the air than on the ground, eh lad?"

"Want to race me, old man?"

"Nah, wouldn't want that spotless suit wrecked with mud."

Collins turns to answer and finds Farrier grinning at him playfully, looking him up and down again for the second time in twenty minutes - the spark in his eyes doesn't go unnoticed because he's never caught him staring so openly before. It makes his pulse quicken and turns his filter off.

"You really like me in my suit, dontcha?"

Farrier's next words sound fuelled by beer, as does that almost imperceptible lick of his lips.

"Why, of course I do."

He looks away to the curtain of falling rain in front of them, pooling down on the grass, and he shakes his head and talks so low that Collins almost doesn't hear him again.

"Don't do that."

"Do what?"

"I'm drunk."

"Yeah, I know. Ye keep lookin' at me like ye want to eat me or somethin'."

Farrier snaps his head back to look at him, mouth half-open like a fish out of the water - like he can't quite believe what he's just heard, and Collins panics, thinks he's misread the situation completely (thinks that even if he didn't, he really shouldn't have called Farrier on it because, as his wingmate so bluntly put it, he is drunk). Thinks that's a very reckless and stupid thing to say and that he hasn't even downed half a pint of beer so he can't even use that as an excuse.

Collins stares back, for a moment he considers stepping away, jumping over that poodle increasing in size and running away in whichever opposite direction Farrier means to walk.

Try and pretend he didn't fuck this up royally.

"Well, would you want me to?" Farrier blurts out all of a sudden, openly staring at Collins' lips and neck and cheeks and hair now.

"What?"

"I said, would you want me to."

Another lightning. Farrier's face is so close that Collins can count the scattered freckles on his nose and cheeks where stray drops of rain slide down on his skin. He has very long eyelashes.

"Eat you or something."

The thunder following the light drowns out that pitiful noise that escapes Collins' throat. He feels drowsy like he's the one who spent hours sitting down at that table in the wet sweet air of the pub gulping down pint after pint.

Farrier is very, very drunk even if he doesn't look like it anymore.

He must be.

Collins wonders: if he answers truthfully, will Farrier remember it tomorrow?

"Yeah," his wingmate snickers, and after what feels like ages he takes the slightest step back and smiles that sour smile from before, fishing another cigarette out of his pack and putting it between his lips, "thought so. Pretty boy like you."

Pretty boy like– what the fuck's that supposed to mean?

"Answer me this, Collins. Am I going to die?"

And just like that, the conversation steers away from longing looks and unspoken words. Farrier's back to smoking that ciggy that's already wet and his hands return to his pockets and Collins feels he's just lost an opportunity that isn't going to arise again any time soon.

"What?" he repeats, like a broken record, refusing to let his own eyes derail from Farrier's face, refusing to look away to the falling of rain, the runway, the clearing, the town far away like Farrier himself is doing. Refusing to let the moment go.

"What are my chances? What are our chances?"

Collins shakes his head in frustration.

"Surviving this shit. Let me tell you: they're very thin. So it's better this way. I mean, it's me but– well it's just not worth it, is it? Forget it."

"Forget. Forget what? Tom, the fuck are you on about? Is this about that letter?"

"Fuck that letter."

He tosses the cigarette to the ground.

There's no remorse in the words, no hatred despite Farrier turning back to him and suddenly standing up straight, shoulders broad, gaze unwavering and challenging. Collins is still a bit taller but that doesn't mean he feels taller.

"I– sorry I– didn't mean to–"

"My fiancée," Farrier cuts him off, cocking his head and studying Collins' reaction for a moment before continuing, "got killed. A bombing over Portsmouth."

He drags the paper out and almost shoves it in Collins' face, who just stands there at a loss for words, again. Stammering like a broken record, again.

"I–," didn't know you were engaged, "–sorry, I'm sorry that happened."

He wants to kick himself for his lack of eloquence but it's the least of his concerns because he was just flirting with Farrier a moment ago, and Farrier was leading him on for some fucking reason – a fiancée?

That tends to mean one's attracted to women.

A dead fiancée.

"Sorry, Tom."

"Don't be."

Another lightning, another thunder, more heavy rain and Collins is already starting to feel the cold reach through his layers of clothes.

"I'm not. Fuck, I'm relieved!"

Farrier runs a hand over his face.

"I'm– fuck."

"It's okay," Collins offers uselessly.

"She's dead and I'm relieved I don' have to marry her. How fucked up is that?"

Collins thinks he hears a cry, and when Farrier tries to look away again he knows he heard a cry, and he doesn't let him turn around and steps forward to hold him in a tight embrace instead. Farrier wraps his arms around him tightly like he'd been waiting for Collins to hug him.

"I'm fucking horrible," he says, words muffled in the fabric of Collins' suit and sniffing through a runny nose. Jack keeps a hand rubbing at Farrier's back in what he hopes is an empathetic touch.

"No you're not, you're not."

They stay like that, holding onto one another against the trunk of a tree that's doing a really poor job of sheltering them from the rain at this point, but is better than nothing. Farrier doesn't really cry, stubborn as he is even in this state of inebriation, and after a while Collins feels his stubbly chin brushing against the side of his neck and smells the scent of alcohol again.

"I like it when you use my name," Farrier mumbles, words still muffled and burrowing his nose in Collins' shirt like it belongs there.

Collins' only thought at that moment, frozen and unable to say anything back, is that Drunk Farrier is a real piece of work. He thinks he understands, now, why he doesn't drink.

[dragonindigo245]

Project [REDACTED]

Heyo!!! This is a WIP story I'm doing with the amazing @pawton-meowity! Hope you enjoy! The odd numbered chapters will be posted on their Tumblr while the even ones will be on mine. Feel free to request to be added to the tag list for updates! Thanks! 💙🖤💙

Tw: Remus being Remus, blood

————

Chapter 6: P.O.V of Remus

“Oh! Remus! Heya kiddo!”

I turned my attention away from my fidget cube and turned my head towards the voice. Patton was next to the bench I was sprawled across with a smile on his face.

“Hey Daddy-o! I assumed you would be in your classes learning about all the ways you can kill someone!” I cheerfully replied. He made a noise of discomfort and sat at the end of the bench I didn’t take up.

“Well I was in class learning about how to HELP people but it let out early. I have around ten to fifteen minutes to hang out.”

“You know you’ll have to teach me about weak points and stuff. It is rather interesting. You could probably kill someone in a hundred different ways!!!”

Thunk.

“The fuck?!?” I exclaimed. Patton was probably thinking the same thing without the colorful language.

I didn’t have to wonder for long until a fucking bird flopped down on my head. The odds of that had to be ridiculously low.

Patton screamed and jumped up, freaking out about the bird. Honestly what was the big deal even? It’s a bird?? Actually… we could make it a rotisserie bird...

“OH MY GOODNESS GRACIOUS WHAT THE FUDGE STRIPE?!?” Patton finally managed to say. Good to know he can say actual words again.

“I know! We’re so lucky to have a bird land on me!” I said while grabbing the bird from the tip of its wing. It screeched, unfortunately not dead yet, and wiggled around.

“REMUS! DON’T JUST HOLD IT LIKE THAT!” Patton scolded. He took the bird from my clutches and held it like a puppy.

“Aww but Patton! I want it!”

“Then you should learn to take care of a bird before you get one!”

“What? I already know how to prepare it. It needs to be dead fi-”

“YOU WANT TO EAT THE BABY?!?”

“Yes?”

Patton stared at me in shock. Okay… that’s fair. Patton dismissed it with a sigh and turned his attention to the bird. It was a little brown feathered bird that left its feathers all over the place in distress. Shame… could have made a good meal.

“Well if you’re not going to eat it then what’s the point?” I rebutted.

He sighed again and held the bird close to his chest. “Help it, obviously!” Patton said with a small smile.

He reached for his right sleeve but his fingers didn’t quite make it before I sprang forward.

“Don’t risk it on a bird you idiot!” I said in a low and threatening voice. He didn’t seem to have a visual reaction to my threat besides looking back at the bird.

“But Remus! It’s a hurt little robin! I know I don’t have a grip on my po-”

“Don’t talk about it either you fucking moron! What did we say about their eyes being everywhere?” I growled.

I must have shifted slightly because my position from when I sprang forward because I fell off the bench with a yelp of surprise. I hit the concrete mostly unharmed but on the way down I bit my tongue hard. Why does this only happen to me?

“Excuse me gentlemen.” Welp that cut me out of the picture. Whoever that is isn’t talking to me.

“Oh! Hello… sir!” Patton nervously answered. Okay maybe they were talking to us.

I looked up before flinging myself backwards. A burn bro. They eyed me before turning to Patton.

“I didn’t mean to intrude but you said something about risking something on a bird? What did you mean by that?” They asked casually like they weren’t here to kidnap Patton.

“He meant wasting his time asshole. Stop sneaking around like a Scooby Doo villain.” I spat.

“Hey R... shut the fuck up. You are of no use with your mush for brains.” They growled back.

“Whoa hey can we just calm down? Surely we can just have a calm, quiet conversation?” Patton attempted.

The guy cleared his throat and nodded. “Ah yes. My apologies. That was highly unprofessional of me. May I ask what the risk was in helping the bird?”

Patton smiled an extremely fake smile and shrugged. “Oh well there’s absolutely no risk whatsoever. It’s just a bird that we are going to help very normally.” What in the god damn fuck Patton. You have single handedly screwed us.

“Mhm… say may I ask your first and last name?” They asked.

Fuck. Damn. Shit. Ass.

“Uhhh welllllll… my name is…. Burnnnnnnnnnnie Robinnnnnnson. Burnie Robinson.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“ABSOLUTELY! A hundred and one percent!!! Burnie Moral Robinson at your service!”

What. The. Fuck.

“Okay… Burnie. Where is your dorms?”

“I’M NOT ALLOWED TO ANSWER THAT Haha! You see here it’s kinda private information and I SURE AS HEAVEN DON’T KNOW YOU!!! Stranger danger and all that!!”

“Okay that’s fair… have a good afternoon Burnie.”

Holy shit that worked. OH MY SATAN THAT WORKED!!!!

The burn bro walked away suspiciously BUT STILL WALKED AWAY!!

“Oh my goodness that worked…” Patton said baffled. “I got away with that? I actually got away with that.���

“Yeah you did for now! You have landed us in hot water! They are going to keep asking you questions until they get who they’re looking for! All for a BIRD!”

“... but it’s a baby…”

I groaned and put a hand up to my mouth, remembering the blood still floating around in there.

“It’s not a baby. Babies are little gross mini humans. That is a feathered, walking lump of meat. How are you even attached to it?”

“Because it’s CUTE!”

I spat out a bit of blood from my mouth so I could reply but Patton screamed once more.

“OH MY GOODNESS YOU'RE BLEEDING?!? ARE YOU OKAY?!?” He screamed out.

“Wait someone’s bleeding?” Logan yelled from behind me. He was far away from us still but within hearing distance.

I sighed and grabbed my fidget cube that was now on the floor. “I’m fine. I cannot understand how you two are so… considerate. HEY! You two should pork!!!” I exclaimed.

Logan and Patton exchanged looks of confusion.

“What does protein have to do with a person’s well being? Logan said while joining his side.

“Protein is an important factor in a diet, you know that Logan.” Patton chimed in, “But cows are too cute to eat!”

“Yes Patton, we all know you’re vegetarian, but pork is a pig based product, not a cow based product…” Logan sighed.

“PIGS ARE CUTE TOO!” Patton exclaimed. I shook my head as the two glasses gays were totally missing the context of my joke.

“You two are so innocent… I meant you should TOTALLY FUCK.” When I clarified my original statement’s meaning, the two stared at me for a moment. Logan’s face showed slight shock but mostly confusion, while Patton went red as the blood I just spat onto the ground. Patton couldn’t make eye contact with either of us but after a moment, Logan was able to regain his composure and fix his glasses.

“Remus… I don’t believe that is how an optimal courtship should be conducted. Not that I have much experience in that department… but I assume you don’t either if that is how you approach people.”

“Oh, so you’re a virgin,” I cackled, then looked back at Patton and his bird, “then I assume you are too?”

Patton said nothing, just gently pet the bird.

“Patton, just ignore him.” Logan sighed, rolling his eyes at me.

“Okay… that sounds like… like a good plan. I’ll see you later Logy…” Patton squeaked and hurried off, the bird still clutched in his hands.

Now all that remained was the fucking nerd. Nah he’s boring. I’m getting outta here.

“Welp goodbye glasses gay! Enjoy your night with Patton!” I winked with the last word and ran off, leaving a Windows error in Logan’s place.

I skipped off to go back inside the college however the halls were flooded. Trying to find the others would be like trying to find a needle in a haystack. Good thing I found a needle in a haystack before.

I pulled open the door and inserted myself into the crowds of people. Most of the students were polite and didn’t do what I did… push my way around people. I didn’t slide by anyone but straight up, or as Logan and Patton should do, gay up, decided to ram into them. Most people flung themselves out of my path as best as they could at least.

I spotted the top of Virgil’s purple hair and ducked around to reach him. He was close to the bathrooms so that helps our situation.

I reached him and before Virgil had a say in the matter I pulled him into the bathrooms. Surprisingly, nobody was in here besides us two.

“What the fuck Remus?” Virgil asked colorfully.

“Shush! This is important! They’re here!”

“Jesus Christ Remus, you don’t mean-”

“Yup. Burn bro. Patton and I just had a run in. By the way, don’t ever ask Patton to lie about anything.”

“Okay cool. Can we get back to the part where THEY are HERE on SCHOOL GROUNDS?!? What even happened? Wait are you bleeding?”

“Why is everyone obsessing over that? I’m fine! Just hit the pavement.”

“So they didn’t hit you… right? I swear to god they better not have.”

“No! All they did was almost catch Patton-”

“THEY FUCKING WHAT?!? ALREADY?!?”

“Yup. That’s a downside. They are skeptical at least. Hey at least Patton’s in danger and not already captured!”

“You say that like it’s a good thing! Jesus fucking Christ I need to get to Patton!”

Before I could say anything else Virgil ran out of the bathrooms.

[friendlyunclej]

Bloody Nights Ahead

Prologue

     My father’s on another one of his tirades while swinging around a bottle of his own liquor. I’ve just walked in to the house, bruised and beaten, carrying my barely conscious brother who’s in worse shape than me. My mother is probably drugged out of her mind in the bathroom, trying to phase out what’s going on. My father is screaming about my brother and I leaving blood on the floor. He doesn’t care about why my brother’s covered in so much blood that it’s hard to recognize him, like every other night. He doesn’t care that my mother is one wrong pinch away from not waking up again, like every other weekend. He doesn’t care that I can barely see out of my right eye, like every night I leave the house. He cares about the fact that I can’t put sheets or towels down on the floor to keep the blood from soaking into the carpet and he’s concerned about it enough to scream my ears off instead of doing it himself. I try my best to let his string of insults and meaningless screaming flow in one ear and out the other as I bring my brother to his room and drop him on to his bed to rest.      With my father still blowing his gasket, I calmly close the door to my brother’s room as I make my way to the bathroom. I greet my mother as I gently take the needle from her hand, remove the belt around her arm, and slowly guide her back to her bedroom to tuck her in for the night. She makes me the same promise she always has about cleaning herself up as I turn the lights off and gently leave the door a few inches open.      My father is now in my younger brother’s room, screaming at him about why he refuses to confess who beat him into hammered shit. As with every other time, the less my brother answers, the more likely my father is to give him a few more lumps. I walk to the kitchen and grab the first aid kit from under the sink before returning to my brother’s room as he begins to talk back. My father is beginning to get rough with him, pushing his head around as he repeats the same question over and over.

     “Who did you piss off, Shag?” my father shouts, shoving his face towards the ground.

     “I asked you not to call me that,” my little brother says as he picks his head back up while continuing to avoid eye contact.

     Taking a long drink of liquor, my father slaps him to the ground before demanding again, “Who did you piss off, Shag?”

     Putting the first aid kit down, I let my frustration boil over as I yell, “Hey, asshole! Can I patch up my brother now?”

     In a flash of movement. my father grabs me by the neck and pins me against the wall about ten feet behind us in the hallway. I’m buried about half a foot into the drywall and it’s a miracle that I still have the strength to struggle. No matter how much I kick, punch, and try to force myself free, he holds me still as if I’m a rat under his boot.

     Taking a deep swig of his bottle, he leans in close and spits, “What did you just call me, Clown?”

     Unable to wipe his spittle from my face, I say, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to call you an asshole,” his grip lightens as I finish, “I meant to say ‘Blood Puppet’.”

     I give him a shitty grin as his grip tightens. I nearly black out before he drops me to the ground. Gasping for air, I can barely make out what he says as he returns to my brother’s room.

     He says, “I’ll deal with you after I finish disciplining your brother.”

     I force myself upright against the wall as I barely manage to cough out, “Were you always this much of a dick or was it the vamp blood that really did it?”

     His footsteps stop just on the inside of the room. I drag myself to my feet as I continue poking, “I just can’t see my mom being into a Grade-A Douchebag without some vamp blood to help sway her decision making, you know?”

     He turns around and slowly walks back out. He stops directly in front of me as I continue saying, “I mean, be honest. Was it the vamp leash around your neck that helped you on your path to become Number 1 Shithead of Ustrus or was it just nature’s true calling for you to grab that title?”

     Still keeping my arrogant smirk as best I could, I know what’s about to happen. My brother can’t take this beating in his current state without ending up on a stretcher or with a white sheet over him. My mother can’t take this beating because she’s too high to even comprehend what’s going on. As for me, I’ve been taking this beating for the past twenty years, so it’s always a good bet that I won’t keel over from it if I haven’t already. Honestly, it would be a mercy to die from this ass-whooping. But, if any instances from the past are a good indication of what’s to follow, I’ll be faking a smile tomorrow as I try not to succumb to my wounds while working for my wages. All I can do is wait for the beating and hope that at least someone drops a tear if I die. My mind is trying to figure out who would care if I passed away one night when my father’s bottle shatters against my head.      Interrupting my train of thought, I fly to the floor and skid into the kitchen about twelve feet down the hall. I barely maintain consciousness as two of my ribs crack from a kick. Next, I feel two fists smash my lower back and I bounce off the ground like a rubber ball. I curl up in pain and look back to see a right hook crack my jaw. As I roll around, I barely manage to dodge his left fist and return with a boot to his mouth. It splits his bottom lip, but it barely fazes him. He’s still human like me, but just a bit improved. As a Ghoul, I don’t know if he can actually get tired. I just know that he gets tired of beating me up after exactly twenty-six minutes. That’s all I need to last for him to let me patch my wounds. At this point in my life, I don’t know if it’d be better to die or not but my body won’t give up on me even when I do.      Once he tuckers himself out and returns to his chair to sleep, I drag myself back to my brother’s room and begin trying to stitch him up with the first aid kit. With how beaten I am, it practically takes me all night to take care of him, leaving maybe an hour or two for myself. The only thing I manage to stitch up properly before passing out is the laceration across my left temple from when the bottle smashed against my head.      Laying asleep, the same apparition comes to visit me as every other night. Its form changes each time it appears aside from two factors. The voice stays the same, guttural and filled with gravel. The dark eyes are the same, lifeless and devoid of color. Tonight, it’s a withered man dressed in a sharp black suit with a monocle and a top hat, wielding some sort of weapon as a walking cane. I don’t know who it is, but it always says the same thing: “And here the story begins of Carnegie Gunvald, the worthless man who’s worth more dead than alive!”      I can’t say that I disagree with him.

A Death Worth Living

     “Heyo, Carnie!” my best friend shouts, racing to me from the front door of her apartment complex, “You coming with me to the Fights tonight or making me go alone?”

     Limping down the steps toward our train, I tell her, “Ylva, if I still have the strength to, I’ll tag along for a few drinks.”

     Noticing that I’m having trouble walking, she asks, “Your old man kicked your ass again, huh? What for this time?”

     Holding my still cracked ribs, I nod as I say, “Little bro had a run in with the gambling bookies at the bar. I had to fight them off him again. I didn’t get there until after he got the shit beat out of him.”

     “So you fought them after your brother was already unconscious?” she questions.

     “I was just trying to pick him up. They started throwing hands,” I lie, trying to make it seem like I never antagonized them.

     “Why do I feel like you egged them on to fight?” she tells me with a know-it-all expression.

     “Look, I went there to pick up my brother-”

     “But you saw them still drinking and laughing at the bar...”

     “And I may have shared a few words-”

     “In order to piss them off so they would put their fists up...”

     “Then I returned home.”

     “Half beaten to shit, knowing that your father was going to beat you down even further. Yeah, I know how your nights go.”

     Damn, she knows me too well.

     “Damn, you know me too well.”

     Smiling to herself, I smile a little too as we reach the bottom of the stairs to see the train to work racing off without us. We start racing after it like we’re eight years old again. Well, to be accurate, she races after it like we were eight years old again while I hobble twenty feet behind her like I was eighty years old. In a matter of seconds, I fall to my knees with one hand on my ribs and the other barely holding me up from slamming my face into the concrete. She almost catches up to the train before jogging back to pick me up.

     We watch the train disappear into the distance as she says, “Maybe we skip work today, huh? I know some tricks that can help you heal faster.”

     “Do those tricks also come with today’s full paycheck? I don’t work today, I don’t put in my full hours. Not putting in my full hours means not enough money for the house,” I tell her as she helps me on to my feet, “I can’t afford that. Can you...you know...give me a lift?”

     “I thought you said it’s degrading when I do that?” she responds folding her arms with a smirk.

     “It’s more degrading to not have a home,” I respond quickly, motioning for her to turn around, “Just, come on, I know you werewolves are strong and fast. It’ll be like when we were kids except...vice versa, you know.”

     She turns around and stands up straight, waiting for me to hop on. I painfully work my way up on to her shoulders and I cling to her back like a damn koala bear. She laughs a little as I wrap my arms around her.

     “What’s so funny, Ylva?” I say, straddling her back.

     “Nothing,” she responds between stifling giggles, “I just expected you to be heavier with how much wider you are. You feel like a parrot on my should right now.”

     I mockingly laugh back to her before saying, “Can we just get on with this, please? We’re going to be late.”

     With a final giggle, she starts running off with me wrapped around her back. Oddly enough, she’s actually running faster with me on her shoulders. We’re even keeping up with some of the vehicles on the streets. She races through half the city, bounding over fences like it’s track and field. It’s more impressive once you realize the size differences between us.      Both her and I are the same height, maybe less than a centimeter in difference. It’s the weight that’s odd between us. I’m built like a brick wall with shoulders almost as wide as a door frame. She used to call me the “Checkpoint Attendant” back when I played football in school. It’s because I’m wide enough to be a barricade and I never let anyone past me. I used to call her “Night Wolf”. The first reason is obvious: She’s a werewolf. Well, Garou, I should say, since most of her kind don’t like being called a werewolf. The second reason being that she never seemed to sleep. When she wasn’t doing hurdles during the day, she was partying her ass off at night, usually with me in tow. She’s always been athletic, so she’s always been about half my width. Despite spending more time outside than inside, her skin is so pale that most people expect her to be a shut-in. Maybe that’s why everyone is surprised to find out that I’m the one who’s usually locked up at home all the time, despite my darker complexion. Honestly, though, if it wasn’t for her, I’d probably never get out the house and away from my family. Without that group of assholes holding me back, I might have-

     “Hey, are you narrating your life again, Carnie? You’ve been pretty silent.”

     In all of the two decades we’ve been friends, I still don’t know how she does that.

     “How do you do that? Know when I’m narrating to myself?”

     “Well, first, you always go dead silent. Second, you always get this real constipated stare going for some reason,” she says, scrunching her face into a pained expression.

     “I don’t do that,” I tell her while making the same face.

     She lets out a soft giggle as she dashes past a blaring car horn. I let out a deep sigh. She never would have said yes. Even if she had, I probably would have broke it off before she got her hopes up. She deserves better than me, anyway. After all, I’m a twenty-five year old who still gets his ass handed to him by his father for trying to take care of his gambling drunkard of a little brother and keeping his junkie mother from nicking the wrong vein. I ain’t worth a damn.

     “Heyo, Mother Gaia to Carnegie! You still with me?” Ylva shouts, snapping me out of my phase.

     “Huh, what’s up? Are we here?” I ask her, still crawling out of my self pity.

     “Yeah, now hop off before someone sees you koala-ing me,” she says as I painfully drop down from her back.

     “I’ll pick you up in my car so we can go to Noz’s Bar after work, okay? My family should have it fixed by then,” she remarks, hoping that I’ll give the same answer as I always do.

     “I think I’ll just head home. Gotta give these bones time to mend,” I tell her, limping towards my driving hammer and picking up a number of heavy stakes.

     “No, no, no,” she says, folding her arms and stepping alongside me, “You’re going to the bar with me. We’re medicating your pain with liquor, then we’re going to the Fights so I can kick some shit out of some assholes.”

     I click my tongue and shake my head as I turn around and begin walking towards the unfinished train tracks. I start walking away from her before she slowly strolls past me and steps in my path. I look up to her eyes and see her usually smiling face replaced with a look of frustration and concern.

     “I will carry you out of here if you don’t agree,” she says, moving her hands to her hips.

     I smile a little and try to tell her to make me just as the pain in my ribs sends a shock through my body, prompting me to ask, “How long is that ritual to help me heal faster?”

     “Why do you ask?”

     “I really need a fight tonight and I can’t fight in this condition.”

     With a mischievous smile, she says, “We’re leaving a half hour early, then.”

     Before I can respond, she dashes off. I make my way down to the end of the unfinished railroad line and begin adjusting stakes to the track. I get through most of the day unhindered. It’s ridiculously slow and excruciatingly painful, but I get enough of the railroad put in that I don’t slow anything down. I get close to the end of the work day when my wounds from the previous night take over and I can barely pick up my hammer. I continue trying to work anyway, knowing that I still need a good few rails hammered in before leaving to get my full paycheck. I try to take a quick breather but get interrupted by some Half-Blood overseers kicking me back on to my feet. If that wasn’t worse enough, it’s now getting to be only a skeleton crew and only a few remain, mostly being the more talkative sort. As per usual, the assholes I work with begin talking shit about me hanging around a Garou so much.

     “So, tell us something, Clown Boy. We already know that she wears the pants between y’all two. What I want to know is if she digs up bones for you, too?” Eron asks, a dipshit smile smeared across his face.

     “Nah, nah. I bet you that the only bone she plays with is his,” Tony responds as he gives a nasally chortle.

     “His bone? Big bastard doesn’t have a single bone in his body. If he did, he’d actually talk back,” Eron says again, trying to egg me on. 

     “C’mon, real talk, though, my man,” Tony picks up, “Since she’s a wolf, we know she likes it doggystyle. What’s it like taking it from behind for her, though, ‘cause you sure as hell ain’t giving it to her, right?

     Tired of hearing their remarks, I fire back, “Honestly, you’re the only one here who would know what that felt like, Anthony. After all, most of your week is spent dick riding Erondale here.”

     “Oh snap, the man bares his teeth, finally,” Tony responds, “Eron, what you think about that?”

     Just as I try to swing my driving hammer, Eron places his hammer on top to block mine before saying, “I think that he’s been spying on us.”

     We share a laugh together as Eron slams my stake in for me. Tony walks down to the next one I placed and drives that one in for me as well.

     I wince in pain as I tell them, “C’mon, that’s not necessary. I can handle my work, guys.”

     “Hold your hammer above your head, then,” Tony says, testing my words.

     I try my best to lift my hammer above my head but it just clatters to the ground as my wounds from last night sends another wave of pain through my body.

     “Yeah, that’s what I thought. Head out early with your girl, man,” Tony continues to insist, taking the stakes from my hand.

     Reaching for my hammer, Eron tells me, “Ylva told us about all the shit you go through. Take the night and heal up. Can’t have one of the best human fighters in the city dying on us.”

     I hold my ribs together as I turn around and begin to walk back to the front entrance. At the very least, Eron deserves a shovel across the jaw for calling me ‘Clown Boy’, but I let it slide considering the condition I’m in. Yeah, they’re still assholes, but at least they’re decent assholes tonight.

     Before I get too far away, Eron shouts to me, “Hey, if you come to the Fights tonight, we can see about making you into a real beast.”

     Not understanding what he means and not caring enough to ask, I just lazily wave back to him as I continue limping to the start of today’s track. Once I get there, Ylva’s already waiting for me with a backpack on her shoulder.

     “Wow, look at that,” she says, checking the position of the sun, “You didn’t come half an hour early. You came a whole hour early. Guess that means that Eron and Tony listened to me.”

     Taking a deep sigh, I tell her, “Yeah, they may make me join their cult later, though. They talked about giving me a way to become ‘a real beast’, whatever the hell that means.”

     “Might be worth listening to,” she says as she loops her arm around mine, “Anything’s better than a human around here, right?”

     “Yeah, anything,” I say with a glum look on my face.

     She squeezes my arm as she tells me, “Anything but that, dickhead.”

     Closing my eyes for a quick moment, I simply respond, “Yeah, right,” as I pull myself into her vehicle.

     She flips into her convertible like a gymnast and I put up the number ten with my hands like a scorecard. She kicks her vehicle into gear and starts bolting through the city towards the nearest thicket of trees. After speeding through our steam powered metropolis, I follow her to a clearing deep inside of the forest where the nearest trees form a circle around us. She digs just long enough to make a shallow hole about my size and she tells me to lay in it.

     “Hmmm...this isn’t how I expected to go out, honestly,” I joke with her as I lay down in the soft earth, “I was betting my old man executes me or, you know, a vampire comes looking for a new blood bag.”

     “Oh, please, you’re not dying here. It’s part of the rite,” she says as she begins shoving dirt back on top of me, “Now, lie still until I dig you out of here.”

     I do as she says and she proceeds to place a number of totems and artifacts around me. She howls as the dusk sky turns to night. She begins to hum loudly, as if speaking in some odd language. She steps on to the dirt over my body. I expect to be screaming in pain, but it’s almost as if she’s floating over me. I barely feel her weight through the dirt and what little weight I do feel is comfortable, if not euphoric. The only truly painful thing about this endeavor is getting aroused by her performing these "rites” naked. She says that it helps her better connect to Gaia. The first time I was with her during one of these was just after sophomore year. She was practicing what she called a “Rite of Cleansing” on me. I don’t know if it cleansed anything. We just went out for burgers and shakes afterward. I was walking pretty awkward on the way back to the city.      Unlike back then, I actually feel something this time. It’s painful at first as I feel my ribs pop back into place. The stitches in my head break and slip out. I even feel some disks in my back slide into proper alignment. Once it’s done, I feel better than I have in months.

     I dig myself out of my small grave as Ylva gets redressed and I tell her, “So, that’s what the Garou do, huh? Healing rituals under the moon and stuff like that?”

     “Yeah, something like that,” she responds, getting her overcoat and gloves on, “Let’s get moving, Carnie. We’ve got some drinks to kill and some blood to spill.”

     As I hand her back all of her ritual pieces, I ask, “Can...uh...you change people? Like vampires do.”

     For the first time in all the time I’ve known her, she freezes in her tracks. She takes a long deep pause and a very long breath. She throws all of her trinkets into her bag before answering me.

     “Uh...no...not that I know of,” she says, hesitant to answer.

     Suspecting her to not be telling me everything, I continue to ask, “You’d tell me if there was one, right?”

     Directly after asking, she walks off toward the car as she replies, “Carnegie, it isn’t that fun being one of us. Believe me, you don’t want to be like this.”

     “Well, I don’t know,” I say, brushing dirt off the back of my head, “You seem pretty great compared to the other douchebags in the city.”

     Nervously squeezing her fingers, she tells me, “Having to constantly fight back an inner Rage isn’t ‘pretty great’ to me, but thanks, I guess.”

     She always says “I guess” when she’s bothered.

     “You know that you always say ‘I guess’ when you’re bothered, right?”

     “Then let’s change the subject.”

     “Yeah, let’s change the subject.”

     We awkwardly walk back to her car in silence, neither of us being able to think of much else to talk about on the way. Usually, we share silences pretty happily. It’s rare for us to be stunted in silence together. We hop into her car and she starts driving to the scrap yard where Noz’s Bar is located. It’s a rundown bar in comparison to the types of places that are more commonly run by vampires.      All of the places run by Kindred in the city are usually much more high end. Beautiful brass and gold plating everywhere with architecture that could hold the world on its infrastructure. Noz’s Bar is almost the complete opposite. It’s covered in rust and built out of makeshift, ill-fitting scraps of metal. The outer shell is only a cover up for probably the single place in the whole city that actually makes me feel comfortable. It could be the endless amount of drinks or the consensual spilling of blood, but something about it makes me feel at peace. Kind of wish that that a bloodsucker didn’t run the place, though. They’re okay enough bosses until they need a fresh snack, but no one likes being looked down upon no matter the situation. If it wasn’t for them ruling the world, I would have told them to shove a stake where the sun doesn’t shine years ago.

     “So,” Ylva shoots, interrupting my inner monologue, “Is that oh-so-scary ghost still haunting your dreams?”

     With a raised eyebrow, I say, “Yeah...came to me looking like a man in a suit this time. What of it?”

     “I could always ask Gaia for you,” she says, taking her eyes off the road to look at me, “She tends to know a lot.”

     I just shrug it off and go back to watching the city fly by us. It’s only a few moments before she asks another question.

     Taking a deep gulp and readjusting in her seat, she inquires about the ghost’s statements, “Does he still tell you what he always has?”

     Glancing back to her and noticing that she’s nervously pinching her fingers again, I decide not to lie and say, “Yeah...same thing he’s been telling me since he showed up.”

     Beginning to wallow in self pity, she slams me out of it by saying, “It’s bullshit, you know that right? You’re worth more living. You always have, Carnie.”

     Tired of having her save me from my constant self-worth issues, I change the subject, “So, do you know who you’re fighting tonight?”

     Clicking her tongue, she smiles as she says, “A Garou from my own tribe named ‘Scars’. He and I got into a tiff about what Gaia’s true desire for us are. We’re settling it the good old fashioned way.”

     “How good is he in a fight?” I ask.

     Licking her teeth with a bloodthirsty grimace, she responds, “Oh, he’s one of the best in the tribe. Going to be fun trading claws with him.”

     We laugh for a little bit together as I say, “Got any idea who else is going to be fighting? I feel like getting my knuckles roughed up.”

     “They always have someone there worth fighting,” she says, eyeing me up and down, “We’ll be able to find someone willing to fight you. Want me to head back to your house so you can don your usual colors?”

     Taking a moment to consider if it would be worth pissing off my old man, I smile as I tell her, “Why not? Worse thing that happens is my father tosses a bottle at me.”

     “Fat chance,” Ylva says with a smile as she turns the car towards my house.

     It doesn’t take very long for her to drive us to my place. There’s no enforced speed limits and, if there were, she wouldn’t care about them, anyway. Once at my house, I walk in, expecting to find my father screaming at something again. As it turns out, he’s not home so we walk in without being disturbed. Passing by my brother’s and mother’s rooms, I notice that the former is gone and the latter is already sleeping. Ylva waits outside my room while I quickly change clothes into my usual fighting colors and walk out.

     On our way back to the car, Ylva remarks, “You know that if you don’t want to be called ‘Clown Boy’, it probably doesn’t help when you wear bright purple to beat people’s heads in, right?”

     Closing the door behind us, I remark, “Eh, I kind of like the irony. After all, what stings the pride more than getting your ass handed to you by a ‘clown’?”

     Hopping into her car, she agrees while speeding through the streets towards the scrap yard. We trade smiles before she lets loose a few howls at the moon. The other Garou in the city respond with the night finally upon us and we find our way to Noz’s Bar. The outside of the building still has people rushing to make their way into the place, nearly getting tetanus scraping past the walls. Although the exterior is nothing get excited over, the inside is a work of genius. The bar is a fifteen foot tall wall that spans the entire hundred foot width of the building. It’s got eight people behind it at all times, and not only does it separate us from what all the rumors claim to be an orgy room behind it, but it even holds the second floor up. Above us, Noz looks down at the revelry, only really coming down to enjoy front row seats to the Fights. The twenty to thirty servers working the floor are all dressed up in burlesque or lingerie, both the men and the women. It serves humans, Garou, Vamps, even animals from time to time. All of the staff are either Half-Bloods or Ghouls, according to the owner. The owner himself is a Nosferatu, whom some say could be one of the oldest around with secrets from when the city was first being constructed. He usually has some of the best women upstairs with him, too. Surprising, considering that he’s pretty damn painful to look at.      Ylva and I step into the establishment and immediately beeline for the bar. We order our usual, which is about ten shots of liquor. We divide them up equally, clinking glasses together before knocking the first one back like it’s medicine. She howls in celebration and the entire place howls alongside her. Seems like a good number of her tribe came in from the outskirts of the city to watch her whoop this dude’s ass.      She and I down our second drinks just as the music starts playing and Ylva is feeling it. The whole floor is jumping and dancing around as tunes start filling the entire room courtesy of two enormous gramophone organs. They’re two massive organs, modified to play music from working gramophones connected to each separate key. The two organs have foot pedals that can record the last nine key strokes and then play them on repeat, allowing the organists to either join the dancers, pick up another instrument, or mix even more sounds in. Right now, the current beat is a hard-hitting and chaotic mixture of low brass notes, high tempo flutes, and insane drums. The sparse vocals thrown in match each tempo slam and tickles every body of the room into action.      Ylva is getting wilder and wilder, dancing around and whipping her hair around like a weapon. I’m leaning against the bar, just enjoying the sounds of the bar and tapping my left foot to the music as I watch her begin to skip out to the dance floor. She holds my gaze with hers and glides away as she motions for me to follow with her fingers. I stay back and laugh as I watch her dance her ass off. She sticks her tongue out at me and begins to sway her hips back and forth, jokingly licking her lips to try to drag me out on to the floor with her. Before long, I cave into the temptation, walking out to her with a shot in each of my hands. Thanks to my size, people naturally dance around me instead of into me. We down our third round and I’m too loose not to join in with her. I’m lanky and awkward. She’s fiery and precise. I get lost in futile dreams again, lying to myself just long enough to lose track of her.      It takes me a few moments but I find her talking to probably the ugliest son of a bitch I’ve ever seen. The giant engraved belt buckle indicates that he’s the owner of this establishment, the one and only Noz. The rumors weren’t kidding about Nosferatu getting the ass end of the Vampire deal. Noz is wider than me, skinnier than Ylva, and almost a half foot taller than both of us. His skin is emaciated and covered in gangrenous veins that stretch throughout his whole body. The veins look to be filled with some dull green fluid. His teeth looks like someone tried to curb stomp the back of his head with them placed on the curb but didn’t have the strength to get the job done. His eyes are a bright red, deep inlaid within a head that’s completely devoid of hair. He’s wearing a sharp black suit with grungy aviator goggles around his neck and a crumpled top hat that’s slightly off-kilter. He seems to be using a makeshift sickle as a cane to help his limp.      The man standing next to Ylva is also talking to Noz and he seems to be a slightly older man who I’d guess would be in his forties or fifties. He looks to be wearing piecemeal battle armor, cobbled together by layers of fabric and furs. He’s got war scars on his arms, neck, and the right side of his face. One of the scars is a deep cut through his right eye, which looks like he should be blind in because of. As the conversation continues, they both seem to get pretty wound up, eventually leaving the discussion while disappointingly tossing their arms into the sky. The old man, who I’m assuming is Scars, walks back to a large group that’s dressed similarly while Ylva walks back to me. She grabs my hand and pulls me back to our drinks at the bar.

     “What’s wrong?” I ask as she furiously downs her next shot.

     I down my own shot as she answers, “I’m not fighting tonight.”

     She slams back another shot and I follow suit as I say, “I’m pretty sure that we can convince the bloodsucker to reschedule the fight between you and Scars for tomorrow. He’s missing out on not letting you two duke it out.”

     Visibly upset, she orders a bottle while replying, “Scars is still fighting tonight. I’m the one being benched, Carnie!”

     “Who the hell is he fighting then?”

     “I don’t know! That Leech won’t tell me!”

     “Fuck him, then! Let’s get the hell out of here! You don’t fight, I don’t fight.”

     I pick up the bottle, toss down our payment with a tip, and pull her towards the front entrance of the bar. I notice that Noz and Scars are having another conversation, which the bloodsucker seems pretty damn smiley about. Taking a swig from the bottle, I tell Ylva to wait a moment as I march my way towards them.

     “Hey, Leper!” I scream, turning the whole bar silent.

     The music screeches to a halt. The dancing drops to a stand still. The servers stop in their tracks. The bartenders all place their cups down. All eyes are on me and the head vampire, who I just insulted.

     Not giving a damn, I continue saying, “You have any idea what you just missed out on? Having two of the best Garou in a whole tribe fight each other? You have any idea how glorious that would have been?”

     Chuckling a bit before approaching, Noz speaks with a deep baritone voice filled with enough gravel to pave a sidewalk, affirming, “Oh, I know exactly what I did, young man. I prevented two of perhaps the best fighters to have ever walked under my roof from tearing each other to shreds. They would have ruined each other so bad that they wouldn’t be able to fight for another month or two. However, do you know what YOU did?”

     “I believe I just called out a Nosferatu in his own bar. What of it?”

     “You see, this is why you humans are at the bottom of the food chain nowadays. No respect unless it’s beaten into you. If I wanted, I could have every person in here tear pieces of flesh from you until you weren’t anything but a smear.”

     He raises his left hand and every Half-Blood and Ghoul in the room drops what’s in their hand. Every vampire bares their fangs at me while every Ghoul loads or draws a weapon. He drops his left hand and they all calm down, returning to their pacifistic jobs. I don’t bat an eye.

     “Yet,” he begins, returning his attention to our conversation, “You don’t seem to care. Is that it? You don’t care about your life, kiddo?”

     With liquid courage fueling me, I exclaim, “The only thing I don’t care about is a limp-wristed, good-for-nothing, tongue-biting, plague-faced Leech and his army of dolls. Ylva and I came here to fight. Her whole tribe came out here to see that fight. I came out here to spill blood and I’m starting to want yours. You give her Scars and I’ll take on any one of your damned Blood Puppets or Vampire-Lites. Any creature, dead or alive, I’ll fight right here, right now!”

     With a menacing smile, he repeats, “ So ‘you came here to spill blood and you’re starting to want mine’? You really have a death wish, don’t you, kiddo?”

     He swings two fingers of his left hand at me and two Ghouls dive from the bar, racing towards me. I slam my fist into one of their jaws, laying them out. The other one tackles me to the ground, trying to choke me. I break her thumb back and drag her up to her feet. I grab a nearby wine bottle and crack her skull open as I smash it over her head. 

     I toss her to her boss’ feet as I scream, “We keeping the fights dirty or going into the cage? Your call, Old Man!”

     The entire room cheers and shouts in a triumphant hurrah. The music starts back up with guitarists playing their tools of trade, modified to be attached to steam whistles. The music playing crashes into everyone’s chest like war drums on the horizon. My heart starts slamming against my rib cage harder than I ever thought possible. I can feel my blood pounding my head like sledgehammers against concrete. I’m getting worked up to a point of no return. There’s more adrenaline in my veins than blood at this point. I’m higher than I’ve ever been and I don’t want to come down.

     Ylva is cheering me on as I stare down Noz before I ask, “So, who the hell am I fighting?”

     “There’s a fire in you that I like, boy,” he says with a gnarled smile, “I think I have the perfect battle for you.”

     Waiting to hear his announcement, Ylva and I toss the bottle to her tribe as she squeezes me so tight that it feels like my back is about to snap in half. I lift her up to squeeze back and she kicks her feet in the air, laughing with glee. Still foolhardy in believing this is going to have a fairy tale ending, I relish holding her in my arms. I daydream back to a summer in the forest we spent together after our last year of high school. For a moment, I earnestly believe that those days could some how return...

     Yeah, right. Like that would ever happen again.

     As the center of the floor is cleared, Noz walks up to the center of the ring. The cage slowly lowers as people begin to quiet down to a hushed murmur in anticipation of his announcement.

     “Ladies and Gentlemen! Creatures and Cretins! You know that the Fights always start with high stakes and tonight is no different! However, we do have something special this evening! A Human believes himself tougher than the usual stock of cattle and I do believe that he may just be! He’s willing to step in the ring with anyone and anything! He has told me that he has come here to spill blood and that he is starting to want some of mine! Now, wouldn’t that be something to see!”

     The entire building shakes with the amount of roars, howls, and cheers that erupt from the crowd at the aspect of Noz joining the fray.

     “Alas! Vampire versus Human is too boring of a fight!

     The entire building begins to shake with the amount of boos erupting from the crowd after hearing that.

     “Don’t worry! We have something which should be just as entertaining! We have a man who has experience in aces! From what I’ve heard about him, he’s fought more than the majority of my best fighters! He’s buried more people than he can count and has trophies to prove every single one! The first man in the Fights tonight is the Ahroun Garou himself, Scars!”

     The Bar shakes as the applause returns to approval. Ylva is cracking her knuckles, stretching her arms, limbering up her back, and popping her neck as she prepares to be the other first person up. She even ties her hair back, pulling her silver and raven locks into a single well-bound tail. I should be happy, but the only thing filling my mind is an all too familiar voice.

     “She’s going to be disappointed,” the ghost whispers in my ear, turning every other sound mute, “But, you...Congratulations, old friend of mine. You’re getting your wish.”

     As I glance up, I see Ylva with a distraught look on her face. I glance around Noz’s Bar and see the room divided. Half are excited and cheering. The other half are booing and staring daggers at me. I finally snap back into it as I hear the rest of Noz’s announcement.

     “Now, I know what you’re thinking! This isn’t going to be entertaining at all! A Mutt versus a Blood Bag? But, I got a way to make it hold your attention! This fight is No Quarter Given!”

     The entire room turns to intrigue and I start to shout in excitement alongside everyone else. Ylva tries to pull me away, a dire look in her eyes. I walk towards the cage, a smile across my face.

     “Carnie, you can’t do this. He’ll kill you,” she tells me, trying to talk me down, “Just throw the fight, alright. Go down after the first punch, take your lumps, and I’ll jump in if it gets to be too much, okay?”

     I glare at her with an offended visage plastered across my face, saying, “ ‘Take your lumps’? Did you really just tell me to do that, Ylva?”

     Realizing how bad that was, she tries to backpedal. She stammers and fumbles her words, trying to say and promise anything to get me to walk away from the fight. I don’t listen to any of it. My mind is stuck on one thing and one thing only: A damn bloody fight.      As I walk into the cage, I don’t listen to a word Noz says while the metal bars lower around Scars and I. I’ve locked my eyes on to my opponent, studying his movement and the trophies sewn into his body. I look for possible past injuries to exploit or weaknesses to break open again. I find none. My smile grows wider. Noz makes one last announcement before I can have my fun.

     “For the first time ever! We have a Fight Absent Rules! A Fight With No Limits! A Fight Between A True Wolf and a Human With True Fire In Him! On the left, Scars! The Ahroun Garou Who’s Been Fighting Since Before He Left The Womb! On the right, Carnegie! The Worthless Man Who’s Worth More Dead Than Alive!”

     Upon those words, Scars and I go to war. He tries to take it easy at first, so I spill first blood. Directly after, he starts slamming me around like a ragdoll. I feel my shoulder dislocate so I pick him up and slam him to the ground with it to realign my bones. The fight gets bloodier and bloodier as we go back and forth. He pops a claw for a wild swipe at me and I narrowly dodge it, preventing him from taking my head off. I pick him up and send him head first into the bars. I hear a satisfying crunch just before he to lets his beast out. He transforms into a large wreathe of muscle, fur, and fangs. He howls to the moon and his whole tribe joins in. All but Ylva. She’s still trying to yell at me to just lie down and take the beating. Each time she says that, all I want to do is kick his ass even harder. The fight doesn’t last much longer after this, though. I get torn to shreds, clawed all over with my guts miraculously not spilling out of me. As I’m breathing my last, another werewolf hops into the cage to shield me. At least the final show I get to watch is Ylva whooping some ass.      The next thing I see before nearly blacking out is Ylva returning to her human form as she kneels down next to me. She cradles my head as I glance past her to notice Scars’s dead body. He’s reduced to a puddle of red ground beef topped with a sprinkling of auburn and grey fur. Ylva’s bloodied and scratched up, but still looks good. I try to have one last daydream as the lights dim but my mind doesn’t seem to want to give me any peace.      I see Noz talking with two people. Their silhouettes look familiar, but my vision is going hazy. They walk closer alongside the head vampire. They talk to Ylva, but I can’t hear what they’re saying. I can’t hear a damn thing anymore. They have to drag her away from me. I try to crawl to her. A long dark boot steps in front of me. A clawed hand wraps around my throat and lifts me into the air. I can’t feel anything below my waist. There’s a numbness clawing its way up my spine. Within a moment or two, I start losing feeling in my shoulder blades and my arms fall limp. My vision is fading more, going in and out of focus. I can barely make out that it’s Noz holding me up by my neck. He tilts my head to the side. My vision fades out then back in again. I lock eyes on Ylva being held back by the two familiar silhouettes. One last daydream finally manages to seep into my mind as the ghost appears again, rushing past the three of them to get to me. Just as the ghost makes contact, I feel what I can only imagine are fangs slamming into my throat. There’s an tinge of pain then immediate ecstasy. My vision clears in these final moments and I see Ylva in all her glory. I bask in it before I finally realize who the familiar shapes are. It’s Eron and Tony, those fucking assholes.      Noz sucks the last bit of blood out of me and pulls away. He drops me to the floor like a sack of potatoes before slitting his own wrist with a fingernail and dripping the blood into my mouth . The last thing I see before my lights go out is Ylva, clutching something to her chest while tears stream down her cheeks.      For what feels like a moment, it’s darkness. A cold empty void absent life. No dreams nor nightmares. No warmth nor cold. Only memories as a fleeting comfort. The next second, I’m blinded by the light flipping back on. I’m convulsing and writhing in pain as I feel my body burn from the inside out.      I spend the next three weeks either comatose or awake long enough to feel my body destroy itself. All of the sinew in my form tears itself to shreds then rebuilds into twisted strands of muscle and skin. Each day is worse than the last. Every waking moment is welcomed and left by a guttural scream as I try to fight back the pain. During the first week spent in my fever dream, I can barely make out anything.      I know that I’m still in Noz’s Bar. I think he dragged me up into his office when I went into my first coma. During the moments I’m awake, I find myself surrounded by glass and reflections. The wounds I received from my fight are stitch themselves back together, leaving behind deep scars. There are four small blots of red, two on each side of my neck. From those blots, I see odd waves beginning to form. I hear someone yelling outside but I can’t make out who or about what. As I try to reach the window that overlooks the bar, I take one step and feel my neck seize up on me. The odd waves seem to be moving now, pulsing rapidly. With each pulse, a tidal wave of pain slams my body and all I can do is shout in horror as I feel a wildfire course through my body. Before falling unconscious again, I manage to force my eyes open as I lie on the floor with my forehead against the glass panes of the window. My vision is shot already from what feels like tears flowing out of my eyes. All I can see is a pale flash of movement being stopped by five brown blobs before my head slams against the wooden floor as the pain becomes too much to bear. This is repeated for the entire week. The grooves of fire-like waves spread from my neck and across the right side of my head. It stops a knuckle away from the corner of my lip but continues to stretch past my temple and along the back of my head. I see that the tears which were ruining my vision were blood instead of water once I’m able to see my reflection. The second week gives my whole body a dip in lava compared to the first week’s endeavors.      In the beginning, Noz is the first thing I find after waking up to the first round of wildfire in my veins. He walks away as Eron and Tony pick me up by my arms and set me on my feet in front of his desk. He says something to me, but the hammering in my skull keeps me from hearing anything. I’m in and out of consciousness constantly until I feel Eron stick a knife into my left leg. Something in me jolts up and I grab his throat. My legs strengthen and flex, forcing the knife out as I pick Eron up into the air. I throw him five feet high into the ceiling and see a chunk of concrete fall. When he lands, I pin him to the ground with his own knife. It’s as if my body is on auto-pilot, grabbing Tony by the ankle and tossing him out the window ten feet behind us. He flies to the opposite end of the bar, destroying one of the gramophone organs that softened his landing. I return to Eron, still struggling to pull the knife out of his shoulder, and bear my teeth as something compels me to bite into his neck. Before I can, a stiff pull at my collar sends the back of my head into Noz’s desk, knocking me unconscious. When I wake up, I’m bound to a bed in a straitjacket and belts as Eron and Tony are playing cards. I snap my restraints, drop to my feet, and tear my jacket to shreds as I ask them a few questions.

     “What the fuck is happening to me?” I shout, feeling pulses of burning waves continue to surge throughout my body.

     Eron, jumping up and hiding behind Tony, replies, “Yo, man, we told you we could make you into a real beast, didn’t we?”

     I snarl and take a step forward while they skip backwards as Tony tells me, “Look, man. We didn’t expect it to be this painful for you. We were honestly making bets on if you’d die like the rest.”

     “The rest?” I scream, losing control of my voice as I lurch towards them.

     Noz responds, invisible to the eye but his voice filling the room, “Many Nosferatu die during the Embrace. You’re a hopeful candidate for me, boy. From what E and T told me about you, you can take punishment. I’m hoping that’s true.”

     Before I could look around for him, I feel a guttural shriek leave my body as the pulses of wildfire burns through my veins again and floor me. The next time I wake up, I hear every voice in the bar pound into my ears and shake my entire body to its core. All of my senses are bombarded by every cheer, wail, fight, crashing glass, and heavy steam whistle. I can make out one voice in the crowd, and it’s asking about me. Pushing through the pain, I shakily stand on my own two feet and try to hobble my way out of the room, only to find a chain around my neck holding me to Noz’s desk. I cry out as loud as I can, but my throat is already gone and my voice along with it. Nobody in the crowd hears me over the revelry as another tide of agony lulls me to sleep.      The third week is the worst as the monster that plagues my dreams returns. Eron and Tony wake me up with a bucket of water. It’s night time and I’ve been writhing around in so much pain while I slept through the day that the wooden floor is missing a few boards. I jolt up like a wild animal and reach for the two of them before the chain link leash holds me in place. They stumble back, terrified of me.

     “Calm down, childe,” Noz says, throwing a rat to my feet.

     Out of sheer instinct, I drop to the floor and sink my teeth into it. I feel a rush of blood spill out of the creature before being sucked into me, turning it into an empty blood bag. My nerves calm and my mind clears a bit, but I’m hit by an influx of pain as I try to return to my feet.

     “That tasted like shit,” I tell him, grinding my teeth so hard that I feel them shift a bit.

     Laughing aloud, Noz replies, “Oh, I know. But it’s kind of a rite of passage to taste one of those as a Nosferatu. I believe Eron and Tony would call it hazing.”

     Through another cascade of aches and feverish burning, I push myself to my feet and lock eyes with my reflection. My clothes seem to have been clawed away, which I’m betting was more Scars doing than mine. My entire body is covered in a low pulsing orange glow and I can still watch as some of the wiry waves continue to grow and stretch across my body. My eyes have changed from a dull greyish-green to an ocean of red. My head, which was full of messy strands of curled black hair, is now bald aside from a small uneven strip stretching from the center peak to only a few inches back up my scalp. My fingernails are nearly sharp enough to be claws. Despite having not consumed anything in weeks, I’m not tired, thirsty, or, even more surprisingly, dead from starvation. Instead, I’m just really damn...

     “Hungry,” an uncomfortably familiar voice growls in the back of my head.

     I turn around and see the black specter that has always haunted my dreams grinning. I take a few steps toward him and see that he’s changed. His red eyes are the same as mine. The dark smoke that usually envelopes him washes away to show a savage mirror image of myself. He’s lacking all form of color, as if I’m looking at him in monochrome. The specter’s skin is paler than the moon. He lacks hair of any form and isn’t glowing like my still searing body. This creature is eerily calm, disturbingly collected, and unnervingly focused. His very presence feels like violence and voracity personified.

     “You’re not supposed to be real,” I tell him in disbelief, “I’m awake. You’re only supposed to be in my dreams.”

     “No, not your dreams,” he responds, stepping towards me, “Your conscience. Now, we don’t have one, though. We don’t need it. Now, I’m as real as you and, most importantly, we’re going to be doing this together.”

     He walks into me and I expect to feel him bounce off my chest or knock me on my ass, but all I feel is a rush of agony as the searing fever inside of me grows. Instead of flooring me, I embrace it and let the specter exhale as he whispers, “Just don’t forget to feed us and, I’ll give you this hint now, rats aren’t going to cut it.”

     Giving one last grunt, I lock eyes with Noz, who’s staring at me with intrigue. He watches me pull through one of the last excruciating pulses of the Embrace before asking, “So, you met the Beast, my boy?”

     “Get this chain off of me,” I respond, growing tired of the metal chafing my neck.

     Chuckling again, he simply tells me, “Get it off yourself. It’s only steel.”

     I start pulling at it for a few moments and Eron cracks, “Come on, Noz. He’s not going to be able to. He’s a failure like the others. Give T or I a shot.”

     Pissed at his words, I continue to jerk more and more violently as Tony pops in, remarking, “If he ain’t broke it by now, he’s not going to, Noz. If you want a stronger childe, you got Eron and I begging for this.”

     Enraged further, I give one last vehement jerk on the chain before I feel the leg of Noz’s desk shift and almost break out a floorboard. Instead of the wood flying across the room, the chain link snaps about five inches from the leg of the desk. I grab on to my metal leash with both hands and growl like a madman as I tear it in two. Eron and Tony try to run for the door, but I dash twenty-five feet in less than a second and stare them down with the chain still in my hand. They begin begging for their lives, thinking that I’m going to suck the life out of them. I snap out of my rage as it finally dons on me what’s actually happened.

     “Did you actually make me into one of you?” I ask Noz, locking eyes with him while I coil the chain in my left hand.

     “Of course,” he tells me with a cocky smirk on his face, “Do you see any other Nosferatu in the room?”

     I should be mad. I should race across this room and get myself killed trying to tear his damn head off for turning me into this monster. However, I’m more curious than upset.

     Returning my glare to Eron and Tony, I ask Noz, “Did you turn them, too?”

     “No, my dear boy,” he says, standing up from his seat and appearing behind them, “These are my two Ghouls. Have been for a while now. More loyal than hounds, these two.”

     “They certainly bark like some,” I say, turning towards the door.

     “Alright, hold on, now, Clown Boy,” Tony says, stepping up to me, “We vouched for you for this shot. You don’t get to-”

     My foot cuts him short as it crashes into his abdomen, sending him flying into Noz’s arms. Noz’s heels grind against the floorboards as he catches Tony’s unconscious body. Eron pulls out a wooden stake and nearly slams it into my chest. What would have been a guaranteed stab before, my newly improved reactions help twist me out of the way and snap his arm. He screams in pain while I calmly bend down on my knees and slide the stake out the front door. I lean against the wall as I watch Noz set the still unconscious Tony down on the floor before slowly helping Eron walk away. They exchange a few words before Noz uses a nail of his to slice his wrist open, proceeding to drip his blood into their mouths.

     After Eron stops himself from insulting me again, Noz walks up to me and places a hand on my shoulder as he says, “My boy, you have much to learn. First of which will be the few things that can hurt us, like stakes,” before jamming a wooden stake of his own into my chest.

     I feel the stake smash through my ribs and pierce my heart. My entire body locks up as a painful jolt of electricity shocks my entire system worse than the past two weeks. Paralysis seizes me but I’m still conscious, seeing Eron and Tony stand up. Eron’s arm uncomfortably snaps back into place with the bones sliding back under his skin, which then reforms and stitches together in a matter of moments. Tony stands up and struggles to walk forward as I hear the bones in his chest crumple, crack, and push his deformed midsection back into place. As they stand behind their master, Noz tears the stake from my chest and I shout in pain as it feels like barbed wire being dragged out of my chest.

     Barely managing to stay on my feet, the Beast inside tells me to tear off his head, but I fight it off to ask, “Is that the only fucking lesson, you old dirty bastard, or should I expect more of that tonight?”

     “First, I’m your ‘Sire’ if you ever find yourself needing to refer to me professionally,” he retorts with a wink, “Second, we have so much more to get to, my dear childe.”

     He goes on to tell me that he’ll be revealing everything I need to know about being a Nosferatu after each pulse from my final throws of the Embrace. For the rest of this night, he explains to me the major dangers for our “kine”, as he calls us. The common ones are what everyone knows, like sunlight and fire. Decapitation seems self-explanatory to me but he still explains it regardless. Extreme cold is a problem for vampires and is the only surprise for me. He proceeds to tell me about our sleeping habits and the “Final Death”. It barely holds my attention as the only thing I can think of now is finding someone to fight with or feed on.

     As Noz drones on and on about the intricacies of “torpor” or whatever he calls it, the Beast begins to nudge, “Are we really just going to sit here waiting for that hole in our chest to reform or are we going to feed on something to speed it up?”

     Dipping my chin lower and placing my hand over my mouth, I whisper back to it, “What do you expect me to do? Jump on Noz and sink my teeth in? Believe me, it’s crossed my mind.”

     Answering back, his voice is angrier as he nearly shouts in my ear, “Then why haven’t you yet? You can take him. You know you can. You can take on anyone now.”

     “Shut up.”

     “What? Don’t like hearing the truth?”

     “Just shut up, I’ll find something soon.”

     “Like what? A godforsaken rat again? You try to feed me that, I’ll personally take control and find the closest heartbeat walking on two legs.”

     “I said to shut up, dickhead.”

     “Asshat.”

     “Piece of shit.”

     “CLOWN BOY!”

     “FUCK YOU!”

     Snapping out of my brief conversation with the Beast, I look around to see Eron and Tony cowering behind Noz. I look down at his desk and realize that I just splintered the top of it after slamming my fist. Noz stares at my bleeding hand and waits for me to lift it out of the wooden splinters.

     As I do, Noz asks, “Are you two done with your conversation?”

     I simply nod as I readjust in my seat. He continues on for hours, just before dawn breaks. Before falling asleep, I open the door to retrieve the wooden stake I slid out earlier only to find it missing. I feel as if someone is staring at me, but I can’t seem to notice anyone around. I don’t tell Noz, Eron, or Tony about it before nodding off as dawn arrives. Violently reawakening the next night, I feel migraines pounding away in my head as if someone is driving a railroad stake through my ears.

     “Wakey, wakey, eggs and bakey...won’t cut it. Let’s get to hunting,” the Beast says, rousing me awake.

     Forcing words through my seizing body, I reply aloud, “This shit better not be a regular thing. I really cannot see myself waking up to your dumbass voice every night.”

     Replying offended, the Beast says, “My ‘dumbass voice’ is the same as your voice, dumbass.”

     “Don’t call me a dumbass. Come up with your own insults,” I retort just as loud as before.

     “Can’t do that when we’re the same person, dumbass.”

     “We’re not the same person.”

     “You want to bet?”

     “I’d rather fight.”

     “And a fight you shall receive soon, my boy,” Noz shouts, standing over me, “But, first, I need to teach you about the Beast you’re talking to and the blood you’ll need to control it.”

     Giving a deep sigh, I take a seat in front of his desk as he begins to drawl about my “new” friend and how my bloodlust is only going to get stronger if I don’t sate it. Starting with the actual act of feeding, Noz tells me that a bite from a Kindred’s fangs actually fill the victim with pleasure. He follows it immediately by warning me about the Beast taking over if I go without drinking for too long. The rest I don’t really give a damn about, so I tune it out. He speaks about not needing to kill when you feast, how some feasting may be consensual, blah, blah, blah. I’m pretty sure that Noz could have just talked me to death before turning me. 

     “You know? I never really enjoyed you narrating your shitty life back when I was just a hellish nightmare and I still don’t now,” the Beast tells me.

     “Be quiet,” I whisper when Noz has his back to me, “You don’t get to talk about me narrating my shitty life.”

     “Who does?” he retorts, “Your sexy little-”

     “Werewolf!” Noz yells, having moved on to different types of blood without me realizing.

     “What?” I stammer, nearly jumping from my seat as the Beast chuckles behind my ears, “What did you say?”

     Turning around to face me, he explains, “I said ‘Now on to the Werewolf!’ You’ve been paying attention, yes?”

     He points to the usually bare wall behind his desk, revealing bullet points of each type of blood written on the wall. In a bit of irony which I’m almost certain was lost on him, Noz wrote it on his wall with blood. Eron and Tony’s, to be exact.

     Skimming through it, I simply tell him, “Uh, yeah, yeah. Animals are crap. Blood bags are bullshit. Grab a human if I can. Rats taste like shit and always will. What-the-fuck-ever, O.D.B. What about Werewolves?”

     Giving me an inquisitive look, he asks, “What’s an ‘O.D.B’?”

     Desiring more to move on with the Werewolf topic rather than explain his nickname, I sigh before saying, “Could we just continue with the Werewolf topic? Please, sire.”

     “Well, when my childe asks so politely, how can I not?” he continues while wearing a grin that I want to claw off, “The blood of a Werewolf, or a Lupine if you like that word better, is extremely potent for us Kindred. Ironic considering the fact that our blood is life-threatening to them. Picture the most potent adrenaline in the world. That’s what their blood is. It’s ridiculously delicious, double as filling as a normal human. However, the side effects can prove to be...catastrophic.”

     Intrigued by every word, I ask, “How so?”

     He answers, “Well, not only do you become obnoxiously paranoid and short-tempered, one of those two you already possess...”

     I growl a bit in response.

     “The vitae it becomes beckons the Beast due to its much more savage nature, lubricating the slope which leads into a frenzy. So, just to recap, Werewolf blood is a hell of an adrenaline shot but it could lead to more carnage than intended. You understand?”

     The Beast impishly whispers, “Oh, we understand. So, when are we finding our favorite little ‘Night Wolf’?”

     Ignoring him, I tell Noz, “Got it.”

     Patting me on the shoulder, he says, “Good, my boy. You are learning. We’ll go through what else you can do with blood tomorrow night.”

     The rest of the week passes quickly, now with Ylva back in my thoughts. As each day passes, I feel my hunger increase and thoughts of blood seeping down my throat almost becomes unbearable. I try my best to think about my time as a child, trying to find something happy to take my mind off of it. The only enjoyable memories I have as a child are of me and Ylva together. Even those are becoming sour as the Beast now speaks up whenever she pops into my head, saying things like-

     “So, when are we going for a nighttime nature hike, Clown Boy?”

     Right on queue.

     “When you understand not to call me ‘Clown Boy’, you goddamn leech,” I respond under my breath so that Noz doesn’t think I’m referring to him.

     “Then, how about I call you ‘Checkpoint Attendant’? Does that get you in the mood?”

     Continuing to try my best to ignore him through these final days of the Embrace, all of my thoughts return to Ylva. I don’t know if it’s because of me or the Beast, either. Unfortunately, I’m also confused on whether it’s me or the Beast who wants to stick my fangs in her. According to what Noz tells us, a Kindred’s bite is actually euphoric. I wonder if-

     “Of course, she’s going to like getting bit. She’s a damn werewolf.”

     God, I need to find a way to shut him up.

     “Fat chance getting me to shut up on an empty stomach.”

     Burying my face in both hands, I do my best to quiet my mind only to continue having him poke and prod me tirelessly. Each night brings a worse pulse of heat than the one before, indicating the Embrace ending soon. Noz finishes teaching me the rest of the intricacies to being a Kindred and a Nosferatu. My head continues to pulse with the dire necessity to feed. When the last night of the Embrace comes, Noz presents one final lesson.

     “Last but not least, I think it’s best if you experience the true effects of a proper torpor,” he tells me while I check a mirror to see all of the waves across my body losing their fiery glow, making the changes permanent.

     Hoping for one of the things I’ve been craving since I’ve changed, I ask him, “Does that mean that I’m finally getting to enter the cage again?”

     Snapping both of his fingers, he tells me, “Not exactly.”

     I turn around to see the entirety of his workforce now standing between him and I in his office. The count is exactly forty-two to one, all Ghouls including Eron and Tony. None have weapons with them, which is rather disappointing. However, pretty good odds are that I’m not walking out of this room. I’m more than okay with that as I stare them down.

     “So, my childe,” Noz speaks up again after allowing me to take in my situation, “I know you can take some punishment, so that’s why I brought in all of my employees to get this done as quick as possible. On top of all this, I do have an order for you, my boy. No. Fighting. Back.”

     I don’t respond to that request. Noz waits for an answer until his patience runs out a few moments later. He bows his head in dismay before taking a step back and clapping his heads. All forty-two employees rush me like they’re in heat. The Beast and I growl at them, reveling in the bloodbath that ensues.      Torpor isn’t as relaxing as how Noz described it to be. All there is is a blank slate of nothing all around me. I caused plenty of damage but I know that I “died”. It’s not the Final Death, or at least I hope not. No dreams come to me while I recuperate. The one thing that wakes me up is the Beast snarling in my ears louder than a handful of steam whistles.      My eyes shoot open and I feel weight all around me. I hear gravel shift, late night whistles blow, and voices disappearing around me. Machines are still whirring above, vibrating the ground around me. Forcing my hands open from the rigor mortis, I shoot my arm up, expecting to be buried deep. The majority of my arm feels the nightly rain splatter across it, leaving just under my elbow still below ground. I take my shallow grave as an insult with a fistful of gravel in my hand. Hearing light footsteps approach me, I sit straight up and the gravel washes away as I grab the throat of whoever walked within reach.      It’s a child, a young boy covered in oil and dirt. With my hunger stronger than ever before, I can practically see his heart rate spike, pumping blood to every major vein and artery in his body. He’s young, maybe ten or eleven. He shouldn’t be working yet, but our overlords never cared about age when a job needed to get done. Looking around, the surrounding area feels familiar, yet I don’t have much of a mind to find out. The Beast is clawing at my eyes with its demand to feed.

     Glancing at the terrified boy’s neck, I feel him shaking in my grasp as the Beast shouts, “I need blood. We need blood! The boy is weak and defenseless. Drain him already!”

     It’s hard to resist as I instinctively bare my teeth, but I glance up to his face and my grip loosens. He’s got a dark black ring around his right eye accompanied by slight swelling around his left. The hooded jacket he’s wearing is torn and tattered, allowing me to see the wrappings around his right arm beneath the sleeve. I hear metal supports and straps clang against each other as he tries to kick loose, revealing that he has a metal brace around one of his legs. Placing him down gently on the ground, I manage to fight back the Beast and regain control.

     Before the kid gets back to his feet, I ask, “Who did that to you?”

     Rubbing his neck as he lies on the ground, he responds, “What do you care? You nearly took my head off.”

     As the Beast tries to rouse me into feeding again, I squeeze my eyelids shut to resist as I tell the boy, “Sorry about that. It’s just that I used to know some kids who got beat before I-uh.” 

     Seeing him still terrified as he returns to his feet, I simply take a deep sigh as I continue to say, “I’ll just leave.”

     Turning around, the Beast continues to shout and curse at me. It wants me to drink the kid like a juice box, but I can’t bring myself to. I consider other places to go until I realize that I can’t remember where I am in the city.

     “You’re lost, aren’t you?” the kid asks, sneaking up to my side, “Thanks for not drinking me.”

     Momentarily caught off by not noticing him approach, I tell him, “Don’t mention it. Besides, I want a fight if I’m going to have a meal. Was hoping that you knew someone. That’s all.”

     The boy releases a depressed sigh as he says, “Well, I do. He’s my new foster dad, and he’s an asshole.”

     My eyes were scanning the nearby streets before they shot back to the kid after hearing him speak of his father, prompting me to ask, “How long have you been with him?”

     “Only a month,” he says, bending over and holding his right leg, “Only a month and I’ve been beat more than the three years I’ve been an orphan. I thought I had it good, at first. Got a mother and an older brother out of it as well, but they’re practically useless. I was hoping that the orphanage would have sent people to check in by now and take me away, but they won’t. It’s as if they just forgot about me.”

     As he says that, my eyes widen with intrigue as the Beast quiets just long enough for me to realize where we are. I turn around and see the unfinished railroad back where I dug myself up, spikes and tracks lying alongside my grave intended to have been on top of me the next day. The oil and blisters on his hands remind me of when I was working the line a month ago. The truth hits me like a stomp to the gut or a knife in the ribs.

     “Your old man is a Ghoul. Your older brother is a deadbeat who gets beat to shit and returns home too drunk to hold a conversation. Your mother spends hours in the bathroom, alone and in silence due to a needle in her arm,” I growl through clenched and bleeding teeth, “Is any of that accurate?”

     Stunned for a moment, the kid stutters as he says, “Who are you, mister?”

     “Take your time getting home,” I tell him as I dash off towards my old house.

     I’m infuriated and I can feel that familiar burn in my chest grow again. I was gone for weeks and it just donned on me that none of my own family cared to search during the three weeks I was stuck in the Embrace. They found a replacement, another kid to use as a punching bag, instead of trying to find some way to lay me to rest. My Beast is laughing joyously as all I feel inside is the desire to shred someone into minced meat.

     In what feels like less than ten minutes, I’m outside of my old home. Keeping to the shadows, I stalk my old family. My former mother is in the bathroom, tying the belt around her arm with new bruises around her neck.

     The Beast snarls, “She was weak when you were alive and she’s just as weak now.”

     Silently agreeing, I make my way over to my former brother’s small window and notice that he’s grabbing his dice, his set of cards, and a few extra bottles before walking out. He’s healing well, but he’s missing a few front teeth.

     The Beast gives a snicker as he says, “He’s always been dead meat. Surprised he wasn’t next to us in the ground. Just a lost cause for us to drain later.”

     Flinching at the thought but not arguing, I sneak in through the front door as he leaves the house. After taking a number of minutes to stare at the back of my father’s head, I slowly make my way through my old home. The hole in the hallway wall he slammed me into is still there, a pile of drywall and splintered wood boards still making it awkward to step around. Gradually making my way to my old room, I see that everything which was mine is already gone, everything from the carpet to the paint on the walls. The walls and carpet already shows some wear and tear, revealing to me that they didn’t wait long before calling me dead and gone. I notice drops of dried blood next to the kid’s bed. I kneel down and use a fingernail to etch a message into his wooden bed frame then I stand as still as possible in the corner of the room between those blood spots and the door.

     “There’s going to be four bodies after we’re done,” the Beast tells me, “Which are we killing?”

     “Only one,” I snarl back, “And it’s one we’ve always wanted.”

     The Beast chortles in anticipation and we wait nearly two hours for the kid to get home. The moment he walks in, it starts to sound like a record repeating itself.

     “What the hell took you so long to get here, ‘Earwig’?” my father says, boisterous and enraged.

     Placing what sounds like three bags of food on the table, the kid replies, “I missed the last train because the food order took longer than usual. Had to walk home in the rain.”

     Pulling out a delivery box from a sack and opening it, my father frustratingly shuts it as he shouts, “All of this shit’s drenched in rain water! I can’t eat this!”

     “Sorry, sir,” the boy replies with a timid voice, “But, I couldn’t get a ride home and the rain only got worse. I did my best t-”

     A plate shatters against a wall as my father asserts, “Your ‘best’ needs to get better! Slow walking is no excuse for ruining food! Now, clean that up, ‘Earwig.’ ”

     Putting a surprised yet pleasant smile on my face, the kid surprises me by shooting back, “My name is Ludwig and you can clean it yourself!”

     He’s breathing heavy and his heart starts slamming against his chest. The kid tries to apologize, but it’s too late. I can feel my father’s blood running hot from the other side of the house.

     “We should attack now,” the Beast suggests, eager to feed.

     “Not yet,” I reply, waiting for him to get closer to Ludwig’s room.

     The next thing I hear is a grunt from the kid and him flying into the closed bathroom door on this side of the house. The door breaks inward slightly, allowing the scent of my mother’s horrid sweat to fill the house. Through the disgusting refuse wafting around the house, I catch a whiff of blood as the back of Ludwig’s head is cut open. He falls on to his side and touches the back of his head, smearing his blonde hair orange with blood as he looks up in horror. The smell of fresh vitae fills my nostrils and the Beast nearly grabs the steering wheel. I manage to barely regain control so as not to leap on Ludwig.      Our father relies on his old tricks, so he’s slowly walking down the hall as he shouts about how it’s Ludwig’s fault that he’s getting hurt. The kid quickly crawls into his room and tries to shut the door behind him. Father picks up the pace just enough to interpose his hand between the door and the wall. Ludwig continues trying to shut it but is simply tossed across the floor as the door flies open. He nearly touches my feet before he slides to a halt. He tries desperately to crawl under his bed as our father locks the door after stepping in. He drags Ludwig out by his ankles, pulls him to his feet, then knocks him back down to the floor on the right side of the bed, directly next to the dried blood from the previous times. Ludwig gets hit by a few more swings, interrupting his attempts to apologize. Our father is shouting louder and louder about him not allowing his son to disrespect him like that. He’s so loud that our neighbors on both sides of the house can hear. As always, they don’t do anything.      Letting up just enough to allow Ludwig to glance to his bed frame, I see the expression in his eyes change. My fangs ache and my hands clench into fists as I wait to hear-

     “CARNEGIE!” Ludwig shouts before our father can land another punch.

     Pausing in surprise, our father tries to ask why he said that name but I interrupt him with a kick to his lower spine. A sickening pop comes from his back as he flies face first into the wall three feet in front of him, leaving a large imprint as he falls backwards. Ludwig rolls to the side before getting crushed by him then crawls behind me. Clutching his back in pain, my father tries to roll over just as I slam my right foot into the center of his chest. He coughs up blood after an excruciating crunch of bone escapes from under my foot. A splash of blood hits my face and I lick it off my lips. 

     The Beast pulls my attention aside, calling out, “Stop playing with your food and consume this mealworm!”

     I shout aloud, “NO! I want him to fight,” answering the Beast as I allow my father to return to his feet.

     He gets up in a flash and leaps off of the wall with a kick. I grab his leg with both hands before sinking my teeth into his calf. I take a chunk of flesh out of it as I swing him back down to the ground. He manages to limp back up on to his feet and I let him throw a flurry of punches at me. Before the Embrace, his strikes were too fast for me to even register before getting hit. Now, it’s as if he’s a ninety year old man in a wheelchair. He swings with his right fist and I claw it, painting some of the nearby wall red. He tries his left fist, so I repeat the lesson and splatter the bed with his blood. Desperation mounting in his eyes, he feebly kicks at me and I stomp in his support leg’s knee, laughing a bit as he crumples to the ground. He tries begging for his life. I grab him by the collar and set him on his knees.

     Tears in his eyes, he asks me, “Why are you doing this to me? I did everything I was told!”

     With a malicious grin and my blood thirst piquing, I grab his neck as I reply, “Because I want to!”

     Futile in his requests for mercy, I slam him into the ceiling by the throat and watch his eyes turn bloodshot from the strangulation. My grin grows wider as I tease the Beast.

     “Hurry up and sink your fangs in before I do it myself!” it shouts at me.

     Shoving my other hand into the top of his rib cage, I tell the Beast, “No...he’s not going to enjoy this.”

     Refusing to give the lowlife the euphoria which comes with a Kindred’s bite, I rend his head from his body. In one fluid motion, I pull his neck and head from his shoulders with my right hand as my left hand tears his body away. The blood flows like a river from his neck and I sink my teeth into it to suck it dry before all of it soaks the carpet. After finishing the decapitated head, I toss it to the side as I lift up his body and slam my fangs into the stump of the neck, still drinking greedily. Once it’s empty, I let it slump to the ground as the warm blood calms my mind and quiets the Beast. For the first time since my death, the Beast goes completely silent after a satisfied murmur.

     Hearing feet shuffle behind me, I twist around to lock eyes with Ludwig after forgetting that he was still in the room and I tell him, “Sorry, that you had to see that.”

     His hands are shaking but his breathing is steady as he says, “I’ve seen worse and he deserved it. Are you going to do that to the others?”

     I expect the Beast to pull me towards sinking my fangs into them, but I’m relieved by the absent silence and respond, “No, that son of a bitch was enough. I’m going to go make sure that the others straighten up their acts before the night’s up, make sure they do right by you. I’ll drag this body out of the room and-”

     I’m interrupted by banging on the front door. It’s a stronger arm than my former brother’s and the night is too young for him to be back already. The door unlocks and two sets of feet enter. I can smell the liquor on their breath as they shout for my father to join them. I don’t recognize their voices as I step closer to the door. The body is still fresh and the room is still rife with the scent of blood. The two men make their way to Ludwig’s door then proceed to slam their fists into it. I let out a low growl, just loud enough for them to hear. They stop for a second then whisper back and forth before one runs outside while the other continues to try to break down the door.

     Stopping me from opening the door, Ludwig pulls me to the desk next to his bed as he tells me, “There’s a small hole behind my desk. I use it to sneak out at night when I’m tired of being here.”

     Huh...I should have thought of that.

     “Ludwig, you don’t have to help me,” I tell him, placing a hand on his shoulder, “But thanks for doing so.”

     He gives me a worried smile before hugging my legs as he asks, “Is your name actually ‘Carnegie?’ ”

     Stunned by the show of affection for a bloodsucker who just killed his foster father, I just stare at him, not being able to think of a response.

     “It’s okay, you don’t have to tell me,” he says, releasing me as he turns back towards the door.

     I pull the desk aside and tear the metal panel away. The hole is only large enough for him. He seems like a smart boy, so I’m pretty sure the shock from what I did just made the size slip his mind.

     “Stay safe, Ludwig,” I tell him, “I’m going to return tomorrow night to make sure that your mother and Everett learned their lesson. Just warning you now that there’s going to be a lot more blood and carnage to come. I’d rather you not see it.”

     “For a monster, you’re pretty soft, Carnegie,” the kid says with a dickhead smile.

     I smirk back at him as I widen the hole by shoving my shoulder through it. I step out into the rain which is now falling harder. Footsteps begin to approach just as the door to Ludwig’s room flies open. Before the man running around the house can spot me, I step backwards into an alley and wait to see what they do. Ludwig loses track of me as I become invisible to the naked eye. The man in his room demands answers on what happened to his “boss”, pointing to the bloodstain that was once my father. Ludwig tells him that a crazy Half-Blood fought him, shouting about how he failed the Royal Family one too many times. The man eats it up with a distressed expression, but I can hardly believe it.      That sack of crop feeder was actually a Ghoul of the Royal Family, the incestuous bastards who’ve ruled the entire city since it’s creation a millennia ago. They’re also the strongest vampires in the land and, if I’m to believe what Ludwig told my father’s friend, I just slaughtered one of their personal toys. Generations of inbreeding has turned their minds to mush, leaving this city in a dumpster fire about to be run by two of the most batshit crazy vampires who are betrothed to each other. The Prince and Princess of Ustrus, soon to be King and Queen, are the most psychotic, deranged, and irrational leeches in the world. It’s not going to be long before they start splaying entrails across every street in the city on a wild goose chase. Releasing a deep sigh, I make my way to my brother’s favorite stomping grounds as the Beast returns after using one of my vampiric abilities.

     Giving a guttural laugh, the Beast says, “So, are we hoping to eat the Prince or Princess then?”

     “Neither,” I tell him, wading through a massive crowd in search of Everett, “Once we get our old family straightened out, we’re leaving the city.”

     “Fat chance with that look in your eyes,” the Beast remarks, “With everything that Noz has told you about the displeasure around the Royal Family, you’re not going to miss out on what’s next. You know why?”

     I don’t answer while I continue scouring the gambling halls for my brother.

     “It’s because a war’s on the horizon and you taste it,” he tells me, revealing the truth that I didn’t want to face, “It’s on your lips. You can lick the air and grow hungrier by how soaked it is in anticipation of the blood that’s going to fill it. You want a piece of that. Hell, you want the entire fucking thing and you’re not going to leave until you get it.”

     I wish that I could argue and prove him wrong somehow. Unfortunately, it’s impossible for me to think of a rebuttal. The Beast leaves me to my search and, soon enough, a smash of glass echoes across the tables, leading me to my former brother. On the way, I realize that I won’t be able to stay invisible long with so many people around me since a strong nudge is enough to reveal me. As the other gambling night owls get up to investigate the fight, I take my time to find some better attire than the bloodstained and dirt soiled scraps of fabric wrapped around me. An unconscious, rotund drunkard loses his dark grey shirt just before one of the wait staff finds their red vest missing from the locker they left it in. She won’t miss the vest, as it’s filled with holes and loose strands but she will be rather upset at the loss of the pocket watch she left in it. Unfortunately, I’m unable to find a replacement for my dark brown trousers, tattered and riddled with a Garou’s claw marks, but I do manage to find some hefty coal miner’s boots. I don my new attire and drop my unseen passage as I make my way towards the back of the establishment.      The crowd of people are packed outside the backdoor of the building, standing in the area where all of the wasted booze and trash gets thrown out. The rain is washing away the usually horrid smell, allowing them the opportunity to get a decent show. The performance tonight is the same every weekend, starting just after midnight. Everett, my former brother, got caught counting cards in a desperate attempt to win enough money from the gambling halls so as to pay off the debt he owes to the owner of these very same gambling halls. Before he was tossed outside, he had a bottle smashed over his head, evident by the stream of crimson rolling down from his hair. Currently, he’s withstanding the second act, getting pummeled by the owner’s enforcer. The enforcer is built like a brick shit house but hits like a sledgehammer. Despite not needing them, he uses a pair of brass knuckles to really drive the punishment home. Everett receives a dislocated jaw, cracked nose, two broken ribs, an eye swollen shut, and a split open upper lip before the owner starts the third act, which is berating him in front of the other gamblers so as to make him an example. It’s a broken record at this point, considering how many times he’s had to give this speech over my former brother’s barely conscious body. The only surprising thing I hear is that Everett has actually paid off his debt tonight, but doing it by gambling at the same establishment he accrued it at rubbed the owner the wrong way. The games at the gambling halls aren’t regulated or controlled by the owner of the building. He just takes a share of any and all profits made on his establishment, so Everett still managed to pay off his debt by gambling here. He’s just getting the shit kicked out of him because he was able to find a loop hole and exploit it.      After giving him his proper talking to, the owner and enforcer leave Everett to bleed in the rubbish where he belongs as they usher the people back into the building. Everett is barely able to open an eye as I stalk the owner back to his office. His enforcer cracks a joke about how easy brass knuckles make a fight. The owner laughs as he counts the dirty money Everett dropped at his feet before getting thrashed. They’re regular humans so they don’t notice me sneak into their office until I’ve locked the door. His office is far enough in the back that nobody hears their screams. It takes me less than a minute to deal with them. The owner tries to warn his enforcer about me as I twist the man’s head around. The owner takes out a machete to fight me, but he’s terrified and slips on a bottle as he tries to charge me. As he stumbles but manages to stay on his feet, I grab his wrist and break it, picking up the machete for myself. He tries to yell at me about money hidden under his desk as he puts his back against a wall and tries to slide along it to the door. I cleave him in two, from his left shoulder through the middle of his right thigh, before he can reach the doorknob. I grab the enforcer in one hand and the upper half of the owner in the other after strapping the machete to my waist with some loose rope. I also pocket the two brass knuckles as I carry their bodies off with another eleven feet of rope. I leave them in Everett’s room, hanging by their necks with their eyes towards his door. The top half of the owner is still dripping as he softly swings left and right. The enforcer’s face is towards the door while his body is facing the opposite wall.      My former mother is trying to sleep off her latest hit, so she doesn’t notice anything. The men have left already and Ludwig isn’t in his room. I worry a little about where he might have gone as I go back out into the rain to find the drug dealers. They’re easy to locate due to the number of junkies twitching outside their front door.      Her suppliers live in the neighborhoods closer to the edge of the forests. They turn out to be two meek Thin-Bloods, so they’re dealt with almost as easily the other two I killed less than an hour before. The cook I leave alive, making it clear that he’s not allowed to deal to any mother’s living in a certain sector of the town. He refuses at first, so I tear the head off of his friend. Both pieces of him wither to a rotting corpse in a matter of seconds as the Final Death arrives. The cook complies to my demands. I carry his friend’s two pieces back to my former home and sneak them into my mother’s bed. I place the withered head on her bedside table and the body lying at the foot of her bed. I find and crush all of her needles then place their pieces around the body. Ludwig helps me find her stash of drugs, having returned from bringing Everett back home. I leave the house with what feels like almost a cinder block worth of drugs to dispose of it and Ludwig follows me out.

     As we walk towards the forest, I ask him, “None of that stuff I just put in there freaks you out?”

     With a glum expression, he says, “I’ve seen badder things done in the orphanages when the fancy vampires come looking for food. Some more bloody bodies won’t change how bad my nightmares are.” 

     “Still,” I continue to press, “That was your foster father I tore in two and I’m terrorizing both your foster mother and foster brother, too. None of that rubs you the wrong way?”

     “I’ve had a pretty big number of foster homes,” he tells me while sneezing from the rain, “He was the worst father I’ve ever had and the mom doesn’t care enough to even look at me. My foster brother is okay when he’s not drunk. He’s been drunk almost every day since I got to the home. You’re the only person so far who actually calls me by my name. Wish you were my brother.”

     The conversation stops after I hear those words. It hurts knowing that someone actually wants to be my family. It pains me even more that he’s the kind of kid I wish Everett was growing up. We walk in silence for a while until a shape steps out in front of us and growls. It’s on all fours and stares at us from about thirty feet away. Ludwig takes a step closer to me, but I tell him that it’s okay. The eyes are the color of blue ice and the hair is a familiar mix of silver and black. He calms down after I tell him that she’s a friend.

     “I was just on my way to find you,” I shout to her, taking a few steps closer, “Sorry that I didn’t come earlier. There’s not much time left in the night but we could go for a drink at Noz’s, if you’d like. I kind of got some pull around there now.”

     I give a half-assed chuckle, hoping that she’ll chuckle back. She doesn’t as she steps closer to us. It’s not until she’s within ten feet that I can hear her wining in sadness. Not wanting to provoke her in any way, I stay still as she approaches, waiting for her to make a move. I blink once and she’s standing in front of me, rain hitting her naked body. I lower my right hand to cover Ludwig’s eyes.

     Sniffing around me a little bit, she almost can’t believe her eyes as she stares at me, saying, “Really? That’s all you have to say? You’re sorry that you didn’t come earlier? That’s all I get?”

     “Uhhhh,” I say as I try to think of something before she slaps me across the face. Her hand slams against my cheek before I can come up with anything.

     “A whole month,” she tells me, fury painting her face, “You were gone for a whole month before I heard any news about you.”

     I stare her in the eyes, admiring the icy blue once more. It feels like an eternity since I was this close to her. It puts my mind at ease that she’s still okay. It doesn’t help that she’s fighting back tears.

     “Look, I wanted to see you sooner but I couldn’t,” I tell her, trying to put my hands on her shoulders.

     She tenses up as they reach her, prompting her to shoot back, “You ‘couldn’t?’ Really? What the hell was keeping you?”

     She waits for a response and my mind races trying to think of one, bouncing from lie to partial truth to laying out the entire story about my Embrace and everything in between. I begin to reply, “I’ll tell you everything if-”

     She smacks my arms down off of her shoulder then tries to swing back around to give me a punch across the jaw. I shock her when I catch her fist with a single hand and hold it still as I finish saying, “I’ll tell you everything if we share a drink at Noz’s bar before dawn comes.”

     Looking at her fist, her eyes flash from anger to surprise to worry as I let it go. She looks me up and down in an awful look of pain before glancing down to Ludwig, who’s trying to peak through my fingers.

     “Is it just going to be you and me or is your new brother coming, too?” she asks with a frustrated sigh.

     “It’s just going to be me and you,” I tell her, putting my hand on Ludwig’s shoulder, “Just...put some clothes on before his nose starts bleeding, will ya?”

     Rolling her eyes, she walks back into the rain to retrieve her clothes while I pull Ludwig off to the side.

     “Ludwig, I need you to go home.”

     “What did she mean by calling me ‘your new brother’?”

     “Nothing, kid. Just head back, alright?”

     “I want to talk to her some more, though.”

     “I’ll try to convince her to later, but I need you to go home, now. Understand?”

     “But-”

     “Ludwig, you saw what I can do. She can do just as much and she’s very angry with me because of what I’ve done. I don’t want you around if she and I start fighting, alright? You need to go home. Do you understand?”

     “Fine,” he reluctantly says, rolling his head back in annoyance.

     As he walks away, I shout to him, “We’ll talk more tomorrow night, alright?”

     He flips me off as he walks away. When I turn around, Ylva is standing closer than before, wearing a tattered military jacket over an ill-fitting corset wrapped around a collared shirt that looks like it’s been mauled. The shirt is stained with blood and looks like she shoddily stitched it together, making it roughly the right size for her. It’s odd as I know that there are plenty of seamstresses in her tribe who would be able to stitch it properly. Her worn grey pants are caked in mud and frayed at the end. Her boots are heavy soled, tied up in buckles and strips of fabric. She always wears earthy colors and this is no different. The only odd new addition is the torn shirt, which seems to have be a dark tone of purple. Another new addition is a shoulder harness accompanied by a brass cover and a sheathed sword.

     She says, “You’re buying the first round,” before walking off towards the scrap yard.

     I tell her, “I owe you that much.”

     She snaps, “You owe me a hell of a lot more than that, Carnie!”

     I follow with a dumb smile on my face. I missed hearing her call me that. We don’t really talk on the way to Noz’s. The walk to the bar mainly consisted of Ylva staring at me while I would try to glance back at her. She would always awkwardly avert her eyes. She used to never turn away when I looked at her.      We step into Noz’s Bar only a few hours from dawn, so it’s pretty scarce. The majority of the staff are collecting bottles, cups, glasses, even the occasional scrap of clothing. A few are scrubbing the blood out of the cracks in the concrete floor. We sit down at the bar and I put my hand up as I call out for one of the bartenders by name. The one that walks down is a cool and collected Ghoul with a constantly emotionless face by the name of Bartholomew.

     “Hey, Carnegie,” the soulless ginger says, placing down a glass cup he’s cleaning, “What’s your choice of poison tonight?”

     “Ten shots of whiskey, if you don’t mind,” I tell him, glancing to Ylva.

     She seems tense as she adjusts the sword on her back and says, “Doubles, if you don’t mind.”

     “Uhhhh,” Bartholomew stops, recognizing her, “You’re not allowed in here, anymore. You know that.”

     “Wait, what do you mean?” I ask, holding my hand out for Ylva to stay.

     “Didn’t Noz tell you?” he responds with an odd look on his face.

     “I may have made some threats. It’s nothing. Let’s just head out,” Ylva says, trying to stand up from the bar.

     “Let’s just...wait. Who did you insult? Who did she insult?” I question, flipping between both of them.

     They answer simultaneously with a resounding, “Noz,” and the only reason why I’m surprised is that no one told me before.

     “How long has it been?” I continue to prod.

     Both still answering simultaneously, they say, “A month.”

     “Why didn’t anyone here tell me?” I ask Bartholomew specifically.

     He doesn’t answer so I say it louder for the whole bar to hear. All of the workers stop working to lock eyes on me. Standing up from my seat, I slowly spin on my heel and notice that every person looks to the ground as my eyes meet theirs.

     Sitting back down at the bar, I stare at Bartholomew and he continues cleaning a glass as I say, “Well, if none of you are going to tell me, where’s that disgusting son of a bitch at so I can ask him myself?”

     “He won’t like that you called him that,” Bartholomew says, picking up another cup to clean.

     “Was that my question, Bartholomew?” I tell him, staring him down as he looks away with a miffed sigh, “Look at me.”

     Defiantly doing so, I place my hands on the bar as I say as calmly as I can with the Beast clawing at me to kill every single person here, “If Noz is here, I’d like to speak with him. Is he on the premises?”

     “No, Carnegie,” he responds with a tired exhale, “He’s gone to talk to the Royal Family. He won’t return until tomorrow night.”

     “Well, in that case,” I begin to say while grabbing two bottles of whiskey from behind the bar, “Ylva and I are going to be enjoying some drinks while I relieve you all for the night.”

     Upon hearing that, the majority of the bar drops what they’re doing and leaves. The only ones left aside from Ylva and I are Eron, Tony, and Bartholomew. Eron and Tony rush downstairs from Noz’s office with stupefied looks plastered across their faces, ignoring Ylva as they run up so close to me that I can feel their breath.

     “Why the hell are they leaving?” Eron shouts, throwing his hands in the air.

     “Noz only lets them out after they’re done cleaning and this is nowhere near finished. What the hell, Clown Boy?” Tony screams, fired up next to Eron.

     Hearing a nickname everyone knows not to call me, I grab Tony and Eron by the throat. I lift them off of the ground and wait for their faces to turn blue before I ask my first question.

     “What did you just call me?” I snarl, pulling them closer to my face.

      Tony coughs out, “Look, I was pissed, man. I’m sorry.”

     “Yeah, we made a mistake, bud,” Eron hacks up, struggling to breathe, “C’mon, Carnie. We-”

     My grip tightens as I tell them not to call me that either. They gasp for air after I drop them to the floor. Letting them scurry away, I yell after them to come back with Noz before returning to my seat. After watching them run off into the rain, I turn around to see Ylva smiling a bit while Bartholomew is setting up glasses.

     “Aren’t you going to leave?” I ask him, uncorking a bottle.

     “Got no other place to go. I sleep in the back ever since Noz got this death trap,” he says as he pours three glasses and distributes them between us.

     “What’s this?” Ylva asks, swirling the mystery liquor in her cup.

     “It’s the most expensive import in the bar, usually only drank by Noz himself,” he replies, holding his cup out to clink glasses.

     Ylva and I knock our glasses into his as I ask, “What are we toasting to?”

     “Unemployment,” he responds, finishing the drink in a satisfied gulp, “After tonight, I’m surely getting fired by the regnant for this shit.”

     “Nah, nobody’s getting fired. Don’t worry about it,” I tell him, placing my cup down, “I can talk to him. He’s got a soft spot for me as his childe.”

     Chuckling a bit to himself before turning around to kick open the door behind the bar, Bartholomew tells me, “Yeah, sure. Keep thinking that, boyo. I’m going to have one last peaceful rest before I lose my job, my home, and my blood supply. Don’t leave claw marks on the bar, you two. Or do...I don’t really care at this point.”

     I turn my eyes to Ylva and she playfully flicks her eyebrows up a few times before we burst out laughing. She and I finish our special drinks before we start pouring each other shots. It tastes like a special mead, filled with a number of spices neither of us are familiar with. It’s sweet against the tongue, flows down smooth then bites back right at the end. I can see why Noz usually keeps it for himself.

     Turning to Ylva, I say, “I...uhhh...I missed your laugh.”

     Smiling for a moment then turning back to anger, she tells me, “If you missed it, you would have found me a lot sooner.”

     Stinging my smile away, I tell her, “Look, I’m sorry. You should have been the first person I found.”

     “Yeah, I really should have been,” she tells me, slamming a shot down in front of me, “You’re old family didn’t even want your body. Did you know that?”

     I slam the shot back with her and let her continue uninterrupted as I pour the next round.

     “They got your body a week ago. I asked if I could see it and your dickhead of a father told me that I wasn’t allowed to because I’m not family. It was bullshit, so I threatened his life. He promised to show me the next night. I came over and got jumped by him and two other Blood Puppet bastards. He made Ludwig drag me out. Surprised that he could, honestly. Kid’s nice, too. He was the one who actually told me what they did with you.”

     “What’d they do? I know for a fact that they didn’t give me a funeral,” I remark as we finish our second round of shots.

     Pouring our third pair of shots, she continues, “You’re right. The heartless assholes didn’t. They just shoved you in a hole somewhere in the train yards. I spent most of my nights looking for you, but couldn’t find anything. I held a funeral for you alone.”

     Picking up our shots, I notice her shaking a little bit as I tell her, “Thanks for that. I appreciate it.”

     She slams her shot down to the bar with a resounding, “Fuck you, Carnie!”

     I gently place mine back down while she continued to shout, “You haven’t explained anything, yet. Don’t you think that I deserve that? Don’t you think that I deserve to know what the hell happened to my best friend?”

     “Of course, you do,” I tell her, picking her drink back up before it spills more, “Just calm d-”

     “How do I calm down after my best friend since the age of four miraculously returns to life? How do I calm down after searching for him for three weeks, believing him dead for an extra one, and then following his scent around the city? How do I calm down after watching a man, who I’ve seen take beating after beating for his family, tear his own father in two?”

     “Wait, you saw that?”

     “Yeah, I also saw you break through a giant concrete wall to get out. Before you ask, I’ll let you know that I also saw how you got rid of your mother’s drug habit tonight.”

     “Just hold on, let me just say that-”

     “On top of all of that, I can only imagine what you did to Turkovsky and his lap dog, Gio, but I have a pretty good idea considering that you left with their weapons on you and two sacks tied with rope. I can even still smell their blood on you.”

     “Listen, they deserved it and y-”

     “Carnie, that’s not what bothers me. People die, that’s fine and all. They were all piece of shit lowlifes who were going to die horrible deaths with or without you speeding up the process.”

     “Then just calm down and tell me what you want me to explain!” I shout, annoyed by the number of questions and interruptions.

     Taking a deep breath and wiping a tear away, she asks, “How am I supposed to calm down when you don’t have a heartbeat, Carnie?”

     Placing our shots down gently, I breathe in all the pain I didn’t know was possible for me to feel as I say, “Can we just take another shot before I tell you everything?”

     She nods and finishes wiping away a few final tears before I tell her all that has happened to me since my last night with her. I let her know about the Embrace and how painful it was. She listens to me as I talk about how Noz kept me chained and tied down for the majority of it, not allowing me to leave the office. I only inform her about Noz teaching me about being a Kindred, not the specifics. I even tell her about what I did earlier tonight, proudly giving her the details about tonight’s affairs.

     Finishing our sixth shot by the time I’m done telling her everything, she says, “I knew it! I fucking knew that you were still here. I could feel it. I swear.”

     “Yeah, you were right,” I tell her, placing down an empty shot glass, “Sorry that it cost you getting banned from here, though. Going to miss you once we get the Fights back up in full swing.”

     Laughing a bit as I pour some more drinks, she tells me, “Oh, believe me. Once the Fights are back up and running, I’m participating if that Leper wants me to or not. No offense.”

     “None taken,” I say as I lift my shot and hand her one, “You really think that I’ve gone so soft that a simple Bloodsucker Slur is going to hurt my feelings?”

     “Well, I just thought that,” she pauses, pointing to my face, “You know...with your new look that you wouldn’t want me to say certain things.”

     With a smug smile on, I tease, “What? Is something wrong with my makeup? Did my mascara start running from the tears I was shedding earlier when you were on your tirade about how I fucked up?”

     Laughing again, she tells me, “Shut the fuck up! I wasn’t crying.”

     Wanting to keep the good times rolling, I say, “Oh, right. It was the rain. It got caught in your hair and just dripped into the corners of your eyes. Yeah, yeah, I’d buy that.”

     Struggling to drink our seventh shots through bursts of giggles, we enjoy a minuscule moment of peace. It allows an old daydream to creep into my head again. Damn, I miss these daydreams.

     “You’re making me sick,” I hear snarled from the back of my mind, “Are you two going to run off into the sunset next, huh? Her carrying your burnt ashes away?”

     Closing my eyes in pain, I whisper as low as possible, “Can’t you just let me have one nice thought?”

     “One nice thought before you break her heart again? Fat chance, big guy,” the Beast sneers, leaving back into the corners of my mind with a sickening chuckle.

     When I open my eyes, Ylva is staring at me with a quizzical look as she says, “Good to see that you still narrate your own life. At least a few things stay the same.”

     Forgetting to tell her about the Beast and not wanting to bring it up now, I simply agree, “Yeah, it’s still about the same.”

     Not fully believing me, she gives me a worrisome, “Yeah, still the same, I guess.”

     Fearing what question she’ll ask next, I glance outside to see the stars still in the night sky. For the first time, I’m wishing that the dawn could come quicker.

     Still keeping a doubtful look in her eyes, she asks, “So, is there any way for us to turn you back?”

     “No,” I say sternly, beginning to pour our eighth shots, “Why would I?”

     “Do I really have to answer that?” she responds, not understanding the kind of blessing this is.

     “What? You can’t tell me that you actually enjoy being one of them,” she says, laughing it off.

     Once she looks back to me, her laughing stops, seeing my face with a resolute expression on it.

     “Carnegie, come on. You can’t-”

     “I can’t what? Can’t enjoy no longer having to deal with some piece of shit beating me half to death every other night?”

     “No, it’s just that-”

     “Just that I was meant to continue trying to take care of a deadbeat mother and a worthless younger brother, yeah? A worthless younger brother who was one step away from turning into just another lowlife scumbag? A deadbeat mother who was more concerned about keeping a needle in her arm than her own children safe?”

     “Carnegie, you aren’t a-”

     “A monster? Is that it?”

     She goes silent.

     “Ylva, I’ve never thought that I’d enjoy being this, but this is the greatest I’ve ever felt. If there’s a problem, I can fix it. I can make it vanish like I did tonight. My brother needed to get scared straight and, the moment he finds those hanging bodies in his room, he will be. My mother needed to quit cold turkey, so I took out all the options she has. Ludwig is a good kid, you’re right about that, and he deserves a damn better family than the one I had so I helped nudge them that way.”

     The Beast gives a roar of approval to coax me to continue.

     Leaning in closer, I tell her with confidence, “For the first time in my entire life, that worthless Blood Puppet who terrorized me and my family is never coming back to haunt anyone.”

     “You think that makes you better than them, Carnie?” she shoots back as she pulls her head away from mine.

     “No, I’m not better than them,” I say, staring deep into her eyes with a wide smile, “I’m a hell of a lot worse.”

     Wiping tears again, she picks up the rest of her bottle and drinks directly from it before saying, “Yeah, it does, I guess.”

     She stands up with the liquor in hand and begins walking away, dawn finally beginning to break as she says, “Look, I’ve got to go and take care of things with the tribe. I’ll be back tomorrow night and we can talk more, I guess.”

     “Ylva,” I call out, stopping her before she leaves, “I really did miss you the most. I’m sorry that I’m not what you wanted me to be.”

     She takes a moment to respond. When she does, it’s like a stake gets shoved into my heart.

     “I’m just glad you’re alive. That’s all, I guess.”

     Turning around in my chair, I watch her leave with dawn arriving over her shoulder. Sluggishly dragging myself upstairs and into Noz’s office, I lie down under a heavy tarp in a corner as two things dawn on me. First, I’m still missing a wooden stake. Second, I always wore purple whenever Ylva and I went to the Fights.      Weeks go by as I try to settle my thoughts. I’m going through the motions now as I continue my new nightly routines. My former mother has been better, actually providing Ludwig and Everett with care for once. Everett still gambles, but he’s cautious with his money now. Just as I hoped, it seems that waking up to two corpses hanging in his room terrified him enough to keep him from going into severe debt again. They’re both improving together, giving me hope that they won’t relapse.      Ludwig and I still talk during the nights. Directly after work, he spends his nights strolling the streets alone. Despite obviously being alone, he always speaks aloud, assuming that I’m always around to hear it. I usually speak back before joining him on his walk for a bit during the nights where his assumptions are correct. He’s a smart kid, albeit a bit too trusting of the night. He has told me that he loved the city’s night life too much not to walk around it, despite having been run off by a few “crap” people from time to time.      Ylva and I spend most nights together. It’s not too different from before my Embrace. We still can’t keep each other from laughing. We still practice fighting together, which is one of the better parts since she doesn’t have to hold back as much as before. Eron and Tony still give us shit when we show up at Noz’s Bar together to drink. Once the Fights started back up after two weeks or so, we’d still fight just as hard as before. I would normally find myself on the sideline, though, since not many vampires were welcome in Noz’s Bar. He told me that it was because he had a bad reputation with the soon-to-be rulers, but I could tell that he was lying and still is. Regardless, Ylva and I were the same, more or less. The only topics we had to tiptoe around were what happened to Scars and why I enjoyed being a Kindred. She’s the head fighter of her tribe now, which comes with more responsibility than she wanted. It seems that I’m being groomed to take over for Noz once he “makes a decision”, which comes with more trouble than she wants to be worrying about. I tell her not to, but, if I’m being honest, she’s the only one between us who cares enough to worry. I’m unnervingly ecstatic about possibly taking over Noz’s turf, even if he’s becoming more and more of an obstacle with each night that passes.      Noz and I have hit a rough patch, even though that’s not accurate to say. It’s more like we’ve got stuck in a mud patch with all four tires sunk a foot deep into the ground and the smoking engine just turned from white puffs to pure black with bursts of orange flames. The best way to explain our current relationship would probably be to start at the night after allowing all of his workers to leave without finishing cleaning up the place.

     Having slept in his office, I woke up to the end of a conversation between Eron, Tony, and my sire as Noz says, “I don’t care what he threatened you two with! You know that the workers aren’t meant to leave until this place is spotless!”

     Eron tries to cover their asses with, “With all due respect, he’s your childe and a full fledged Kindred. What are we supposed to do to stop him?”

     Raising his voice, Noz affirms, “Perhaps use the stakes I bestowed both of you!”

     Tony, always knowing how to make things worse, interrupts, “For the record, Eron never found his after teaching Carnegie about stakes, sir.”

     With a domineering glare and display of teeth, Noz yells, “You mean to tell me that you can’t replace a piece of sharpened wood by yourself?” as he backhands Tony, sending him soaring across the bar and past the observatory window.

     I hear Eron choking as Noz continues to tell him, “Now, you and Tony will be joining the other workers in making this establishment immaculate! If you do not keep these workers in line, I will pull your head from your body! Do you understand?”

     Before allowing him to answer, Noz throws Eron directly away from the office, slamming into the pipes that help echo music throughout the bar. Seeing them bent out of shape, Noz shouts to the rest of his terrified workforce, “If that’s not fixed by tomorrow night, half of you won’t live to see what I’ll do to the rest!” before slamming the door to his office shut.

     “Wow,” I say, walking out from under my tarp, “Way to promote a positive work environment there, Noz.”

     “That’s ‘sire’ to you, boy!” he roars, still baring his teeth.

     Not backing down but not wanting to escalate, I simply say, “My apologies, sire,” as the Beast tells me cut his head off.

     Knowing what my voice sounds like when I’m being an asshole, he simply replies, “Oh, shut your damn mouth. If you had enough respect to call me that upon request, you would have had enough respect so as to not tell my workers to leave my bar in shambles.”

     Shrugging as I sat on the corner of his desk, I say to him, “They’re all pretty hardworking people. They deserved a little break.”

     “Really? That’s the reason you want to give me?” he tests again, knowing that I’m lying, “Eron and Tony may be worthless but at least they had enough loyalty to tell me the truth about your little Lupine guest.”

     I grit my teeth as I fight off the urge to gut him like a pig. I manage to force out, “Then, I guess I’ll just cut to the chase then. Why’d you ban her from the bar?”

     “Oh, don’t play coy, little one,” Noz says, stepping towards me, “It was obvious that you two were too close from your previous life. If I hadn’t of done that, she would have found you before you were finished. Besides, she’s an insolent and disrespectful little mutt, anyway.”

     Digging my claws into my own hand to keep me from fighting, I respond, “Oh, so it was some kind of sick mercy?”

     “Not mercy,” he says, “Convenience. With how wild those dogs can be, she could have derailed your progress and took your attention off of the lessons I needed to teach you. It’s simple: Taking away distractions means improving focus. I don’t expect you to understand.”

     “Oh, I understand,” I tell him as I walk by, moving past him towards the window, “If that’s the case, then when will she be allowed back? After all, my Embrace is finished, so there’s no longer the threat of her ‘derailing my progress’, right?”

     Feigning approval, his expression immediately flips from a disgruntled grimace to a false grin of delight as he pats me on the shoulder and says, “You know what, my childe? I’ll lift the ban next time I get to speak with her in my bar. How does that sound?”

     Waving to Ylva as she walks into the building, I say, “That sounds fantastic since she’s back already.”

     She returns my wave with a smile as she readjusts the sword on her back. I hold open the door as I say, “Shall we?” to Noz. Visibly forcing himself to play nice, he walks alongside me to Ylva, who has already started helping some of the workers after eyeing fresh welts and contusions on all of them. I take her place in helping clean up the barroom, starting by checking on Eron and Tony while she and Noz go to the bar to hash things out. Their conversation gets loud a number of times, drawing everyone’s attention before my sire shouts at them all to return to work. They part ways, barely more amicable than when they started, but Noz tells me that she’s allowed to return under supervision which I will have to provide. He makes it clear that it’s nonnegotiable before moving back up the stairs to his office.       As I return to helping clean the Bar, Ylva hands her sword off to Bartholomew for safekeeping before returning to assist as well. It doesn’t take us much longer to clean, perhaps another hour or less. As soon as we do finish, the workers all take a moment’s rest in the bar to thank Ylva and I for helping. We try to tell them that it’s no problem, but it only prompts them to reveal to us that no one had ever helped before. We ask about Eron and Tony helping to which they all laugh. I notice them already making their way back up the stairs to join Noz at his observatory window. Glancing around the workers to see how badly they were reprimanded, I begin to notice just how many more scars each of them actually have. Looking up to the office, I see Eron and Tony talking to a disinterested Noz. He locks eyes with me, an agitated look painted on his face. Always one to poke the bear, I tell Bartholomew that everyone here deserves a drink loud enough to piss off the man staring down at me. He turns and walks away from the window as his workers all pull up to the bar with smiles on their faces. Not all of them join and the ones that do only stay for a single drink before leaving, but they enjoyed themselves for once despite their bruises and welts still being raw.      The only ones left are Ylva, Bartholomew, and myself. Ylva and I are joking with Bartholomew, trying our best to get him to show any other emotion than the stonewall stare he always has. We joke about life, animals, weather, gangs, districts, weapons, and the list goes on. We only get him to laugh once the jokes turn towards the rulers of Ustrus, even swaying him to crack a few about the soon-to-be King and Queen. We all get a hardy laugh, but he still doesn’t crack a smile despite what sounds like the engine of a steam train sputtering to a halt come from his mouth. Afterwards, he makes his final sweep around the building to check for any unnoticed or forgotten items, leaving Ylva and I alone.      She and I start off calmly speaking about all the things she did during the day. She seems to be pretty complacent with her position in the tribe, now. However, she’s still itching to return to the Fights. I tell her that they’ll be back up in a night or two, along with come changes I want to enact. She doubts that Noz will approve of them. Unfortunately, she’s right. Soon after that topic, the conversation turns serious as we start discussing what Noz did to his workers.

     “So,” Ylva says as we down a shot, “That’s who you look up to, huh?”

     “I never said that I looked up to him,” I tell her, a bit ticked off by the assumption.

     “Well, you’re the one who enjoys being like him.”

     “I enjoy being a Kindred. I enjoy being a Nosferatu. Doesn’t mean that I’d enjoy being my sire.”

     “Really still can’t believe that you actually refer to him as ‘sire.’ ”

     “It’s just a formality. Don’t mistake that for respect. He’s still a Bloodsucking douchebag.”

     “Yet you sleep in his office, trusting him not to cut your head off? Smart move.”

     “You got another place for me to crash with complete protection from the sunlight and any citizen who feels like killing a vamp?”

     She has no reply.

     “That’s what I thought.”

     “Still can’t trust him, Carnie.”

     “I know I can’t, but what other options do I have? Can’t go back to my former home. Sure as hell not burying myself each night just to claw my way back out. I’d ask to stay with you, but-”

     “My tribe still blames you for Scars. They say that you fighting him ‘forced my hand.’ Kind of bullshit, if you ask me. Especially since I wanted the fight in the first place.”

     “That’s true, but you see my point. Don’t have anywhere else but here to rest safely during the day. Hell, it’s so safe that not even other full-fledged Kindred come around.”

     “That is odd, isn’t it? From what it seems, Noz is on good enough terms with his own kind to set up a personal and private meeting with the most powerful inbred bastards in the city. Why haven’t they ever showed up to a fight?”

     “I don’t know, but I prefer it that way. Sure as hell don’t want some power-hungry kids making everyone fight to the death just to get their rocks off.”

     “I second that,” Ylva says, clinking her shot against mine before we drink them.

     We continue to talk for a while about our suspicions around Noz. Bartholomew even joins in, speaking ill about him in a hushed whisper. He tells us about the worst that Noz has done to him, revealing that his wife and daughter were slaughtered in front of him before being turned into Noz’s first Ghoul centuries ago. From there, he continued to speak of similar things done to the other Ghouls and Half-Vampires under Noz’s control. I wish that was the most disturbing thing we heard, but he went on to inform us that Noz’s network of spies reach every inch of the city, regardless of race. Ylva and I try to get him to talk past it, seeing his eyes begin to water. 

     Ylva tells him, “It’d be a hell of a thing if someone else took over Noz’s Bar, then, right?”

     Tossing his cleaning towel on to the bar top, he remarks, “Yeah, if only there was someone the others were fine with being bonded to.”

     He eyes me and I give a dumbfounded stare back as I ask, “You don’t actually think that I could, do you?”

     “Are you fucking serious?” the Beast snarls in confusion.

     “Are you fucking serious?” Ylva announces, placing down her shot in anger.

     “That’s exactly what I wanted to hear,” Bartholomew whispers before turning to enter his room. As he closes the door behind him, I swear I notice the slightest grin cross his face.

     “He wasn’t talking about me, Ylva,” I claim, seeing her eyes still staring at me in bewilderment, “I’m not the type to be running people.”

     Leaving her shot on the table, she stands up with her sword strapped on and tells me, “You’re still as dense as ever, Carnie,” as she walks out for the night.

     From then on, I’ve been studying Noz’s adventures outside of his bar. They were incredibly rare before my Embrace, according to the workers’ recollections. Since he met with the Giovanni ruling the city, he’s been increasing the number of times he leaves his bar. If that wasn’t concerning enough, he sometimes leaves for an entire night. I follow him every night I can, even missing some Fights because of it. Trailing him around town, it seems that Bartholomew’s word is true. From the city guard to the person who runs the orphanage, he speaks to every person of interest this side of town. He talks shop with the two Blood Puppets my former father ran with. As it turns out, they’re part of the city’s guards and controlled by a clan higher than the Nosferatu since it seems that he sometimes answers to their beck and call. Other nights, he speaks to the drug dealers and cooks. A very familiar cook is coerced to inform him that his only childe killed one of his best traffickers. Curiously, Noz never confronts me about it. He doesn’t even seem to mind the change of management at the gambling halls, seeing as how it aloud him to personally choose the new boss.      In the later parts of the three passing weeks, he begins spending more nights in parts of the city I’m unable to keep track of him through. For those, I begin enlisting Ludwig’s help. He’s had homes all around, which made him better with understanding the rest of the city than I am with the small corner I’ve never left. The kid’s more than happy to help, giving him an opportunity to get out during the night and ask me giddy questions about who I was before becoming a Blood Sucker. I’m always careful to not let slip that he was adopted to replace me as the family crutch. When we’re not talking about that, Ludwig tells me what he knows about the people Noz meets and the buildings he enters. He visits a major guard hideout, a few other clubs, and even a library. He steers away from the cemetery, though. Oddly enough, he looks like he’s trembling in fear as he walks by it. Unfortunately, the next area he decides to visit during the night worries me.      Leaving Ludwig at the safety of his home, I pull Ylva along with me the following night. It pisses her off, but I convince her that she needs to show me the deeper parts of the forests her tribe lives in. She continues to try to argue why until I tell her about Noz meeting his contacts around the city in preparation for something. Once she hears my explanation, she races to the edge of town with me in her vehicle. We begin dashing through the forest trees the moment we get there. We find Noz wandering through the forests and keep a safe distance while we trail behind him. After a few minutes of ambling between the trees, Ylva starts to breathe heavily as we approach an odd clearing filled with artifacts and idols. I keep my focus on Noz and see him meeting with a number of Garou dressed in what looks like meaningful garb. I try to step forward but Ylva holds my arm back with a shaking hand. Looking back, her whole form is shuddering so much that the sword on her back is clinking a bit against her clothing. I grab her by the shoulders and ask her what’s wrong. The only words she says is that he’s not supposed to be here and neither should we. She takes a deep breath as she unsheathes her sword, readying to rush into the meeting to kill him. Knowing that it’s suicide for her, I hold her back, whispering that we can do this after we figure out why Noz is here. She tries to push past me again and I use all my strength to pull her back. We begin to scuffle as her rage boils over. Noticing that the meeting has been put on pause after hearing a commotion, I decide to knock out Ylva and carry her away before we’re seen. She wakes up in her car after I’ve driven us back to the scrapyard. She cusses me out for saving her. I cuss her out for throwing a fit before we could find out why he was meeting with Elders. We continue the shouting match until we’re both calm enough to listen to reason. I tell her to come back tomorrow night so we can follow Noz again. She reluctantly agrees as she stomps her way back to the Bar.      The next night comes and I wake up inside the yard instead of the office, surrounded by scraps of metal stacked around me like a makeshift tent. I force my way out and race towards the Bar, hearing the music and Fights already in full swing. Stepping into the building, it’s practically at max capacity, filled with all of the usual rabble and some unfamiliar faces. I try to wade through the sea of people, glancing into the cage to see two humans fighting. Once at the bar, Bartholomew tells me that Noz wants me up in his office, facing away from me as he grabs some bottles off the shelves. I ask if he’s seen Ylva. He tells me to meet Noz up in his office again, slipping me a dagger as he turns to face me. He’s got a bloodstained wrapping around his head, covering up claw marks. With a look of worry, I glance through the place and see that a good handful of workers are gone from the floor while those that are working have more clothing on than usual. Checking for the brass knuckles and machete I usually keep on me, I realize they’re gone as I rush up the stairs to Noz’s office, hiding the dagger in my sleeve.      I kick the door open to find two stakes racing towards me. Ducking under, I grab the wrists that are holding them and hurl the attackers towards the opposite end of the office. They crash into three others on the opposite end, stalling a handful of other weapons. There’s no time to enjoy it as I feel a frigid hand grab me by the throat and slam me into the ground. I follow the arm to Noz’s sinister face as he lifts me out of the floorboards. Still swinging, I break his nose in a bit before he grabs my fist to hold me steady. I stomp his knee in before he decides to send my skull back into the floor.

     Holding my face against the ground, Noz shouts, “That’s enough!”

     Sending me careening into the window, the glass cracks as I impact. I struggle back to my feet as I tell him, “Bartholomew said you wished to speak with me.”

     As I spit out a clump of blood, Noz chuckles as he remarks, “Always the derisive one, my childe. You certainly have gumption.”

     Wiping my mouth, I exclaim, “I’ll show your old ass some ‘gumption’ once I put a stake through you,” trying to advance on him.

     Stopped by the ten assholes loyal to Noz in the room, they present their blades as he says, “No, you won’t. Not anymore. It’s about time you be taught some proper respect.”

     “Can’t teach what you’ve never had, O.D.B,” I respond, still poking the bear as the Beast claws the walls of my mind to fight.

     “I think you’ll find me quite persuasive,” the Leper announces as he steps to the side, revealing a beaten and bruised Ylva tied back-to-back with Ludwig.

     “Now, here’s what will happen, childe. You will continue...” he begins to say, but my mind fazes his voice out as I assess the situation.

     There’s exactly thirteen other people inside of this office. Two are allies, being Ylva and Ludwig. The kid is too young to put up much of a fight while the other has already been in one. They’re bound together at the wrists and have their ankles hogtied independently. They’re sat on top of the desk at the very center of the room. Ylva is bloodied and bruised, but I’ve seen her fight through worse conditions. She’s still roaring for a good scrap, judging by the fury in her eyes. Ludwig is doing his best to not show that he’s scared shitless, staring at me with panicked desperation. The enemies are a number of unknowns aside from three of them. Those being Eron, Tony, and Noz. Eron is cockily smirking and bouncing from side to side, playfully tossing what looks to be my brass knuckles from one hand to the other. Tony is helping pull the two I tossed earlier to their feet, a worried but determined look in his eyes as he holds my machete firm in his grasp. They’re easy to deal with and are always the first to fold, so they’re nothing to worry about. The seven other workers are all unknown to me. They’re holding weapons with varying degrees of comfort and confidence. The two with stakes are having trouble steadying their hands after I threw them across the room. The three swordsmen are breathing heavily and constantly glancing between me and their regnant in terrified anticipation. The two standing closest to Ylva and Ludwig surprisingly have firearms, which barely worries me as they’re more likely to backfire. They all have varying degrees of apprehension, worriedly glancing between everything that’s going on. Noz, on the other hand, is a whole different monster.      He’s already been cut up and worked over a bit. From the looks of it, he tried to apprehend Ylva personally and wasn’t expecting her to put up such a fight. His cloak isn’t hiding any weapons. I know because he’s been walking constantly since he started his monologue, making it easy for me to see anything hidden beneath his clothing. His older sailor pants are torn to shreds and worn through, unable to conceal anything. His vest and collared shirt surprisingly don’t have his rope noose tie for once, allowing me to see some brass and copper supports around his neck. His long coat is covered in blood and torn up from the ground, shortening it from its previous three foot long tail to it now being roughly above his ankles. He’s now covered in deep contusions, large welts, and staunch dents in his body, all of which barely seem to bother or slow him down. He’s an old cobblestone wall and I’m going to need to break him down brick by brick. I just can’t figure out how, until I remember what he said about-

     “CARNEGIE!” Noz shouts, bringing me back to reality.

     “Are you done now?” I ask, lifting my chin to stare him eye to eye.

     “This is what I’m referring to,” he reaffirms, stepping towards me, “The disrespect. The lack of commitment and attention. The sheer disregard for what you need to do to take over. I’m tired of it, Carnegie. All of it.”

     “Lis-” I try to say before being cut off.

     “No! You listen!” Noz says, grabbing me by the shoulders and walking to the desk, “I’m tired of your disloyalty to me. Many times, all those I work with in the city and answer to have told me to rend your head from your shoulders. To start over with a new childe. Every time, I’ve vouched for you but your incessant affection for these two has proved my choice futile. Not only you, but the three of you have worn me thin.”

     He tosses me to the desk and I hold myself from crashing into it, still considering my options as he continues to berate me.

     “You’re an imbecile! A softhearted little pup, licking at the scraps of your previous life while ignoring the feast that awaits you in your new one. I have my orders, but I’m allowing you a chance to prove to me where your allegiances lie,” he says to me with a softer tone.

     Leaning in closer to my ear but not speaking any quieter, Noz growls, “Drain them dry.”

     Taking a deep breath, I glance between Ylva and Ludwig. Ylva’s eyes are staring down Noz like she wants to beat him to death with his own arms. Ludwig’s panicking more and more as Noz continues, seeing the veins in my neck bulge with anger.

     I try to reply, “I’m not dr-”

     “YES! YOU! WILL!” Noz screams in my ear, shaking the rest of the room to its core.

     The Beast snarls, “I’m tired of his tone.”

     I close my eyes as Noz continues to shout, “You will feed on them! You will drink them dry, draining every morsel of vitae from their souls! You will prove your loyalty to me and the Kindred or you will watch me rip them asunder with a stake through your heart! NOW, FEED!”

     He ends his spew with one final shove towards the desk. I catch myself against it as the Beast scrapes out, “I don’t care what you do with the others in the room. Just give me that ugly Leper as a meal.”

     I nod in agreement, keeping my head down between the shoulders of Ludwig and Ylva. I whisper to them, “Trust me,” before standing up straight.

     Taking a deep sigh, I give them the best puppy dog eyes I can muster as I say, “You heard him. Time to feed.”

     Ludwig starts losing his shit, all composure washing from his form as I bend down to Ylva’s neck. She is as cool as an autumn stream while I sink my fangs into her, feeling my hand pull a dagger from my sleeve to start cutting their binds. I don’t drink enough to kill her, nowhere near it, but she feigns a dead damsel. She remembers my explanation of what certain blood can do for me. However, I soon realize that Noz’s description didn’t give werewolf blood proper justice.      Ylva enjoys it almost as much as I do, feeling her heart rate spike as I drink a bit from her. The blood she gives me fills my veins with enough steam to power the entire city. Every piece of me is pleading for a bloody bout as the Beast starts to slam against the bars of my mind. Barely holding him back, I slip Ludwig the knife as I feel the stake stowed underneath Ylva’s shirt. 

     Feeling my grip on reality fade as the bloodthirst starts to seep in, I lick her neck wounds closed before whispering, “Go.”

     Ylva immediately leaps from the table to tackle two people as she transforms into a towering bipedal wolf, tearing away from the desk. She makes short work of the two she tackled, retrieving her sword from one as she rips the throat out of the other. After hearing a pistol backfire, Ludwig stabs one as he rolls behind the desk before I turn my head towards Noz.      Riding the wave into a full frenzy, my anger snaps the leash off of the Beast as he drives me into a mad skirmish against Noz. I swipe at his neck and manage to nick his carotid, filling the air with blood. I’m filled with so much adrenaline that I barely feel my old machete slam into my thigh. Breaking his arm off with a single swipe, Tony screams in pain while holding his bloody stump. Eron tries to throw a punch with my brass knuckles, but I dodge it while tearing the machete out of my leg. Holding on to it by Tony’s severed arm, I slam the blade into Eron’s side, severing his left arm before the machete gets stuck in his spine. Before I can tear it back out, Noz rushes me at full speed, slamming me into a cinder block wall with his claws buried into my shoulder blades. Snarling in rage, I headbutt him, smashing his nose further into his face. Reeling back from the pain, I pick him up myself and slam him into his desk with a disgusting crack. In a burst of madness, I begin clawing and striking every piece of Noz I can see, eventually breaking him through the middle of the desk. He loses his right eye, a chunk of his right jaw, some pieces of what used to be his stomach, most of his lower intestine, and a knee cap before he manages to throw me over his head. I slam into the wall behind the desk, opposite the already cracked observatory window. There’s a body that I land on which I wouldn’t have noticed if a piercing pain hadn’t caused me to look back.      Looking back at the wound, my right leg has a wooden stake protruding from it, which I apparently have picked up from one of the Ghoul casualties while Noz and I were going at it. I glance further beyond my leg to see that Ludwig is the body that gave me a soft landing. He gives me a look of terror as I realize that me getting tossed into him forced the dagger he was wielding to plunge deep into his gut. Looking around to assess the rest of the damage, the entire office is in ruins, now redecorated with severed limbs and emulsified organs. Ylva has made short work out of a number of the mob while others had succumbed to wounds while caught in the crossfire between Noz and I. She’s now trying to hold Noz still enough to drive her stake through him, but she’s winding down while he’s becoming more and more desperate to survive. Noz can barely stay on his feet with a missing kneecap, yet he’s still strong enough to toss Ylva aside.      Seeing Ludwig’s eyes beginning to close and Ylva reverting back to her human form, the Beast tears the stake from my leg, wrenches the machete from Tony’s severed arm, then launches us with a powerful leap at Noz. Distracted by Ylva’s stake in his side, he’s caught off guard as I drive him through the heart with my stake. The momentum of the leap carries through the stab, sending Noz and I smashing through his window. We careen towards the center of the floor, our eyes locking on the way down. He has a look of terrible pain as my stake cracks through his ribs towards his heart. I can feel my face distort into a twisted smile as the Beast and I know that we’ve already won.      Noz and I slam against the top railing of the cage and crash into the middle, interrupting a bout. The fighters rush out of the cage in a panic, squeezing through the bent bars as I begin to eviscerate Noz. Giving the Beast full control, I force the machete into his midsection and through the stone floor to further pin him to the ground. I wrench the stake from his chest to hear him cry out in pain as I tear his left arm off. Slamming the spike back into his heart, I whack him across the face with his severed arm before stomping through what’s left of his right knee. Without a kneecap to hold it together, his lower leg easily separates from the upper. I bite his right hand off and spit it to the side just before clasping his throat with my left hand and tearing the stake from his chest with my right. Choking him against the ground, he can barely give out a second scream of pain after what he’s endured.

     Having lost enough blood to make him nearly useless and too weak to fight back or try to escape, I ask, “Any last words?”

     “I gave the Royals your name. They’ll-” he races to finish.

     “Too long,” I interrupt him, sinking my fangs into his neck.

     He doesn’t have much blood left after all the punishment the Beast put on him. He’s even told me the dangers of draining a fellow Kindred, but it’s the benefits that I’m interested in. The power I could get from a Kindred as old as him? I’m eager to feel it. I’m restless to see how strong I could become. Above all else, I’m greedier than I am cautious.      I drain what little vitae he has left, feeling a cascade of fire return to my body like a second Embrace. His soul flows into me as I continue drinking his blood, and I begin to seize in pain. I curl over and drop to my knees as the taste of blood entices me more. What little connection I felt to humanity begins to fade as our two souls mutilate each other. As the battle continues, I feel his soul begin to lose and I roar across the entire bar, letting out one last arduous wail to strain against the fever. Allowing the burn to seep out of my body, I watch as Noz succumbs to the Final Death, rapidly decaying into ash across the barroom floor. As I turn around to the bar, they all look on in delight and awe before erupting into applause.

     Enjoying their approval for only a moment, I watch Ylva limp down the stairs with an unconscious Ludwig in her arms, prompting me to shout, “Move!”

     As some of the crowd’s cheers turn into disgruntled murmurs while I push past them, Ylva stops me at the stairs, saying, “He’s lost a lot of blood. We have to get him to the woods. My bag is in my car.”

     She tries to take another step and her knees buckle after the fight we just went through, so I warn, “You can barely stand. You can’t perform a ritual in your condition and Ludwig isn’t going to make it to the woods with a knife in his chest. There’s got to be something else we can do.”

     “Carnie,” Ylva says with a depressed look, “There’s probably only one way to save him.”

     “I’m not turning him into me, Ylva,” I deny as I take him from her arms, “I’m not killing him twice in one night. He may be a tough little bastard, but he wouldn’t survive becoming a Nosferatu. Bartholomew! Help! Please!”

     I carry him to the bar, pushing aside a man in conversation with the head bartender, as Ylva desperately asks, “Bartholomew, you told us that you’ve been here the longest. You’ve got to have some sort of first aid with you, right?”

     Bartholomew places down a drink as he looks Ludwig over before responding, “I’ve got nothing to help that much blood loss. Certainly nothing appropriate for a boy so young. My ‘mate’ right next to you might, though.”

     Glancing towards my shoulder, I see the man I pushed aside a moment ago holding up a drink with a smarmy look on his face. From first glance, he’s a human and I can’t see much else special about him beyond that. His clothes are high class, at least higher class than anyone I’ve met in my side of the city. He drinks from a glass with a pinkie in the air. I hate him already.

    He speaks with a voice that sounds like it made a hundred promises and only kept a handful as he tells me, “If you want my help, it’ll come at a price.”

    “Yeah, no shit. We can talk payment after you save Ludwig,” I snark back, “You want to save his life on the bar or upstairs?”

    Finishing his drink and taking a few seconds to eye me, Ylva, and Ludwig, he admits, “We’ll do it upstairs. More dead up there so it won’t be as awkward. Bartholomew! I’ll need all of your first aid equipment sent up immediately. I thank you in advance for your compliance.”

    Bartholomew glances to me with an eye of disbelief but proceeds to gather the gear from his room. Ylva supports herself against me as we walk back up the stairs to the office. It’s a bloodbath inside. All of the most loyal who joined Noz are laid throughout the room in pieces. The firearms are both destroyed, one having killed its wielder due to a blowback while the other was tossed from its wielder who seems to have had his face clawed off. The two who wielded stakes seem to have been the ones who got the quickest end in the fight. One is buried into the concrete wall, still hanging from where Noz slammed me into him. The other has a small stab wound in his chest with a long stream of crimson out of it. The three swordsmen lay all about the room, torn asunder by what I can only assume was Ylva’s doing. Tony has bled out from his missing arm and Eron has long since passed due to nearly being bisected.

    “Find a relatively clean spot to lay the boy down while I instruct Bartholomew on what to do,” the man exclaims as Bartholomew rushes up the stairs behind us.

    “You said you were going to help,” Ylva remarks.

    “I will,” he says, taking out a flask and sipping from it, “But I can’t operate under the influence of so much alcohol. Bartholomew will be my hands. He’s the calmest person I know.”

    Bartholomew places down a long sheet on the cleanest piece of floor before pulling the man’s jacket off from his shoulders.

    “What the hell are you doing, Bartholomew?” he asks, spinning around as he relinquishes his coat.

    “We need something to support his head. You see anyone else in here with a jacket to roll up, boyo?” he replies, wrapping the coat and lifting Ludwig’s head to place it underneath.

    The man responds, “As a matter of fact, I see many bodies with jackets, so yes.”

    Placing gloves on his hands, Bartholomew says, “Enough talk. I need instruction.”

    Equal parts desperate and hopeful, I leave them to revive him as I help Ylva limp to the broken desk. Setting her down on a relatively sturdy edge, I tear some fabric from what remains of my shirt and begin wrapping it around some of her cuts.

    “Hey, Carnie,” she says, wincing a bit from the pressure I put on her wounds, “Are you okay?”

    Shredding more of my shirt for additional wrappings, I tell her, “Yeah, I’ll heal after a good rest. You’re the one who’s still mortal, remember?”

    “I don’t mean that,” Ylva says, helping me hold a makeshift gauze to her shoulder, “You’re colder than before the fight started. Your skin is paler, as well. What happened once you leapt out of the office?”

    “Go on and tell her, pretty boy,” the Beast teases, chuckling a bit in the back of my head.

    Twitching a bit after hearing his voice clearer and louder than I’ve ever been able to since the Embrace, I tell her, “I killed Noz. Shredded him to bits then drank what blood was left.”

    “Does that come with side effects?” she asks worriedly.

    “Oh, you have no idea,” the Beast whispers.

    “I have no idea,” I lie, hoping that she’ll leave the subject.

    “That’s bullshit,” she whispers, not wanting to pull Bartholomew and his friend from helping Ludwig.

    “D’awww, look at your little Night Wolf,” the Beast taunts with a coy laugh, “Getting all maternal and protective. It’s downright disgusting.”

    Closing my eyes in annoyance, I tell Ylva, “We can figure it out after Ludwig is okay, alright? Besides, you’ve been through enough tonight. You deserve some rest.”

    Finishing up her bandages, I realize that some lacerations on her may need a bit more attention, so I tell her to stay still as I go check to see if they have some leftover sutures. They hand me some that they’re not using on Ludwig. I glance at him and see that he’s breathing again, giving me a faint bit of hope that he’ll make it through.

    Returning to Ylva, I begin stitching up her side while telling her, “The kid’s breathing again, so it seems like we won’t have to kill Bartholomew’s friend for lying to us.”

    “Good,” she says, looking around the room, “There’s been enough war tonight.”

    “Damn,” the Beast shouts, “Pity we couldn’t have at least one more bout.”

    Feeling my mangled body, I respond, “Yeah, I’ve had my fill for the rest of the night.”

    I stand up and turn to Bartholomew and his buddy. Watching them finish up, my eyes flick wildly across the room. I feel something else clawing at me now, something foreign. It’s not the Beast, whose scratches are almost calming to me. It’s someone else, trying to punish me for something obscure. I close my eyes and try to listen for who it is. The voice screaming at me sounds familiar, but I can’t make it out after all that’s happened. Goddamn, it’s so close, but there’s something like static in the way. If it wasn’t for the interference, I would swear that it’s-

    “Oi, Carnegie,” the strange man calls, “Your boy is coming through. Still a bit too weak to walk very far, though. Want to give him a few words before returning him home?”

    Ylva gets up and walks on her own as I rush over to see him. His gut wound is stitched up proper with a large wrapping of gauze around it. Bartholomew pulls the gloves off of his hands as he repacks his gear. His friend takes a few more gulps from his flask as I talk to him.

    “Hey, there, Ludwig,” I tell him, helping him sit up slowly, “Don’t go too fast, alright? You just came back from Hell’s gate. I’d rather you not return so quickly.”

    Taking deep and pained sighs, he responds, “This isn’t my first time getting stabbed.”

    “True, but it’s your first time getting crushed and stabbed,” I say, helping him to his feet.

    “Yeah, well...you’re fat,” he tells me before chuckling a bit, “Dead people shouldn’t be heavy like that.”

    Ylva and I laugh a bit before I say, “Yup, you’re okay. Alright, you little shit, time to get you home.”

    The man finishes gulping a bit more from his flask before stopping me, “Hold on there, Papa Kindred. We still have to discuss payment.”

    Slightly miffed by his interruption, Ylva tells me, “I can take him home. It’s probably best if I sleep this off, too.”

     Nodding in agreement, I watch them leave after gathering her sword and his knife. Ludwig is fast asleep before Ylva even makes it out of the building. She turns a few heads on her way out, half due to the fresh wounds on her naked bloody and the other half due to the sleeping child in her arms. I turn away from the smashed observatory window to see Bartholomew looking around the bar, checking for damage, as his friend leers at the workers.

    “Looking at anything that catches your eye?” I ask him with a dismissive gaze.

    “Quite a bit, actually,” he replies, pushing his lips into a slight pout, “Nothing I would go after, though. Your workforce simply makes me...well...just a bit sad, ‘tis all.”

    “How so?”

    “Well, they’re all Half-Vampires and Ghouls working down there. Half-Vampires who were left like garbage by their parents and Ghouls who are no longer bound to anyone. Seems a bit dismal for their future, doesn’t it?”

    “By the way I see it, they all just got some true freedom back. That’s a win in my book.”

    With an amused smile painted across his face, he remarks, “Oh, how happy I am to hear you say that! This should make the deal to come much easier for you to say yes to, then.”

    Scoffing a bit, I question, “You’d know for certain if you would just tell me what the hell it is you want me to do.”

    “Oooooh, what a rambunctious one you are. Not only in times of war but times of peace. I find myself growing fonder of you by the second, my dear,” he responds sounding more and more cocky by the second.

    “The feeling’s not mutual,” I respond, taking a step forward as I break one of my fingers back into place.

    “Just get to the point,” Bartholomew speaks up before I could get to his friend.

    Giving a long and drawn-out sigh, the man confides, “Fine, fine. My name is Caster and I have a job for you.”

    “What’s the job?” I ask, tired of seeing him in the bar.

    “Well, it’s not exactly a job, per se. It’s more like an assignment. A responsibility. A duty you have to do for not only yourself but those you care about,” he begins to drone, trying to deceive me in his speech.

    “You know? If I ever learned one thing from my asshole father before I killed him, it’s that if someone starts spitting bullshit the first moment that you meet them then chances are good that that’s exactly what they’re full of. Nothing but bullshit,” I exclaim, growing weary of his presence.

    “Carnegie, just give him a few moments,” Bartholomew says, handing me a small bandage, “He usually gets to the important bits once he’s done with his act.”

    Glancing down at my leg after being handed the gauze, I kneel down to wrap the glaring whole in my thigh as I tell Caster, “Well, Caster. Seems Bartholomew trusts you enough to vouch for you, so, go ahead, talk my ear off.”

    “My dear Nosferatu,” he says, feigning a surprised look, “I’m not hear to talk anyone’s ear off. I’m merely describing to you why you won’t say no to the job...once it comes around.”

    “You keep on talking like it may come in the next two hours or the next two months or the next two decades,” I tell him, finishing the tight wrap around my leg, “I don’t like being on layaway with debts, Caster. Either cough up what the job is or count me out.”

    “Oh, there’s no counting you out,” he says as he stows his flask, “You’re already in. I saved your pseudo-son from dying. I didn’t interfere with you exterminating a rather important Kindred. I may even forget the fact that a Lupine, a Garou, a bloody werewolf of all things, assisted you in taking over this bar. Despite all of this kindness, it still comes with a price.”

    Rushing to him in a fierce dash, I grab him by the collar before growling, “You should feel lucky that I’m even letting you walk out of here with that tone.”

    Without flinching or batting an eye, he calmly states, “Now, my dear Carnegie Gunvald. You just killed Noz. I’d rather you not become him. After all, that’s why so many around here like you.”

    Realizing what I’m doing, I gently release his collar as I ask, “So, what do I owe you?”

    With another grin, he responds, “Well, only since you’ve mentioned it, I would love something as payment for my services. By the way I see it, you owe me three things.”

    The Beast mutters, “Is this guy fucking serious?” before he continues.

    “For saving your boy, Ludwig, you’ll have to answer a call to action in the future. It’ll be a small letter enclosed with red wax and a strip of barley,” he starts, pointing his hand to the sky to make a point of it.

    “A little theatrical, don’t you think?” I ask, folding my arms as I return to the shattered window with Bartholomew.

    “Irregardless!” he shouts, continuing on to his next points, “For not interfering in your extermination of Noz, I would request that you inform me of any fights in which you or your Lupine friend, Ylva, are participating in!”

    “How would I do that when I can’t leave during the day?” I remark back, still watching the workers below.

    “I’ll do it,” Bartholomew answers, “Least I can do for you putting Noz out of everyone’s misery.”

    While I sigh as a reluctant confirmation, Caster speaks up before me with a resounding, “Excellent! Always best to make bets on sure things, if you get my drift.”

    “Hold up, if you’re making bets then I want-” I try to say before being interrupted again.

    “To know what my third request is! Of course! You’re the ‘straight to the point’ kind and I like that,” he interposes, causing me to groan in annoyance louder, “Third and final is simple: You will take over Noz’s territory.”

    “What...” the Beast says, dumbfounded.

    “What!” the mystery voice yells through white noise.

    “What?” I ask, uncertain of his intentions.

    “I’m quite certain that I didn’t stutter,” Caster says, taking steps towards the door, “You. Will. Take. Over. Noz’s. Territory. All of it.”

    Pulling my stare from the bar and placing them on to him, I realize that he’s genuine in his demand as I tell him, “I’m not-”

    “ ‘One to be running people.’ Yes, yes, I know. Bartholomew has already told me your reaction, but, here’s the thing, I don’t care,” he responds, stopping by the door and leaning against it.

    I’d be lying if I told him that I hadn’t thought about it, so I tell him, “Nope, not happening. Haven’t even thought about it.”

    Scoffing alongside Caster, Bartholomew says, “Carnegie, first, I regret to inform you that you can’t lie even if your life depended on it. More importantly, you’re the only one those workers might actually follow. According to them, you just killed the worst patriarch they’ve ever had.”

    I glance back to the workers and notice a number of them look back with a smile before hearing Caster take over the speech, “You may not believe yourself anything more than a soldier, but, I can guarantee, that what those workers witnessed just validated you to be their new Papa Vamp. Congratulations on fatherhood.”

    Squeezing the bridge of my nose, I tell them, “You two can’t be serious?”

    “That’s almost as dumb a question as ‘Do you care about them?’,” Caster responds, knowing the answer already, “So, with that out of the way, congratulations on the promotion. I’ll be back tomorrow night to get your final answer. Cheers, Carnegie.”

    With that, he immediately leaves the office and jaunts down the steps. As he does, he shouts to the bar, “Ladies and Gentlemen! Boys and Girls! Miscreants and Vagabonds! Please, lend me your ears!”

    The entire bar comes to a stop and gives him their full attention as he informs them, “Unfortunately, Noz’s Bar has very recently come under new management. As such, all guests are required to leave for the remainder of the night. Don’t fret, my dears! It will be back up and running the following evening! Better than new, I might add! Now, please, to the door.”

    With surprisingly little grievances, the guests follow orders, leaving the bar ahead of him. As the last one out of the bar, Caster turns at the entrance and gives a cocky tip of the hat before walking away.

    Still looking out of the destroyed window, Bartholomew is now sitting with his legs dangling off of the edge as he tells me, “Well, Carnegie. Shall we join the rest?”

    Gazing at all of the workers, I nod, prompting Bartholomew to walk down the stairs first. Taking a deep breath, I turn away from the window and grasp the doorknob as I hear white noise clear from my mind for the new voice to speak.

    Noz growls, “Oh, childe. You’ve really done it now,” sending spears of pain into my ears.

    Wincing from it, I mumble under my breath, “Son of a bitch,” before making my way to the barroom floor.

Epilogue

    The rest of the night is done in perpetual celebration for the workers. Bartholomew is smiling as he pours fountains of drinks for his fellow laborers. They’re all drinking, singing, and dancing, finally having a night of personal debauchery free from Noz’s leash. He keeps clawing into my ears, trying to make me snap. The Beast is enjoying rending him to pieces again, so I don’t mind what feels like needles in my head. The staff go about drunkenly tearing away every sign of Noz. They smash placards and scratch out engravings, all extolling him for one thing or another. The whole building fills with laughs as they break down the large N-O-Z off of the front of the building. It’s pretty damn hilarious hearing Noz in the back of my head, screaming in agony as I watch everything he has built have his name removed from it.     As the night starts to slowly break apart for soft hues of daybreak, Bartholomew begins to ask me a barrage of questions before I head off to sleep during the day.

    He begins with, “First, you want me to make sure that they clean everything up, right?”

    I answer, “Yeah, that would be nice.”

    “Next, keep all of Noz’s shit in the trash, defaced and dismantled, yeah?”

    “That’s for damn sure.”

    “After that, bend the bars back in place for more Fights?”

    “No, we’ll do more Fights starting at the end of the week. We need to keep this place quiet long enough for me to get used to running Noz’s territory.”

    “You mean running YOUR territory.”

    “I suppose that’s correct.”

    “No ‘supposing’ about it. It’s all yours, but I’ll digress. So, no bending bars back but still opening up again the following night?”

    “That’s correct but only for drinks and relaxation. Music included.”

    “Good thing that the musical organs weren’t touched then. Aside from all of that, we can go over the workers’ payment and services once you wake up unless you have your desired changes already written up.”

    “As a matter of fact,” I say, pulling out a small scroll of paper, “Not too much is changing but here’s the gist of it:

    Sex is no longer a mandatory service for anyone. If a worker wants to offer it, that’s their business and my fee will only be half of what Noz charged. Full-fledged Kindred is allowed on the premises, only in the interest of partaking in consensual activities. Fights will now allow full-fledged Kindred to participate. They are only allowed to face other full-fledged Kindred. For participating in a bout, these Kindred are agreeing to consensual feeding from one another after the fight as a display of showmanship. After every bout, any wounds sustained will be tended to under proper supervision. At no time and under no circumstances are fights to draw out to the death, to torpor, and certainly not to the Final Death. Payments for workers’ will increase, splitting what was Noz’s share amongst all of the current staff. I don’t care for money, honestly. The only person below the age of fifteen permitted on the barroom floor is Ludwig Gunvald, who will have an escort of his choosing present at all times. Finally, this building is now under the management and ownership of three people instead of a sole proprietor. Those three being: Carnegie Gunvald; Ylva Melanie; Bartholomew Duygu. 

     Does this seem a bit much to you, Bartholomew, or is it fair?”

    Proceeding to roll my scroll up, I glance to Bartholomew, eyes wide after being caught off guard halfway through cleaning glasses. Still rolling up the parchment, I look around the bar to see all of the workers’ staring at me, frozen in their tracks after listening to all of my changes. Once I’m finished with my list, I hand it to Bartholomew who slowly takes it from my hand. Reading it over for himself, his wide eyes stay in awe as he pockets the paper.

    He finally responds, “So...been thinking about this for a while, huh?”

    Before filling my mouth with a shot of whiskey, I reply, “Yeah, I have.”

    Placing the glass down and trying to focus on the liquid in my mouth, I realize that I have even less desire for this than I had before. As a Kindred, I can’t truly taste anything other than vitae. All food has the flavor of ash and all liquid has the flavor of smoke. I only continue to drink with Ylva because it helps me feel more connected. In a way, it’s as if I’m trying to convince myself that there’s still some humanity left in me. Now, though. I don’t really feel anything when I drink it. Noz did tell me that-

    “Diablerie can steal your humanity away,” he finishes, still stuck in my mind, “You’re lucky that I wasn’t able to take you over entirely. If I had a bit more vitae left in me, you’d be stuck in here while I’d be piloting your shell of a body.”

    Listening to him, I finally realize that I’d have to work my way back up the proverbial ladder of humanity. If not for my own sake, then to put Ylva’s mind at ease. I’ve lied to her enough. It’s about time I start doing something to help. Maybe even get some daydreams to return.

    “No, please, no more daydreams!” Noz shouts again, “It’s pitiful seeing you still imagine another life you’ll never get.”

    Sighing deep, I say out loud, “Beastie Boy!”

    I feel the Beast perk up.

    “Sic him,” I finish, letting their ensuing battle turn into a mind-splitting migraine for a moment before a wave of calm rushes through me.

    Opening my eyes, Bartholomew holds a distressed look as he asks, “You got his soul in you, don’t you?”

    Nodding but not verbally responding, Bartholomew continues, “There’s a long road ahead of you. All the souls Noz ate tore his mind apart. Don’t make the same mistake.”

    “I won’t,” I tell him, sliding my unfinished drink back, “So, any other questions before I curl up under a tarp in a still blood soaked corner of the office?”

    Smiling a bit, he requests, “What should the name be? Can’t be ‘Noz’s Bar’ now that he’s dead.”

    Thinking for a bit, I tell him, “I always dreamed of having a war room.”

    Laughing a bit, Bartholomew agrees, “ ‘War Room’ it is.”

    Standing up from the bar, I give one last glance to the staff before heading upstairs. They all give me approving smiles, nods, and a few even mouths a few words of appreciation before returning to their duties. Calmly closing the door behind me as I enter the office, I call out to Bartholomew from the observatory window to say “And keep this open. I like the view better without the glass,” before finding my tarp. It’s under a few of the eviscerated bodies so I pick it out of the bloody mulch. I give it a few good rings to clean most of the chunks off before curling up under it to sleep through the day.      A nightmare racks my brain, a supposed impossibility for Kindred. It’s of Noz rending me to pieces in the same manner I did to him. He seems to be smiling more and more with each blow he lands against me. Once I blink, Noz is replaced with Ylva, clawing me to pieces as tears stream down her cheeks. She’s in more pain than I am as she continues to claw away pieces of me. I blink a second time and it’s Ludwig now, stabbing me over and over with the dagger I gave him. He looks as focused and furious as I was when I killed his foster father. He’s not enjoying it, though. When I blink again and the person wailing on me returns to Noz, I fight back and begin killing him for a second time. Unlike the first, he’s smiling as I do it. He begins laughing after I’ve reduced him to less than half a man. Worrying about why, I stomp his head into pieces across the floor before looking around, realizing that I killed not only him but Ylva and Ludwig as well. With the Beast in full control, I laugh maniacally, relishing the wanton bloodshed.      I startle awake, swiping at air with my left hand. My right hand soon follows, digging out a chunk of stone from the wall where my fist must have slammed into during my night terror. Realizing that it was simply a dream, I relax with a deep breath before standing up from my tarp. Much to my surprise, the office is clean already. The carcasses and viscera which previously decorated it are now gone, but the damage is still apparent. The crater in the wall is much more prevalent without a body in it. The debris and broken glass from wrecking the office is clear, making the missing window and shattered desk more prevalent. There’s now a short railing akin to a theatre box where the observatory window once was. Stepping towards it, I pause for a moment, glancing down at the desk. It’s still broken in half, the two pieces facing down in a V. The splinters of wood are cleared, showing a fractured separation in the floorboards between the two halves of the desk. Stepping past it, I hear it split more under my weight. The floor doesn’t give, so I pay no mind to it as on my way to the railing.      The building is full of music by now, but it’s quite the opposite of what’s usually played during nights of combat. Following my word, all of the staff has ensured that tonight is one solely for rest and relaxation. The melodies filling the air tonight are soft and slow. The floor is full of people, but not so much as to describe it as a sea. There’s enough people so as not to feel congested yet still remain cautious. The staff around are comfortably mixing business with pleasure, indulging in playful whims suggested by the patrons who are present. In regards to the visitors, the majority are regulars whom I’ve seen spend night after night in this bar before. Curiously, there are a healthy amount of newcomers, many with fangs. I’m glad to see that they’re behaving properly, despite what rumors I heard about Kindred parties when I was alive. 

     Leaning against the new balcony, I call down to Bartholomew, who’s tending bar directly below me, “Surprisingly good turn out for it not being a night of Fights.”

     Glancing around the room before leaning his head back, he responds, “Well, Boss, seems like our new bar rules motivated the workforce to advertise.”

     Smiling as I look about the room, I say, “Well, that sounds like a hell of a step up from before.”

     Turning back to return my smile, he remarks, “It certainly never happened when Noz was working this place. That’s for sure.”

     “Has Caster showed up yet?” I ask, trying to see familiar faces in the mass of people on the barroom floor.

     “Nope, not yet,” he answers as he blows dust out of a wine glass, “Knowing him, he won’t hesitate to find us once he gets here. Until then, how about you join the rabble, boyo?”

     Scoffing at the suggestion, I attempt to return to the broken desk before hearing Ylva shout, “Bartholomew says that we’re supposed to have something to toast to! Hurry up and get down here, Carnie! I’ve never had wine before!”

     Glancing back down, I see Ylva smiling in an elaborate outfit. She’s wearing a red ruffle shirt with a high collar and a short tail that protrudes from the bottom of a corset. The sleeves are torn off, according to the loose bits of strands surrounding her shoulders. She has on long brown gloves, reaching just below her elbows. A dark brown corset covers most of her midriff, black belts and buckles binding it tight against her. Disregarding the cheers and claps after leaving the office, I walk down the stairs and notice that her corset isn’t the only odd attire she came in. Her dark boots now reach up to her thigh, supported by a staunch heel instead of a heavy sole. She wears red pants, leading from the top of her boots to the bottom of a wide belt supporting her sword to her hip. The final surprise addition to her attire this night is her hairstyle. Usually a single long braid of silver and raven, the front of her hair now has two small braided loops dangling past her temples, under her ears, then tying into an immaculate braided bun on the back of her head. I’ve never seen her dressed up so nice.      As I walk through a crowd of happy smiles and loud words of appreciation, neither Noz nor the Beast say anything. Much to my surprise, my mind is uncomfortably silent, allowing me to enjoy my short victory lap in peace.

     As I get to the bar, Ylva places her her head in her hand as she says, “Hi there, Checkpoint Attendant,” with a coy smile.

     I sit down next to her as I say, “Howdy, Night Wolf,” returning her smile with a smirk of my own.

     “Be careful talking like that, Carnie,” she tells me with a sudden giggle, “You might reveal to your workers that you weren’t born here.”

     Looking around, I remark, “I think they’re enjoying themselves too much to give a damn. Besides, they’re not just my workers. They’re ours.”

     Her smile turns toward the crowd of revelry as Bartholomew places out three glasses and begins to fill them with wine. She turns around to pick up her glass and swirl it around a bit, mimicking what she’s seen so many others do.

     As Bartholomew and I raise our glasses, Ylva raises hers as well, asking, “So, a toast to a successful reopening, aye?”

     Awkwardly glancing from her to Bartholomew, I inquire, “You haven’t told her, have you?”

     Giving a wide grin, he responds, “Nope, I figured that you should be the one to.”

     Confused, Ylva asks, “Tell me what?”

     “Well, I said the workers aren’t just mine,” I reply, nodding towards her, “They’re ours.”

     “Yeah,” she says, returning my nod, “They’re yours and Bartholomew’s, right?”

     “And I thought that Carnie here was the dense one,” Bartholomew scoffs, snickering a bit as he sets the wine glass on the bar top.

     Seeing her with an even more dumbfounded look on her face, I confide, “There’s three owners of the bar now. I’m one. Bartholomew’s another. Guess who I named as the third.”

     “Uhhh...” she responds, looking about the staff, “Elisabeth has a good head on her shoulders. Philip and Henry have been here a while. Pauline hated Noz the most. He was always beating on her more than the others.”

     She turns to see Bartholomew and I glaring at each other in disbelief and I ask, “Are you really serious?”

     Still in confusion, she responds, “Tell me when I get close.”

     “Oh, piss off,” Bartholomew says, “Just tell her, Carnie. I’d like to enjoy some wine.”

     Chuckling loudly, I tell Ylva, “You’re the third owner of the War Room.”

     Placing down her glass, she looks around the room. I’m practically smiling from ear to ear, thinking that she’s imagining all the things she could do with the place. Bartholomew looks on in anticipation, noticing her expressions from his line of sight. She turns back with a giddy grin but saddened eyes.

     With her hands shaking and fear in her voice, she asks, “Why me? I have absolutely no idea how to run an establishment. Don’t you remember me getting fired from every job I’ve ever had?”

     “You don’t have to run the establishment,” Bartholomew speaks up, “I’ve been running this place since the beginning. All Noz did was grab profits and use the help as punching bags or blood supply.”

     “Then, what do I do? Run protection and bodyguards for the building?” she continues to question.

     “Yeah, actually,” I tell her, leaning against the bar, “The staff aren’t the best fighters and, now that we’re allowing other Kindred in here, I need a better bruiser than me to make sure that people stay in line. You can teach the workers how to fight, too, just in case.”

     Her smile growing wider and the fear leaving, she asks, “Wait, you’re paying me to kick people’s ass when they get out of line?”

     “It’s more like you’re paying yourself as the owner,” I reply, grabbing the glass of wine, “Also, we’ll be in charge of organizing Fights and, to be entirely transparent, I need someone who can work in the sun. So, what do you say?”

     Tackling me off of the chair, Ylva wraps her arms around my neck and tightens like a vice grip. Desperately trying to return to my feet, she begins thanking me repeatedly as we roll on the ground. More and more of the workers and customers begin staring at us, so I try to whisper some words to get her to come to her senses. In our tossing and turning, her lips accidentally press against mine. We’re transported to when we were curious teens, locking eyes with a shared fever of embarrassment. Snapping back to reality, we spring to our feet and sit back down.

     With the staff still staring at us with giggles and chuckles, Ylva and I shout to them, “Back to work!”

     Nudging the glasses towards us, Bartholomew holds back a laugh as he says, “Alright, you star-crossed lovers. Shall we toast to being the new owners?”

     “We’re not-” I stumble.

     “We aren’t-” Ylva mumbles.

     “Jaysus, just shut the hell up and drink the damn wine,” Bartholomew barks, clinking his glass to ours.

     Bartholomew downs his glass immediately while Ylva and I share an awkward glance. In a flash, we drink ours like it’s water before grabbing the bottle from Bartholomew and pouring more for the three of us. Ylva and I drink until we forget about the embarrassed flush on our faces.

     “So,” Ylva starts directly after we finish our third glasses of wine, “What do the payments look like?”

     Bartholomew is still sipping on his third glass as he tells us, “In a single word: Lucrative. In an average week, the bar clears around ten thousand. Noz would usually take more than half for himself then a quarter of it for taking care of the building. The rest was usually split amongst us on staff. With how I have it planned, we’re keeping the quarter for taking care of the building and only sticking to half for us to split, although Carnie’s portion is being divided up equally among the help. With all of that, it means about twenty-five hundred is going towards keeping the place supplied and well kept while the staff get about thirty-five hundred to split up roughly twenty ways, leaving Ylva and I with about two thousand each. That sound good to you two?”

     I tell him, “Sounds spot on to me. Thank you, Bartholomew.”

     Eyes wide in awe, Ylva says, “Of fucking course that sounds good! Praise to Gaia, I can actually move out of my shite apartment complex. Thanks, Bartholomew.”

     Nodding in agreement, he finishes his glass of wine before saying, “Good, now, I’m going to leave you two alone. Look, I’ve been watching you two for years now, alright. So when I tell you two this, just know that I mean no offense and all, although I’m so happy that I can finally be crass enough to say that you two are fucking disgusting when you guys are together. Honestly, either bang after hours or get drunk enough to have the courage to.”

     Ylva and I both shout, “BARTHOLOMEW!”

     Laughing his ass off, he responds, “What? You think I give a fuck? I’m the owner. Ha!”

     He walks down the bar to start making drinks for the staff, leaving Ylva and I alone. We stumble on our words a bit, avoiding eye contact for the better part of about two minutes before we can actually finish a sentence.

     “I might have created a monster,” I say, walking behind the bar to find some shot glasses and some darker liquor.

     Holding her shot in place while I pour, Ylva jokes, “Yeah, just a little bit. We may have to stake him next.”

     We laugh a bit as we start taking shots. It still bothers me, though. Drinking isn’t the same after killing Noz, so I stop only after a few. Ylva notices.

     “What’s wrong? Liquor not hitting you right?” she asks after finishing her third shot.

     “No, it’s not that. I just haven’t felt the same since last night,” I tell her, watching the liquor spin in the bottle.

     Staring at me with an odd and intense look, she says, “You’re right. You’re not the same. There’s a lot of black lines all around you, now. Your aura is tainted. Explains why there’s even less color in you, too.”

     “I got to fix that,” I reply, pouring her another shot.

     “Do you want to?” she questions, leaving the glass on the table, “After all, you told me that you enjoyed being a Kindred. Are you sure you actually want to fix it?”

     Feeling her doubt like a sword through the gut, I stare her in her eyes as I respond, “Yes, I want to fix this. I may enjoy the power. Hell, I downright love it. I don’t love not being able to enjoy a drink with my best friend or not being able to hold a smile without it being fake.”

     She looks up with a relieved smile before saying, “Alright, good. Then we can figure that out together.”

     I return her smile with one of my own before looking away in shame. Not due to me lying to her, I didn’t this time. I’m ashamed because the daydreams came back. Another bittersweet delusion of her and I running out of the city together, covered in the blood of anyone who tries to stop us. A masochistic fantasy that tortures me to the point of no return. It burns almost as much as-

     “Sunshine?” I hear Caster call.

     Never thought that I’d be happy to hear his voice.

     “Never thought that I’d be happy hear your voice, Caster,” I tell him, snapping out of my daze.

     He leans against the bar, practically rubbing shoulders with Ylva, and says, “Well, Sunshine, happy to oblige, but I must ask,” pausing to turn to Ylva and reach for her hands, “Who is this precious little ruby?”

     Stabbing her fingernails into the top of the bar, Ylva downs her shot before answering, “A woman who’d rather bite her own tongue than buy what you’re selling. I’m taken.”

     She always uses the same lie when she doesn’t want guys hitting on her.

     Narrowly pulling his hand out from being impaled by her claws, Caster remarks, “Oh, so much fire inside of you. You must be Ylva, then. Carnegie’s girlfriend, correct?”

     “Incorrect,” I tell him.

     “Incorrect?” he asks.

     “I’m not his girlfriend,” Ylva tells him.

     “You’re not his girlfriend?” he questions with raised eyebrows.

     “She’s not my girlfriend. I don’t have a girlfriend,” I reply, filling her shot glass.

     “Oh, you don’t have a girlfriend,” Caster states with a cocky smile and a deeper lean towards me.

     “He doesn’t have a girlfriend because he’s not interested in anyone,” Ylva responds, cocking her head with an annoyed stare at Caster.

     “Well, I have some people I could intro-” Caster tries to say.

     “No, I’m fine.” “No, he’s fine.”

     Both Ylva and I answered in unison, which only makes Caster’s smile grow wider as he relaxes deeper into the bar.

     “Right...” Caster responds, eyeing both of us with a stupid painted grin on his face, “But you are Ylva, yes? The third owner of the bar?”

     Ylva answers, “That is correct. I’m Ylva and I’m the third owner. Do you want to be the first customer I throw out?”

     Putting his hands up with a teasing pout, he mocks, “Whatever shall I do, m’lady?”

     Ylva finishes her shot, stands up, then cracks her knuckles in preparation to toss him to the curb but stops when I tell her, “Unfortunately, we can’t kick him out.”

     “Why not?” she asks, stepping within an inch of him.

     Taking a deep sigh, I tell her, “Because I can’t pay him back if he’s dead.”

     Glancing to me then back to him, she asks me, “What do you owe him?”

     With a shit-eating smirk, Caster leans closer to her face and responds, “In summary, all the land which he now calls his own.”

     Ylva glares to me for confirmation and I give a remorseful nod. She grabs him by the back of the head and sniffs him.

     “Whoa, whoa, okay,” Caster says, suddenly growing uncomfortable, “Careful with the hands, please.”

      She lets go of his head then says to me, “I don’t like how he smells, Carnie. Don’t trust him.”

     Handing her the bottle and her drinking glass, I tell her, “Never have, never will,” as she walks down the bar to have a discussion with Bartholomew.

     Turning back to me after watching her leave, Caster suggests, “I can see why you like her, but would a leash be too much to ask for?”

     Slamming a heavy bottle against the bar, I tell him, “Yes, it would. You disrespect her again and I’ll find out who you won’t cheat on.”

     Stiffening up, Caster readjusts his collar as he stammers, “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t have anyone.”

     “I’ve seen you lurking around here before with Noz,” I bluff, trying to get him to trip up, “You always flirt around with whoever you want but back down when it starts getting hot. On top of that, you dress too well to not be taken.”

     Clearing his throat, Caster replies, “Perhaps I prefer to look my best. Doesn’t mean I have someone in my life.”

     “Really?” I scoff, “You prefer to look your best in the part of the city surrounded in smog and buried in all the scraps of the higher clans? Yeah, I’m calling bullshit. You got someone who holds you to a certain standard, seemingly one who likes tight collars.”

     I lean in and wait for him to respond. He coughs a bit then asks for a drink.

     “Pass my apologies on to Ylva,” Caster tells me, “Now, a drink please. Something neat.”

     Wow, that bluff actually worked.

     I pour his drink as I tell him, “I’m surprised that bluff actually worked.”

     His eyes flare up in disbelief as I slide his drink towards him. He laughs as he asks, “On to business then, Sunshine. What’s your answer?”

     Taking a moment to consider all of my options, I tell him with certainty, “Yeah...I’ll take the job. Still don’t like not knowing what it is, but I’ll do it.”

     Slapping his hands together with a joyous smile, he exclaims, “Yes, Sunshine! That’s what I like to hear!”

     “Are you really going to call me ‘Sunshine’ from now on?”

     “Perhaps, if you like it.”

     “I’d rather you not.”

     “But I could.”

     “Maybe you shouldn’t.”

     “So, I will.”

     “Really?”

     “Now, on to the gift,” he says, standing up from his seat and picking up a sizable case.

     He places it down on the table as I grab a knife from behind the bar and ask, “So, you’re really turning on me?”

     Glancing around the room and noticing that Bartholomew is cool as he’s ever been while Ylva is slowly palming her sword, Caster puts his hands up and remarks, “See? You’re both so combative and paranoid. It’s really quite adorable.”

     “What the hell is in the box, Caster?” I demand, still believing it’s some sort of weapon.

     “A signing gift, you dolt,” he remarks, taking what looks to be a long trench coat from the box, “All of your clothes are tarnished and in tatters. You need to be at least halfway presentable for this job.”

     “Is this really for the job?” I ask in disbelief.

     Giving a smile that masks any deception, he simply says, “Maaaayyyybeee,” before tossing it to me and closing the box.

     “Thanks, I suppose,” I tell him, curiously looking at the coat and wondering how he got the size correct.

     “I should be making my leave,” he exclaims, exiting the building, “Stay vigilant for the letter.”

     Rapidly leaving, I fold up the coat as Bartholomew and Ylva make their way back over to me.

     Watching Caster dash out of the bar and not even look back, we all glance about with stupefied looks before Bartholomew asks, “So, you ready to learn about the territory you were given and find a way to get your ‘humanity back’? Ylva said that I should help.”

     Taking one last shot of pure smoke, I tell them, “Yeah, let’s get to it.”

     For the rest of the night, Bartholomew guides me around the lower part of Ustrus, showing me all of the major players in the area while Ylva stays to watch over the bar. We first arrive at the train tracks where he introduces me to my old boss. Fortunately, the Embrace transformed my appearance so drastically that she doesn’t recognize me. She never came down to meet the railroad workers either, so my voice was unfamiliar as well. As Noz’s replacement, she’s convinced to share with me all the details that my sire once knew. I wish I was surprised that the railroad tracks were a massive line of unmarked graves for certain “regrettable” victims of other Kindreds’ feeding habits. On the way to our next destination, Bartholomew makes it clear that it’s a necessary discomfort.      Next on the list are the gambling halls. I meet the new replacements for the former bosses. Their office is rather clean, much cleaner than it had been last time I was in it. The underlying business is still dirty, though. The gambling halls is a front to provide Kindred a location that makes seeking out desperate saps to turn into Ghouls nearly effortless. Bartholomew doesn’t need to convince me much to keep this place running. By the way I see it, these lowlifes will be either dead or worse if they don’t make nice with some vamps.      Before turning towards the last stop, Bartholomew hands me a pair of old aviator goggles, one lens having a large spindly crack in it, and a large hood with a low hanging cowl. He tells me to put them on and I do once I realize which part of the lower end we’ve come to. Arriving in an alleyway, we meet up with three men. One is the landlord who had seen me grow up from a baby into the sad excuse for a human being I was before dying. The other two are the cook I left alive and who I’m assuming is the new lead drug trafficker after I killed the previous one. Understandably, Bartholomew does the talking this time around, referring to me as the new “baron” around these parts. I never liked hearing that title. Bartholomew tells me that it helps sell the fact that I’ve taken over. I’m still not comfortable with it.      On the way back to the War Room, I convince Bartholomew to leave me a few moments alone. He agrees to meet me back at the bar as I begin stalking my way back to my old home. Intending to check on Ludwig, I get there just in time to watch him sneak out with the help of a few other kids. All three are wearing rags covered in soot and oil. It takes all of them to help Ludwig limp out of his room, leaving through another hidden exit. After making sure to not be seen by any normal senses, I follow them back to the orphanage where they play games together and hide from the workers patrolling the interior halls. I leave them be and find my way back to my establishment.      Once there, Ylva, Bartholomew and I discuss all of the other pies Noz had his hands in. We all come to a consensus on how they’ll continue to operate as normal. Aside from that, little else is talked about. Bartholomew decides to head in early for once, seeing the War Room being empty aside from the workers. Ylva heads out as well, eager to start packing her belongings now with the money to move out soon to be in her possession. I return upstairs to the office and begin slowly pacing around the room, bothered by a few things.      The first worry I have is the fact that neither the Beast nor Noz clawed my mind tonight. Usually, the Beast always have at least one thing to say the moment I wake up and I wouldn’t be too quiet if I was stuck in another vampire’s body like Noz. Tonight, however, has been peculiarly silent. The next troublesome thought is what the hell the job from Caster is going to be. For a man who loves to talk cocky, it’s off-putting just how tight lipped he’s being about something that’s obviously essential. The third biggest thought in my mind is the problem with the War Room itself. The entire building is nearly double the length of the barroom floor and the office combined, but the walls don’t go any further back. I’ve seen the inside of Bartholomew’s room and it's not as deep as the back wall of the office above it. As I begin checking every nook and cranny of the office, there’s no obscured passageway or hidden lever. With my mind stumped, I take a seat against the still broken desk. I’m then reminded of the fact that there’s an unstable crack in the floorboards by the wood breaking apart, sending me through the hole along with the two halves of the desk.      Falling about twenty feet, I slam off the edge of one of the two halves and bounce on to cold cement. Groaning as I return to me feet, I’m surrounded by darkness and immediately start trying to find a wall. Stumbling over the desk’s two halves, I find some sort of construction with a lever. I grab hold of it and jerk it down, watching sparks of electricity fly around the room. As incandescent bulbs fill the room with light, it becomes apparent what Noz’s greatest stash was. With what I see, everything in me says that I should close up this place after I’ve had my fun, even pulling me to fix the desk as a marker of where the entrance is. After a few hours of exploration, that’s exactly what I do, but, right now, I’m a kid in a candy shop. Seeing all of his secrets laid out in front of me, the only thought that comes across my mind is a genuine one, appealing to every bit of Kindred and Humanity I have left.

     “This is going to be fun,” the Beast, Noz, and myself all remark in unison, beginning my first night of exploration.

[sky-writes-daydreams]

How They Met Part Four

A/n: Heyo! So I’m about to go to bed. Thought I’d give you lovely people something. Just A head’s up. I am starting to post this on my AO3 as well so if some don’t like tumblr, hit it on there. I’ve only got part one currently but I’ll fix that tonight. :) So as always.. Enjoy and let me know if you want a tag. 

@valkyrieofardyn @mooshinspace @shigekihizashi

Next Chapter     Masterpost

I didn’t expect it to happen as quickly as it did. I was on the road towards the city when I got a call on my phone. I had it plugged into my radio so I had to pull over and answer it. I didn’t have this number in my phone after all.

“Hello?”

“Skylar? I’m one of dave’s friends. He told me to call this number.” I relaxed a bit then.

“Oh. Cool. What up?”

“Have you been to the region border recently?”

“No… Why?”

“We heard a rumor that the barricade fell. Something about an immortal and some kid hunters.” I stopped then and soon smiled.

“That insane man…. Hang on!” I quickly got my bluetooth earpiece on and connected it. I turned around then gunning it.

“I know who they might be talking about! If it’s true then we seriously owe those city boys.”

“They were city boys!?”

“Yep.” I kept going and soon drove straight through it laughing.

“It’s legit!!”

“No way!”

“Yes way! I just drove through the damn thing!” I pulled over then before pulling a u turn and hitting the road again. The suspension on my jeep made it a lot less bumpy for sure. I drove right back through smiling.

“Tell dave and the others the way is clear.”

“Got it hon. Where you going to be?”

“I’m hitting the city. I’ve got some city boys to catch.”

“Got it hon. See you around.”

“You know it.” I hung up then and soon just took off for lestallum. I couldn’t wait to talk to them again about this.

Sadly they weren’t in lestallum. I found some friends of theirs who knew where the boys went. I took off after thanking them and just smiled. I had a feeling those boys would have found out about Wiz’s chocobo post at some point. I set off for there happily. I loved the place growing up. Chocobos were awesome creatures and fun to ride honestly. I knew exactly where it was and soon pulled in. I could see regalia but the boys weren’t inside. I hopped out then despite the rain and ran up to Wiz. He smiled when he saw me.

“You’re a few minutes too late hon. Some new hunters just took the deadeye hunt.”

“Let me guess, some cute boys and one wanted to ride them?”

“How did you know?”

“They’re friends. I’m going to back them up.”

“Let them keep the bounty?”

“You know it.” He chuckled then.

“Go on then. Damien’s missed you hon. Been a month since you’ve come by.” I smiled then.

“I got trapped inside the wall for a bit…. How big is he now?”

“Go see before helping your friends hon.” I nodded and ran over. He was inside the stables with the others. Damien was originally almost ivory but after feeding him some interesting berries, he was now a dark blue. He had grown a good foot since I last saw him. I could easily ride him now. He even had the saddle on. He came to the door when he saw me and I petted him.

“Hey… Been a while. I missed you.” He made a noise then and nuzzled my hand. I just smiled and moved closer and gave him a kiss on the head.

“I’ll be back. Mama’s gonna help some boys kill deadeye so you can play outside ok? Then we’ll go for a ride. I’m sure he’s got some hunts.” He chirped then and nudged me to get going. I laughed then and gave him a slight ruffle before running. I had to catch up to those boys.

The good news is that even if I wasn’t a hunter, I could have followed. Deadeye left one hell of a mess to mark his path. I quickly set down it and listened. I could hear someone further ahead plus Deadeye getting pissy. The Behemoth was such a jerk. He almost got me killed one night by chasing me through the forest. Good news is I know hiding spots. I stopped by one and smiled. I could see the boys ahead of me. Deadeye was by the old metal tunnel leading to the next part of the forest and they were going to use it to sneak by. They let Prompto go last and I got an evil Idea. I adjusted my gear and once I knew it was clear, I slid into the tunnel. Prompto was making just enough noise to cover me as well.

They had no clue until I grabbed his ankles making him fall. The others looked back ready to fight but quickly froze.

“Skylar!?” Ignis was sure as hell shocked I was here. I waved and Prompto looked back. He was panicked.

“Did you really have to do that!?”

“Um… No. But it was fun! Now let’s go! I’m your backup in case this goes south!” We crawled out and I quickly gave him a one armed hug.

“You’re not hurt are you?’

“Nah. Just scared me.” Noctis smiled then.

“What brings you here?”

“Dude… This is home territory. I don’t need a reason. Plus wanted to talk to you.”

“About?”

“The checkpoint into the region.” They all shared a grin then and I grinned back.

“You did a lot of hunters a huge favor by taking it down. Got a call about it and the word’s being spread about the city slickers kicking niff ass.” We started walking then, me staying close to the back smiling.

“Nice…. So why help us?”

“Um… Cus I want to? It’s not like I need the hunt. Plus… Last time I took it, I ended up getting chased till past dawn out here. Not really wanting to do that again.” Prompto cringed then.

“Yikes…”

“Yeah. He’s a nasty bugger for sure.”

“Nothing we can handle.” Noctis sounded so confident. It was kind of cute honestly.

“Well listen to that. The king’s confident in taking down an asshole Behemoth.” Gladio chuckled then and I knew Ignis smiled. Noct looked back but he was smiling.

“And it seems once you’re in home Territory, you really don’t hold your tongue.” I shrugged then and pushed ahead to get even with him.

“Home is home. I don’t fake around here. I grew up in these parts so most everyone knows me.” he nodded then.

“Wanna tell more?” I smiled then.

“Left around here for middle school. Went to a public school inside the wall…. Um… been solo since like… 14. Lived in liede until about a year ago…. Rank seven hunter.” I could see the shock in his eyes then. I just smiled.

“What? This weapon isn’t for show after all.”

“I figured but… you’re that good?” I shrugged then.

“It’s been rough. Had my share of close calls. One most recently with this jerk.” Gladio looked back then.

“You came after him? Alone?”

“Wasn’t supposed to be alone. I was trying to find his lair with another hunter. We got separated and Deadeye snuck up on me. Ran till dawn when I found the road and got back to Wiz’s. Other hunter couldn’t help. He got lost. Come daylight he showed back up.” I jumped up onto a rock then and smiled. They were shocked for sure but I didn’t care. I could hear him. It was faint for sure but he was around. The fog coming down didn’t make using eyes a good idea after all.

“He’s away from us, I assume?” Ignis said. He was keeping his voice low. I slid down and nodded.

“He's going to the old ruins. We’ll have to play hide and seek for a bit but we can get there and catch him. Once in there it's not easy to leave.” They nodded then but let me take the lead. Before the gate, I ran. I knew these woods. It was usually so calm around here and decent hunts. Finally we reached it and I quickly dropped down. The boys followed easily but then I had to pin noctis to the rock close by. Deadeye was in front of us.

“Shit….” I nodded feeling my smile come back. This was going to be fun.

“Leapfrog. Rock to rock. He's blind on the left. Use it. No noise.” Gladio gave me a look but I quickly took off. He was moving. It would cover for me.

She was fast. Even if she was a bit odd, skylar knew her job. The others weren't sure so I followed her. She was quick but always stayed in sight. The fog was only getting worse for sure the further we went in. It got sketchy at few times. She tripped over a small rock and quickly scrambled to hide while we did the same. The behemoth knew he was being followed. After that, it got more tense. We couldn't always keep an eye on him so skylar had to be our lead. Finally though, we broke through into ruins. She had her sword ready and let Gladio take the lead. I went to follow but she got my arm and stopped me. I looked over and she smiled.

“I know you punks have elemental abilities. Who’s got the fire?”

“Why?”

“What do you think blinded him? There's old oil drums around here. If he gets over one, explode it. It'll be our best chance to get him weak enough to land some serious blows.”

“How do you know this?”

“Cus I saw others trying it. Just trust me….. Gods you four are paranoid…”I shrugged then. Better to be paranoid than be dead in my mind. She just sighed and followed Ignis quickly. I got the flask ready and followed.

He knew. He was up on a ledge above us and jumped down. We all backed away and quickly Gladio went into action. Prompto was giving cover fire while skylar backed up gladio. She wasn't as strong but she was doing some damage. She made openings that Ignis took advantage of and slowly got him over a barrel. I figured I would try her advice.

“Move!!!” The guys jumped back but she couldn’t. I had to throw it. It landed on the barrel and the explosion was big. It knocked over the guys but then we rushed him. At least I tried until Prompto came flying into me. We both were off our feet but I felt someone catch us and the relief of a potion.

“Stand up you idiots!” I looked and Skylar was still on fire. She dropped me and jumped going right for Deadeyes face! Prompto got up and helped me up stunned. It didn’t last though. He was on his last leg and soon it gave. Deadeye fell dead. We all stopped then before we celebrated. That was insane!

“Um…. Help!?” I froze then. That was skylar. Gladio moved with Ignis then by his head and prompto and I followed. She has gotten a leg stuck under his head and couldnt get free.

“Big bully!!!!” Gladio chuckled then and quickly pulled her free. She yelped but soon got on her feet huffing before giving him a solid kick. I laughed then.

“Was that needed?”

“Yes! He landed on me! I was trying to shoot his other eye! Blind the jerk….” I stopped then. She didn’t have a gun. She walked away then and came back with a crossbow. She was checking it out before folding it backup and putting it on her back. Ignis smiled then.

“A lady of many weapons…. We do owe you some thanks. Your fire tip did help.” She shrugged then getting into her bag. She crushed something and we all got healed. He gave her a look and she smiled.

“Can’t help it…. Mega elixir.” She flashed a new one making Gladio chuckle.

“Sure you wanna be solo? We might need the backup later.”

“Get real muscles…. I’m happier alone…. Now…” She smiled then sheathing her sword.

“Let's go ride chocobos!!!” Prompto cheered with her and I laughed. Soon we found the way out and headed back to the post. She had someone she wanted Prompto to meet.

We got back to wiz’s about sunset. He was shocked for sure but quickly paid the boys while I washed off my arms in a barrel. The healed burns were still tender but it was barely anything. Soon Wiz came over and held out a key.

“Wanna let him out?” I nodded then taking it.

“I’ve missed riding him. Mind if…?”

“You know the rules. Havens near by. Feel free to leave bella here. She’ll be safe.” I nodded and ran to the stable. Damien was so happy to see me but nothing beat it when I got the door open. He ran into me and quickly let me on. I led him out and Prompto almost dropped his camera. Noctis was shocked.

“They come in dark blue!?” I laughed then petting his neck.

“Nah. Won these berries in a race. Changed my baby to this color….. Boys. Meet damien!” He crowed then making them laugh. Prompto came over and petted him gently.

“How….?”

“Rescued him as a baby. Mom had been killed so I brought him here. Wiz helped me raise him and well… Now he’s my baby!” I hugged him then happy. I’ve missed him. I heard a click then and I looked. Prompto got a photo of us. He turned so I could see it.

“Oh nice angle…. Mind…?”

“I’ll have a print the next time I see you.” I cheered then. He laughed and Noctis came close. Damien sniffed him and he just smiled.

“You leaving?”

“Yeah. There's other hunts close by. I’ll be hanging out between here and lestallum for a while.” I saw gladio nod then as he came up behind the prince.

“Call if you need backup. We won’t mind. You helped us out against that behemoth.” I shrugged then.

“I prefer solo…. But if I get kicked, I’ll call…. Or if I find some cool ingredients.” Ignis perked up then and I smiled.

“I know of a ginger. It's hard to get to… but if I head that way, I’ll get you some.”  He nodded then smiling.

“It would be appreciated. Our spices currently are rather lacking.” Wiz laughed then smiling.

“I’ll point some spots out to you boys.” They all smiled then and while they went to talk to wiz, I loaded my pack up and made a saddle pack for damien out of bella. Right as the sun died, I took off while they camped in the caravan. I was ready to be home again.

[thepeanutbutterwizard]

A.C. Pines - Chapter 3: An Unforeseen Adventure

Chapter 2      Chapter 4

Heyo!  I’m finally posting more of this!  Hope you enjoy!Dad!”  Alex slid across the linoleum floor of the kitchen in her socks.  With a small ‘oof’ she collided with her father and pulled on his arm.  “I finished my homework!  Can I go for a walk?”  Her headband had slipped crookedly, letting her tangled curls obscure one eye.

Dad cocked an eyebrow down at her.  “Ya got yer knuckle dusters?”

“Yep!”

“Jacket?”

“Yes.”

 “Yer watch?”

“Yes Dad.”

“Ankle tracker?”

“Daaaad.”  Alex half-groaned, half-chuckled.  “Can I go now?  Please?”

Dad ruffled her hair fondly, then carefully adjusted her headband.  “Alright, ya got half an hour before dinner, Sixer.”

“Thanks Dad!”  Alex cheered and gave him a quick hug before dashing toward the door and pulling her shoes on.

“Just remember ta stick to the paths!”  He stuck his head out of the door and called after his ten-year-old daughter.  “And if it starts to rain come right back!”

“I love you Dad!”

Alex pulled her soaked jacket tighter around her shoulders, but it didn’t do much against the pouring rain or the chilly breeze.  Her glasses had long since been rendered useless by the rain, so she had tucked them away in her pocket.  Her boots squished in the mud, sinking ankles deep and making every step difficult. 

The girl kicked at a rock with a growl and slumped onto a hard stump.  Alex had been wandering through the Gravity Falls woods for as long as she could remember; she knew this place like the back of her hand.  It should be impossible for her to get so lost she had been wandering in the woods for more than an hour.

And yet, here she was.  Soaked to the bone, shivering caked in mud almost to her knees and more lost than she had ever been.  Alex pulled her knees to her chest and screwed her eyes shut.  If she could just calm down and focus then maybe she could figure out where she was and how to get home.  But the wind picked up, blowing down the neck of her shirt and sending a trembling shiver down her spine, and she was getting a headache from clenching her chattering teeth together and she just couldn’t think!

Something snuffled at Alex’s bangs.  With a small yelp she jumped, almost toppling off of the stump.  A heavy pair of paws rested on her knees, keeping her off of the ground, but not letting her go anywhere either.   A large fox was staring her down with amber eyes.

Her heart jumped into her throat as the animal leaned in close, sniffing at her face and head inquisitively.  Alex held her upper body as still as possible, while she strained to get her legs out from under the foxes paws.  Her gaze darted around, looking for any way to escape, when something caught her attention.  The fox had four large tails bobbing around behind it.

Alex gasped as the fox-creature licked the side of her face.  The creature nuzzled her neck like an overly affectionate pet, and with a laugh Alex shoved the creature away as best as she could.  “Quit it!”  The creature pulled back and gave a happy-sounding chitter.  It shook and sent droplets of water flying everywhere.  Alex squawked and held a hand up against the spray.  “Hey, what was that for?”

The creature gently bit down on Alex’s forearm-not hard enough to hurt her- and pulled her to her feet.  It tugged her toward the forest for a few feet before letting go and darting ahead.  Alex watched the creature vanish into the bushes with a small, curious scowl.  A moment later the creature reappeared and yipped at her.  If Alex didn’t know any better she’d swear the creature looked annoyed.  It darted behind her and nudged her toward the forest.  “You want me to follow you?”

The creature gave an unmistakable nod before darting off again, this time with Alex hot on its heels, but it wasn’t long before she was falling behind the creature.  It sprung over mud puddles and rocks that grabbed at Alex’s shoes and tried to send her sprawling.  “Wait-wait up, would ya?”  She gasped at the creature.  It looked over its shoulder at her, slowing just long enough to give a taunting look before it shot ahead even faster than before.  “Hey!”

She vaulted over a dead log, and felt anger rise in her.  ‘If it didn’t want me to keep up, why have me follow at all?’  With a growl Alex caught her second wind and ran even faster, branches whipping past her.  She slowly started to gain ground; with an excited holler Alex fell in step with the creature.  It gave a sharp turn and Alex skidded through the mud to keep up.

A noise up ahead caught Alex’s attention.  A voice, loud and gravely and full of worry, echoing through the forest and calling her name.  Dad!  She turned toward the sound of his voice, almost tripping over a tree root.  Alex skidded back onto the path, breaking through the shrubbery around it.  “Dad!”  He was down the path a little bit, a yellow raincoat on instead of his suit coat, and he was so worried Alex could practically smell it on him over the scent of the pine trees and the rain.

“Alex?”  He gaped as Alex sprinted down the path and leapt up toward him.  He drop the flashlight he was holding to catch her.

“Dad, Dad, you’re never gonna guess what I saw!”  Alex pulled at his shirt,  “It was so cool there was-”

“Alex, sweetie, slow down, I can’t understand what yer saying!”  Dad held her out, inspecting her closely for injury.  “What happened?”

Alex tried to blow her wet bangs out of her eyes.  Her hair band must have fallen out somewhere in the woods.  “I kinda…left the path.”  She sheepishly admitted, avoiding looking at her father in the eyes.

“Sixer…”  Dad gave a tired sigh.

“A gnome jumped me and stole my watch!  I ran after him to get it back!”  Alex protested.

“And did ya get it back?”

“…no…”

Dad gave another sigh.  “Well, at least yer okay.  But yer covered in mud!  What did ya do, roll in a puddle?”  He tugged at the sleeve of her jacket.  She had mud caked up to her elbows, splattered on her face and hair, soaked into her pants and her socks.

“No.  But your never gonna guess what I saw!”  Alex chirped, cheering up.  Dad picked up his flashlight and started walking back to the Shack.

“What?  What’d ya see this time?”

“There was this fox out in the woods, but she wasn’t any normal fox!  She had more than one tail!”

Dad glanced at Alex with a weird look on his face.  “A fox with extra tails, huh?  That’s pretty cool.  How’d ya know that it was a she?”

“I dunno.  Just looked like a she.”  Alex talked about how the fox had helped her find the path again while they walked.  Dad made Alex take her shoes and socks off on the porch, before sending her to the bathroom for a shower.

TIME BREAK

Stan crept silently out of Alex’s room.  He had had to read a few chapters out of one of her book to get her to fall asleep after her little ‘adventure’ in the woods.  Alex had been reading things on her own since she was about five, but she still liked listening to him read.  Made him think of back when he was a kid and Ford would read out loud all the time.

He swung by the kitchen to grab a drink of water before heading to bed himself.   He wanted to catch an hour or two of sleep before going down to work on the Portal.  He looked out the window and caught the slightest bit of movement on the edge of the woods.  Stan stuck his head out of the back door and flicked on the porch light.  He caught sight of red-brown fur in the bushes, and a lithe looking fox stepped out and onto the edge of the light.  One, two, three…only four tails; Stan sighed and bit his lip.  She gave a small nod that Stan returned before she darted back into the woods, tails bobbing behind her.

He gave an irritated groan when he got into his room and saw his wet, muddy suit lying where he had left it on the floor.  He bundled up his clothes, giving a little groan when he saw all of the muddy paw prints on his white shirt.  Raising a kid was even messier than being one, if Stan’s memory served correctly.  Then again, he didn’t think his memory had been good in years.

Ah, well, mud washed out.  The way Alex looked at him like he was the greatest thing in the whole damn world was worth anything that he had to do for her.  Stan’s small smile faltered a bit, and he grabbed a picture frame off of his night stand.  It was taken the week after Alex was born; one of the happiest times of his life.  He had shown off his amazing wife and his wonderful daughter to anybody in earshot.  If only those time could have lasted longer…

But, no point dwelling on the past.  That had become Stan’s mantra.  Don’t dwell on lost brothers and missing wives and doomsday machines and motherless girls.  Can’t do anything about that.  All he could do was try and make it through tomorrow.  That was all he could do.

Bet nobody picked up on my oh-so-subtle hints about Alex’s mother.

[slut-for-fandoms]

The Hero Next Door

Pairings: Peter Parker x reader

Word count: 2 206

Requested: heyo can you do a peter parker x reader where the reader and him are bff's and she secretly is really into spider-man(like she has a crush on him and no one knows) and he saves her one day from whatever and she's so nervous. ;3 (she can find out it's peter or not and maybe a kiss??)

A/N: So so so so sorry I post it so late. I’ve no idea since when i had it in my Inbox but i finally found the time to write it. I really hope you like it ♥ Let me know what you think :) 

“Hey, Pete!”, I whispered yelled at Peter who was sitting in front of me in our Biology class.

“Yes?”, he leaned back, still trying to take note of what the teacher was saying.

“Would you like to come at my place tonight?”

“What for?”, Was he seriously asking me this question?

“To have sex with me.”, I stated while rolling my eyes.

“What?”, he turned around bursting out with wide eyes.

“Is there a problem, Mr. Parker?”, the teacher and the others students were now looking at us, well him.

“Um, n-no, Mrs. Wallin.”, the boy stuttered and I tried to cover my laugh, “I was surprised by what you were saying.”

“You were surprised by how our heart works?”, Peter turned red immediately. He hadn’t paid attention to the teacher’s explanation, “I suggest you listen to me more carefully, Mr. Parker.”, and then she continued with her lesson.

“It’s your fault, (Y/L/N).”

“Am I guilty you are too excited to have sex with me, Parker.”, I smirked, “But now seriously, are you coming tonight?”, I asked again hoping he would say yes.

“I can’t.”

“We won’t have sex I promise. It will be a movie night.”

“I know, I just can’t.”, as I was about to protest and make him come the bell rang. We collected out stuff and exited the room.

“Is that a way to ditch me?”

Peter and I have been friends since I moved in the apartment next to his. He was so sweet and polite to me just the perfect boy next door. He introduced me to his best friend Ned and soon we were the powerful trio of the school. You know, the one that nobody notices. Almost every weekend we have a film marathon – Star Wars and Harry Potter are the most preferred ones. By that time I knew every second of the movies but still we enjoy them. But since Peter got in that internship the movie nights are rare. Yeah, I and Ned are doing some stuff with the Lego but it isn’t the same without our third wheel Peter Parker, as I use to call him.

“No, (Y/N)! But I have no time for movies tonight. I have that Stark internship I told you about.”, I observed Peter. He didn’t look at me which he did only when he lied to me.

“You are spending too much time with Stark. I’m starting to think you like him more than me.”

“Maybe he is way funnier than you are.”, the boy winked at me as we approached Ned who was sitting on our table for lunch.

“Hey, guys.”, he greeted us when we took our seats, “Ho-”

“Peter’s not coming tonight.”, I interrupted the poor boy but he didn’t seem surprised.

“Actually…”, Ned was playing with his fingers which meant only one thing.

“You are not coming too?! I hate you guys!”

“That’s not true and you know it.”, I crossed my arms and looked away not paying attention to Peter’s words.

“Are you giving us the silent treatment, again?”, as a respond I took my sandwich from by back and took a bite.

“Don’t worry, Ned.”, Peter reassured him as he tasted his food, “She can’t keep her mouth shut.”

“That’s not true!”, I burst out.

“See.”, Peter smirked but I punched him slightly in the shoulder.

Our days were basically this. We joked around and teased each other like 24/7. It’s surprising what a person hides when they meet someone new. At the beginning Peter was so shy and nervous but once we got close he let the beast out. When that happens, he is uncontrollable – Peter The sass queen Parker.  

I like all his sides. His funny one, which makes me feel better every time I’m not in the mood. The one when he is too much into something that he forgets the world around him. The angry one, because at these moments he is like a puppy, so sweet and harmless. His nerdy one which makes me fall asleep when he starts chattering about Stars Wars and tells you every detail you cannot remember afterwards which makes him angry. As I was staring at him right now I couldn’t stop smiling.

“Earth to (Y/N)!”, Ned brought me back to reality.

“Was it necessary to ruin my dreams?”

“And what were you dreaming about?”, he leaned closed and my heart skipped a beat but I wasn’t going to show my emotions so I leaned in too with a smirk.

“Not your business, Parker.”

“Look! Penis Parker is about to kiss a girl!”, I heard Flash’s voice somewhere behind us. I rolled my eyes and turned around to face him, “Did your friend Spiderman pay this girl to do so?”

“Fuck off, Flash. I’m not in the mood for you.”, giving him a death glare wasn’t enough.

“Not going anywhere, sweetheart.”

“If you really want to get your balls cut and then taste them, stay.”, I smiled at him as he gulped.

“You have luck I have something to do.”, he lied and turned around. But as he did so he bumped into a girl and the food she was holding was now on her shirt. The girl clenched her jaws and hit him with her bag…several times.

“I want to stay and admire the show but I have to go.”, informing the boys I stood up and took my rucksack.

“We have two more classes.”

“You have two more. I don’t. Our teacher is pregnant and there is no one to take her place for the moment so…goodbye losers!”

*             *             *

Would I be a whore for liking two guys?! That was on my mind as I was going home. I know I’m falling for Peter but there was somebody else I’m head over heels for (And don’t you dare laugh at me for this!) – Spiderman. I have no idea how that happened and why. I mean, I’ve never seen his face or so but it isn’t the appearance that makes my heart jump when I see him flying through the city. It’s the fact that he risks his life for people he doesn’t know. He tries to make this place better although sometimes he is failing. I wish I could meet him and get to know him, who he is, what he likes and stuff. Unfortunately, for him I’m probably just one of the thousands fangirls he has.

It’s 10pm and I’m lying in my bed thinking about the two boys.

“Fuck it!”, I groaned and buried my head in the pillow, “This won’t happen in hundred years.”

Thankfully to my stomach growing I forgot about the boys and though about something way more important – what to eat. I live alone so there is no one to buy groceries when I’m too lazy to do it. I went to the fridge but there was nothing in it when I opened it.

“I don’t want to go out”, I cried out, “But I will die of starvation…Well, at least I will lose the two kilos I’ve been trying to get rid of.”, I reassured myself for a moment, “But I’m hungry…Maybe if I go to the store I’ll burn the calories I will eat.”

I hurried to put on some clothes before I lost my incentive. I took the keys and some money and exited the building. When I was outside the cold breeze zoomed into my face making me shiver. It took me five minutes to reach the supermarket.

“Closed?! What do you mean closed?!”, it was written that the only day they wouldn’t work was today. I groaned in annoyance. “Maybe the destiny is telling me something… to go fifteen more minutes to McDonalds and eat there.”, or the destiny was  a bitch playing with me.  

As I was walking my stomach didn’t stop growing so I decided to take a shortcut. The path was dark and between two buildings. I quickened my pace in order to get out of it as soon as possible but the two men waiting me at the end didn’t think the same. As I saw them approaching I turned on my heel and went the other direction but there was a man there too. I was rooted to the sport with shock and fear of what was about to happen. Within seconds I felt a hand on my waist. I evaded from the grip but another man caught me.

“Get away from me.”, I shouted but one of them covered my mouth.

“Hush-hush little princess, we don’t want somebody to ruin what’s about to happen, right?”, I could smell the amount of alcohol they had drank. I kicked him between the legs and kicked the man behind me.

“Help!”, I screamed but the third man got me by my ankle as I tried to escape.

“You are not going anywhere, you lil’ bitch!”, He was on top of me, his weight not letting me move. Tears were rolling down my face as I understood what they were going to do to me.  

“I think you heard the lady. She said to back off!”, someone spoke with a familiar voice. In seconds the three men were stuck to the wall with web. Inhaling and exhaling I sought to normalize my breathing but it wasn’t happening.

“Let me help you.”, the man in red and blue suit came next to me and helped me stood up. He tightened his hand around my waist as I buried my face in his chest not believing what was happening, “Hold.”, and with that I couldn’t feel the ground below me anymore. For me it was like eternity but actually it took him seconds to land on the building I was living in.

“You okay?”, he asked but when he saw me crying he captured my face and looked at me, “Hey, shh, it’s alright. You are save now.”

In response I hugged him tightly and murmured a ‘thank you’. Removing the tears from my face I looked at the person in front of me having a clear vision. The situation which happened like two minutes ago was forgotten as this had happened to me several times. No, I haven’t been raped but such bastard can be met everywhere that’s why I’m always wearing something to protect myself…well besides now.

“No problems, (Y/N).”, he said and was about to jump and leave.

“Wait!”, he stopped and looked at me, “How do you know my name?”, maybe he was shocked or hadn’t heard me as he didn’t answer. I was about to ask him again when he spoke interrupting me.

“Peter Parker told me.”, I bit my lips. I had to thank that nerdy boy later.

“And what did he tell you?”

“That you are nice.”, Only that?! Peter told him only that!? Nice!? Oh he will see how nice I can be.

“I can’t believe that bastard told you only this. Why do I even have a crush on him?”, I murmured not realizing I spoke my thought out.

“What?”

“What?”, I repeated Spiderman’s question, “I didn’t say anything.”

“You said you have crush on Peter.”

“What? No! I don’t have crush on Peter! I don’t have crush on you either! He is just a friend, a best friend. We…we are not a thing, not like I would mind that- Shit, I’m so nervous right now…I have to kill Peter for doing this to me!” while I was rumbling on I didn’t notice Spiderman taking his mask off.

“You can kill me after this.”, I looked up at Spiderman not understanding what he was talking about but as soon as I saw Peter nearing me my eyes got wide.

“Peter, what the fu-”, the boy connected our lips in a slow kiss. I closed my eyes immediately, placing my hands on his neck in order to deepen the kiss. I felt butterflies in my stomach and my body was on fire. His lips were soft and sent shivers down my spine. The feeling was amazing. I’ve read a lot about people kissing in my books but the sensation is indescribable. I’ve never thought a simple kiss can send you on cloud nine.

As we separated to take a breath I looked at him. He was smiling ear to ear.

“Peter Parker! How dare you not tell me you are the freaking gorgeous Spiderman?!”, I crossed my arms and looked at him seriously.

“I-um I-I didn’t know h-how.”, the boy stuttered nervously and rubbed his neck.

“I can’t believe the two people I have a crush on are actually one person and that I have a hero living next door to me.”, I finally gave up and a smile appeared on my face, “But the fact I like you doesn’t outweigh the fact you must make it up to me somehow.”, maybe it was the suit or something else, but his nervousness left as fast as mine did.

“Whatever you say.”

“I have something in mind.”, smirking I leaned it for another kiss. And another…and another.

“About the Stark internship.”, he mentioned it between the kisses.

“Don’t ruin the moment, Parker. You’ll tell me everything after it. There’s nowhere to run.”

I’m such a terrible person and writer. I kinda lost my permanent tag list so if you’d like to be in it please message me ♥  

[engagedtobefree]

Phase 2: The First Conversation

Well, it happened. Definitely not the way I had pictured it, but it happened. If you ever have an embarrassing moment, don’t you fret. Just come back to this post and I can guarantee you will feel so much better about yourself. I wrote these every day of the week, so they are my thoughts exactly for that day. I’m already tired of waiting till the weekend and writing out the whole week at once lol. I wanted to leave them as-is so they’re my true thoughts..

Monday - So i got to say both hi and bye to Scott on Monday. I know i sound like the biggest dork but hey, whatever, progress is progress. I had some anxiety all day, which I think was an aftereffect from my other job on Sunday, which was just a rough day and I ended up staying an hour and a half late. I’m also doing a coffee detox, so I’m sure that’s effecting me somehow (besides me being really fucking tired). 

So first “interaction” is I have to send an email, and one of the group emails I have to CC has Scott in it. I’m pretty sure this is the first email he’s ever received from me, but it’s not directly to him. Within the hour he sends an email out that has my group email CC’d. I’m pretty sure that’s also the first email I received ever from him. I stare adoringly at his bad punctuation and grammar several times throughout the day.

Before I get ready to leave work, I always use the bathroom. When I round the corner, Scott is coming out of the men’s room. He’s chewing on his coffee stirrer as usual and he has a little smirk and says, “Hey, Dana, what’s up?” and I reply softly, “Hey, Scott”. He is looking at me and makes eye contact. I look back at him and make eye contact for a split second but I get really nervous around him sometimes, so I break it off. I cannot explain how badly I want to just have a freaking conversation with him. I honestly do feel like a freaking 12 year old girl who can’t talk to her crush. Idk wtf is wrong with me lol. I’m generally usually at ease around guys and can talk to anyone who I have an interest in. But with Scott I go back and forth between nervous/shy and incredibly confident. Like, no in between. And I’m always wondering who is going to make the first move and how we’re ever gonna get into a conversation. Like he seems super easygoing, but he seems to get nervous around me too sometimes, but I really just want him to come up and talk to me about literally anything. He could tell me he had cheerios for breakfast and guaranteed I will take that and run a fucking mile with it.

So when I leave, I put my stuff in the car and get in and start it, but because it’s sleeting outside, ice is stuck to my windows, and the windshield wipers aren’t helping. I didn’t warm my car up so I get out to scrape the ice. As I’m halfway done the back window, someone comes out of the door. It takes me a second to look up, but when I do, it’s Scott and he’s looking at me. I wave and say, “Bye, Scott.” to which he just waves back, but doesn’t say anything. I continue scraping but then look back over at him with a little smile, and he’s still watching me and moving very slowly to get in his car. When I’m done, I open my car door and glance back at his, and then get in. As I pull out, he does so only a second or two after me. He trails behind me a bit though all the way to the highway, and I wonder if he’s just driving safe or doing it because he doesn’t want to make me uncomfortable. Or maybe he’s uncomfortable. Say what?? Hi, anxiety. I begin to wonder if I freaked him out, like if he thought I was waiting till he came out or something. I genuinely had to clean the ice off of my car, and any other time his car is already started yet I still leave. But of course my mind races like crazy. I had anxiety in general all day, like sometimes it gets so bad at work that I think I’m going to get fired for absolutely no reason. I will literally just start to think that, even though I have been told several times how well I’m doing and how happy they are to have me there. I cannot even explain how hard I work at controlling my anxiety and making it better through practicing daily healthy habits, but still it persists. It makes me want to bang my head against the wall and cry sometimes. 

Tuesday - So Monday I made a promise to myself to try and not run into Scott or even look at him for 2 days. I know that it can’t always be helped, but I was not going to walk past his office and I was going to leave work exactly on time, this way I wouldn’t cross paths with him. So I was also hoping I wouldn’t have to go into the warehouse at all either. But then later on Monday night, I kept thinking how I just want him to fucking talk to me already. I want to be sure i can look at him and hold eye contact and not second guess his mixed ass signals. 

So Tuesday, I go over to the printer and who is just walking in but Scott. I smile big at him and say “Hey, Scott.” and add on “How are you doing?”, which we both say at pretty much the same time. I stand in my cubicle doorway and turn, but he’s already walking toward his office 

So 5 -10 minutes later I go and make some tea, and in those minutes Scott apparently went to the men’s room. He walks by me with a little smirk and we sideways glance at each other. He’s so close to me and I’m glad I wore my best perfume today (Gorgeous by Victoria’s Secret).

Later in the day I take an order to the warehouse, and on the way back I glance in Scott’s office, but he’s busy looking at something. About half an hour later I take another order out, and when I come back in i take my chance and look at Scott with a little smile. He’s turned around and facing the doorway and laughing, but all 3 guys are looking at me as I walk in, not just Scott. I quickly look away and am so embarrassed. I don’t want Chris or Steve to know I’m interested in Scott, and I’m hoping they were blissfully oblivious to my intentions. I wonder if Scott was facing the door on purpose though, cuz when I first walked past their office it was quiet, and I was only in the warehouse literally 2 minutes. It’s a possibility he saw me enter. But it’s maybe only the second time I’ve seen him smile with his teeth and it was so cute. 

As I leave for the day, Scott is already in his car. I just give a little wave and he waves back. I left a minute late, and I’m kicking myself for it. He must have left EXACTLY at 4:45. If yesterday I made a pact with myself to not do anything (fail) and to leave on time (fail) and then to do something (sorta succeed), today I make a pact to leave exactly on time every single day going forward. And to also walk super slow and take my good ol’ time getting in my car. Since Scott comes in last, he leaves last; Chris and Steve leave before 4:45. I need to take full advantage of Scott being the last to leave. All I freaking want is to leave and for him to be right behind me and then stop me for a conversation. I can only take these “hey, what’s up"s and giving each other the eye for so long (3 weeks, apparently - I’m not very patient lol). I am so ready to just talk to the damn guy and flirt with him and go on a date (or 2 or 3 or 4 etc if all goes well).

Oh, and I was behind him the whole time on the highway. I was in the left lane first, but then he got over in the left lane too. I tried to keep a healthy distance between us, but no car got in front of me the whole time before I had to get off my exit. I don’t know if he noticed me behind him lol.

Wednesday/Today - So in the morning I’m over at the printer again, and surprise again Scott is behind me! He says “Hey, Dana”, but is just looking around everywhere but at me. I say “Hey, Scott”, but it gets stuck in my throat and I have to cough afterwards.

This man, ugh. He literally stared me down Monday as he was leaving, but then other times he just doesn’t look at me at all. I guess I’m pretty much the same way though lol. I start to wonder if Monday maybe he was thinking about coming over and talking to me. But then my thoughts kind of shift and I start to think maybe he doesn’t have an interest in me, that I’m just some younger girl giving him attention. Heyo, look who’s about to be proven wrong.

So I’m at Joyce’s cubicle talking, and I turn around to Scott at the coffee machine. This is it, I think. Sure enough, it is. We greet each other, and this time, instead of leaving it at “what’s up?” he turns his whole body toward me, ready for a conversation. I literally could not believe it was happening. I stand nervously in my cubicle doorway, beaming from literally every pore in my body because I am so elated. I ask him how his day’s going and he tells me it’s okay, just another day. I asked “Are you guys busy?” and he says “It’s on and off, ya know, it comes in spurts.” And I say “Yeah, that’s how this whole week has been for me”. He casually says “yeah, it’s only Wednesday though” and what do I say?? WHAT DO I SAY???? I’ll tell you what I said. I said “Well, I guess that’s why they call it humpday, it’s the hump to get over in the week haha”. Of all the freaking things I could have said, that is what came out of my mouth. His expression doesn’t change, but oh wow, does the flame of embarrassment come to life in my body. As I do when I get nervous, I keep talking. So I say “Uh, what time is it anyway, 2:00?”. I turn to look at my computer, as if I can actually see the tiny time in the corner from 5 feet away, and then I spin back around. Basically, I spin in a full circle. Good job, Dana. He had been looking at me, but then looks at his watch. I think afterwards I should have complimented his watch, but I was also not close enough to really mean it lol. He says “yeah, it’s 5 of”. I say something after this, but I honestly cannot tell you what I say because at this point the fire of embarrassment inside of me is more like an inferno. I can feel my heart rate has gone way up, and I am getting clammy. I’m pretty much borderline panic attack right now lol. My brain is screaming at me. I go into my cubicle and he turns back to the coffee machine.

If you thought the fun stopped there, think again, my friend. So I go into the cubicle with the filing boxes, and this damned chair is in the way. There had been 2, and I moved the other one previously, which Scott saw. So I’m rolling this other one out and I’m right where Scott is, and I stop to let this guy Dan go by. (Completely unrelated, but Dan and I are the only vegetarians here and our names are one letter off. I find this funny. Okay, continue.) I tell Dan to go by me and I say “I moved this chair out like 2 weeks ago, and someone keeps putting it back in there”. It’s not the whole truth, but hey, Scott is smiling, and not just his normal closed-mouth smile, but showing teeth. He’s still facing the coffee machine, but oh, it makes me so happy I put a smile on his face. So this part, this was good. The next part, ughh. So, I’m going through the filing boxes, and I take a bunch down, but then I realize, there is no way I’m going to be able to stack them back up. I hurt my back over a month ago and still have not been able to heal it, despite a long period of rest. It’s back to hurting pretty bad again, and I know that I really shouldn’t lift anything too heavy. I can stack the boxes one on top of the other still, but stacking them up 4 high is definitely not realistic. When it comes time, I enter Scott’s office. Keep in mind I am still in panic mode, at least 45 minutes later (thanks, anxiety). I’m in the doorway, asking if I can have help lifting the boxes since I hurt my back. Scott and Steve are in the office, and I’m trying to look at Scott, but don’t want to make it obvious, so I have to look at Steve too. I sound awkward af and I keep pulling my lips in. Scott and Steve keep looking awkwardly at each other, like “okay, who’s gonna get up and help her”. Scott sort of starts to get up, but Steve is right next to the door, so he gets up. Scott almost sits back down, but then follows Steve.

So Steve is unclear as to which boxes he needs to be lifting and where. In his defense there are a lot of boxes, but I feel it’s pretty obvious the ones in the hallway have to be moved lol. I turn red trying to point it out to him because Scott is right there, and as Steve goes to finally pick up a box Scott goes for it too and says “Here, you need help, dude?”, just joking with him. It was only 2 boxes, so Steve moves both, but then Scott says afterwards, “You got it?” and Steve tells him to shut up. Steve says to me”If you ever need help, just ask us” and I say “Thanks. Yeah, I was able to take them down, but I couldn’t lift them back up that high.” I was disappointed I couldn’t just get Scott, and I hope he doesn’t think I was playing damsel in distress, because I honestly wasn’t. He walks in and out of his office like twice and when I look at him, he’s not looking at me but he’s smirking. I have no idea how any of our interactions came off to him. 

As I leave for the day, I leave at exactly 4:45, and I walk so slowly that it disgusts me (I am high-energy on the go at pretty much all times). I pause for a few seconds before slowly pushing open the one door. Then I painfully make my way just as slowly to my car, put my bags in, and wait. Dan comes walking out, but no Scott. I close my door, and start to put my gloves on (I always do this after I’m outside for some reason). Scott then comes out as I’m putting on my second glove. I look up and say “Bye, Scott!”. All he gives me is a quick glance and a “See ya”. I feel disheartened. I read into every little thing, and he always, always, ALWAYS says my name. Even though Monday he didn’t say anything and just waved, but shit, I’d rather have that. I look at him as he’s at his car, but he doesn’t look up at all. Dan pulls out, then me, then maybe 15 seconds behind me, Scott.

So my thoughts on today are very mixed. Now with some perspective, what I said was probably not damaging enough for Scott to lose interest. at least, that’s what I’m hoping. He had a little smile on his face the whole time we talked, and he looked a little nervous too. Also, we made eye contact, which was awesome, even though there was like 8 feet in between us. I made him smile too, so bonus points. He also kept lingering at the coffee machine and was stocking it, which no one does except Joyce. He stocked it with the tea I love, since I drank it all since I’m doing my coffee detox lol. I could have restocked it myself, but meh. I’m hoping he’s not put-off by the small talk, as everyone has to start somewhere. I can only hope he found my embarrassing self cute and endearing, and not off-putting. I am also hoping that this is what has finally broke the ice. I’m hoping now that when I see him I can now initiate conversation. Here’s to hoping. Also, still hoping we cross paths outside. It would be nice if he would just ask me out so that we could get to know each other that way. It’s so hard finding something to talk about at work since we don’t have any reason to interact. I could always ask him his weekend plans or how his weekend was, but that would specifically require me to talk to him on a Monday or Friday, which is no guarantee. I’m so happy he initiated talking to me, as it means he does truly have (or had LOL) an interest in me. It also means he was ready to go beyond the “hey what’s up”s as well, which I never would have guessed, because it seemed like he was okay with staying there. I hope he surprises me some more and talks to me again. :) We shall see. I’m still someowhat embarrassed and have no idea what he thinks, but there’s always tomorrow and Friday for me to try again. And then even days after those too. Here’s to me hopefully redeeming myself.

[darcylindbergh]

I was wondering if you could give me some... advice. I see you struggle with anxiety and depression too, yet you manage to write so much. I haven't written in a long while though I really, urgently want to. Except every time I try to, I... panic. It triggers self-loathing attacks, breakdowns etc. (Because I'm not good enough for myself.) Do you know how I can try to get over this or work around it? It really gets me even more depressed, being unable to write because I want it so much :[ 1-2

2-2 I am also on medication and have lots of therapy behind me and am on the path to treat myself better - but the writing is something I just don’t know how to handle, and it makes me so sad and angry. I NEED to write, I really need to, but I completely. Just. I just can’t. I don’t know. Any advice you could give would be amazing… but ignore this if you don’t want or can’t respond just now! Thank you either way x

Heyo! I’m sorry you are dealing with these things but glad to hear that you are getting the help you need :D tbh I’m also struggling with my anxiety about writing lately so this can be a pep talk for the both of us.

1) there’s no wrong way to do writing. break all the rules! fuck the rules. spag? toss it. context? who cares. it doesn’t have to be true or real or smart. they don’t have to be real sentences even. if you have a word, write it down. if something seems like it’s niggling at your mind, write it down. i don’t mean Sit and Write(TM). i mean literally just write it down. with your fingers. then when you get to the end, stop. don’t sit there and figure out what you need to say next. just. stop. save the doc, close the notebook, whatever. when you’re done, stop. walk away. you can come back to it the next day or whatever and see if there’s anything in it. sometimes there is. sometimes there isn’t. it’s not a loss if there isn’t; it’s just not for you right now. it was for you when you wrote it down. that’s enough.

2) write shitty. seriously. stop trying to write good. give yourself permission to suck. give yourself permission to sound bad on the page. sometimes, the point is not to write something you can be proud of. sometimes the point is just to write anything at all. i feel ya! you want to write the thing you have in your head, right? you want to write it down in a way that means we can all understand. well, stop trying to do that. that’s hard!! that’s fucking hard!! so free yourself from that expectation. chill with yourself a little bit. get low key. 

you can always build on it later and find your truth it in a little bit at a time. you can always change everything later. you are never trapped in your writing. you can write something down specifically to delete it if you want. start little. start sparse. start rough. there’s no such thing as a perfect start, so let your starts be shitty. you know what the thing about shit is though? it’s fertilizer. so plant the seed in your shitty start and then later if you think ok well maybe this seed is bad but possibly it could be good if i did x to it. which is what we call a sprout. and then you think oh, what about y? and what about z? and pretty soon you have built a flower from that shit, and then you can start a garden. but you gotta start in the shit. get into it. fall in love with it. then grow.

3) read. if you can’t write, read. read things you like and read things you don’t like. read things everyone says you should like and try not to like it. and then read something no one has ever heard of. fiction, nonfiction, fanfiction. read read read read read read. 

idk if this is really the sort of advice you were looking for bb but I hope it helps speak to you a little bit!! I started writing at just, you know, like the absolutely worst fucking time in my life, and I thought, damn. ok. I took all the shit things that were happening to me and then gave them to a character. and it was in the end, super cathartic. and i stopped worrying about whether anybody else would get it. i got it. I knew where I was coming from, where I wanted to get to, because that’s where I wanted to be for myself. It didn’t fucking matter whether it made sense, ya know? I was dreaming. I was using tropes just cause they made me happy a little bit. and you know, I fell in love with it again. and now I know that I have some anxiety coming back again and I just have to start broad, sketch out the outline, think: what do IIIIIIIII want. what do i want. forget what everyone else wants from this chapter. what are the five words i want this chapter to feel like. and then build. and then i’ll read the previous chapters and see if it flows. and then i’ll cut. and then i’ll cut again. and then i’ll write more. i can do it. you can do it. 

listen. writing is hard. writing is putting your soul out there. your soul is always good enough. you are the only one who can write you. that’s special. that’s important. that’s worthwhile. don’t give up on yourself or your writing.

[agelesslorddio-blog]

A Hollowed Bond, Chapter 5: Dark Words Spoken Lightly!

Heyo! I was unable to upload the fifth chapter yesterday, so here it is today. The sixth chapter will be coming out tomorrow.

Roland reached the Academy as twilight began to overtake the sky. There weren't many people out in the courtyard at the time, but the few that had been were sitting at the tables set up near the central tower. Charlotte, who had been with him up until they reached the road leading back to the Academy, ran ahead to inform the headmaster about what transpired, and judging by the lack of anyone there to greet him, was either still explaining the situation or hadn't gotten the chance to start yet.

The blood that'd gushed from his neck and soaked his shirt and parts of his pants had begun to mix with the dirt and blood coming from the Familiar he carried. His movements weren't sluggish or dizzy, as one might expect from someone who suddenly lost copious amounts of blood, as he made his way towards the central tower, and there were no bruises, scars, or cuts to indicate that most of the blood coating him came from his own body. This, coupled with the fact that he'd been carrying a seemingly dead animal on his back, caused the few people populating the courtyard to stop and stare at him in disgust, while only one made any movement toward him.

The boy that approached him had feathered blond hair just above his light blue eyes, and wore a similar uniform to the other students, with the exception of his shirt, which had a deep v-cut and frills running along the front of it. His expression was grim as he pulled a rose-tipped wand out and swung it aggressively toward Roland, causing three petals to fall to the ground.

Three humanoid golems sprang up from the ground where the petals landed, and they immediately surrounded Roland, creating a triangle around him. Each golem was roughly three meters away from him, with one directly behind him, and, while they were all unarmed, they were still clearly stronger than Roland was currently. Realizing that, in his injured state, it wouldn't take much more than one clean hit from one of them to kill him, Roland cautiously listened for any movement from the one behind him and watched the other two from the corners of his eye as he stared at the boy.

"What have you done to my Familiar, you wretched cur!?" The boy shouted angrily as he pointed his wand toward Roland, the rage in his voice was equally expressed by his scowling face. He was seven meters away, far outside the triangle of golems that surrounded Roland.

Seeing this display, Roland stopped in his tracks and slowly lowered himself to the ground, carefully letting the Familiar he carried slide off his back and onto the ground behind him while the boy watched him, wand still pointed directly at him. He took care not to cause any friction or sudden impacts that might worsen its condition, before standing back up and stepping away from it.

"It was injured, I carried it back here." Roland replied in an even tone. He was completely aware of how this looked from the boys' perspective. He was covered in blood, but didn't have a scratch on him, and he was just carrying a bloodied animal on his back. The blood that'd gotten onto the club he held didn't make matters any better, even though the wounds on the animal couldn't have come from it.

"So you say, and yet, I find myself not believing you." The boy responded with clear contempt as he leaned to the side to get a better look at his Familiar, though as he did, Roland stepped to the side, giving the boy a clear line of sight to the creature. As his Familiar came into view his expression became conflicted between relief and anger. Relief as he saw his Familiar's torso rise and fall slowly, indicating it was still alive, and anger at just how badly it was injured.

"How do I know you weren't the one to do this?" The boy spoke as the relief in his expression turned back to anger when he glared at Roland.

"It's going to die of blood loss by the time this boy is done. The trip back to the Academy was stressful enough on its body."

"You don't." Roland decided against counting on that demon's corpse to still be in the clearing he'd fought it at. He knew fairly well that a lot of things he killed tended to disappear, usually by turning to ash and blowing away, there was also the possibility that whoever had shot it with an arrow had moved the corpse as well, if it didn't disappear on its own after he left. "If you want to fight me, I'll face you, but I don't know how much longer this thing can last without medical attention." He indicated the injured Familiar.

The boy's expression darkened as he considered what to do. It was clear that he was still angry about what happened to his Familiar, and wanted to take revenge, even if it was misguided, but he also clearly cared about the creature's life. He stood there for what were probably a few of the longest seconds of his life, considering what to do, before finally deciding. He lowered his wand and moved to the side, clearing the path between Roland and his destination, the central tower, though the golems remained in their place.

"Leave, I'll decide what to do about you later." The boy spoke in a commanding tone, even through his rage, the boy clearly saw himself as the superior of the two.

"Of course you will…"

Roland continued to walk toward the central tower in silence.

__________________________________________________ 

As he entered the tower he caught the attention of several of the servants, but didn't recognize any of them. He ignored their stares and continued toward where the headmaster's office was located, with any luck, Charlotte would have explained what had happened so far, and with even more luck, she would have neglected to mention his "miraculous recovery".

It didn't take long for him to reach the headmaster's office after he entered the tower, having familiarized himself with its layouts earlier in the week, and as he was about to reach for one of the ornate door knobs to enter the room, the large double doors opened, revealing an older man with a balding head. Roland recognized the man, but he couldn't recall the name. He knew it was the man he'd seen when he was first summoned, and the first person he'd seen flying, but other than that, he didn't know anything about him.

"Oh!?" The man exclaimed, surprised to see Roland right outside the door, and probably even more surprised to see him covered in so much blood and dirt.

"Professor, what's the matter? Why've you stopped?" A clearly older voice called out from inside the room.

"Ahh, I'm sorry, it's just, Miss Orléans' Familiar has arrived." The professor stepped aside to reveal Roland to the older man in the room; he was sitting behind a large-elegant desk on the far side of the room with an enormous window running the length of the wall behind him. "A-anyways, please excuse me." The professor departed from the doorway as he excused himself, though as he did, his eyes darted up to Roland's forehead, looking at the hair that now obscured his runes.

Inside the room there were two desks, one of which was situated in front of a large window across from the doorway and covered with various documents, the other was against the wall to the right of the doorway, and had nothing covering its surface. Both desks faced the center of the room, where a small coffee table, surrounded by a long couch and two recliners, rested on top of a bright red rug with intricate golden embroidery running along its edges. There were bookcases lining the walls from the entrance to the back wall, and a strange slit in the center of the ceiling, just above the coffee table.

Roland didn't wait to be invited in, now that the doorway wasn't blocked, and stood by the couch near where Charlotte was sitting, still looking toward the wizened old man.

"So, you must be this Familiar I've been hearing about." The old man stayed seated, staring intently back at Roland as he stroked his long beard, seemingly mulling something over in his mind. "Well, for now, you two may leave, I've already gotten the gist of what happened from Miss Orléans here, but I'd like the both of you to come by here tomorrow, after classes of course, once Professor… Um…" The older man cut himself off, clearly having forgotten the name he meant to use.

"Colbert" Charlotte offered.

"Right, once Professor Colbert is done investigating the sight of the incident." The headmaster continued. "For now, you two should probably go get cleaned up. Especially you, mister Familiar, you're a bloody mess." He paused; seemingly waiting for some kind of reaction, but none came from Charlotte or Roland. He cleared his throat before continuing. "Anyways, it's getting late, and you two need your rest."

Charlotte stood, and turned to face the old headmaster. "Sir Osmond." She bowed to him slightly as she spoke, pointedly ignoring the displeased expression that crept across the headmaster's, Sir Osmond, face, then turned and walked out of the room with Roland following her. Roland reasoned that the tame reaction from both of the men meant that Charlotte hadn't mentioned his recovery.

As they both exited, the headmaster waved his catalyst, causing the doors to close slowly behind them.

__________________________________________________

Charlotte and Roland made their way back to her room after that. Roland had told her what happened when he returned to the school, but she didn't respond. The sun had already set by the time they returned to her room, still reeking of blood.

Charlotte entered the room first, turning on the lamps with a snap of her fingers, and walked over to the dresser. She opened one of the drawers and pulled out two basins and several towels, then placed them on the surface of the dresser as Roland took his usual seat at the window.

"Take off your shirt." She spoke as she tapped the side of one of the basins twice, paused, and then tapped it a third time, causing it to fill with water. Roland, seeing this display, recalled a few things he'd heard in her classes. About how the condensation of water vapors in the air was one of the rudimentary spells of the element, and how it was possible for skilled Magicians to enchant items with spells that can be activated with a motion, like the lamps in the room, or through a phrase or key word. His shirt was already removed and hanging over the windowsill by the time she turned to face him.

She placed the basin filled with water by his side on the bench, and the empty one on the floor between his feet, then brought over a towel and doused it in the filled bowl. She squeezed out the excess water into the bowl before trying to rub it along Roland's bloodstained skin.

Just as she did, his hand reached up and grabbed her wrist. "What're you doing?" Roland asked as he looked up at her. He didn't let go of her wrist as he waited for an answer.

"You need to get wiped off before taking a bath." She answered back plainly. Both the servant's and noble's bathes were group baths, so going in while covered with blood would only ruin the water.

"I can do it myself." He responded.

"It's fine." She spoke as she freed her wrist from his grasp. He'd only had a light hold on her wrist, so it was easy for her to break his grip when she pressed the towel against him. He rolled his eyes and he lowered his hand, seeming to have deciding not to make any further objections. Charlotte wasn't used to seeing men naked, or even topless, which made the situation somewhat awkward for her, but she put aside those feelings for now. She had something more important to deal with.

As she wiped away the blood, she covertly studied his body. While he wasn't overly muscular, he wasn't frail or weak looking either, and he had almost no noticeable fat or loose skin, which made him seem plain, unremarkable even. The only odd thing about him might've been how his body practically radiated heat without a shirt on. It gave off more heat than anyone she'd ever met; even Kirche's body temperature could be considered cold compared to him, and that was saying something. Though, the heat didn't reach very far from his body, rather, it seemed contained to a few inches around his exposed chest, similarly to how an oven or a fire might be during a cold night, only on a smaller scale.

As she worked her way toward the blood around his heart, she could just barely feel his heart beating inside his chest. It was beating incredibly fast, but felt weak at the same time, and now that she'd cleared away more of the blood on him, she started to notice that his skin was paler than normal as well. Physically speaking, his body was reacting the same way anyone's would at loosing that much blood, but it didn't seem like that was affecting him at all. He was even capable of carrying a large animal the distance between the forest clearing and the academy on his back in this condition.

The whole thing seemed odd from her standpoint. The fact that he gave off warmth and had a heartbeat meant he wasn't some sort of sun-immune Vampire or other type of Undead, despite his quick healing, but it didn't mean he wasn't some sort of human-like First Born, though, there was also some unknown possibilities due to his mysterious origin.

She held the bloodstained towel over the empty basin on the floor and wrung out the liquids that had seeped into it. The mix of blood and water dripped from the towel, and as it hit the surface of the bowl, the hiss of steam could be heard as the liquid instantly evaporated. The steam it produced began to disperse immediately, scattered by a quick gust of wind that came from the bowl's rim. Charlotte doused the towel again, and wrung out the excess water, as well as some more of the remaining blood, over the empty basin, causing the same reaction as before.

As she continued to wipe him down, she scrutinized his body even closer. He didn't have pointed ears, something she already knew, but now that she'd taken a closer look they didn't seem to be an illusion or like they were mutilated or purposefully deformed to make him look more human, and there was nothing noteworthy on his back that would mark him as a wingless Winged One, just a few sunspots, though the skin on his back did seem more tan than on the rest of his body, like it had far more exposure to the sun. There was one patch of skin covering the edge of his serratus anterior, just below his heart, that felt unnaturally cold compared to the rest of his body, but she wasn't sure what to make of that.

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Their evening continued in silence as she slowly cleaned and inspected the rest of his upper body, and before long, she was done. She had to change the towel she was using once, because the first one had gotten too dirty and needed thorough cleaning, but that was all. More importantly, her inspection hadn't given her much more information than she started with, aside from the few strange things she'd noted about his body, and the fact that Roland winced as she started wiping off his neck. And, while that was a small, easily missed reaction, it at least told her that he could feel pain, further solidifying in her mind that he wasn't some sort of Undead. But, with the exception of divine intervention, or maybe Spirit Magic, she couldn't think of a single possible reason as to why he was still alive, and as far as she knew humans couldn't use Spirit Magic.

Charlotte looked down at his pants. They were still clearly covered in blood, but she had already decided she wouldn't be cleaning anything down there, and didn't request for him to take them off. She was already embarrassed from cleaning off his chest, even if she tried to ignore the feeling.

After she unbuttoned her cuffs and pulled her long sleeves back, revealing her slender forearms, she began to wipe the blood and dirt off of them with a fresh towel. She was clean of blood for the most part, having avoided being hit by that beast's terrible weapon, but she'd gotten some on her when she helped Roland pick up the surviving Familiar, and some more had gotten on her when she was wiping him down. Aside from that, the only noticeable signs that anything out of the ordinary had happened to her that day was the dirt that'd gotten all over her clothing and in her hair, a few tears in her stockings, revealing the pale skin covering her thin legs, and how badly tousled her chin-length hair was, all of which came from when she was trying to avoid being killed by that monster.

Afterwards, she took the empty basin and put it on the windowsill, next to Roland's shirt, and poured the other basin's contents into it, causing the steam of blood diluted water to escape into the cool night air, then wiped them both down with a fourth towel before putting them back into the drawer she'd taken them from. She left the four towels on the windowsill, opposite his shirt. Roland moved to give her some space as he watched her empty the basin, then sat back down when she'd finished.

"Are you done?" Roland broke the silence that'd overtaken the room since she'd started cleaning the blood off him.

"…" Charlotte's eyes met his as she considered what to say. The questions she wanted to ask were clearly defined in her mind, and yet, a part of her really didn't want to ask. The Familiar one summons is an important part of a Magician's growth, and could even be considered a representation of the Magician's power, so of course she wanted to know more about him, but, his existence as her Familiar was already strange, rather, it was completely unheard of for a Magician to summon another human as their Familiar. That was part of the reason why she'd shut down their previous conversations about him prematurely, she felt nervous, downright scared even, that his existence as her Familiar might reveal some horrid truth about herself she wasn't prepared to deal with.

"Are you… human?" She decided that she needed to ask despite her trepidation. She felt that the longer she put off the conversation, the more questions would pop up in her mind, and the harder it'd be for her to ask any, besides that, what'd happened earlier that day made putting it off any longer completely unreasonable.

"As far as I can tell, I've not lost my Humanity." Roland responded honestly as he looked up at her. He'd begun to get the impression that the humans of his own world and this one were somehow different, still, he wasn't sure if the Humanity he was talking about was something she'd know of or not. How she reacted now would tell him just how different they really were.

Her expression seemed somewhat confused by his statement, but didn't reveal much else. This probably meant that she found the phrasing of his sentence strange, which meant that she'd never heard the word "humanity" used in the way that he meant it, and instead considered it a strange way to answer her question, because if she had been aware of the Humanity he'd referred to, she probably wouldn't be so calm. The only implication that could be gained from his wording was that he wasn't sure whether or not he was human currently, but knew he was at one point.

If she was truly some different kind of human, her appearance, as well as the appearance of her peers and professors, didn't make that clear at all. Yes, she was a little on the pale side, but he'd seen paler people, and though she looked young for her age, he was never very good at judging a person's age from their appearance. Her hair color, and the hair color of many of her peers was also somewhat strange too, then again, since he was in her world now, he'd be the strange one, the "human-shaped creature" that looked convincingly like the real thing.

"Do you know how you healed so fast?"

"No." He answered with a half-truth. Though he knew he was Undead, and that the reason his neck healed was because of that, he didn't know how being Undead made his body act that way. It healed just enough to allow him to continue moving, even if the injury would normally be fatal, and his body seemed to be incredibly dense, which prevented dismemberment and swimming, but that didn't make him impervious to harm, as he could still die if he took enough damage, and still felt the pain as intensely as a normal human.

"Those places you mentioned, they really aren't a part of this world?" She asked.

"Yeah." He replied as he took his shirt off the windowsill. He was originally going to put it back on, but decided against it after inspecting it. The only thing to have gotten damaged in the fight was his shield and neck, but his clothes were still stained with blood, and while he was used to the sight and smell of blood, he figured most people here probably weren't. He also didn't want to give Charlotte any reason to start cleaning him again. He didn't feel one way or the other about the act itself, but he could practically feel her eyes scanning every inch of his skin while she was cleaning him, which made the process incredibly unsettling for him. It reminded him of his cell in the asylum, more specifically, the hole in the ceiling that acted as his main light source.

He couldn't remember it clearly, but whenever he'd though about it, the feeling that someone was watching him from that hole crept into the back of his mind. It was an unnerving feeling, that'd filled him with paranoia, and wasn't something he wanted repeated.

"That demon, do you know anything about it, or why it was in the woods near here?" Roland asked as he folded the shirt and draped it over his leg.

"I remember reading about them… They came from the east, past the desert. Some people say they fell from the sky, but most think they're just empty rumors." Charlotte answered as she walked over to the chest at the foot of her bed, then moved the side closest to Roland two feet away from her bed and sat on it, probably to avoid getting her bedding dirty.

She told him about some of the things she remembered reading about it, said it was usually called something along the lines of a "human-goat" monster, and explained how it was speculated that it was possibly some type of "First Born", though he wasn't sure what that was, that was a subspecies of Minotaurs, or possibly some sort of cross between a Minotaur and a Satyr. Apparently, the creature had first been spotted a few decades ago.

"Have they been sighted anywhere else?" Roland asked as he slowly processed the information he'd been given. The fact that other beings from his world somehow ended up here was both dismaying and somewhat relieving to him all at once. Roland hoped that meant some of the people he'd met in his travels might have escaped that place, but he knew it wouldn't matter for most of them, they were Undead, and as far as he knew, they didn't have the "good fortune" of being incapable of hollowing. It also made him realize that no matter where he went, he'd never be able to escape what Gwyn had done to the world… What Gwyn had done to him. The thought cast a dark shadow over his mind, causing a black expression to cover his face, which he hid by turning away from Charlotte.

"Yes. They've been seen in a few places, but most recent reports place them around southern Gallia, along the mountains." She responded as she got up to pull out the atlas in her bookshelf, seemingly unaware of his expression, and began leafing through its pages, then showed him a map of Gallia and traced her finger along a long mountain range that separated southern Gallia from the rest of the country, before sitting down.

Roland's expression returned to normal as he stared at the map, considering how to respond, but before he could, Charlotte spoke again.

"You seemed like you recognized that 'demon'." She wasn't asking if that was true or not, he could tell she already knew he did.

"You asked me before if I had proof about where I came from, right?" He looked away from her, toward the forest out the window. "That's my proof. The demon came from the same world as I. Though that one was injured, and very old, it was undoubtedly a demon from Izalith."

"Izalith?" Charlotte asked.

Roland started explaining what he'd known about The Witch of Izalith, what he'd seen in her city, and what he'd heard from Quelana. He was careful not to mention Quelana, or that he'd fought with the Witch herself, rather, what became of her, but he didn't deny having run-ins with the demons she created in the past, and went so far as to explain how the demon they ran into would have looked like if they'd seen it when it was younger and uninjured, as well as describing a few other demons he'd run into, and what he'd seen happen to them as they aged. Charlotte continued to listen to his explanation with rapt attention.

He also explained Lost Izalith's location in relation to Lordran, and told her that he had no idea how it had come to be there, for all he knew, it might have always been there, or it could have somehow shifted from its original place and time to become closer to the First Flame.

"The First Flame? Does that have to do with the 'fires fading'?" Charlotte inquired, and received a nod in response.

He explained what he'd learned about the First Flame in all his travels, which didn't amount to much. He knew that it brought change to the world, and its advent set in motion the end of the Age of Ancients, ushering in the Age of Fire. It allowed those who harnessed it to become gods with incredible power, but when it faded, so did they, and everything they made followed suit.

Their conversation continued on like this until late into the night, mostly due to Charlotte's inquiries, which caused his straightforward explanations to break off into varied tangents that covered a myriad of topics, from what he knew about the Age of Ancients, to stories about the gods, what he'd known about the countries he hadn't visited, and so much more. Roland did his best to avoid mentioning the Undead Curse or anything that hinted at its existence, but it was clear to her that he was holding back information as he did. She wasn't sure if it was because he didn't trust her or if it was for some other reason, but she didn't call him out on it, because she never got the impression he was lying about the things he did say, even some of the more outlandish things, like a giant wolf deftly wielding its former master's massive sword in its mouth.

Rather, the fact that he seemed to be being honest implied that he had at least some trust in her, and while the possibility that he was lying about the whole thing had popped into her mind, for some reason, it seemed unlikely to her, but she knew she couldn't just accept what he was saying because of that. She decided that for now, she wouldn't doubt or trust what he said completely, and would wait to see if some more substantial proof would come up, as the existence of that "demon" alone wasn't conclusive, even if she decided to believe what he'd said about it.

Over the course of the conversation, Charlotte had also gotten the impression that he was talking about his own experiences, partly due to the many finer details he knew about the various beings and places he mentioned, but more so because of the way he talked about them. While he retained a neutral expression, his inflection changed slightly depending on what he was talking about. He'd sounded almost sad when he talked about certain people, frustrated when he talked about others, and even downright scornful at times. There were a few people he spoke about that he seemed genuinely respectful of, but they were definitely in the minority.

However, he never admitted to having a personal connection to anyone he mentioned, or even admitted to so much as having met them at all, despite the way he talked about them. He'd admitted to having run-ins with the "demons of Izalith", and having visited a few places after they'd already been abandoned, but that was all. She stifled a yawn as she considered whether to ask about that or not. He hadn’t denied it, but if he hadn't admitted to knowing any of them yet then she doubted he'd do so just because she asked, though she decided to inquire about it regardless.

"You've been talking like you know these people."

Roland paused to consider her question before answering.

"I knew some of them." He gave an unexpected answer.

"It doesn't really matter if I knew some of them, all of them, or none of them, so I didn't mention it." He continued, though his tone conveyed that was the last he'd speak on that topic. Given his description of some of the people he'd talked about, like Big Hat Logan and Black Iron Tarkus, who he'd referred to as "legendary heroes", she assumed that they were likely people he'd only heard about in stories, but the way his voice almost sounded hurt when he talked about Logan, and the clearly apparent respect he had for Tarkus, gave her reason to doubt that.

"You… How'd you survive in places like that? Were you a Knight, or a ma-, Sorcerer?" Charlotte asked, using the terminology he'd been using. The way he'd fought earlier gave off the impression that he'd known what he was doing, and even if he didn't cast any spells at the time, it was possible that he was a Magician skilled in close-combat, who simply didn't have a wand or stave to use.

"No, I'm not a knight. I served no lord and I don't know the first thing about riding a horse. I wouldn't call myself a Sorcerer either, but I do know some spells, and, while it's not actually a form of 'magic', I know enough tales of the gods to draw on their Miracles, with the right tools, and I'm an experienced Pyromancer, but…" He lifted his hand off his lap and held it out away from Charlotte and anything flammable, like he was trying to will something into existence. "My Flame seems to have gone inert."

"Inert?" She asked curiously.

"How to put it… 'A Pyromancer's Flame is a part of their own body. The flame develops right along with their skill'." He paused after repeating an old friend's explanation. "The thing is, when I end up somewhere new, I lose whatever I've gained previously, except for my knowledge. Even my body reverts."

That was definitely one of the odder things he'd said that night. She'd heard of certain beings being able to use magic without Catalysts, but this Pyromancy, it seemed it was supposed to be somehow apart of his body. If that were the case, then he'd be considered a heretic in any of the Brimiric countries, and would probably be ostracized in the non-Brimiric ones, even more so due to his amazing recovery. The idea that his body reverted back to what seemed like a normal human being after arriving "somewhere new" implied he'd become something else in the past, though, she doubted that meant he became something inhuman, but the possibility existed, given how much she didn't know. Still, it seemed more likely that he would have just gotten stronger in his previous travels, if he was to be believed.

Charlotte reached up to rub her eyes, which were starting to blur due to fatigue. They'd been talking for a while, and she'd only just realized how long it'd been since they started talking, and while she wanted to continue the conversation, they both needed to wash themselves properly.

"Do you know where the servant's bath is?" She asked. There probably wasn't anyone in either bath this late at night, so they'd both likely be bathing alone.

"I've seen it." Roland responded, realizing that she wanted him to go take a bath, so he put his bloodied shirt under his arm and pulled out a fresh set of clothing from under his pillow, then took the dirtied towels off the windowsill and draped them over his arm. "I'll clean these as well." He would have asked if she wanted him to take her clothes after she changed as well, but she seemed put-off when he'd offered earlier that day, and refused.

Charlotte, had asked if he'd like to get a dresser or use one of the drawers in hers after he'd come back with more clothing, but he refused the offer. It seemed unnecessary since he only had a few shirts and pants, and a loincloth.

She went over to her dresser and pulled her neatly folded pajamas out of one of her drawers, before Roland and herself moved toward the door to go to their respective bathing areas.