#oh my hod he could kill me so quickly

[identity-theft-101]

@officialdaydreamer00 PSPSPSPS-

EeL

I saw this costume at Halloween City and yeah

[ginger-grimm]

Fun house mirrors and broken glass

A thousand times Beth had told Misty that she didn't want to go to the carnival. Her experiences there had never been peachy and she didn't trust anything in Riverdale to be normal. She had heard about bad things happening there before.

"Murders, Mis. People got murdered here!"

Misty sighed. "Ay, reina del drama. You are such a buzz kill."

"I am not!" Beth insisted as they trudged towards the fun house. "I am concerned for our safety. You can't deny the creepiness of people having been killed here."

Misty held up a finger. "One person," she reminded Beth. "One person got murdered here. People get murdered every day all over the planet. All over Riverdale, even. That girl got murdered like twenty years ago. We're going to be fine."

Beth sighed, twirling her thumbs as they entered the fun house. She whimpered slightly. Misty considered leaving, Beth already getting on her nerves. "You don't have to go in with me."

"So I can get killed out here? No thank you, Misty. Just don't leave me alone!"

She stomped through the crepe paper strips that functioned as the entrance. The inside of the house was terrifying. Big warped mirrors ordained every wall. Spiral designs painted on the wall caused Beth nausea already.

"I hate this," she whispered. There was no one else despite the two girls as far as Beth could see, which only made it creepier.

"Calm your crazy ass down, chica! You're getting on my nerves. I should have taken Jupiter out instead. He never complains."

"He doesn't complain because he wants to fit in-"

Beth halted abruptly, nearly causing Misty to crash into her.

"Ay, ahora que?!"

"I saw something! In the mirrors!"

"Baby, it ain't even Halloween yet. You have got to calm down."

Beth threw her hands up. "It's in two days. Riverdale has had crazier things happen. I don't put it past anyone to start a killing spree now."

"You know what, crazy? I'm gonna keep going. Either you come with or you leave now and wait for me it's up to you."

Misty walked away from her. Beth scoffed, crossing her arms in front of her chest. She turned and went for the exit. "Fine. Don't haunt me when you get murdered."

Beth walked out and leaned against the wall, whipping out her phone to text her dad. She couldn't wait to get home. She hated Halloween and the weeks leading up to it. It made the people in Riverdale act up in erratic ways.

"I hate this fucking town," she whispered as she typed away on her phone.

She got startled by a scream. It came from Misty, she was sure of it. It got cut off as soon as it started. "Goddamnit!"

Beth balled up one of her fists, clutching her phone harder with the other. She should call someone. The police. Too bad all Riverdale cops were useless and in Hiram Lodge's pocket.

"Oh, come on!"

She looked around for anyone that could help. The carnival was near deserted. "Seriously?"

"Fuck it!"

Beth slowly walked into the house once more, her hands shaking as she swatted the crepe out of her way. She halted for a second, her breath hitched. She didn't want to go in, but Misty could be in trouble. She could be dead.

"Oh, God," she mumbled as she kept moving.

Something was off now. Different. Maybe it was because she was scared. Maybe there was nothing. She just had to move quickly. Get Misty, drag her out. Go home. Curl up in bed. Don't leave it until Halloween is over.

The further she got into the fun house, the trippier it got. The mirrors were starting to make her see double. Tripple. Beth wasn't sure if she would find her way out again if she tried.

She halted abruptly when she crashed into one of the mirrors. She whinced, holding her nose. There was a bit of blood coming from it, but it didn't look broken. "Christ!"

Beth turned around. There she was again in the reflection. Every which way she turned she saw herself in the mirrors. No Misty anywhere in sight. Beth wanted to run home. Misty had gotten herself into whatever mess she was in. But that would be cruel. She could actually be hurt.

Beth continued on to find her best friend. The deeper she got the harder it would be to find their way out again.

She was lost in her thoughts, trying to negate the sinking feeling in her stomach. It was not out of the ordinary for someone to snap around Halloween and try to be the next Michael Myers or Jason Vorhees.

Beth halted again when she encountered a broken mirror in front of her. There was a strand of hair tucked into it, blood smeared all over it.

"Oh fuck me, this is not really happening right now!"

She turned, trying to find her way out again, when suddenly Misty popped up in front of her, screaming at the top of her lungs. Beth shrieked. She only stopped when Misty stopped and started laughing maniacly instead.

Beth stared at her, mouth agape. "Are you serious, right now? Misty!"

Misty continued to laugh, pulling a tube of fake blood out of her sleeve. Beth scoffed, throwing her hands up. "Unbelievable!"

"Oh come on, chica! You needed a good boost of scariness before the crazy starts. You need to get used to these things-"

Beth rolled her eyes as a knife suddenly burst through Misty's neck. "Really? You're not done yet?"

Misty grabbed at her throat, choking on her own blood. She grappled for Beth, trying to hold on to her as she went down. Beth took a step back, her face scrunched in disgust as she wiped at it furiously. "You got fake blood all over my jacket!"

Misty fell to the floor and onto her stomach, still gurgling. A guy in a Black Hood mask stood behind her, wiping off the knife he pulled from Misty's throat.

"Okay, who is this? Booker? Sweet Pea? Fangs? Don't tell me it's Reggie."

He stalked forward her as Misty's gurgling died down. He knelt next to Misty's body. Beth narrowed her eyes and let out a bemused chuckle as the guy started wailing in on Misty more, stabbing her in the bag over and over again.

"You guys really went the extra mile for this, huh? How are you pulling this off right now?"

With a grunt, the black-hodded man delievered once last hard stab to Misty's back.

He got back up. His eyes were a piercing light blue and they were practically staring into her soul as he stood quietly in front of her. He continued to eye her down as she realized that there were no people with eyes this blue in their circle of friends. There was no way Misty hired an actual actor to do this.

Beth's eyes wandered down to Misty's body. She was laying still. Not breathing. She wouldn't go this far for a joke.

"Oh, God."

She swore she heard the black-hooded man silently giggle as it finally dawned on her. She turned to run, finally breaking out of her schock, only for the man to yank her back by the hair and slice the knife across her throat.

Beth gurgled as she fell to her knees. She looked up at the man. He stared at her for a while, watching as she started trying to crawl away. Eventually, she stopped and went still.

That Halloween, twenty people were murdered by what Sheriff Keller could clearly indicate was a Black Hood copycat. Only this Black Hood wasn't incompetent. He didn't differenciate between sinners and saints. He killed everyone the same. And he made sure no one lived to tell their stories.

TAGGING: @hughstheforcelou @firsthorror @eddysocs @raith-way @foxesandmagic @reggiemantleholdmyhand-tle

[sparrow-flies-south]

Choose A Side

Pairings: Gen Summary: Whumptober Day 2: Pick Who Dies

Thomas meets another side, and is forced to make a terrible decision. Notes: Written for whumptober day two: "Pick who dies"! Yes, I am aware it's the middle of the month, but in my defence, starting whumptober on the 16th is a very Thomas Sanders thing to do. I am planning on writing a follow up for a later prompt, so keep an eye out for that!

Masterpost   Read on AO3

When Janus rose up, it wasn’t in the mind palace like it should have been. Instead, he was in a dark, empty version of Thomas’ living room, a feeling of malaise wrapping around him like thick smoke.

“What the-“

Janus turned, and his heart sank when he saw Thomas and Virgil standing in their usual spots. The others were nowhere to be seen.

“Did you do this?” Virgil asked, bristling.

There was an undercurrent of hope in Virgil’s voice that stopped Janus from being offended at the accusation. He shook his head wordlessly and tasted the air, ignoring Thomas’ wide eyes at the sight of his tongue. The scent he picked up almost choked him from the force of it; he clenched his fists with the urge to strike hard and fast, find all the weak points and make them scream.

“We need to go,” Janus snapped, because he recognised that feeling. “Get him out of here.”

Virgil spun and reached for Thomas’ arm, only to go flying across the room before he could make contact. He hit the wall and stayed there, pinned by some invisible force. Janus only had a moment of alarm before something pulled him through the air. His breath slammed out of him as back hit the wall.

Thomas raced forwards then froze, halfway across the room. He lifted on arm and reached out, only to be stopped by an invisible barrier.

“Okay,” Thomas said, and Janus didn’t need to glance at Virgil to see that he was panicking. “What the hell is going on?”

“Oh, don’t mind them.” Malice appeared in the middle of the room as if he’d always been there, dressed in the same expensive suit as when Janus had last seen him. “I’d hate for them to interrupt while I’m trying to introduce myself.”

“Wh-who are you?” Thomas asked, taking a step back.

“Why, I’m Malice,” the other side said with a bow.

Thomas shook his head. “No, that’s- That can’t be true. I can’t have a side that’s malice.”

Malice laughed and took a step forward. He reached out and stroke one hand against Thomas’ cheek.

“I feel real, wouldn’t you say?” Malice whispered. “As real as anything around here, anyway.”

“Get the fuck away from him,” Virgil snarled, straining against whatever power Malice was using to keep them in place.

Malice turned, and looked straight at Virgil, and Janus stiffened. The old instincts of draw his attention away, protect Virgil came screaming back.

“You see,” Malice said, as he strode towards Virgil and Janus. “Once upon a time we were a happy little family. But, see, some people decided they didn’t want me in their family. So they shut me up here!”

Thomas’ gaze turned to Virgil, upset and confused, silently questioning. Virgil looked away, not meeting his gaze, and Thomas turned his attention to Janus instead. Janus’ mouth went dry. He knew it had been the right thing to do, to keep Malice locked away where he couldn’t destroy Thomas. But the look on Thomas’ face stopped him from admitting that.

“Thomas,” Janus said instead, “This is your mind. You control-”

Malice’s fist hit his stomach, knocking the air out of him. He gasped for breath, tried to curl in on himself, but couldn’t move. Malice smiled, and drew his arm back for the next blow.

“Stop!” Thomas shouted.

Malice went still, eyes glinting like a cat that’d just spotted a mouse nest. Janus tensed, sensing the trap but unable to see it and Malice took a step away from him, shrugged and said, “If you insist.”

Before Janus could say anything, Malice took a step to the side and punched Virgil in the face. Virgil’s head snapped back, hitting the wall, and when Malice stepped back Janus could see blood dripping down Virgil’s chin.

“Now, I know what you’re thinking,” Malice said, completely calm. “You’re thinking, but Malice, I already have so many sides. However will I fit another in? And I understand those feelings, really, I do. But here’s the thing-” Malice was stood between the two of them, so close he could just reach out and touch them and they wouldn’t be able to do a thing- “You don’t really need two sides for self-preservation, do you?”

Dread curled heavily in Janus’ stomach, and Virgil started trashing against the invisible restraints again.

“What do you mean?” Thomas asked. Janus could see his chest heaving with anxiety, though how much was Virgil’s fear and how much was his own he couldn’t tell.

Malice frowned. “Really, Thomas, do we need to bring Logic in here? You pick which of them you want to keep, and you can take them away with you. Oh, and the other one gets killed horribly by me,” Malice added. “Sorry, it’s the rules, and also I’ll find it incredibly fun.”

Thomas looked from Virgil to Janus and back again, fear evident on his face.

“Thomas,” Virgil rasped.

“Don’t, Virge, I- I’m going to get you both out of here, okay?” Thomas said.

It was funny, but some part of Janus had believed Thomas would manage to make everything okay, right up until he sensed the lie in Thomas’ words.

Janus was going to die.

He had none of the insecurities the others had about his role; he knew that he was important, that Thomas would suffer without him, would die without him. But he also had no delusions about his standing among the other sides. It had been barely over a month since the wedding, and though Thomas accepted him, even that had been a grudging thing. Thomas had known Virgil for years, Thomas liked Virgil, did his best to make him feel comfortable, stuck up for him whenever another side’s words hit too close. Really, it was barely a question.

“Right,” Virgil said, “But if you don’t- it’s okay, if you choose him.”

“Virge-”

“The- the others will probably be able to take over things. You shouldn’t let him-” he broke off, choking on the word. “Not because of me.”

A swell of hope surged up within him, that maybe Thomas would listen. It was quickly doused by horror. Oh, he’d throw anyone under the bus to get ahead without a second though, but for Virgil to be tortured by Malice, to be killed-

He should be able to say something, to tell Thomas to save Virgil and get out of there. He couldn’t. He was self-preservation – he’d fight to protect all parts of Thomas, of course he would, but to knowingly offer up his own life? His function prevented him from speaking the words.

All he could do was try to soften the blow, make sure it was one side, and not two, that Thomas lost, because he didn’t want to know what Malice would do if Thomas didn’t choose.

“Thomas, it’s okay,” Janus lied. “We’re a part of you. Dying would be unpleasant, yes, but we can’t stop existing. We will always be there.”

It was even true, in a way. They existed solely within Thomas, which meant that no, they could not die the same way Thomas could. But that didn’t mean they’d still be there afterwards. Even if Thomas did manage to retain their functions, there would be nothing of them, the parts of Janus that liked snakes and the colour yellow and revelled in the thrill of a good trick. The parts of Virgil that listened to emo music and stayed up far too late watching scary videos, and kept making Janus check under his bed for monsters and serial killers when they were younger.

Virgil was watching Janus, and Janus managed to catch his eye. Shaking his head would alert Thomas to what was going on, so all he could do was hope Virgil saw what Janus was doing. Let Janus play the part of the trickster one more time, Loki guiding Hod’s arrow, so Thomas didn’t have to know what he was doing.

“Times up,” Malice sing-songed. “Sorry, but we don’t have forty five minutes for you to make this decision.”

“No,” Thomas said, firmly. “I’m not going to pick who dies, that’s sick.”

Malice sighed, and then shrugged. “Well, if you really can’t choose…”

Something rose up, twisting around Janus’ neck and pressing, making him choke. His hands were free, now, and he reached up and tugged at the rope, but it wouldn’t move. It pressed tighter, stopping him from being able to breathe-

Light danced in his vision, he could hear Thomas say something, yell at Malice to stop, and Malice reply. His vision began to fade, going grey at the edges-

“Okay, Virgil! Save Virgil!”

The rope disappeared and Janus fell forwards, no longer pinned to the wall, and struggled to breathe. When he registered what had happened, the air was knocked out him again.

He looked up, Thomas was holding Virgil in his arms. Virgil was still shaking, hands touching his throat, looking like he didn’t see the room in front of him; and Thomas-

Thomas looked devastated.

“Janus-” Thomas choked, but Malice was already moving forward, blocking Thomas from his sight.

Malice wrapped his fist into Janus’ hair and used it to pull him into a sitting position. “Sorry, Thomas,” he said, “No take backs. I’m not sure why choose a snivelling freak like Anxiety, but, well the pickings were slim.”

“Don’t,” Thomas begged. “Please, just-“

The knife hit him in the stomach. It hurt surprisingly less than he’d always assumed it would. He gasped, and Malice was still infront of him, still blocking his view from Thomas, and something broke inside him.

He tried to pull away from Malice, crying and unable to stop, and this time when Malice stabbed him he did scream, sobbed and called Thomas’ name, because Thomas was meant to fix things, had to be able to fix things-

“Step away from the reptile,” someone who sounded like Roman said, and Malice’s hand disappeared. Janus curled in on himself, as if that would actually stop him from being stabbed again.

Nothing else happened, though, and Janus looked up, blinking past the tears.

The other sides were there. Roman was stood in front of Malice, sword pointing at his chest; Logan was next to Thomas, talking, and Patton-

Patton ran to Janus’ side, pressed his hands against Janus’ wounds. Janus hissed, tried to pull away because it hurt, and Patton whispered, “I’m sorry, kiddo, but I have to stop the bleeding.”

“You three weren’t invited,” Malice said, sulkily.

“We are parts of Thomas,” Logan replied. “You could never hold us back for long.”

“Should have spent less time on the monologue,” Roman said, though his voice was brittle. “Classic villain mistake.”

“Is Janus-?” Thomas started to ask.

“Janus will be fine, if we can get him out of here,” Logan said. “Malice holds too much power over this place.”

“I can’t leave,” Thomas said. “I tried.”

“Of course you couldn’t,” Logan replied. “You didn’t have me. This place thrives off of fear and repression. I, on the other hand, am none of those things. Listen to my voice; you are not here. You are in your apartment, and you are safe. You are in control of what you imagine.”

The movement was gradual, not the usual sudden rising up. Malice’s room began to fade away, replaced by the usual light and clutter of Thomas’ apartment. Patton was still kneeling at his side, but the others had returned to their usual places. The agony in his stomach had faded into a dull ache, phantom pains from an injury that no longer existed. Janus pushed himself to his feet and adjusted his clothes.

Virgil was huddled in on himself, eyeshadow streaked down his face. He refused to meet Janus’ eyes. Patton remained kneeling, and Logan and Roman just looked concerned.

“What happened?” Roman asked.

“Janus,” Thomas said, “I’m so sorry.”

It was the truth; or at least, it was a truth Thomas believed. He really did regret that Janus had nearly died, that he liked Virgil too much to save him. It hadn’t been enough to save him, though.

“It’s fine,” Janus managed to say. It was clear from everyone’s looks that no one brought that.

“I’m sure it wasn’t your fault,” Patton told Thomas softly, and Janus couldn’t stop the ugly, bitter laughter that rose up.

Thomas flinched, and Janus looked away. Thomas had been crying, he hadn’t realised that before. Wasn’t sure when the crying had started, or if it even mattered.

“Well,” Janus managed, finishing adjusting his gloves. “That did nothing to solve today’s dilemma. Since I imagine you’ll want to rest, I’ll leave you be.”

He hesitated, waiting for Thomas to say something, to tell him not leave, that everything would be okay and nothing like that would ever happen again. Thomas just nodded.

The rest of the sides looked torn, but Janus wasn’t interested in false platitudes from them. He disappeared back to his room.

No one came after him.

[stillebesat]

In These Tangled Webs (10/11)

Sanders Sides: Patton, Logan, Roman, Virgil Blurb: It should be easy admitting to your roommates that you’re not entirely human. Only in Logan’s case it’s not. Not when he discovers that Patton is afraid of Spiders. Fic Type: Hurt/Comfort Overall Warnings: Spiders, Arachnophobia, Death Talk, Minor Character Deaths, Slightly Detailed Descriptions of Deaths, Murders, Injuries, Swords, Imprisonment, Biting, Fangs, Venom, Extra Body Parts, Blood, Manipulation, Negative Self Talk

To Catch Up: Chapter 1  Chapter 2  Chapter 3  Chapter 4  Chapter 5  Chapter 6  Chapter 7  Chapter 8  Chapter 9  

“HUNT!” Roman half screeched before he slapped his hand over his mouth, the first to react. 

“I picked him out specially for you, my spiderling.”

Patton swallowed as he fought to keep his hands relaxed in Logan’s, desperately hoping that he couldn’t hear how his heart rate had sped up.

Hunting.

Hunting.

Hunting.

Despite already knowing about Lo’s connection to the...the Rouge Widow as Virgil had named her…hearing him confirm it...in that particular way was--was---

YOU WERE PREY. You could have DIED.

Keep you safe. 

Prey. 

“Hush. Hush. You won’t need your momma for much longer, dear one.” 

He had been prey, only surviving because Lo had decided to let him go, had decided to help him instead of killing him like his--his mother wanted him to. 

Virgil barely appeared to be breathing as he stood stock still, staring at Lo. “The Rouge Widow---is your mom?” He asked, voice deliberately quiet. 

The blood stained woman stalked through swings, searching for him. “You can’t hide from me forever child.”

Logan hunched his shoulders, his fangs vanishing from view as he nodded. “Yes.” 

“But---” Virgil ran both his hands through his hair. “That doesn’t--HOW?!” He shook his head moving to pace in a circle around them, tugging at the strings of his hoodie. “There were no signs at all--there weren’t even rumors that she had a kid! And you’re telling me---She’s been killing people for years, decades! And not once, NOT ONCE did anyone let slip she had a kid in tow. How--”

“She kept me hidden...separate from her--” Logan dropped his voice. “--killing sprees. And if anyone found me--They died. She’s very selective on who she trusts and when it came to me...barely a handful of people know of our connection and still live.” 

Patton swallowed. Did that handful of people now include the three of them? How hard must it have been on Logan? To never have anyone stick around. To only have his mother for company. No friends---how---Patton bit his lip. ”That sounds so lonely, Lo.” No wonder he’d been so withdrawn when they’d first met. If everyone who came in contact with him died...why would he try to get to know anyone?  

Logan shrugged, looking away. “I didn’t know better.” 

“Geez and I thought my childhood was bad.” Roman said, running a hand through his rain soaked hair. “But to grow up with---with--” 

“The worst murderous Human Black Widow on record to ever walk the planet?” Virgil supplied, fiddling with his sleeves as he too studied their friend.

“That’s one way to refer to her.” Logan mumbled, fidgeting under their combined stares. 

Roman clicked his tongue. “Yah, that---” He spread his arms wide. “That sucks, big time, Spock. How in the world are you not more messed up having her as a Mom?”  

“More...messed up?” Lo repeated, raising his eyebrows, rubbing his hand against his chest. “She’s probably killed more people than half the state of Wyoming and you wonder why I’m not more messed up?” 

“Well now I’m wondering how you’ve passed as more normal.” Virgil muttered as Roman blanched.

“Right? I mean…She was teaching you to--to hunt humans, Lomageddon! That’s not a normal Mommy thing to do-- Wait!” Ro pointed between the two of them. "Pat's still alive! Did you ever pass that particular gruesome lesson with someone else or--”

I’ll feast on the newcomers. No worries, Logan. Momma will eat too.” She said, two of her hands guiding the boy’s fangs to Patton’s exposed neck as faint voices and stomping sounded overhead. “Hurry now.” She encouraged, withdrawing. “It’s fast food today.”

Pwotect you.

A gentle tug and Logan stepped back, a wad of webbing held in his hands. “See. Safe. Hod still.” His little fingers easily tore away the remaining webs from Patton, freeing him in seconds. “No eat. No die. All safe. K?” 

Patton drew in a steadying breath and took a deliberate step closer, squeezing Lo’s hands as he did so. 

Trust Me.

I’m NOT scared. Not of you. 

“What does it matter?" Patton asked, half turning to the others. “He saved my life. Lo isn’t going to hurt us.” 

With how skittish Logan had been about telling them what he was, he hardly was acting like the suave charismatic Widow they’d been taught to look out for.

“But that doesn’t answer the question.” Virgil said gesturing to Logan as he continued circling them. “Sure a three year old may not kill the first time he’s given the chance, but you grew up with her, L. You were there. Indoctrinated in her ways! How many---how---are you---” He made a face. 

Logan slowly raised his eyes to meet Virge’s. “A Killer? Or was Murderer the word you were looking for?” 

A chill went down Patton’s spine as Roman took two steps back, eyes wide. 

Logan? A killer? No. NO WAY. NO. 

Virgil stopped, setting his jaw as he looked Logan squarely in the eyes. “Yes. How far did your apple fall from her tree?” 

Little Logan frowned up at the ring as it flashed light blue. “Not s’posed to glow no--” He paled, pitch black eyes going wide. “RUN!” He yelled, frantically shoving Patton outside and slamming the door in his face. “RUN! HOOMAN RUN! “RUAAAAAAAHH---” The scream cut off abruptly, followed by a sickening thud against the door. 

Keep you safe. 

No. Patton pressed his lips together, slightly shaking his head. Logan was good. He was nothing like his mom. He had to believe that otherwise wouldn’t the three of them be dead by now? They’d been living together for the past six months and Widows--

Widows kill within four. 

The pendant didn’t glow around Lo unless he was holding it. He wasn’t a threat. 

Right? 

Logan exhaled, his eyes growing dark behind his glasses as he pulled his hand free, crossing it over his chest. “You might as well be talking apples and oranges. She tried to make me just like her. But we’re…” He rubbed his chest, looking away. “Different.” 

Patton tilted his head, watching Logan’s hand over where the Widow mark hid. 

She pressed him close to the upside down red triangle on her chest. There, there.” She soothed. 

Red. Logan’s Mom’s mark had been plain red. But Logan’s was--

Black and Red. 

Patton narrowed his eyes, before quickly smoothing his expression before Lo could notice. That coloration wasn’t normal either. Widows only had red hourglasses like their spider counterparts. Was that the ‘difference’ Logan spoke of? Why was his mark--

“Tried?” Roman repeated.

Lo nodded, looking up. “I’m not a killer, Virgil.” He shifted his gaze to meet Roman’s worried eyes. “Roman.” He half turned to Patton. “Patton. Believe me, I’ve never taken a life--killed” He exhaled, shoulders slumping as stared at his feet. “But I did drink plenty of human blood and tissue. Just not---not recently...years really--since I uh--” He gave a half shrug. “Left.” 

“Left?” Patton whispered. But Logan was so young! He was Baby compared to the rest of them and he had said he hadn’t drunk---drunk... blood in years. Which if he only had it while he’d been with his Mom...when had he left her? Did it have something to do with their marks? Or just his refusal to--to kill? 

“So you’re not secretly sneaking out to get a fix?” Roman asked. “Stealing from blood banks? Preying on students studying late at night at the Library?

Logan’s mouth twitched, his fingers going white on his jacket. “No.” 

Virgil threw his hands up in the air, pacing again. “You don’t--You’re---L. I thought--we’ve all been taught that widows have to eat human flesh or blood to live and you’re telling me--”

“I no mamma. Bad tase you. ALL bad. BLEH.”

Logan was no monster. He wasn’t Mom. “He doesn’t because...well because humans don’t taste good to you...right, Lo?” Patton asked, glancing to him uncertainly.

A lot of things could have changed since first grade.  

Logan wrinkled his nose, making the exact same face he had made as a child. “Crofters No! It’s horrible. Like being forced to drink bitter moldy yogurt mixed with motor oil.” 

“OH EW!” Roman shuddered, waving his hands in front of his face as if to ward off a Dragon Witch. “Ew. Ew. EW! SPECS! I like yogurt. Don’t go putting that image in my head!” 

“I think you’re too late to save your tender taste buds, Princey.” Virgil remarked, scuffing the wet pavement with his shoe, attention still on Lo. “Strawberry yogurt will never taste the same.” 

“Stoooop!” Roman covered his ears, ducking his head. “I caaaaan’t heeeeear yooouuuu! Lalalala.”

A soft laugh left Logan’s lips, sounding like music to Patton’s ears as he lowered his hands, spreading them apologetically. “Sorry.” 

Patton relaxed at that laugh. Almost he could pretend that it was a normal conversation between them all. Almost.

Virgil huffed, rolling his eyes, even though a small smile played on his lips as well. “So we won’t be finding bags of blood anywhere? No severed heads or pickled entrails?” 

Lo smirked, amber eyes glimmering in the faint light. “I thought the Master of Halloween would already have all that in his room?” 

Roman snorted, pulling his hands away from his ears. “He got you there, Dr. Gloom. Out of all of us here...you are the one most into that sort of stuff, we’ve seen Sherlock’s room before remember? He’s hardly got anything morbid in there.” 

“You do know that Sherlock had--” 

“Ah ba da da! NO!” Roman quickly covered Virgil’s mouth. “I’m well aware how the character Sherlock lived, don’t ruin my moment!” 

“Either way.” Logan shifted on his feet, brushing the hourglass on his chest. “Now that you--know...I--I understand if you don’t want me to---to you know---” He gestured to the van, taking a step back away from it. “Come back to the apartment--” 

“Well, of course we don’t want you to come back ther--OW!” Roman jerked his hand away from Virgil’s mouth. “HEY!”

Logan recoiled, taking another step back, looking like a puppy that had just been kicked.

Virge spat onto the road. “That’s what you get for sticking your hand and mouth where they don’t belong, Princey” 

“I was just!” 

Patton grabbed Logan’s hand before he could take off, pulling him back to the van. He knew what Ro had been trying to say, but he really could have said it just a tiny bit better. “The place is still spider-proofed, Lo.” He said gently.

Logan couldn’t return home until they figured out how to unproof Patton’s spider proofing so that he would be safe. 

“Exactly.” Virgil said, pulling out his keys. “Until we get it---liveable again for you, L, there’s no way we’re letting you back in.” 

Logan stared at them, mouth dropping open. “You still want...to live with me?” He asked, slowly.

Roman rubbed the back of his hand, glaring at Virgil. “We did say we’re not going anywhere did we not?” 

“And you said you don’t drink blood, and aren’t a murderer soo---I don’t see why you can’t stay.” Virgil shrugged. “Besides, who’s going to help me with my Chemistry if you go?”

Roman snorted. “You mean badger with endless questions about being Spliced?” 

Virge stuck his tongue out. “Yes, that too. Whatever. Still doesn’t change that we still want you with us.”

“It’s just…” Logan looked between the three of them, squeezing Patton’s hand. “Hard to believe that you’re all taking this so well.”

So well? Logan had run away from them upon his first accidental revealing because they’d taken it ‘so well’. Patton could only hope that they--he could make it up to him. Revealing yourself as Spliced had to be a hard enough thing to do in the first place, and Lo had been forced to do so before he was ready. 

Thanks to me. 

Roman huffed, eyes going soft. “We’re not going to form a Gastonian Mob and come for your head, Lo. Despite how it looked with the swords…” He spread his hands. “I am on your side. We’re all on your side.” 

“Through thick and thin, webs and fangs, stupid finals and late night celebration parties.” Virgil said with a two fingered salute. Logan licked his lips, eyes holding a careful flickering hope. “But I’m...I’m Spliced. A Widow, and you’re all okay with that? Seriously? Knowing that--that my Mom--” 

“Isn’t you, Lo.” Patton interrupted firmly. The pendant proved that. 

Keep you safe. Pwomise. 

“You aren’t your family, so I’m told.” Roman agreed, clapping Lo on the shoulder with a grin that didn’t quite meet his eyes. 

“And I mean...if you don’t mind us--”

“You mean you.” Roman interjected.

“Mind all of us.” Virgil shot him a look. “We can be your family.” He said, sharing a smile with Patton as he joined their little circle in the rain. 

Patton nodded with his own smile. There was no question there. “We promise. We’re not going anywhere.” Lo would be able to rely on them, trust them, be himself around them.

Logan drew in a slow breath, studying them each in turn before he gave a jerk of a nod, briefly touching Roman’s hand before moving to Virgil’s. “I would like that…a lot actually.” 

“Oh good!” Ro said, giving a huge exaggerated sigh of relief as he pulled away. “Now can we get in the van and to that hotel? I would like to get dry at some point.” He jerked his head to the car. “Pleeease, my hair is already looking as sad and dingy as Doom and Gloom over there.” 

“Oh please.” Virgil rolled his eyes. “With how much gel you put on your head, I doubt a geyser could flatten it...but I am with Sir Sparkles here. Getting dry sounds good to me too.” 

“Same.” Patton agreed fervently, taking initiative and ducking into the backseat of the van. The sooner he got out of these clothes and tossed them in the trash, the better. 

Logan huffed a laugh and nodded, hesitating only half a second before he too followed Patton into the back. “I’m not the one with the keys Virge. That’s all on you.” He said, pulling the door shut with a quick glance to Patton for reassurance as he settled in next to him

“Yah yah...I’m on it! Hold onto your fangs.” Virgil called darting around to the driver’s side.  

Roman half turned in his seat, making a show of feeling his teeth with his tongue. “Don’t have fangs to hold onto, Emo Nightmare, but I will cover your favorite hoodie in purple glitter if you don’t start this rust bucket soon.”

“Don’t you dare! I worked hard on that!” “Then get-a-drivin!” 

Lo shook a head, a small smile on his face as he relaxed back against the seat. “It’s like nothing’s changed.” He mumbled to Patton as the van chugged into life. 

Keep you safe. 

Patton leaned into him, resting his head on Logan’s shoulder. “Because nothing really has, Lo.” He said softly, winding their fingers together as Virgil pulled out of the lot. “You’re still you, and that’s all that matters.”

To Be Continued Epilogue

Taglist in Reblog

[yetanotherreader]

Useful—3

Genre: College AU

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Y/N Y/L/N, slight Dean x Lisa

Summary: The school's most popular boy wants to be friends with Y/N, out of the blue. It definitely doesn't have anything to do with her hot best friend, though.

Word Count (For the chapter): 2,712

Warnings (For the chapter): None.

[For some reason, some of the tags aren't working. I'm sorry about that.]

[[ Also I'm sorry for the no Read More thingy because it doesn't happen on the phone app :-(]]

Useful Masterlist

Chapter 3

Chapter 2

Mondays.

You dreaded them. For some reason, they were never good. They were sleepy, tiring and grumpy and unfortunately you couldn't do shit about it. You always had to wake up extra early for a hopefully refreshing shower, take the supposed-to-be small bus ride to the uni, which just got longer because of the Monday traffic and run to the lecture hall, only to have the professor glaring at you for coming late to the class.

Mondays.

Today was no different. You woke up extra early, took a hopefully refreshing shower, took the supposed-to-be small bus ride—WHICH was surprisingly not as long as always—and still ran to the lecture hall. Fxckin' tiring mess. The sleepless sleep still showed in your eyes and you would have given anything to have an extra hour for it that morning. But well, same old—Mondays. 

And suddenly, today was different.

"Come on…" A group of annoyed whines were heard from the lecture room just as you entered the hallway.

"What's wrong?" You asked a very pissed Rhea, or was she Akira?

"Morning classes got cancelled. We woke up for nothing."

Honestly.. what the fxck was wrong with the university? Mumbling and whining to yourself, you made your way to the cafeteria, maybe some coffee would help. Tried enjoying the warm sunshine on your face, keyword: tried, as you slowed down your steps near the playground. Or maybe you could just sit in the sun and make the most out of your oh-so-lovely Monday morning? Taking a seat in the bleachers, you decided on reading the book you were, at that time, reading.

Just halfway through the chapter— "Good morning, nerd. I see you're doing some fun stuff over here." You sighed, not wanting to get into any kind of argument at that particular time, or day- or life.

"You're back at it, aren't you?" You looked up at the still smirking Dean, dressed in his black and blue football jersey. A sight for sore eyes.

"Back at what?"

"Being a dick?" You looked back at the book still tired, "Look, Winchester, I'm so not in the brightest Monday sunshine mood right now. Don't bother."

"And here I thought we were friends." He sighed feigning sadness as he turned around to make his way back to the other side of the ground.

"You're here for practice?" He turned back to you, grinning adorably, just as you rolled your eyes.

"Yep but it doesn't start until at least a couple hours."

"Why so early here then?"

"Apparently, there's an emergency board meeting that all the HODs need to attend. So, delayed."

"Oh...that is why" You concluded why your classes got cancelled, "God. Don't you just hate it how they don't inform us about anything beforehand." You groaned.

"Not having the best morning?" He chuckled, as you gestured him to take a seat next to you.

"Nah. I'm the happiest I could ever be," You said with a yawn, "Should we go to the cafeteria before I die or we just let me die?"

"You're such a mood," He laughed toothily shaking his head, "Let us."

Sitting in the cafeteria, you sip on your coffee awkwardly trying to ignore the very obvious gazes of the people around you. You couldn't even make out how Dean looked so unfazed by all the attention, or maybe—obviously, he was used to it.

"You know," Dean started, seemingly, figuring out your awkwardness to ease the tension, "You could have just asked me on a date instead."

You chuckled, thankful for some words, "You wish, Winchester."

"Honestly...I don't" He said winning a laugh out of you.

Time flew by quickly, filled with laughter, corny jokes and sassy remarks with you not even realizing that all that attention didn't bother you anymore. Quite honestly, you didn't even realize they were there. To your surprise, you really did enjoy a Monday morning. 

"Oh," Dean exclaimed as his phone buzzed, "Totally lost track of time. It was fun, but Y/N, I gotta hurry now. I'm late."

"Well I still have an hour to kill. Good luck with the practice."

"Oh yeah, there's still an hour to the class," Dean said as he hurried, "You wanna come see the game?"

"Oh, no no. I don't understand it. I'll rather read my book here."

"Nerd," he smiled at you, "Alright then, see you in the class."

"Yeah" You smiled back, as he went. Maybe Dean wasn't all that bad after all.

You just started with the chapter, again, that you were rudely interrupted... again.

"Look who's trying to get some attention, there. Whatcha think guys? What does she think of Dean's charity? That he got the hots for her or something?" You flinched at the ear-piercing group of laughter came from the direction.

"Tss. Geez, Cassie, mind toning down that screechi- sweet laugh a lil bit? Kinda trying to concentrate." You gave her a sweet smile and turned back to your work.

"Hey, Y/N. How's you? Long time no see." She came and sat where Dean sat not even a couple minutes ago.

"Was doing just good." You muttered as you kept your eyes in your book.

"You were? Obviously, you were," she started taking ahold of Dean's cup, playing with it, "Y/N, stop trying, darling. Dean is very out of league for you. I'm saying for your good."

"Sweets. You know the only reason I'm replying to you, Cassie, is just because it's rude not to?" You looked up at her at annoyed, managing a sarcastically polite smile, "Now if you could excuse me, I'm kinda in the middle of something.

She stood up rolling her eyes as you spoke up again, "And well, don't worry. I'm no threat. Dean and me, nope. Not happening. Also, stop acting like he's your property. The guy's got a life of his own to live, about time, you get one for yourself too."

Before she could retaliate, you made your way out of the door, leaving her processing what you said. Not gonna say that you had got bad blood with her but you had got bad blood with her. Honestly, you wouldn't give two flying shits about her if she wasn't the one with the brilliant idea of throwing you into the pool on your very first day. And if that wasn't enough, she had the nerve to bully you about it for the next few months too. Initially you ignored for a long time, hoping she would end it herself, but was she one to? When you had enough of her shit, all it took, then, was one punch to the wall and an angry 'next time it won't be the wall' for her to stop. Not that she ever was a trouble for you later, but you were her glare dart ever since. You were kinda looking forward to her passing out of the college— one year without her unnecessary glares and hushed whispers but she just had to get a year back for her last year. Oh, your life. 

Practice was tiring, and since they had gotten just one hour for it, they didn't even get any breaks. On top of that, Dean might have sprained his neck. Maybe Y/N's bad day was contagious. Maybe she passed it to him.

Y/N. The thought of her bringing a faint smile on his lips. Damn, she was awesome. He wondered why she kept to herself, her personality sure would get her a lot of friends. That morning, Dean had actually enjoyed himself after a long time. He'd been so lonely for the past few months, he had almost forgotten how to laugh like he did today. She could be an amazing friend. Not to mention, he was still not over how she helped him back at Jo's without even mentioning it once today. Y/N was a good person, he could say that. Mysterious, but nice. He hoped that they actually became really good friends.

His eyes wandered to find her sitting by herself, in a corner as he made his way into the almost empty classroom, "This seat taken?"

She looked up from the book and, for once, smiled, "Hey..yes..no, please sit."

He smiled in return as he sat down beside her, lowly groaning in pain.

"You okay, there?"

"Yeah, I don't know, I think neck strain."

"Oh, geez. Want some help?"

He chuckled humorously, "And what will you do to make it better?"

"Well, they do say I have magic hands." She chuckled in response too, getting up to stand behind him. She started lightly massaging his neck and shoulders, pressing her fingers to his shoulder blades whilst her thumbs worked on his neck. She did the motion a few times as she felt his muscles relax, his knots loosening. He felt himself relaxing, the pain still there but better. How was she always good at whatever she was doing? She stopped her movements abruptly, as he realized a loud moan escaped his lips, only to burst out laughing the next second, "God, Winchester, what the hell?" sounding a little embarrassed.

"S-sorry. Damn it, your fault. What can I say, you do have magic hands." He laughed out, too.

The day went by quite fast after that. They didn't cross paths post the class again. It was the last lecture when Dean met with Cas and Jo. Finally.

"Hey!" Jo chirped as she came after the class, and hugged Dean from behind, Cas copying the action, "Dude?"

"Hey, strangers." Dean said, not in any mood to have a happy-go-lucky conversation with them.

"What's wrong?" Cas asked, clueless. Jo elbowed his ribs gently.

"What's wrong? Nothing." Dean walked ahead, rolling his eyes as the two of them followed him.

"Dean, come on. We're sorry, okay?"

"Well, don't be. Not that it matters anyway." Dean said coming to a stop, "What? You guys didn't go somewhere private, again?"

"Okay, first of all, stop taunting us, jerk. And second of all, we're sorry. We didn't mean to-"

"First of all, don't copy Sammy. And second of all, I called you two how many times, Joanna?"

"What can we do to make it up to you? Jo is right Dean, we're genuinely sorry. We just had a tiring night, so we slept in. Really really tiring." said Cas, blushing a shade of pink, as Dean's lips lifted in a very surprised smile.

"So...you finally, finally did it?" He looked from Cas to Jo grinning, "So you finally did our virgin angel, huh?"

"Shut up" she grumbled, trying to stifle a laugh of her own, blushing a few shades herself, "What about you and the specsy?"

"Who? Y/N? What about us?"

"Don't act innocent, De. Coffee dates and massage and all, huh." She said, cocking her brow, piquing Cas' interest in the conversation too, "Didn't think you'd go for her."

"We're just friends," said Dean, thinking about it from all the angles, "I think."

"You think?"

Dean shrugged, unable to come with a proper answer.

The rest of the day went pretty okay for him. Cas and Jo finally did spend time with him but it wasn't like before at all. They were different and he expected this, as much as he shipped them. They were a couple now, dynamics changed. He wasn't the same for them like earlier, he was the lesser priority. And single.

"So, you're telling me you're single?" You said, surprising yourself with the subtle, unnoticeable relief you felt. Dean and you had bonded pretty well over the past couple of months. You had never thought you two were ever going to be friends, but he was nicer than he made himself look. You learned a few things about him, and about the first day dare too. Oh boi, weren't you just ready to whack his butt with a spoon.

"Yeah. Well, that sounded judgy, Y/N."

You grinned apologetic, "Hee, sorry. It's just it's hard to believe is all."

It was funny how you two became good friends so soon. You were not really one for friends. For a long time, you'd been alone, convincing yourself you liked the quiet. Although you did, it was undeniable how loneliness got to you every time you wanted to talk to someone about something going on in your life, a bad day or even something as normal as your new favorite TV show. It sucked, now that you were admitting to yourself. It sucked how you had no one to talk to. It sucked how you couldn't even complain about it to anyone. And it sucked to spend your weekends alone in your dark room, trying to distract yourself with a book or fanfic, pretending that it was all okay.

And now here you were. Not in a dark room, not alone and not pretending. Here you were actually talking to someone about the random-est things on the planet, laughing with him and actually enjoying yourself. You both still weren't on the we-tell-each-other-everything stage and you highly doubted you ever were going to be but it was still nice. Yeah maybe you hadn't told him shit about yourself yet, but he was still the closest you'd ever been to someone in years. You had Lisa and you cared about her, you did. But where was it written that the person you care about would care about you the same way too? You were never in the list of her priorities, never even close. But she trusted you, and that's why you were...friends? You didn't know exactly. She would come to you after a break up or when she was having a bad day. You had helped her so much, for so many years, it became your instinct to do it. She had friends, she was loved and she had a life you would never. She was Lisa Braeden. She was she, and you were...you. Plain, dull, unattractive Y/N. That's it. That was you in three words. And honestly, you didn't mind. You had come terms with it a long time ago, terms with no one caring about you.

Until two months ago. Dean was a good friend. He was nice, sweet, protective and funny. And most importantly, he...cared. He would tell you jokes on Monday mornings, give you ice pack when your clumsy ass ran into the closed door and invite you for movies with his friends which you always refused to. When Dean realized you didn't like going out with strangers, he invited you over for a movie night to his place. It was, maybe, the sweetest thing someone had ever done for you. He made you snacks and then you guys talked about random things the entire night only to pass out on the couch later. After that, it had become your Friday night tradition.

And with all these sweet things, could you blame yourself for starting to feel something more for him than you should? You, very well, knew this would never happen. Dean had a type, a taste in girls and you were far from that. You had too few/many curves than what looked beautiful, you didn't have the most beautiful hair or skin and you were not pretty. Simple. He would never feel for you. And you, too, only had a silly little crush on him, which would go with time. Right?

You woke up, cuddled with a warm figure on the couch, head under the blanket. You struggled to pop your head out of the covers and once you did, you were met with a beautifully freckled face sleeping soundly. He looked so peaceful that you never wanted to wake him up. Your eyes just briefly glanced at his plump lips, wondering what it would be like to touch them or maybe, feel them against your own? And in a matter of seconds, your eyes were back at the blanket, hiding your little secret you kept from yourself. A secret only your late night or early morning self knew, which you would conveniently deny to yourself later during the day. A secret you would pass off as nothing but your sleepy head's made up story.

Nothing, but a story.

___________

Chapter 4

A/N: Alright, I don't know how it turned out. It took me more than a week for this chapter, and I couldn't even think of anything. I'd write a few sentences and close the document. A writer's block, I think. Well anyway, I didn't have anything in mind so it's mostly a filler chapter which I somehow used to make the little-st progress in the story. Mostly their friendship. I think I'll make it stronger before I do the shit I have planned. Please don't hate me for the chapter coz I already do :')💔

Tag list:

@bi-danvers0 @mrsdeanfuckingwinchester @itsjaybro16 @mml232 @blablatiti @stilltoomuchafangirl @bat-shark-repellant @bluebell-24 @shortwinchester @always-money-in-the-banana-stand @soullessbabee @ima-be-a-mongoose

[siebenschoen]

longing for daylight Ivan x Reader

Ivan sometimes wanders through the manor during the day, you know that by now. Still it never fails to surprise you, when you see him around.

Fair warning: this takes place during Beliath’s route (for extra drama), but the only thing I watched of his new chapter 5 so far is the conversation with Ivan, so spoilers, I guess? And also this is absolutely un-beta-ed. I’ll probably come back soon and correct any mistakes, I’ll find.

Also this whole thing will probably turn out to be incredible ooc, once we know more about Ivan. But we know so little right now and this wouldn’t let me alone, until I wrote it.

reblogs and likes are very much appreciated!

Faint sunbeams fall through the big window and you pry your eyes open to see that last bits of daylight are still desperately clinging on. It’s not night, not yet. But it will be soon, sooner than you would like.

Your body and mind are a mess, confused by the sudden changes from night to day and day to night. They feel the same to you. Sometimes you will wake at the break of dawn, to see the sun rise over the forest in lovely, pastel colours. Sometimes it will be midday with brilliant blue skies or evenings with clouds painted in orange and red. At other times it will be night and then you can sometimes hear the others moving through the manor.

Vampires are unnaturally silent in their movement, but you are able to pick out one or two signs to show that you are not alone (no matter how empty this manor feels) - a swishing curtain, the air moving with a body that had been there just a second ago…

But for now, it’s still day. Still time to roam the halls, that rightfully belong to you, in peace and quite. If you’re fast enough, you might even be able to sneak back up to your room before night time falls and force yourself back to sleep, before the first vampire wakes - before Beliath wakes.

You slip into your dress, which is beginning to look worn. You didn’t bring much with you from the orphanage. And clothes have been the least of your worries for the past few months, but maybe… maybe you will be able to go back to villages tomorrow. Beliath’s powers have never stopped you from going there before and you do not plan on making a run for it. Blindly running away will not work, you have figured that much out by now.

With a sigh you let yourself out of the Rose Room - it is still strange, to think of it as your room - and into the hallway. You think about getting yourself something to eat from the kitchen, when you are able to make out a hodded figure at the bottom of the stairs. Your breath hitches, before you remember, Ivan.

You have met him once before during daylight and kept his secret like he asked. It is weird to think about it. A vampire out and about during the day, still clinging to everything that had made him human once. But it also helps to take away the shudder that used to go through you, everytime you so much as looked in his direction.

It did nothing to change the fact that he was the one responsible for your situation, but knowing that he as well is stuck in a similar situation, helps to ease your bitterness. He is miserable and so young compared to the others - you can’t help but feel for him.

“Ivan”, you call after him and he spins around, surprised. The others would have heard you coming as soon as you left your room. Even Ivan should have. You never managed to catch one of them by surprise before. “You did not notice me”, you say as you walk down the stairs. Tone light, teasing.

Ivan seems to shrink back into his hood. His pale face hidden in the shadows. No daylight falls into the entrance hall - all the curtains have been carefully drawn close -, but still he hids himself. Well, better safe then sorry, you guess. Or maybe he was outside. But this whole hood situation doesn’t exactly make him blend in… anywhere, really, surely it is much easier to spot him this wa- “I told you.” Ivan shrugs, but it’s too forced to seem natural. “Our powers are weaker during the day.”

“Oh… yeah…”, you mumble. It’s not that you completely forgot, in fact you had stored that information away quite nicely, hoping to might get some use out of it. But it’s still weird to think of a vampire as anything but an all-defeating force, that could overpower you in an instance.

You walk past Ivan at the bottom of the staircase, when you come to an abrupt halt. You don’t know what to say to him, but it feels wrong to just leave him there. He looks lonely.

He’s a monster!, a voice, at the back of your head, screams. A monster that can’t control himself! You know that, of course you do. But it’s hard to connect that to the man - no, boy, really - standing in front of you. Maybe it’s just your mind playing tricks on you, but he seems younger in daylight. Thin, almost fragile, with dark circles under his eyes.

You’re being naive, probably. And this might be a huge mistake, but you feel like you might understand him - freshly turned, overwhelmed with everything and everyone - and he might understand you.

“I wanted to go to the kitchen.”, you say, before the rational part of your brain, can catch up with you. The statement hangs loosely, awkwardly in the air. “To get something to eat, I mean.”, you add quickly and then cringe inwardly. This might not be the best topic to breech, considering you are what Ivan would consider something to eat.

You take a deep breath and steady yourself. “What I’m trying to say is, that I wouldn’t mind company, if you would like to come along.”

Ivan looks confused for a moment, before he slowly nods and follows you into the kitchen.

Ever since  you had to realize that your living situation in the manor might be more permanent than you would like it to be, you had put some effort into cleaning the abondend kitchen. Your life is not the best at the moment, but you still refuse to eat something that has been prepared on a surface covered in layers of dust. As you scurry through the kitchen, trying to find something edible, Ivan hovers awkwardly next to the door.

You’re sniffing at the bread that you found in the far corner of one of the cupboards, debating if you would survive eating it, when he speaks up. “I didn’t know that we had food down here”, he pauses, “Well, normal food”

“You didn’t. I bought somethings in town.”, you can’t help the dry laugh that escapes your lips, “Beliath tends to keep a loose lash when it comes to things like this.” Ivan scowls, but you ignore him in favour of weighing the bread in your hand, deciding to give it a try. You think there might even be some cheese leftovers still left in the fridge. Old bread and cheese crumbs - a meal worthy of a king. It seems you have to make a quick trip to the town soon anyway.

"You shouldn't talk about him like that.", Ivan looks a bit helpless in the way he stands there, still close to the door, as if he is unwilling to enter the room. You have to think about the legend that vampires can't enter a house, unless you bid them in and you wonder if there is any truth to it. You never thought that you would be able to get an actual answer to that question from a reliable source.

"I didn't know that you were that invested in keeping Beliath's image clean.", you smile to yourself - only slightly cynical. "You'd have your work cut out for you, that's for sure."

Ivan shakes his head. "That's not it. It's just...", he trails off, as you spread the cheese over your bread in a way to make it look at least slightly appetizing. "You're is chalice. And he saved your life. After I nearly killed you." Ivan glances around the nervously - is he afraid that you'll freak out as soon as he mentiones what happend to you? Until a few days ago he had every reason to, but now you feel a weird calmness overcome you. You haven't come to terms with your situation - you don't know, if you ever will -, but you know that yelling at Ivan won't change that.

You take a bite from your bread and chew slowly, giving you enough time to think about what you could possibly reply to that. "That's true, Ivan, but... how should I put it?" You sigh. "Oh well, if someone can relate to dramatic life changes, it's probably you. You told me once that you don't take joy from your vampire abilities in the same way that Ethan or Beliath do. Well, I don't take well to my role as a chalice either."

You look him straight in the eyes. They are yellow and unnaturally bright. Like sunflowers. "You said that you are awake during the days, because you cling to the things that you once had. And I feel that too." You take another bite. Ivan doesn't say a word, but he seems deeply focussed on you. "I grew up in an orphanage. It's not excactly the best place for a child, but I think I did alright. I had friends, not many, but still. There was just one thing that I always missed. The orphanage was strict. It felt like a cage. And I always wanted to be free. Free to do what I wanted, to go where I wanted. I had that freedom for maybe three days." You put your plate in the empty sink, your back turned to Ivan, but you can feel his eyes follow you. A dry laugh escapes you and you have to pull yourself together to not let your eyes grow wet. Fuck, you're getting emotional. "And now I'm trapped in another big, empty house."

"I'm sorry", Ivan's voice is soft and you turn around to see his face twisted in a guilty expression. "Thank you" You shake your head. "But you don't have to apologise. I'm not mad at you, not anymore."

"This is just a guess", you say, "But the way you cling onto the days... It feels like you might miss your freedom too."

Ivan's arms are crossed over his chest. His head is turned down, the large hood hiding his expression. He looks up and you are once again struck by how young he looks. Young and lonely and sad. "I guess so. A part of me at least." He glances past you to the tall windows with the curtains drawn shut. "I miss being able to leave whenever I feel like it. I miss seeing tree leaves against a blue sky. I miss walking through crowds, just minding my own buisness, but somehow being part of the masses. Fuck, I miss being alive."

Without noticing, you stepped closer to him. Your hand on his arm. Wanting to comfort... to be comforted. Ivan twichtes at the sudden contact. His sunflower eyes wide open. The air seems to be burning and you can hardly breath. He glances down to your neck and your breath hitches. Somehow this feels more intimated than anytime Beliath bit you. Fuck.

"I...", Ivan's voice is raspy. "I have to go. Aaron will be waiting for me." And with that he is out of the kitchen in a blink of an eye.

Your heart is beating heavyly against your ribcage. You glance to the clock. There is at least another hour of daylight left. Fuck. This is so not good.

[lombax-lombardi]

Marking~

Summary: When lighting crashes, it means a coming storm. When a creature of the night is without her food source, she will truly lose herself to the blood lust.

Genre: Character building, slight steamy content???? maybe??. Hehehe.

Character: Madilyn Ambrosia.

The loud evil cackle filled the halls of the empty cathedral. 

A fight had ensued here, corpses piled upon corpses. Blood pools everywhere, littering the cracked cobblestone.

“Ahahahahahahaha!” Our heroes stared upon their enemy. An Ancient Dragon by the name of Diera.

Diear.

The Blood Dragon.

Progenitor of the Diera Crest.

Along with its curse.

“Fools! You cannot stop my quest for vengence!’ She cackled, tossing Hilda across the room her body slamming against the cool marble.

“Mother why?” The one called Desiree cried out, the woman turned her head as if to actually look as to where that sound was coming from.

“Oh? You have lost the right to call me Mother child.” Her eyes were cold.

Uninnviting.

“Why art thou using thine children to exact thy revenge? Oh whom? On whom Mother has mine dear Lady suffer for you?” She asked, dagger in hand.

That’s who they came here for.

Byleth got a distressing message from the Ambrosia household, that their daughter was kidnapped by hodded figures and taken to this place.

This place was the nest of the Blood Dragon.

Diear, hair ratty and eyes turned to slits, like the reptile she is. “Seiros. SEIROS! I EXACT MY VENGENCE UPON THAT WHORE! SHE CAST ME OUT FOR WHAT I WAS!” Her voice boomed across the giant hall. 

“Ambrosia is the FIRST if my new SPAWN to truly become what she was meant to be!” Her clawed hand seemed to reach for said noble who was across the room.

Trying to fight off the call of her hunger.

The call for blood.

The call for feeding.

“You Desiree, are a failure! You could never become a pure blooded creature of the night.” She declared as a sluggish Hilda returned to the rest of the group.

Two blondes, who are Madilyn’s dearest friends, Minette and Sae were staring at the brunette at her place from across the room.

Minette knows the feeling of being cursed. Her arm itself is a curse. As for Sae she was the one who knew about Madilyn’s condition the longest and it crushed her soul seeing her, back into a dark, dank corner.

Like some wounded animal.

The two women weren’t the only ones who are staring at the scurrying noble.

Two others.

Two men of different backgrounds, while being both nobles, it seems this little dainty creature had caught their hearts.

They were aware of each other yes. 

But only one could claim her heart for their own.

Diera, leaning against her delapidated throne, scoffing, nails tapping against the cool stone. It seems the Professor and their students were disturbing her.

She points a long nailed finger towards the brunette who was now aware of the Ancient Dragons presence. “By my Crest, I turn you-”

Her speech was interrupted by a dagger being thrown near her neck, her eyes went from the dagger to the one who threw it.

“Desiree!” The exasperated voice of Flayn breathed out, the white haired female stareddaggers at the one she called her Mother.

“Do NOT finish the write! DO NOT! I WILL NOT ALLOW IT!” The female dragon lunged at the other, pulling her off her throne and into the crumbling floor.

And she threw a punch at her face, fangs bared. “Thou shan’t recite the write! I will take your tongue for mine own!”

Diear just laughed. “Oh now THATS the daughter I know! Fight me daughter! Prove you are stronger!”

In an explosion of light and dust, two large dragons appeared in the ladies places. Diera was large, covered in whote and red scales to excentuate her status of a Blood Dragon.

Her daughter was different. Despite her white hair, her scales were a deep blue/purple colour, blending together to make her look like a mystical creature.

Well she was one.

The Professor moved their students away from the two dragons fighting as so no one could get injured. But the group had another problem on their hands.

“hey ummm....did anyone see where Maddi went?” Hilda quiered loudly, hooing to get an answer. The group has lost sight of the damsel they were supposed to be rescuing.

The large group of students, former students, slowly sukled around the large cathedral.

Ingrid noticed something. As she was standing next to Sylvain, a dear and close friend but a damn flirt and skirtchaser, he seemed. Stoic.

Uneasy.

Yes war in uneasy but this was a different unease.

As the two dragons continued to fight, a scream pierced the darkness. Blood curling.

Bone chilling.

In the darkness they could  see a pair of glowing yellow irises, staring right at them. Byleth stood ready to defend the students when Minette stood in front of them.

She had seen this before.

As did Sae.

As did Sylvain. 

As did Balthus.

Byleth only heard the rumors of Madilyn’s predicament.

According to Hanamen and Madilyn herself plus Desiree, the Crest of Diera demands blood every three months, to keep the curse at bay. Without feeding, the curse will begin to take control.

That’s what was happening now.

The darkness lunged at the cursed one, sounds of muffled cries and hissing filled the air, until the Aevis was thrown across the room at superhuman speed.

There was a loud crack against the stone.

The shadows dispersed revealing Lady Ambrosia, hands clawed, wings protruding from her back, the glowing Crest in the middle of her back.

Glowing dark red.

The two dragons who were fighting paused.

As if time itself stopped.

“No! Lady Madilyn! No!” the sea dragon cried out. Her Mother did get the last laugh after all.

The woman she spent years protecting had become what she dreaded.

----------

Darkness. All there was was darkness.

An inner carnal desire.

The hunger for blood.

but there was something.

Something else.

Filling the ringing in her ears.

She could see what she was doing, throwing her comrades aside but she could not stop herself! She didn’t want to hurt her friends.

Didn;t matter what house they used to belong too.

They were food for her now.

The ground rumbled as the two dragons continued to fight, the vampire threw more of her comrades to the floor, arrows pierced her sking but that did not matter.

She healed quickly.

In the back of her mind she was fighting with herself.

The one who wanted to feed and the one who didn’t want to hurt the people she loved.

The voice back in her mind was Diera, talling her to Feed on the Fell Star.

Fell...Star....

Byleth....Sothis.....

If she couldn’t find Serios. She’d take the next best thing.

The Professor realised that the brunette’s gaze fell upon them, they knew what to expect next. Sword at the ready, they would cut her down if need be.

But it seems that was not the case as a blur of red and armor dashed past on horseback to knock the vampire across the floor.

Buried under rubble.

The flapping of Pegasus wings filled the air. It was Ingrid. “Sylvain!”

It was Sylvain, who was on that horse who sent Ambrosia flying.

The rubble wouldn’t hold her long. “Ingrid. You and the Professor and the others need to help Desiree. I can do this myself”

The blonde was tempted to hit him in the face. What an idiot. “That sounds stupid! You could die!”

“What she needs is blood....” The raspy voice of Minette called out, being supported by the ever lovely Yuri, who kept whispering to her.

“Blood? Minette what do you know?” Ingrid asked the Aevis, the white haired blue eyed female ran her hand through her hair.

“She’s....not fully a vampire....” she expained through raspy breaths as the pile of rubble began to stir.

“She’s fighting with herself. On the inside I believe. If she just...just had enough blood she’d go back to normal.....”

“That’s your theory!?” Ingrid snapped. “She could kill one of us! Who do you think is going to offer themselves to her?”

The group fell quiet.

That’s when the sound of a horse filled the quiet and headed away.

“I guess that answered your question...Ingrid....Owch...Maddi did a number on me....” Minette grumbled as the sound of hooves faded away.

----------

Hands gripped the rubble throwing old stones away. As if he was looking for something he lost.

Well he kind of did.

Sylvain wouldn’t admit it but since those days in the Acadamey, while he was indeed chasing other women, when Madilyn arrived, he was kind of shocked.

He knew the Ambrosia house was a small house in the Kingdom, he didn’t expect such a beauty inside that house.

He wanted the girl whow would yell at him but laugh at him.

He wanted her back.

Not this snarling creature he is now face to face with.

She was clawing at his skin. Trying to maim him or blind him!

This isn’t the girl he remembered.

The one he secretly yearned for.

All those years.

Sure there was another for her heart.

He didn’t care. He was going to do this for her.

“Madilyn listen to me! This isn’t who you are!” his voice was like the point of a knife, digging into the skin.

He got a loud snarl in response.

He knew in those golden dark eyes the one he cared about was in there, so he had to get her attention some how before she either killed him or else. He lost a piece of his armor in the fight with the dragon Diera, exposing some skin.

That caught the vampires attention, fangs beared.

Until she froze in place.

Froze for a long time.

The golden amber hues in her eyes faded, returning to the earth brown that was warm and inviting.

her hands shook. Who knew how long she’d be left like this before the snarling hungry beast came back out?

“W-Where am I...?? What’s going on?” her eyes wandered nervously,feeling armored hands cup her cheeks, here earth toned eyes meeting the eyes of the infamous skirt chaser.

“Madilyn. Listen to me. You’re about to turn into a full vampire and if you don’t drink human blood you’ll be lost forever!”

This information was new to her. But she knew the hunger inside of her was rising. A loud ringing pain rang through her head which only worried the male more.

“B-But...I can’t...I don’t want to hurt humans anymore...I don’t want anymore blood....” she whimpered.

She looks so small. So fragile there. Which crushed his heart.

Cupping her chin, he lifted her head for her teary eyes to face him. 

“Why? You could die....”

Those words cut deep. very deep. “There is a chance I could kill my prey which is why I rendered them unconcious before I fed...Live victims struggle and that makes me scared, I’d hurt them...Drinking blood is a.....”

Her face turned bright pink.

“Is a.......what?”

“It’s an...intimate process” she mumbled out.

Intimate?

Is that why she fed on common thugs and hoodlums?

She couldn’t do this to someone she loved. But at this point she had no choice.

Madilyn was staring at her bloodied hands, from the blood pools she was sitting in, not even aware of the shifting of armor and body weight. When she lifted her head, she was shocked.

Shocked by lips against hers.

Her eyes squeezed shut, allowing herself to sink herself deeper into his body, lips molding together. His tongue prodded her lips as if asking for enterance, she obliged roaming around her mouth, dipping around her fangs.

She could have bit him there but she didn’t.

Her body felt warm, for the first time in a long while, fingers curled into those loose red locks.

A fire started low in her belly, she couldn’t act on it no. Not now.

Breaking apart, shallowed breaths between the pair, eyes glazed over. 

“S-Sylvain...I-I can’t! Please don’t make me!” She breathed out. She didn’t want to hurt him. What if she killed him?!?!?!

Her eye widened when she saw his exposed neck before her, she swallowed hard.

“Don’t.....please” Tears filled her eyes, he gave her a soft hearted smile. Oh his boyish charm shines through despite the hard 5 years.

“I trust you. You won’t hurt me. I know it.” He voiced dripped with confidence, warmth and love.

“You need to do it....I’d rather die then lose you to your curse” He said it with such vigor that’s when her eyes turned back into that golden black.

She pulled him close, breath fanning against the skin. It caused his breath to hitch. This was going to be painful.

“I’m sorry....” She whispered before her fangs sunk deep into his neck, quickly. Blood slowly dripped from the wound, more then she anticipated.

His haand was in her hair, curling tightly at the searing pain flowing through his burning body he kept her close however. He tugged on her locks slightly as if to pull her back to reality.

Her lips hungryily sucked, drawing more blood from the small punctures. 

“Easy there...easy...easy...” his voice was ragged, breathless as if this was some pre-initmate encounter making out.

her eyes flickered, the golden flecks slowly turning back into those earthy brown hues, her hunger gradually slowed.

“There....There we go...that’s my girl....”

Her face flushed, retracting her fangs from his neck. He was pale. Paler then normal.

But...he didn’t die!

“A-A-Are you alright...Are you alright?” She fell into his arms, holding his face with her hands.

He gave her a small smile, thumb rubbing the front of her hand.

“yeah....yeah I’m fine....You...you think you’re strong enough to fight?” he quiered, motioning to the two dragons still fighting each other.

“I think so.But you’re too weak....Feeding...makes prey weak”

“Oh nah I’m fine” he said confidently, only when he stood up he fell down. Madilyn sighed.

“You stay here and recover, I’ll go fight.” She said, placcing a hand on his shoulder as she whistled for her horse.

To take her into the fight.

Sykvain watched her ride off to the others, running his fingers over the punctures in his neck. They seemed to be healing quickly.

Wow.

It seems she’s amazing. As always.

He’s gonna have to tell her that.

He also doesn’t mind being marked for the time being. It saved her life.

[wheremytwinwatches]

[Where My Twin Watches]: Full Metal Alchemist Brotherhood Episode 33

Last time: Some other stuff happened but who cares because WE’VE GOT ANOTHER ARMSTRONG WOOT WOOT. Onwards!

No, wait. I need to calm down, this is a character I haven’t met yet, I can’t just assume that they’ll be good. Even though they’re related to The Mighty Armstrong. Even though they feature prominently in the intro. Even though Uncle apparently spent the outro last episode fanboying over her. Even though Tephi has been subtly eager for me to get to this point, and my coworker Michael has not so subtly demanded that I talk with him about this episode once I’ve finished it. I must not hype. Hype is the mind-killer. Hype is the little-death that brings total obliteration. I will face my hype. I will permit it to pass over me and through me. And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path. Where the hype has gone there will be nothing. Only canon will remain. Ok. I’m good now. Onwards. Huh, we’ve got Narrator!Uncle at the start of this episode, talking about how the Elrics are searching for May, while the “Crimson Alchemist” Kimblee is tracking Scar west, until his trail vanishes. Was there a gap between these two episodes? Kimblee’s checking out the twisting railroad in the mountains, trying to figure out if his quarry went north or south. Mooks keep running up with possible Scar sightings to the south and west, but Kimblee notes an “old abandoned logging path” to the north, when he goes to investigate the MPs just chalk up the rubble blocking the road to the rockslides that shut it down in the first place. But Kimblee’s got a hunch, and finds a stone with some clear Transmutation marks on it. Whoops. Looks like Scar didn’t cover his tracks well enough. The chase is back on! Episode 33 - “The Northern Wall of Briggs” Ed’s running through a station in his new cold-weather coat, Al following as the locals clearly wonder what kind of maniac wears full plate armor in this climate. There’s a cute moment when the brothers admire the snow- that quickly sours when Ed slips on the train station’s stairs. See, this is why I want to live as close to the equator as possible - snow and ice may look nice, but in practice they suck.

A bit of younger brother teasing about taking a tumble, some reminiscing about “that one good snow when we were kids” that everyone seems to have, and looking around town for a bite to eat before their Fort Briggs train transitions to Kimblee’s command post where mooks are running about, answering phones and yelling at each other. The hunter’s sulking in a chair until a report comes in of Scar boarding a train towards Fort Briggs (I wonder who’ll get there first, the Elrics, May, or Scar?). Kimblee immediately brushes off the rest of the task force, he’s out to take down Scar and Marcoh personally. Scar and probably!Yoki are hiding out in a train car, Scar tells his companion to try and get some sleep now as he won’t be able to when it gets really cold. Then he hears something? The Ishvalan goes to check outside the car, doesn’t see anything so closes the door and turns- wait no he heard something again and yup it’s a military train on the other track, Kimblee leaning out the side and preparing to jump over. Once there he waves his ride off and marches towards Scar’s car, opens the door… and it’s empty, with the side cargo door wide open. Did Scar jump out the train at full speed? I get he could use Alchemy to soften the landing, but still. Uh oh, if he did jump then he left his cloaked companion behind, Kimblee orders “Marcoh” to stand down. The hood comes off and yup, that’s Yoki. Who apparently was a distraction! Scar was hiding out on the roof of the train car, in the moment that Kimblee is wondering who this guy is and probably about to kill him, Scar swings back in and throws a few kicks while Yoki scrambles away. Scar and Kimblee are facing each other down now, Kimblee snarks about “the murderous Ishvalan he’s heard so much about” when the moon lights up the car and they both have a little “hold up I remember that face!” moment. Well, not so little actually. Scar is furious to see the man who murdered his family, and Kimblee’s got a really happy grin at seeing the one who got away. Glowy eyes of anger! Hand of Doom! Yoki whining about getting away from the monsters fighting and then realising that he can’t get off the train! The smoke clears to show Kimblee just smirking at Scar even after the HoD, the ass talking about seeing another person looking like Scar, only with glasses and a distinct lack of blood. Yikes, come on Scar, keep it together. You’ve got to know that Kimblee’s riling you up, controlling the fight. Oh! But for all Kimblee’s insults, internally he’s worried. He’s only just got out of prison while Scar’s been fighting for years against State Alchemists. He’s physically weaker than- oh. Oh my, that was quick. See, this is why you don’t just stand around and internally monologue during a fight, you leave yourself wide open to a pipe through the gut. Wow. Gotta admit, Kimblee. I expected better from you. Here you were being talked up as the Butcher of Ishval, wielder of a Philosopher’s Stone and the newest weapon of the Goths. And what do you do? You get completely shut down minutes into your first fight with Scar, bleeding from the gut while he just looks down on you. If it wasn’t for Scar wanting to deal his brother’s injuries to Kimblee instead of going straight for the kill, you’d be gone. As it was, Scar has a lapse of judgement, and Kimblee takes the moment to decouple the train car, swearing that they’ll settle things next time they meet.

Yeah, no. I thought Kimblee was a good threat when he first showed up and was looking forwards to his fight with Scar, but this? This was just sad. Dude had better shape up before the next fight, especially if everyone’s going to Briggs and he’ll be facing the Protagonist and the Princess as well. The train driver finally realizes that they dropped a few train cars and stops to see what the heck is going on, and is understandably shocked to see Kimblee bleeding out on the new caboose. Kimblee just snaps at him for stopping the train, ranting about death and destruction. Dude is positively gleeful at the idea of Scar the Worthy Opponent, how being at risk means that he’s alive. Whatever buddy, the sooner you go after the guy who just did this to you the sooner I can stop listening to you. Next day, we’ve got May and Marcoh walking through the snow, talking about how Scar and “Marcoh” were drawing off the military so they could head north. Ouch! I was worried that Marcoh’s face would just be a mess of scars, but it’s still sad to see him look so much older with an apparent blinded eye. Maybe when this is over May can finish patching him up, even if he thinks he deserves this new face. The two stop to look over the Briggs mountain range, Amestris’ border with Drachma. Almost to the place Scar stashed his brother’s research notes? What possessed him to hide them here of all places? Mid-ep pictures of Solf J. Kimblee (get it together, dude) and Olivier Mira Armstrong aaaaaahhhhhhhhhh No! Keep it together!

Damnit stop dropping all the way down south to Rush Valley again we are so close to the new character argh Winry’s calling after the Elric Brothers only to learn they’ve checked out of the hotel and headed north. Ed, you’d better give her a call when you get to the fort, don’t just let her stay worried. Especially when Winry’s boss doesn’t think they’ll be safe. Damnit Ed! Wear a hat for petes sake, I don’t care how thick a coat you have if you don’t keep your head covered of course you’ll catch a cold! The Elrics are dropped off at a road to Fort Briggs, the driver heads off… after asking if Al’s wearing automail, saying he should be ok since it isn’t, and they should stay on the road if they want to live. Um. Yeah, Ed’s appreciation for show is officially gone. The boys are stumbling through a blizzard now, Ed tries to psych them up by talking about Teacher surviving out here for a month, fighting bears (hee, now I’m remembering that video about her meeting Sig)- Gah! Big Man! Big Man from the intro, with the chainsaw/scissor arm! Ed freaks out at seeing him and goes into blade mode. Then the guy nets Al?! Dude what the heck, do you just wander around attacking anyone not clearly military in the area? He insults Ed’s automail arm (somewhere Winry gets the urge to swing a wrench), says he has Combat Automail Model 1913A, “The Crocodile”. [Chainsaw-Man]: “Now surrender peacefully, you miserable Drachman spy, or I’ll show you exactly what this baby can do.” Ah ok that makes more sense. This is military land so seeing someone wandering around not in your own uniform would be suspicious. But how do you get non-military personnel or new people to the fort then? Did the brothers miss a phone in North City they were supposed to call ahead with? Yikes ok Chainsaw-Man is not listening, Ed has to keep dodging until he grasps his shoulder. It hurts? Aw crap, he does have a metal arm attached to his body in the middle of a blizzard. It’s painful enough to grab doorknobs when it’s freezing outside, to have metal constantly touching your bare skin? Ouch.

Uh. Actually, that whole “attached to his body” thing might not be relevant much longer; Chainsaw-Man’s revved up his arm and is trying to cut off Ed’s hand. Quick Ed, return the favor!... I said, return the favor! … Why isn’t his Alchemy working? Did Uncle do another anti-Alchemy pulse? Alright, Al’s untangled himself! A quick helmet toss tangles up the chainsaw, and both brothers are ready to fight again. Hopefully with fewer scratches on the automail this time, it’ll be bad enough explaining the current damage to Winry. Come on dude, stop dissing Ed’s arm. It’s got more uses than yours, at least. I’d like to see you tie your shoelaces! Actually, as a unique character I’m assuming he’s an officer at the fort, he might just order one of the Snowtroopers who are surrounding the Elrics to tie them for him. Oh hey, the snow’s died down and there’s a big wall close to them. They made it to the fort! Alright, fight’s over now, let’s just calm down and explain why you’re here. Hand over the letter and- [HER]: “Buccaneer! Who are they?” she’s here Buccaneer spins around to apologize for the noise, the Elrics look up to see Major-General Olivier Mira Armstrong glaring down at them. Major Armstrong’s older sister. Yesssss What, you don’t see the familial resemblance? I mean, I didn’t at first, either (in retrospect her wearing the blue uniform in the intro should have been a dead giveaway) but just because she isn’t as tall as her little (snrk) brother shouldn’t make you so doubtful. Ed introduces himself as the Fullmetal Alchemist, the General simply orders them to be searched. What, do you have a lot of pipsqueak spies and hollow suits of armor showing up to spy for Drachma? Aha, the letter of introduction! There, read The Mighty Armstrong’s letter, I’m sure that- or you just tear it up unread. I can get making your own opinions of people, but you’re just throwing away a source of information? Oh. Oh wow. The tossed aside letter fragments are being blown up the wall. And up. And up. And up… That’s a big wall. Like, wow. Ok, you’ve gotten permission to enter, head on inside and uh oh. Something to note about General Armstrong - she does not care for fools who A) don’t immediately follow her orders, and B) are so easily impressed by their surroundings. Bunny!Ed cowers from the glare of Bear!Armstrong. [General Armstrong]: “Be warned, I won’t coddle you just because you’re children. This is the Mountain Fortress, Briggs! Here only the strong survive!”

Alright, so it seems that our Protagonist didn’t make the best first impression, and Armstrong the Great has been established as a hardline commander. I am really looking forward to seeing more of this fort, and the person who leads it. Post-credits scene! May and Marcoh have reached a small cabin and dug up a box, holding Scar’s brother’s (does the guy actually have a name?) research notes. Could the combination of Xing Alkahestry and Amestris Alchemy be an alternative to the Philosopher’s Stone? [Marcoh]: “Well… there’s only one way to find out.”

[cassiedangerclouds]

Soldier Poet King {BBS}

For many a century, war had raged between the two factions.

It was said in the tales told by the elders that there will be a group consisting of a soldier, who carries a mighty sword, a poet, whose weapon is his word and a ruler, whose brow is laid in thorn.

It is only when the three meet that the land will be at peace once more.

This will be known as the next coming of Christ for the many Christians that live among our ranks, but for the rest of us, it will be asscention to the next life....

Soldier

"You dare assassinate the Prince, fiend?" the knight quiried, the tip of his iron sword pressed against the accused throat.

The male accused stared down at sword, carful not to move, "You misunderstand valiant knight, for I wish not to harm the Prince. He is but one of the things I fight for."

The knight raised a brow, looking the male up and down, "But you dress of our ENEMY, why would a protector of our nobel highness don this attire?"

The accused gulped, feeling his Adam's apple against the blade, his fingers stretched desperately for his hidden dagger, "I don the attire of my kingdom valiant knight, but I would die for your Prince if I had to choose between my land and his life."

"Sir Wine, what is the matter of all of this racus?" a thick accent rang down the empty halls, as footstep approached fast, alerting the two males of a new presence in their battle.

The knight stared at the brown haired Prince, "Sir, I haf found a heathen on royal lands. How does thou decree the fellon be prosecuted?" he questioned, not moving his sword an inch.

The Prince cracked a wide small, glancing up at the knight and down at the fellon, "I decree, that the mighty knight don a smile and put thou sword away. Leave the fellon for he is no crook."

The knight, sworn to obey the words of his ruler obeyed begrudgingly. "But sir, the fiend dons the attire of our sworn enemies, the Trollès. For by the word of your mother and father, he shall be sleign," he protested, sheathing his sword and sending a wary glance at the accused.

The accused still didn't move his eyes staring pleadingly at the Prince, the enemy of his people and the ruler of his very own heart.

"Sir Wine, this fiend is here of my accord, he-"

"Is he a spy then?" the knight interjected, realising his mistake, "My-my good Prince."

The Prince shook his head, letting out a chuckle, "No good knight. Listen and listen well Tyler, my parents may never here a word of what I speak now. This fiend, his only crime is that of my heart. He is here on my request."

The knight looked between his Prince and the accused, "But good Prince, it is foresworn that we are enemies of the Trollès, for how hath this fiend stolen thy heart? He must be a witch! He must be hung!"

The accused gulped, feeling his blood run cold, "I-I assure you oh valiant knight that I am not a witch for those are the dirtiest of scum and must be hung! I am simply a soldier, loyal to my heart and thou Prince has mine."

The knight glanced between the two once more, letting out a huff he turned his attention back to his Prince, "I am sworn to protect you Prince Luke, for I shall not speak a word of this to the king or queen. But, your knight must be carful to not be caught by the other knights," he warned, eyeing his enemy up and down. "For they will not hesitate as I hath, for sure they will kill your love."

Prince Luke nodded, "I understand, thank you Sir Wine. Tyler, seriously, thank you. Come Sir Fanning," grabbing the accused hand, he dragged the other knight away.

Sir Wine shook his head, going back to his post, he noticed a small roll of parchment near the entrance hall door.

Causiously he approached, picking up the scroll.

Stamped with the red seal of the lands of Trollès, he assumed that it must be from the other knight until in flowing letters a name could be seen.

Sir Tyler Wine, Valiant Knight of Kingdom Raggè.

Poet

He had waited, many a months for the chance to speak his heart. For the knight that had captured his soul be of the enemy. While scribes, messengers and poets be not of a side, nobles and knights had a common belief of whomever's court they are born under be where they belong to.

So thus for the raven haired poet, his luck be drawn short, for he was born of the Trollès court. His soul however, bound to the hands of a Raggè knight.

Of course he volunteered when the nobel knight of his court asked for someone to travel to the lands of Raggè with him, for he would but get a better look at the knight who had bu pillaged his small village in the lands of the kingdom Trollè.

"Sir Fanning, you hath told a lie. You state that not a soul tavelled with thee and yet here stands a man," a posh voice cut the poet out of his thoughts, making him scarcely aware of the scene around him.

Before the soldier could reply, the poet explained himself, "Excuse me, mighty Prince Luke of the Raggè lands, do not scold the good knight Ryan. For I am a humble poet and I wish no harm. I am shunned for being born on Trollès land, but us poets are not bound by such ties as knights and royalty," he explained himself.

The Prince looked the poet up and down once more, before nodding his head in agreeance. "Fine, Ry, be careful to not get caught and have a safe trip back home," he pecked the night on the cheek before turning on his heel and walking away.

The knight smiled, standing almost in a daze.

"Sir Fanning, we must leave for the royal watch will be doing their rounds soon. If we wish to keep our lives, we must not be caught," the poet reminded the knight, grabbing his hand, pulling him towards the shadows.

After a long trip through the town square, the poet and the knight made it to a small village, on the outskirts of the Trollès land. Before they could cross the border, they were stopped by a man with brown hair and shining brown eyes in a robe.

"Evan, thank god you hath made it back without being caught," he stated, ingnoring the knight, addressing the poet.

The poet had a small smile on his lips, his brown eyes shimmering in the moonlight, "Yes. I also still have your letter for the Prince. I hope you don't mind a few days for thee's reply, for my Prince is a little bit harsh and does not take well to Poets."

"Of course not Evan, take thy time in getting a response, I am sure that the Prince will see that you are excused from his prejedice," the other man replied.

"Evan, we really must be going. My apologies poet, but we wish not to get caught by anyone," the knight stated, looking at the man's attire.

The man nodded his head, "Farewell friend, I hope to see you again soon," he watched as the poet and knight walked away.

The poet looked at the knight, "You must get back to your post, please make sure to give this," he handed the knight a scroll, "to the Prince, it is from my poet friend. Do not read it, for thou is not who the letter is for."

The knight bowed his head in honour, "I swear upon the great work of our Protector that I shan't read the letter and that the Prince will receive the scroll," the knight said, continuing his quest to his castle, leaving the poet in his small village.

The poet starred up at the moon, wondering if the one who had his soul would read his letter.

King

The Prince couldn't believe his eyes. The throneroom was a disaster, his parent both slain, lying across their thrones.

"Master Hanby, you are now the King of Trollès," the court councillor stated.

The Prince still stood shocked, King...how could I be King?

The townsfolk starred at the Prince as he was coronated. He counted the seconds until the moment would end. 99, 100.

"King Brian of the Trollès land," the court councillor declared, placing the crown upon the young man's head.

The crowd cheered but the King paid it no attention, he was to busy staring at the back church. A hooded figure sat in the last row of seats, next to him was a poet with a wide smile.

As soon as he was excused, the King rushed to the back of the church, much to the protest of the nobles.

"What are you doing here? Why did you bring him?" the King's tone was that of worry.

The Poet's smile faded, replaced be a grim look, "He wished to come my lord, I begged of him not to and he protested, accompanying me. He believed a letter was not the right articulate of congratulations," the raven haired man explained.

The hooded figure concealed a smile under his hood, reaching his hands out, placing them on the King's, "Of you I congratulate, my fair and noble King."

"SIN! OUR NOBLE KING HATH SINNED!" a townsperson hollered out, pointing at the King and the hodded figures hand.

The hooded figure retracted his hands quickly, keeping his head down.

"Fair people fear not for-"

"UNMASK YOURSELF FIEND! REVEAL THOU IDENTITY THAT DARE TAINT OUR RULER!" another townsperson yelled.

The hooded figure shuffled his feet, swallowing hastily, he removed his hood, revealing his messy brown hair.

"THE WHOLE CLOAK FIEND!" the first townsperson roared, accompanied by the cheers from the rest of the church, excluding the Poet and the King.

"Dear townsfolk and nobles fear not, for this man means you no harm. He is just here to congratulate our noble and righteous King and be on his way," the Poet explained, trying to save his friend.

"Nobody cares for words of a filthy Poet, be gone from our sight and take your filth with you," the second townsperson hissed, degrading the Poet.

The King kept his lips sewn shut, he did not wish to anger his people more, but wanted so badly to help his friends.

With a sigh of defeat, the hooded figure removed his robe, reavealing but plain townsfolk dress, with one key difference to the surrounding court.

"HE DON THE MARK OF THE ENEMY, HE MUST BE BURNT AT THE STAKE!" the first townsperson roared, gaining agreeance from the court.

The King could not take the scene much longer, "If you hang this man then thee must hang I also, for this Poet only be here because I hath his heart as he hath mine."

The church fell silent, much of a pin being dropped would be the loudest fo noise.

"THEN BURN YOU SHALL BOTH. FOR LOVE OF A MAN AND A MAN IS A SIN BY THE NAME OF GOD HIMSELF!"

The court cheered at the decree of the Lord of the land.

The hooded figure stared at the King with wide eyes, a feeling of dread settling in his stomach as he realised that he had got both his and his lovers lives lost.

"GUARDS SEIZE THESE FIENDS AND GET THEM READY FOR THEIR PENALTY, DEATH BY STAKE!" The Lord yelled as the gaurds rushed in and shackled the hooded figure and the King leading them away, leaving the Poet alone in the church.

Soldier, Poet, King: The Return Of The Great Transcendence

The Prince had not believed for a second when he heard the word that his old childhood friend was going to venture to the enemy lands to congratulate his lover.

He had made sure to follow the poor soul, even if it meant his life be damned.

Unfortunately, Sir Wine, his loyal knight and his squire had caught the Prince trying to escape. He agreed to come along for the protection of them both.

Once arrived in the kingdom town, he found it deserted.

"The coronation must have began." he commented, heading towards the tall church building.

The Squire followed in silence, afraid of the outcome of being found, surely the penalty would be to be burnt at the stake.

As they approached the church, a load roar echoed across the empty street, the sound of many footsteps seemed to make the ground shake.

The Squire pulled the Prince into an alley in the shadows and signalled for him to be quiet.

Trailing behind the mob of angry people, the Poet and the Knight quietly conversed about the scene at hand.

The Prince went to call out when he saw his love but was stopped by the Squire.

The Squire shook his head taking out his sword he used to sun's light to catch the attention of the Knight.

The Knight saw the glimmering out of the corner of his eye and turned his attention away from the Poet to try find the source of the shining light.

He spotted the Squire and grabbed the Poet's arm, dragging him towards the two hiding enemy.

"But Ryan, we must go with them. We have to save them, we hath no time for delay!" The Poet protested, trying to pull away.

"Who's in trouble?" the Prince asked curiously, catching the Poet's attention first.

The Knight smiled to himself, before his features turned sour. "What are you both doing here? You could get thouself killed."

Ignroing the Knight's words, the Prince turned his attention to the Poet.

"Great Prince Luke of Raggè, my townspeople have found out that the noble King Brian gives his heart to a man, and so they wish for him to be nailed to a stake to burn in the sun." The Poet explained, feeling his heart racing.

"To who does his heart belong, Poet?" the Squire queried, looking between the Prince and the Poet.

The Poet turned his attention to the knight, noticing that it was the noble man who hath his soul.

"I fought for him not to come, begged on my hands and knees, but alas he persisted," the Poet explained, dodging the actual question.

"To answer your question plainly good Knight, they have sentenced King Brian and his lover, the humble Poet Brock Barrus to death by stake." The Knight bluntly stated.

The Prince felt the colour drain from his face, his childhood friend had been sentenced to death for falling in love.

"This is preposturous! We must go now and aid our friends to freedom," he stated, not waiting a second more, marching out of the alley and towards the direction the mob had gone but minutes earlier.

The Knight, Squire and Poet followed silently, not wanting to leave the Prince alone in his quest, but knowing that following meant certain death.

The group arrived as the Lord was placing a crown of thorns upon the king head.

"Enough of these monstrosities!" The Prince hollered, attracting the attention of all of the attendees.

"We need not listen to you, Raggè scum!" a townswoman close the group spat, referencing the read tie around the Prince's waist.

The Prince smirked, ripping off his cloak, "Thou shall not harm one of my loyal townsfolk!" he roared.

"THE PRINCE OF OUR ENEMY DARE STEP FOOT ON SACRED TROLLÈ LAND? GAURDS, SEIZE THEM ALL FOR THEY ARE ALL SINNERS OF SORTS!" The Lord screamed.

The knights charged towards the group, swords at the ready.

The Knight jumped in front of the Prince, "Move back my Prince!" he declared, fighting off as many knights as he could.

The Squire tapped the Prince's shoulder, handing hand a sword, "Here my Prince, for I always carry a spare sword in case of combat."

The Prince nodded thankfully, before springing it action next to the Knight, the Squire joining them not long after.

Three knight surrounded the Poet, all with swords pointed at throat.

The Poet remained as calm as he could and closed his eyes, he whistled a tune, simple three notes and the knights were knocked back.

The knights moved back towards the Poet.

"For legend tells of a song that may be stronger then any sword,

For all it takes is three simple chord." the Poet sang out, knocking them back once more.

"For a fight so hard,

May be finished by simple bard."

The knights all fell, leaving the Knight, Squire and Prince in awe of the feat the Poet had just displayed.

A few knight lay struck by sword in a slow death, the light slowly fading from their eyes.

The Lord was red in the face as he watched half of the kingdoms knight fall to a simple poem. "SEIZE THEM! SOMEBODY SEIZE THESE FIENDS!"

Most of the townspeople scattered, not wanting to face the Bard mainly.

A handful of townspeople charged for the group.

"STOP!" A voice echoed across the square, causind everyone to turn in the direction of the noise.

There stood a young Princess, her eyes shining like diamonds.

"Do you not all see? For a legend has come true, a prophecy for the centuries of heartache,"

"Shut up you brat, no one asked for your opinion," The Lord growled.

The Princess ignored him, walking towards the group. Reaching them, she offered her hand to the Prince.

"Mighty and noble Prince, please follow me to your townsfolk, for he has no right to be staked." she explained, grabbing the Prince's hand.

The Knight kept his cool, not wanting to draw attention to himself, but deep down he was angry at the young lady who had just touched the man that hath his heart in such a tender way.

"Valiant Knight, noble Squire and intelligent Bard, thou must also follow and aid," the Princess informed the rest of the group.

The mob of townspeople stepped out of the Princess' way, frightened of her. The Prince, the Knight, the Squire and the Bard could not see how someone so petite could scare grown men, but they did not question it.

They all arrived in front of the King and the Poet who don crowns of thorn upon their heads.

The young Princess turned to face the angry Lord. "For you my lord, the fiends have been seized," she flicked her head and the knight came and tied the group up, gagging the Bard.

"For by the end of the next hour, thou shall be begging for mercy from the nobles of the lands of Trollès." the young Princess declared, a devilish smile upon her lips.

The knights tied the Prince and the Knight on one stake as they had done to the King and the Poet, leaving the Bard and the Squire on the last stake.

Upon all of their heads laid crowns of thorn, for they had all sinned that day.

The Bard tapped in the stake with his boot heel, creating a small tune to fill in the deafening silence that surround the sinners.

The Knight smiled sympathetically at the Bard, knowing that he would not have been in this situation if it weren't for him.

"First will come a soldier," the Squire murmered, realising the beat the Bard was tapping went with the old rhyme and legend; For there will be a Soldier, a Poet and a King, "who carries a mighty sword."

"He will tear your city down," the Knight replied, shooting a smirk the the Knight.

"Next will come a Poet, whose weapon be his word," the Poet continued, shooting a sorry glance at the Bard, "he will slay you with his word."

"Finally a ruler, whose brow be laid in thorns," the Prince realyed, hanging his head in shame.

"Smeared with oil like David's boy," the King replied the final line of the fable.

"They will bring the city down, o lei o lai o lord," the group were caught off guard by the young Princess' voice joining to reciet the end of the poem. She made quick work undoing the ropes that held the group hostage.

"You must be quick, the people of this kingdom are not ready for the next coming. They fear change," the young Princess informed them, "go to the fair Princes' kingdom, for his people are seeking change."

"How does thee know that this is so?" The Prince questioned.

"A might lord has told me so, but you must go quick, the townspeople are starting to whisper," the young Princess stated, as whsipers grew into audible words.

"Thank you fair Princess, for how shall I repay you?" The Prince asked, as the others had already started their escape to the kingdom gates.

The Princess smiled, "Repay you shall not, for I shall join your kingdom soon and be with my Lord."

The Prince simply nodded, not knowing how to respond to the Princess' statement. He ran after his friends.

The Princess smiled as she watched them go, "For an angel will aid them in their coming, o lei o lai o lord," she whispered, knowing that the right thing had been done.

[caralexana]

Natblida (The 100 x FTWD xTWD Crossover - Chapter 1

PILOT

CHAPTER 1

 Important note: By the end of season 3 (the 100), Clarke destroyed Allie indeed, but in this story we don’t need to worry about the nuclear power plants melting down.

“Choj op, Heda”

Lexa took a deep breath as the woman helped her into a sitting position so she could eat. Her eyes observed her calmly.

“How can I call you?”

The older woman showed her a smile “Thia, Heda”

“Hmm” she observed the bandages over her abdomen, unsure of what really happened.

“Fayogon” Thia explained “Skaikru gon”

“What happened?”

“Everyone believes you are dead, Heda.” She spoke “Titus brought what I believed was your corpse to me. Yu kik thru”

The former commander remained silent. The last moments she remembered were like a blur in her mind. She did remember Clarke next to her.

She could only remember Clarke…

“Everything was chaotic after you died.” Thia explained “Ontari wanted to be the next Commander, she murdered all the Natblidas.”

Lexa’s full attention was on Thia, by that moment “What?” She moved her hand to her neck.

“Yes, Heda. Titus removed the flame… But I do not believe he kept it.”

“Where is Titus?!”

“Dead, Heda”

Lexa gulped, taking a moment to process all the information. Titus always did everything for her. Yes, he would do it for any commander. But she knew he cared for her.

“Who is the commander, now?” She asked

“No one, officially, Heda.” Thia explained “The flame is missing. There is a war out there, for it”

“Clarke…” Lexa whispered.

If Titus gave away the flame, there was no one else he could possibly give it to. He knew Lexa trusted Clarke.

“How long have I been here?” Lexa asked

“Over two months, Heda”

The younger lady looked away, trying to adjust to everything she was being told. She remained silent as Thia spoke again.

Thia told her about everything that happened after she was accidentally shot and presumed dead. She told her about the chip that completely took control of people’s mind and body. She told her about the city of light and about the battle in Polis.

“They say Klark Kom Skaikru saved everyone”

Lexa showed her a small smile, proudly “That does sound like something Clarke would do”

“You need to rest, Heda” Thia spoke

“Where am I?” She asked

“Eden” Thia smiled at her “You are safe here… at least for now”

Lexa looked at her, already considering the possibilities.

It was obvious for her that Clarke was in possession of the flame. And, if some were actually thankful for her doings in Polis, she was sure some were still against Wanheda. Plus, Clarke had a slight magnet to trouble.

Lexa knew it was a matter of time until people suspected she had the flame.

Either way, Clarke would be in trouble.

“Hod op, Heda!” Thia was next to Lexa in a second as she saw her trying to stand up.

Yet, it wasn’t necessary since the young lady quickly discovered her body wouldn’t allow her to move so quickly.

“Ahhh” she suppressed a painful groan

“You are lucky to be alive, Heda. Please rest. You cannot yet move. Beja”

Lexa stared at her, desperately wanting to go against it.

“Beja…”

Finally lying down, granting Thia’s wish, she whispered “Chof, Thia”

Thia smiled at her “I will be around”

  *Away from Eden*

 “I’m sorry cutie” Alicia said as she disemboweled the rabbit “You are the first living creature I get in three weeks”

Truth was, she was worried about it.

She was hungry.

She was out of supplies.

She had searched for everything, all around, in the past weeks. It was miles between each small town or village, but everything seemed to be already scavenged, so she was unlucky with that.

She had no other solution other than hunting down some animals. But even with that there was no luck.

That rabbit was the first animal she had found in those weeks.

In fact, she was being honest. It was the first living creature she had found. She almost couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen a human.

“I mean, I know this was my choice, but it would be nice to know if I am or not the last living person on the planet” she kept on talking.

It sounded awkward, but she felt the need to speak out loud, since silence seemed to be a part of her, by then.

 “Gosh, you are delicious” she said, after a while, when she got to finally eat.

Alicia made sure to create a perimeter around the place she was in, somewhere in the woods. She was good at it. After all, she had to.

She knew how to make simple traps and noisy traps so she could sense if someone was approaching.

She looked up at the sky, as she used to in the past nights, before casually drifting off to sleep. She had no idea of what she was doing.

She felt like she had no purpose.

Sometimes she wondered if she should return. Yet she still felt she did not belong there, even if she missed them.

However she also knew she was already too far and that they probably moved too. So she had no idea where they were.

Plus, she always listened to Morgan’s stories and wondered if she was any close to the communities he spoke of.

And what if she was? Did she want to join? She couldn’t be so sure.

She was sure she wanted more meals though.

So, once again, she let herself sleep with the uncertainty of what would happen the next day.

  Alicia woke up hours later, already feeling the sun rays on her face. There was no time for her to wonder for how long she left herself sleep, since she heard noises nearby.

“Is that…?” She asked herself, already combat ready, as she approached. “…a dog?”

She wondered if she was hallucinating but she did hear barks. Carefully, she made her way to discover an actual dog, stuck in one of her traps and already surrounded by walkers.

Quickly, she moved to take down the walkers around the dog but his continuous barks called the attention of even more.

“Shhh, it’s alright, puppy” she spoke, not stopping.

She sensed the danger increasing.

More and more walkers appeared and it wouldn’t take long for her to be just as trapped as that dog.

“Shit…” she sighed, not giving up.

She couldn’t precise for how long she was there, alone, but after a while she sensed there was someone else close.

“Dog!” Someone shouted

Her eyes caught an arrow through a walker’s head, though she still saw no one. Not for long though.

Then, she saw herself being helped not by one but by at least two men.

Having no idea if she could trust them or not, that was no time to think about it. So, the three of them fought the remaining walkers.

“Daaamn!” She noticed the smile of the tallest man, as she took down a walker near him. “Dat a girl!”

Alicia frowned at him, momentarily distracted by the walker approaching in her back. The man, however, noticed and was about to help before yet another arrow punctured its head.

She observed her surroundings.

No more dead. She sighed to herself. At least for now.

“Come here, good boy” she observed the men.

While the tallest one remained with a smile on his face as he stared at her, the other went for the dog. Both carried a good amount of weapons.

“Are you alone, miss?” the tallest one asked

Alicia stared at him, suspiciously.

“Well… I’m Negan. That ugly face is Daryl” he pointed to his friend.

The young lady raised her eyebrow at Negan. Morgan told her a lot about his days back in some communities and there was a lot she didn’t hold. Yet, she was sure this was the Negan he once told her about. After all, it’s not such a common name. But she also remembered Morgan talking about Daryl and he seemed to like him.

Yes, she was sure they were some of the ones Morgan told her about. She couldn’t be sure if it calmed her down or not, but she decided not to talk much about it and take her own conclusions.

Once Daryl approached them with the dog, Alicia noticed the animal was injured, but alive.

“Your dog certainly fell into this lady’s trap” Negan smirked at Daryl

“Dog is smart, he’s used to traps like this.” Daryl stared at Alicia “You were helping him, though, thanks”

She glanced at him, still alert “I was gonna eat him though”

Negan laughed while Daryl didn’t seem to find her words amusing “You would kill a dog?”

Alicia looked at him “If I was hungry, you bet”

“I like this one” Negan chuckled, approaching her. Alicia didn’t appreciate it and quickly pointed her machine gun barrel at his throat “Woah!” he exclaimed “Miss, slitting my fucking throat won’t work alright, someone else has already tried that shit”

“How about we test that?!” She spoke, irritated “It’s dripping guts… I can see many possible outcomes with a single cut”

Negan showed her a small smile “You proved your courage, miss. I mean you no fucking harm”

Alicia was ready to answer, basing herself on what Morgan once told her. Yet she could bet things had changed. If Daryl was trustworthy and allowed himself to be near Negan, then things had certainly changed.

“Please lower that, kid. We’re not gonna hurt you” Daryl spoke

Her eyes deviated to Daryl before staring at Negan once again. Eventually, she lowered her weapon.

“Good.” Daryl approached her “You alone out here?”

“With those beach ball sized lady nuts… fuck, she can go anywhere she wants” Negan chuckled “Oh…” he stared at her “But you are running out of food, uh?”

Alicia frowned at him. Such a statement would be easy to assume, obviously. They surely knew the area and scavenged everything already. She had been around that place for long enough to conclude they already had taken all that was worth something. She knew it was useless to deny it.

“Actually I got a rabbit yesterday”

“You got lucky” Daryl spoke “Not many animals around to hunt, no more”

Negan stared at her “How long have you been around here, miss?”

“It’s Alicia” She finally said it

“Damn!” he leaned back “She actually has a name”

“Fuck off” she spoke

Negan laughed “Come with us, there’s a fan-fucking-tastic community nearby. You don’t have to be all alone, you know”

“Who says I am?” she defied, knowing it would be useless

“Alicia, Alicia…” he chuckled at her “I am too good at this shit... We both know you are, don’t we?”

Daryl approached her “He has talent to get into people’s nerves. Don’t mind him” he spoke “He’s right though, you don’t have to be alone. Plus, you’ll starve if you stay out here”

Alicia looked at him, almost in defeat.

“You know you will, right? Been out here long enough?” he asked

Alicia took a deep breath, she could not argue.

Both were right.

“C’mon and I’ll cook you some spaghetti!” Negan started to walk back

Alicia frowned “You do not have spaghetti”

He turned, chuckling at her “Wanna bet?”

She sighed, in defeat “I’ll go get my backpack”

“Awesome!” Negan exclaimed, as him and Daryl waited for Alicia to return with them.

Daryl stared at her as she did “What?” she frowned

“Nah, you wouldn’t kill my dog” he spoke

Finally, a small smile emerged in her lips.

I think this is safe.

  *Arkadia*

“You are not going anywhere!” Abby exclaimed “You just got here! We just got here!”

Clarke stared at her mother, then at her friends. She wasn’t expecting them to understand.

But her intent was more than to take the flame away from there. She couldn’t bear the weight in her shoulders. She couldn’t deal with the pain in her heart and soul.

She had to leave.

She needed time and space.

“Clarke…” Bellamy approached her “They have no idea where the flame is. We have time to think about what we can do”

She stared at him “You have that time, I am sure you will do a great…”

“Shhh, you are not leaving, period” Raven argued “Can’t you see, Clark? For god’s sake, they will eventually come and try to destroy everything, whether you have the flame or not”

Clarke stared at her enraged friend “We need you” Raven continued “You are not going anywhere. We are not going anywhere either” she finally showed her a supporting smile.

The painful knot in her throat didn’t allow her to say a word. While she knew it wasn’t wise to leave her people at that point, she wasn’t sure if she could deal with everything.

 Everywhere I go I see her face.

[sounds-of-midnight]

Our Dawn - Chapter 3

“Uh, where did you get these?” I asked as Seungcheol brought a brand new dress and pair of shoes over to me, laying it out on the bed.

He’d disappeared as soon as we made it to an inn in the village of Carmil, which lies a third of the way to Aeris. Jun and I sat patiently in the room, resting from the long trek as we waited for him to come back. He didn’t say where he was going, or how long he’d be, so when he came back with a box full of clothing, I was surprised.

“A princess can’t walk around in a torn-up dress like that.” He replied simply, also pulling out some men’s clothes, tossing them over at Jun, effectively hitting him in the face.

“What was that for?” Jun growled, and Cheol rolled his eyes.

“You are practically naked, so I got you some clothes. Now shut it and get dressed.” He replied, then continued to grumble to himself. “Honestly. How could you parade around like that in front of a Lady? Have you no shame?”

“I can still hear you.” Jun pointed out, then stepped into the connected room to change. “Dick…”

I covered my mouth, trying not to laugh at the insult and how Cheol’s eyes went wide.

“You little mutt. How dare you speak like that to me. If this were-”

I reached up and grabbed Seungcheol’s hand. “Please, stop.” I began. “You've been arguing every chance you get. Can’t you just get along?”

Cheol glared at the door to the other room but turned back with a huff. “Fine.” He replied, then gestured to the dress. “You change too. I’m going out to get some supplies. If we are going to get you to your Uncle, we need to prepare. His kingdom may be just over the mountains, but that trip will take a while.”

I gave a small nod. “Okay.”

Jun emerged from the other room, tugging on the clothes uncomfortably. “I’ve seen you guys walk around in this stuff for years, but seriously? How can you stand being strangled by fabric all day long?” He asked. Seungcheol and I looked over to him, seeing he’d managed to dress properly, but was tugging at the collar of his shirt as if it were too tight.

“You’ll get used to it,” Seungcheol replied, then made his way to the door. “Keep an eye on Nari while I’m out. Keep her safe.”

“Of course,” Jun replied with a small huff.

Cheol rolled his eyes, then left. Jun turned to me, his sour mood instantly melting away as he walked over and sat beside me. “So, are you going to wash up before you go to change?” He asked, brushing a strand of my dark hair behind my ear. “You are covered in dirt.”

“Oh, right…” I trailed off, remembering why exactly I needed new clothes in the first place. “I probably should, shouldn’t I?” I answered, and he nodded. I sighed softly, picking up the dress and making my way to the other room. A washroom was attached, and I drew a bath from the water pump before undressing. The water wasn’t as warm as I was used to, but the cold seemed to help calm me as I slipped into it.

“Hey, Nari?” I heard Jun begin, and I yelped, quickly covering myself when I realized he’d come into the washroom. I turned away from him, blushing hotly, and spluttered a response.

“W-What are you doing? Out- You can’t see me like this. It’s not decent.” I said, hoping he’d leave quickly.

“What do you mean?” He asked. “I've seen you take a bath a million times before and you were never bothered by it.”

“Yeah, well, that was before…” I trailed off, feeling my heart pound in my chest. My ears were burning as it sank in that he had seen me naked before, many, many times. Every time I went to bathe, he’d be trailing along after me like a lost puppy. When we were little, he’d even jump into the tub with me.

“Before what?” He asked.

“Before I found out you weren’t just some wolf. You are a person. It’s different now.” I replied, hugging my arms around myself even more.

He pursed his lips, going over my words in his mind before he gave me a soft “okay” and left the washroom, closing the door behind him.

I sighed, bringing my hands up to cover my face, then sank down into the cool water, hoping it would help get rid of the hot blush on my cheeks.

After calming down, I grabbed a cloth and scrubbed myself clean, getting rid of as much dirt as I could, as well as blood that stained my skin red. I’d almost forgotten Jun had been bleeding out in my arms not even a day ago. I sat in the bath for a little while longer before climbing out and drying off, pulling on my undergarments and the dress Seungcheol had brought for me. It was a pale peach color and fit decently well considering Cheol had to guess my size. I pulled on the soft stockings that went with it as well, then exited the bathroom.

Jun was sat beside the closed door, fiddling with something in his hands. I looked quickly looked away, hugging my arms around myself once again. “What was it you wanted earlier?” I asked.

“Oh, its nothing. It doesn’t matter.” He replied.

I could hear that he was upset, and I took a seat on the floor beside him. “What’s wrong?” I asked, concerned. He looked over at me, and I couldn’t help but notice the puppy eyes. “I was just wondering something… Did you like me better when I was still a wolf? Before you knew I could shift and speak and such?”

“What? Why would you ask that?” I questioned. “You are still you, no matter what form you are in.”

“Yeah, but you said so yourself that things are different now that you know what I am.” He sighed, looking back down at his hands. I saw that he was messing with a gold barrette. Noticing my gaze, he handed it over. “I’m guessing it came with the dress. It was on the bed where Seungcheol laid it out.

“Thanks,” I said, taking it and clipping it into my hair, then looked back to Jun. I placed my hand on his shoulder gently. “I’m sorry if what I said upset you.” I began. “It’s just that I’ve never had a man walk in on me like that. I was flustered, is all.”

“Is it really that big of a deal?” He asked.

“Well…” I trailed off. I suppose it would be a bit confusing for him since we both grew up without having to worry about anything like that. Then again, had I known he was more than a simple wolf, I probably wouldn’t have let him into my room when I was bathing or changing my clothes. I blushed a light pink and covered my cheeks.

“Well… what?” Jun asked.

“It’s just, usually people don’t see each other without their clothes on. Stuff like that is more reserved for couples and the like. It’s not proper otherwise, especially when it’s two unmarried people.” I explained, trying my best to avoid saying too much.

“Oh,” Jun said, glancing over at me. “So, only married people are allowed to see each other like that?”

“Can we please talk about something else now?” I pleaded, knowing I was only growing more red and embarrassed. “If you really want to know, ask Seungcheol- on second thought, don’t ask him. If he finds out you’ve seen me naked, I’m pretty sure he’ll kill you.”

Jun gulped and gave a small nod. There was an awkward silence between us for a long moment, then he spoke up. “What else am I not allowed to do now that you know I’m not some domesticated wolf?”

I thought for a second. “Well, you can’t sleep in the same bed as me anymore.”

“What?” He gasped, sounding heartbroken. “Why not?”

“Again, it’s more of a couple kind of thing,” I replied. “And Seungcheol would attempt to kill you for that, too.”

“But I can’t sleep if I’m not next to you.” He pointed out, and I knew the same went for me. We’d been companions since I was a child and he was a little pup. We had grown up doing everything together, including sleeping side by side or with him at my feet. We were inseparable.

I chewed on my lip, unsure what to do. I was about to answer when Seungcheol entered the main room once more. “I’m back.” He said, setting down two large bags of supplies. He glanced around the room, then through the doorway to the conjoined one, spotting Jun and I together on the floor. “What are you two up to?” He asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Just talking,” I replied, and I saw his eyes flicker to Jun briefly before returning to mine.

“Well, you should head to bed soon. It is getting late and we will have to leave early in the morning.” He explained, making his way over and holding out a hand to help me up. I accepted, and rose to my feet, looking down to Jun, offering him my hand and helping him up.

“Where do I sleep?” Jun asked, and Seungcheol gave in an annoyed look.

“On the ground. Where else?” He replied, then turned away, heading to the corner where he’d set his Royal Guard uniform. He figured it best to avoid attracting attention, and the uniform would most definitely do the exact opposite. He took a seat, facing the door to the hall. “Get some sleep, Nari. I’ll keep watch.”

I wanted to argue back, knowing he’d be exhausted if he didn’t rest as well, but I knew better and crawled into the bed, siding beneath the blanket. I glanced at Jun, who met my gaze, knowing exactly what I was thinking. Walking over, he laid on the floor beside the bed, raising a hand up to hod mine. Seungcheol noticed and took a breath before he told Jun off for touching me.

I, however, spoke first. “Please, Cheol?” I asked. “Regardless of his being a person at the moment, I still need him to help me fall asleep. You knowI’ve never been able to sleep without him before.”

Seungcheol’s lips pressed into a thin line, then he looked back towards the door, crossing his arms with a small huff. “Fine, but if he even thinks of doing anything other than holding your hand, I’m throwing him out the window.” He muttered.

“What else would I be doing?” Jun asked, genuinely confused, causing both Seungcheol and I to look down at him. “What?” He asked. “Is there something I should know?”

“Couple things,” I whispered down to him, but I had a feeling he didn’t know what I meant by that.

“Stop talking and go to sleep, otherwise I’m kicking Jun out into the hall,” Seungcheol warned, and I sighed.

“Goodnight, Jun,” I said quietly.

“Goodnight, Nari.” He replied softly.

[nimblermortal]

So here is what I wrote because someone else was doing it wrong. (Not even wrong, they just had Places to Go, and this scene is so delicious if you just read it the way this story frames it.)

Summary: Baldr is posing as Athelstan when Ragnar raids Lindisfarne. Some of this scene takes place during this scene and this one. (If you watch those, it is clear that there is even more hilarity to be had from this premise, but frankly, I meant to finish my laundry half an hour ago.)

Is this edited? No! Is it beta’d? No! Will it continue? No! Does it change tense in the middle because I got lazy? Yes!

Lindisfarne was peaceful. It had taken Baldr a long time to get used to the idea of peace, but it felt like time spent getting back to himself; like all his life he had been in a foreign culture of force and movement, and learning this stillness was like meeting the core of himself. He loved the stillness; he loved sitting quietly, twitching just barely one muscle to the next to get the exact brush stroke he wanted. That was why they set him to illuminating scripts, which Baldr, like all the monks, periodically hated. They wanted him to finish the scripts, and Baldr wanted to sit still; and they wanted him to work so quickly that his hand cramped, and then the beastly cat would walk over the ink and in humid weather the paper would curl…

Storms were the worst of it. That was the first way Baldr became aware of the thunderstorm: the air was wet. It changed how he mixed his inks, it changed how the paper moved, and it was inconvenient.

When the thunder struck, he looked up, a habit he hadn’t the heart to modify, to see if his brother was coming home. And then, realizing what he was doing, to realize just how familiar this thunder felt.

He might have overturned the illumination desk, then, and undone all his work. The monks were already uneasy; what to do to warn them? Some story, some frightening tale to make them run - but his mind kept sticking, almost finding the tale of the Great Beast and then getting caught with his tongue tripping over the word Muspellheim - and he couldn’t remember where the tide was, was there anywhere to run to?

The old tales, the whispers of demons and jotnar - creatures they wouldn’t recognize. At last his fumbling tongue found the book of Revelation, and as he spewed its verses he made a note to go and find that crazed priest who had insisted it be included and shake his hand.

It didn’t work. The monks refused to panic; they took shelter with their god. Baldr wished to shake them. Their god would not help them; where was their god? If anyone, he was their god, the god who lived among them and was one of them and - that is the sort of talk that gets far worse punishment than being sent to bed. He sulked. He tried to help them. And when none of that worked, he found himself taking cover in the scriptorium. Well, it was where his work was. Years and years of bloodless work, soon to be bloodied. Well, he could save something - couldn’t he?

He finds a Gospel of St John, and he can save that. It’s his. He wrote it. He crosses his arms over it and hides in the safest room he knows, the treasure room.

In retrospect, he should have realized that that was far from the safest room. These were his people, after all. He just hadn’t seen them in centuries.

When he heard them coming, he stuck his fist in his mouth to stop any noise. When it came, it was not the noise he was expecting: he was crying. He was crying to hear the language of his birth. He was crying to hear words that felt right on his tongue. His fist kept him from repeating the words they spoke.

“Is there some magic which protects them?”

“It appears not.”

“Perhaps they think their god protects them.”

Baldr was no longer crying. He was stifling a choked laugh. Their god, yes; who hid under a table and wished his brothers’ children would go away.

“This is their god,” said one of the invaders, “and he’s dead.”

Baldr missed the next sentence in a convulsion of hysterical laughter. Oh yes, the god who died and rose again, alive in the chapel, cowering behind the altar and listening passively to the men who murdered his people.

“He cannot protect them. He is not alive, like Odin, Thor, or Frey.”

And Baldr was not laughing anymore. He couldn’t protect anyone, certainly, but hearing those names, hearing them spoken aloud for the first time in decades - Oh, my Father, he thought. Oh, my holy mother.

They were the ones laughing then, and Baldr was not sure whether he was laughing with them or crying; he was grateful when the noise gave him away, and someone dragged him forward, and he could lose that horrible turmoil of emotion in a maelstrom of fear worse than any storm Thor could summon.

When all else is forgotten, language remains in the brain. Baldr spoke the words of fear: “Don’t kill me.”

The man who held him, who threw him - his face is familiar. His voice, more so. When he bends close to Baldr, his eyes hold him more closely than the knife at his throat. Oh, Baldr knows those eyes. It is so strange to see Loki’s expression in Thor’s eyes.

It is so easy to lie, remembering the lies Loki has told him. Remembering Loki telling him that the best lies are those set in truth; so perhaps he tells no lies when he says, “I have traveled. We are told to travel, to take the word of god.”

Baldr has taken the word of god everywhere he has gone, and everything he’s done has been a god’s will, but he has never traveled for the Christians. He lets his fear tell the rest. “Please,” he says, as his eyes flicker to the side to see if these other men are also his brother’s get. “Don’t kill me.”

The man who is not his brother does not kill him. He stands up, and takes the knife away. It is his father’s voice that says, “What is that you have in your hand?”

Baldr had forgotten it. He has to look down to remind himself. To remind himself to explain what it is before he ever explains its contents. “A book,” he says, and wonders if he needs to explain, if he ought to explain, if he will be allowed to explain the Christian runes, not carved but painted, not on stone but paper, what is paper, where does paper come from, but all that is the hysterics. Thor is laughing at him on the training field, Hod is laughing at him, Baldr is going mad with the way this man’s eyes make him think of his brother.

“The Gospel of St John,” he says, anchoring himself in the present. “I wanted to save it.”

He watches this viking’s face as he takes the book, shakes it. Is there anything else of Baldr’s family in it? He hadn’t known he was so hungry for them - is that Odin’s beard? Are those Hod’s hands? Can he even remember?

It is Odin’s words he recognizes when he hears, “Of all the treasures I see in this place, you chose to save this. Why?”

Because I wrote it, he almost says. So full of pride, he corrects himself. Humility is the virtue to be sought.

Thor, boasting in the mead hall, the best of them and knowing it, not trying to hide -

Thor, pinning him to a wall whenever they quarreled as children, does this man know what he is doing to Baldr?

“Why?” he demands, and Baldr is hysterical.

“Because without the word of god,” says the god of light, “there is only darkness.”

He knows those eyes. He knows the levelness of that voice.

This is Frigg’s child.

[sonofazania]

SBWL (Sabaweli): To Tell You About My Campus

The end is gravely interesting. I begin from the end.

Excuse my ignorance but I hate the person who came with a methodology that students be tested on Tests and Exams so as to check if they are fit to proceed to the next level of their studies, Tautona who speaks Sepedi, Sesotho and Setswana fluently in a predominately Nguni area, cursing and moaning chatting to his girlfriend.

Epistemology. You see, you are now being a typical politician on campus. What is wrong with you? Why always use these big words mnganiwam? Daluxolo reprimanding his friend from Sekhukhuniland in Limpopo. Rumor says, that Tautona, is a product of parents who are witchdoctors since he is from Limpopo. Daluxolo always misrepresents Limpopo for ‘Limpompo’ yet he is the first to label Tautona a lekwerekwere because he speaks broken isiXhosa.

Often when they attend ceremonies, funerals and orphanages in Mthatha, Centane, Tsolo, Ntambankulu, Msombomvu, when Tautona is invited as a speaker, this idiotic moron from Bizana infamously known, as Daluxolo feel utterly embarrassed. For his friend sounds like as if he is lekwerekwere.

‘Epistemology, simply means,’ he would first clear his throat as if something is about to choke him: ‘ehhhh, that it is philosophy of knowledge.’ By know we should know everything that exists has a philosophy, even football does. Besides who said a word is a big word, if you don’t knoqw the meaning?

Daluxolo would raise an argument as if he is in a mass meeting, ‘don’t patronize me, you are a fanatic of bombastic words!’

‘Come on, if you don’t know a meaning of a word look it up in a dictionary, there is no such a thing as a big word,’ Tautona adds: ‘no matter the size of the word, for as long as you don’t know its meaning, then it is precisely a big word.’

This conversation between the two would go on and on to an extent where they would just attract a crowd playing pool in the tuckshop with curiosity. Rebuttals from Tautona who is an Africanist rejecting a fallacious usage of the word ‘lekwerekwere’ in a context that many Afrikan brothers and sisters were killed since ‘lekwerekwere’ is associated with a foreigner who is in South Afrika coming from Afrika. Europeans are arrogant, look how they have successfully divided and conquered us. In absentia we are killing each other defending their notorious colonial borders which are a consequence of their Berlin Conference of 1884. How dare we see a foreigner coming from the same motherland soil as all of us?

The end of everything that transpired on campus is remarkable and fascinating. For the first since 2016 Daluxolo has managed to get a minimum of 40% for all his modules thus he has DP and qualifies to exams for all his modules. For those who didn’t know what is DP it represents that you have ‘duly performed’ to write an Exam.

Their campus is very small with about 6708 registered students in 2019. It has exactly three Faculties: Engineering, Education and Business Management. Daluxolo is doing a BTech in Human Resources (HR). Tautona is totally disturbed to learn that for BTech there is a module called Research Methodology: whereby one is ridiculously expected to define what is research, its purpose after you have practically done the actually research. Decolonising a historically and presently ‘black university’ is doing away with such backwardness because it undermines the intellectual capacity of an Afrikan student.

Tautona, is residing on-campus at Block N. It is haunted by evil spirits, from Nigeria, the fellows from the room neighboring his once alleged. How those came remains a deeply miraculous untold narrative. Remarkably his residence has it all. From unashamedly and fully devoted bazalwane Christians, who are not afraid to daily worship the Father, the Son and Holy Spirit trice in a day. To those who consume liquor almost as if they want to commit suicide digging their graves thus beating God’s time when He will decide for them to die. Finally severally folks who are ‘politicians’ from commonly known major political student organizations on campus.

Quite depressing is that this block N is waterless. Other blocks on-campus do have water yet this block N seems to always run out of water. The result of this is disastrous: the students and Aunty who works there suffers. For students, is when they want to shower, to cook and take a shit. For Aunty who cleans is often confronted by toilets where people took a shit without flushing. Or on Mondays when she cleans and there is just no water. Thanks God for our wonderful sweety-pie all in the name of green tank outside who is our savior as far a water is concerned.

Daluxolo has a five-60 at block A. He is terrified by black cats often he does question how the SRC and University managers are planning on removing that black cat at the bathroom of that residence. Frankly it was one Azania Azania who traumatized Daluxolo that the black cat has now little kittens when she recently posted on Facebook. She dropped it hilariously, little she knew, she out rightly nearly drove Daluxolo to comma. Since he is from Bizana he is forced to ‘man-up’ because we live in an aggressive patriarchal society. And certainly he does not want to seem effeminate for fearing cats.

‘I will draw the computer, mouse, case, keyword,’ continued an Indian lecturer: ‘I want to demonstrate something, I am sorry you are studying Information Technology (IT) without any computers.’ This drives Tautona furiously insane. He does not even have a laptop for that matter. Even if he did, it would have been ineffective for the lecturer would not give special treatment to him. Relatively students here come from poor background and there enemy is the class struggle. He was informed that computers were last bought in 2010 and were never replace. Moreover, as a result, over the years’ students have decided to be thugs and steal mouse’s, cables, keyboards and the like.

The beginning. Eish, my younger sister is here for walkings-in. I pleaded with her to apply last year and she only applied for NSFAS. Now I have no option but make sure she is part of this multitudes who want to enter in the system. But it seems like Mafoko took valuable lessons from the Head of ICT Mr Selwane. They are here to shot. I see us being wounded by bullets today. Yeah neh! Damn being an Afrikan student you always get shot at, even for demanding a right to access education?

‘Registration is a mess today Daluxolo,’ asserted Tautona.

‘Well I feel like the campus shutdown is inevitable,’ he responded.

‘No, no, no, they must wait. I am targeting EMS for my younger sister.’

‘Oh yes, I heard students are being admitted there, quickly rush’.

On campus there is not even water, there is a threat that Student Affairs is threatening to prohibit special cases to allow students without paying a cent. The SRC or Interim SRC must never mislead students. The political power here on campus rests with political formations, not SRC or certainly individuals in SRC. Daluxolo, ‘if they don’t unite for the betterment of an Afrikan child then they will become victims of University managers’. Mnganiwam, ‘I heard that the reason SRC Elections did not take place last year is because one person stopped them!’ Tautona jiggled.

‘Don’t be a fool, or are you ignorant?’

‘Well……….’

Daluxolo interjects: ‘We have no messiah here in our campus.’ Annoyingly he continues: ‘SRC Elections did not happen because the new imposed SRC Constitution was rejected and Student Affairs could not find a company to run elections in Butterworth after IEC chickened out on them’.

‘But you are making sense, how could elections be stopped by one person?’

The leadership of the Interim SRC is then calling a mass meeting. Wow. My younger sister is taken at EMS for Education. Let me ring mama. ‘Hello mama, it is very tough, I got her inside but they want R300 immediately’. Yes, I got old-lady today. She is stingy like an HOD of IT who failed dismally to give students a braai in Durban for their Academic Tour though it was part of the trip, now I will pocket R800 remember R500 is my personal allowance she promised me. In addition, I am ready to discuss at the mass meeting today and eventually argue we need mass action. I really do not have registration fee and I do not qualify for NSFAS because of N+2.

For Daluxolo and Tautona are an epitome of violence from a society whereby egalitarianism exists on paper in the Constitution of the Republic of South Africa not pragmatically. In their campus they spend their academic life in protest demanding basic things like water and lecturers which are compulsory for teaching and learning. More time spend in the national road N2 then being in class. Moreover, protesting for meal allowances because hunger is their biggest enemy.

Now Engineering is threatened to be taken away from campus. Education tried its tricks with PGCE, but apparently, the matter is resolved. However, now that ABET is replaced by Foundation Phase, why BEd for Technical and EMS is not uploaded online for next year on applications? ‘Remember also in Accounting we won’t have BTech for Auditing and CMA since they are now replaced by Advance Diploma,’ concludes Daluxolo almost as if he is a god of thinking.

Allowing a government that is ideologically bankrupted to bring about meaningful progress in academia is a hopeless dream.

It is Friday night. The music from Chesa is too loud. Daluxolo and Tautona are funded today by NSFAS ingenile imali ya bafundi. They have all bought groceries now it is time for socialization with the youth, the energetic and vibrant people. Mingling is fundamentally fundamental.

‘I feel intoxicated now…can we go?’

Daluxolo tipsy retorting: ‘let us walk with other students.’

‘Why is that so mnganiwam? I am not afraid of amapharaphara!’

Just last week they took a phone, bank cards and a pair takkies from this other boy from block J. He was pretty much brutalized and couldn’t stop cursing.

‘You are drunk wena Tautona, I ain’t risking anything,’ an anxious Daluxolo.

‘Okey…oke, I will go dance with that girl akere you are a shumane yourself Daluxolo.’

The residence disky gusha tournament is continuing. We are also have seen people who can easily make it to PSL and salvage the sinking ship of the Happy People, Orlando Pirates, but unfortunately they are disadvantaged by where they are based. These players are just marvelous to watch for playing this beautiful game so exceptionally.

‘We won a gusha,’ excitedly remarks Tautona, almost as if he was a player.

Finally he is done with Exams but going to Limpopo it is too soon. He is planning to go to Bizana with Daluxolo in end of November. He knows very well that there is an injury of Wi-Fi in the rural shanty village of Limpopo and more home chores since he is the only man in the family after his father disappeared in the big city of lights. Stalling perhaps is a necessity.

Both Tautona and Daluxolo are tested in their trials and tribulations and will not rest until they are proud graduates of their campus. It has significantly mold and shaped their thinking. Success is a must and the only way out. It does not matter how long it takes them, nobody knows their story but quitting is not an option.

[williammarshal-blog]

Reshop

Post 3x07. Clarke & co are determined Lexa doesn't pull any of her stitches out. They figure out a compromise.

"...Shot...it's not fatal..."

"...Where did he even get that gun?"

"...Is the Commander okay, Wanheda...?"

Lexa's eyes flickered as she dozed in and out of sleep. The only thing keeping her awake was the sharp jabbing pain in her abdomen. Over the next few days it had dulled until it was nothing more than an irritating ache. It also meant that Nyko's milky potion of pain relief knocked her out within minutes, which wasn't ideal when she wanted to signal for more water for her parched mouth. It wasn't ideal when it was just her and Clarke in the room, and Clarke was hovering over her, and all Lexa wanted to do was will her arm up to yank her down by the neck and kiss her.

She'd survived. Somehow, somehow the gods, the spirits of the Commanders—by some magic or Skaikru technology—she'd survived.

She saw flashes of a terrified Clarke, her hands covered in black blood. She could see Aden barging into the room with supplies day in and day out, his hair growing far too long. She didn't have the energy to tell the boy to cut his damn hair.

The pain potion was too much. It dulled her senses to a point where she could barely count to ten. And it was on a warm day where the sun streamed through the windows, and Clarke took a particularly long time to fetch the potion by the windowsill, that Lexa grabbed her chance.

"Wait," she croaked out, her eyes squinting at the sunlight. Clarke stilled. "Wait."

"Lexa?" She spoke her name as if she would never say it again, and swivelled slowly, as if to make sure it really was Lexa speaking. Even if there was nobody else in the room. "Shit. Are you okay? Do you want more of—"

"Not the pain potion," she forced out, wincing as her stomach pierced in response. "I can't think, Clarke. I can't do anything. If you'll let me live, don't immobilise me."

"I'm doing the best I can. We're doing the best we can," Clarke said adamantly. "This'll help."

"Compromise," Lexa said simply. "I would rather suffer a bit of pain and get to look at you than sleep all the time, painless."

"That's ridiculous—"

"Yes? I think my tolerance is quite high, considering I got shot by a Skaikru weapon by my own mentor."

Silence fell between them, and with a heavy sigh, Clarke set the potion aside. It took a lot of coercing and a bit of charm—a lot of it—for Clarke to relent and hide the potion in one of the drawers. She supposed Lexa had a point. There was not much good in having a vegetable of a Commander when she was going to recover anyway. So long as she didn't strain herself too much and throw herself into physicality straight away, there was no reason to keep her mollified for so long.

"Aden's been worried about you," Clarke said quietly as she dabbed at Lexa's sweating forehead with a cold, wet cloth. She leant over, setting the cloth aside and cupping Lexa's face. "We all have."

"How is he?" Lexa asked for him as if he were her own child. Considering the nature of his parenthood, and how they had only recently been killed in an Ice Nation raid—he was of the Water clan—she supposed she had earned that title. Or maybe she just wanted it. "Is he under Titus' tutelage?"

"Somewhat. He confided in me."

"Oh?"

"He told me that someone—" Clarke shot her a meaningful stare, "Advised him to take Indra's counsel."

"Don't look at me like that," Lexa teased, a little weakly, because if she laughed, it did hurt like a bitch. "Did you expect me to tell him to go seek tutelage from the person who shot me? Aden would've tried to kill him, the reckless juvenile he can be sometimes."

"He almost did," Clarke admitted, and Lexa startled, only for Clarke to wave it away. "A story for later."

"Okay. Trade me that story for your body against mine?"

It came out a lot smoother than intended, judging by Clarke's eye-roll. Still, she relented—she did a lot for Lexa these days—and Lexa scooted over carefully, ignoring Clarke's insistence on not to rip out the stitches. Eventually, after a lot of sweat, shouting and cursing, the pair managed to fit onto the double sized bed. And then it just came naturally. They had always been two missing pieces of a jigsaw, and they slotted together smoothly.

It struck Lexa then, that they hadn't really spoken for what felt like weeks. She didn't want to ask how long she'd been out for—she didn't want to steer the conversation towards that direction today. Not while she could function and speak like a normal person, for the time being.

Lexa took the opportunity to rest her head against Clarke's chest. Usually, she was the bigger spoon. The reliant one. And she never got to revel in how good it felt to just be embraced; to let that responsibility sit on someone else. To let everything in her head, in her heart, just rest on Clarke—just in that moment.

"There's a lot I didn't tell you," Lexa mused, pressing a soft kiss to Clarke's collarbone. Clarke hummed in response, quietly content in just holding Lexa. "When we kissed...when we were about to say goodbye..."

Clarke dipped her head to look at her, her lips quirked in a smile. "Three words?"

Lexa felt her words get stuck in her throat. "Hm?"

"I was about to tell you the same thing."

"You know, in Trigedasleng, it's four."

"Ai hod yu in," Clarke told her, and Lexa grinned at her clunky use of the language, pleased nonetheless. Clarke could feel the amusement resonating from her, and held her carefully as she laughed, by the stomach, so she couldn't rip any of her stitches out. Lexa had long been healing, but she was still tender to touch, and winced when Clarke let go. "You're made of words, Lexa. But sometimes you can just look at me and I'll know. Aden says your eyes are green like the forest because that's what made you. I think your eyes are just..." Clarke fiddled around for a word. "You."

"Then—" Lexa cleared her throat, feeling her eyes droop in contentment. "I—love—you."

Clarke laughed, and dipped her head again, this time, to press a proper kiss against Lexa's lips. Lexa angled her head to deepen it, only to hiss in pain from her stomach wound. It would take a long time to recover, and though Lexa stubbornly ignored it, her hands roaming over Clarke's hips, Clarke stilled her movements. It would be no good kissing Lexa if she'd injure herself in the process. Lexa closed her eyes and allowed it, feeling a familiar ache between her legs. It never seemed to go away whenever she thought of Clarke like that; it was like once she'd bitten the apple, she needed to eat the rest of it. And the way Clarke held her, her hands occasionally stroking up and down the side of Lexa's body, Lexa knew she felt the same.

Aden visited on the third day without Nyko's potion, his hair neatly combed to one side. In one hand he held the Commander's red sash, and in the other, he—rather awkwardly—presented a bouquet of flowers. Lexa could've laughed at the sight of him, if she had the energy, but she smiled warmly instead and he strode in, bowing deeply before the foot of the bed.

"Heda," he said, almost breathlessly. His cheeks were pink, as if he'd sprinted up the staircase. "I, uh, cut my hair. Clarke kom Skaikru told me my hair looked messy, and I wanted to be presentable. This—" He carried the bouquet in his hand, looking for some excuse to babble, "Is—well—one of the kitchen girls, her friend, well, she's a florist, or something, and she said these flowers—I can't remember the name—they're for good health, and good lock, and—"

"They're lovely, Aden," Lexa settled him, and his shoulders deflated, the tension instantly gone. "How have you been?"

"Sleepless," he rambled, setting the flowers to one side. He self-consciously patted his hair down. There was one particular strand that just wouldn't sit down properly. "There is a lot of paperwork in being a Commander."

"A lot of honeyed wine, too," Lexa added, and Aden grinned a little guiltily. Already she could feel herself easing back into the regularity of life. They didn't talk of the elephant in the room: Titus. Lexa decided she'd deal with him later—and personally. Aden didn't need to get involved in this. "So. Tell me about your glorious tenure as Commander. Clarke tells me you've been doing exceptionally well."

"For a replacement," Aden added, cocking his head to the side as if to be sure. Lexa nodded at him to go on, and he pulled up a chair by her bedside, wringing his hands together. "It's difficult, Heda. The clan leaders want this, and another clan leader wants that, and meanwhile, there's a dispute in a village over some bread and meat, and..." He trailed off, contemplative. "It's stressful, Heda. I barely get time to spar in the pits anymore, and I fear I am incompetent as a fighter, too. It feels like everything is taking a part of me, and I do not have the time to regain—anything."

"You're overwhelmed," Lexa assessed him, briefly.

"Yes. And—and please tell me if I should stop talking," Aden said. "It's just—there are so many things I wish to say to you, Heda, and—"

"Don't stop," Lexa told him. "I find you soothing, Aden. Your mind has always been one I've been fond of. Say whatever you want to. I..." She shook her head. "Sometimes I speak too much and it is too much exertion. So tell me stories, Aden. And look at you," she added, somewhat proudly. "Look at how you've grown."

"I have?"

"You won't notice. But your shoulders are broader; you sit tighter; you are more confident, not in me but in yourself. And that's important."

"I remember. You told me once." Aden smiled brightly at her, pleased with her assessment. He was never one to be cocky; he was a good egg. There had never been anything too much with him. He was not the most well-read of the class, nor was he the best fighter, the speediest, or the most agile. He was average—but Lexa found he had the biggest heart of them all. And perhaps that was why he'd won her over so quickly. He was not naturally intelligent, but he was eager to learn. He was not an excellent fighter, but he would spar in the pits whether it was raining, or too hot, or too cold. He was the first there and the last there. The tenacity of his spirit would be rewarded—Lexa was sure she'd see to it.

"Go on then," Lexa teased him. "Who cut your hair? It looks good."

"Bessie," he said, and the tips of his ears burned. "She said I looked handsome with a neater, shorter cut."

"She's right. So...Bessie?"

"She's two years older than me, Heda," Aden said quickly. "And Madden said that she had kissed him twice behind the art-house. He teased me about it, actually," he added, a little crestfallen. "He's three years older than me. So I think she must prefer older men."

"Madden is not a man. He's a boy."

"So am I!"

"There you go."

They spoke idly of crushes and food and haircuts and fights—there was one story Aden was so reluctant to tell that Lexa practically had to pull it out of him—and it made her near-cackle at the childishness of it. But it made her grateful too. Aden still had the glimmer of youth and optimism in his bright eyes; he was mature and he'd have made decisions in her wake that she wouldn't dream of putting on his shoulders. Yet despite all of that, he'd decided to pick a fight with Indra in the sparring pits just to impress pretty Bessie. He'd been beaten roughly ten to twelve times before Indra had muttered into the ear she hadn't bashed that maybe it was enough. But he'd kept going for more, and by the time Indra was finished with him, he was bleeding from nearly every orifice.

Sadly, it hadn't worked.

By the time Aden left, with an ample basket of cheeses, bread, fruit and some of the best snacks from the Polisian stalls in the Square, Lexa found herself grinning.

Boys.

"You," Clarke was disgruntled, and Lexa tried to placate her by rubbing her arm. Clarke shrugged her off. "You are one piece of work. I told you: gentle exercise! That does not mean sparring with Indra!"

"It was gentle sparring," Lexa defended herself meekly, as Clarke redid her stitches. It hadn't been a big thing, and not all of the stitches had been ripped open. They'd mostly healed, to be honest—and it wasn't only until Indra had noticed speckles of blood on her tunic that they'd stopped the session. They'd only been lightly sparring, finding Lexa's feet on the ground again.

It had felt good, to breathe fresh air, to see Indra's face light up in relief, to feel the mud squelch beneath her boots. It felt good to just be doing something.

Clarke's fingers traced over the stitches, and covered it with a bandage and surgical tape she'd attained from her medical bag of wonders. "Doctor's orders," she reprimanded, mock-seriously. "You're not allowed to spar with Indra for a week."

"A week?!"

"Five days," Clarke bargained, knowing she'd won when she pressed a lingering kiss to Lexa's lips. Lexa closed her eyes, relishing the way she tasted. She tasted of earth, and laughter, and life.

"I thought you said a week," Lexa murmured against her lips, kissing her again, briefly.

"Two days for bedrest," Clarke said. She pampered Lexa's pillows, and gently pushed her down. Lexa was ready for the milky potion until Clarke clambered on top, both legs straddling her sides, and her eyes widened. "With me."

"Are you sure?" Lexa asked, for once, thinking about the stitches.

"Are you?"

Lexa didn't need telling twice. With one arm supporting herself as she leant up, she kissed Clarke fully on the mouth, cherishing how she tasted. Every fibre of her body told her to slow down, but she hadn't kissed Clarke in so long. Hungrily, she deepened the kiss, coaxing Clarke's mouth open with a low moan as her tongue delved inside. Clarke's hands fisted into her hair as Lexa's teeth nipped on her bottom lip, drawing out another moan from Clarke as she supported herself up with her arm.

"Lie down," Clarke whispered.

"Clarke..."

"Lie. Down."

Lexa sank against her pillows, her eyes blown wide open by Clarke sitting on her. She could see where Clarke's line of vision drew to—the red sash Aden had returned earlier. With a cheeky grin, she took it from the headboard and played around with it, raising her eyebrow at Lexa. "Do you trust me?"

"I've missed you," Lexa pled, her hand reaching out to palm Clarke's breast. Clarke closed her eyes. Lexa was a heady, intoxicating mixture of pleasure and irresistibility. "I've missed..."

"I know what you've missed," Clarke said lowly. "You haven't given me a chance to tell you what I've missed."

"Okay." Lexa eyed the sash. "What have you missed?"

"This."

Clarke made quick work of tying Lexa's hands against the rails of the headboard, smirking at her half-hearted struggles. A ping in her heart told her she was doing it just so Lexa didn't exert herself too much. The overpowering part of her heart told her she just wanted to capture every essence of Lexa's body, every curve, every crook, with her lips. Just like Lexa had. Lexa had worshipped her like a Goddess, her lips kissing and sucking of reverence. And tonight, Clarke would do the same.

She bent down to kiss her again, hard. Their teeth clashed as Lexa startled, quickly settling into the rhythm of the kiss. It was desperate, almost brutal as Clarke bit down hard on Lexa's lip, feeling Lexa's groan all the way down to the ache between her legs.

"You," Clarke panted against Lexa's lips, "are a piece of work."

"You are a piece of art," Lexa whispered back.

Clarke smothered her smile with another kiss, rapidly moving down the side of her neck, biting and sucking her way down to her collarbones. With a pair of medical scissors on the desk, she cut apart Lexa's tunic despite her protests and tossed it to one side, taking a moment to stare at her. She was scarred and bruised—but she was so, so beautiful. She was, from Clarke's point of view, flawless. Every scar was a raised mark of beauty, and just as Lexa loved to relish Clarke's breasts, Clarke did the same, her lips enclosing around a nipple as her fingernails raked up the sides of Lexa's body.

Lexa arched up from the bed, craving more contact as Clarke sucked on her nipple, and licking in a swirling circle as her eyes danced back up to meet Lexa's. It was almost ravenous, the way Lexa looked at her, her eyes hooded and dark in desire. She imagined it was somewhat of a mirror. Clarke grinned rakishly at her as she nibbled, eliciting another one of those moans she'd longed to hear. One of those moans she'd imagined in the back of her mind as she slid a hand under her pants, the nights Lexa were unconscious, and she'd just wanted to—

"Jok..." Lexa was breathless as Clarke licked a trail down her navel, her fingernails digging into skin. Lexa loved it when she did that; she loved the brief burn of pain and the erotic sensation of pleasure afterwards. She loved watching Clarke's messy blonde hair move downwards as she spread Lexa's legs, feeling the sticky wetness, for her, all for her, even as they'd rushed this like two eager bitches in heat.

Lexa rocked against her as Clarke nipped at the inside of her thigh, careful to hold her in position in case she injured herself. Steadying Lexa with both hands, she slowly licked Lexa's clit with the flat of her tongue, enjoying the long and almost torturous moan Lexa let out. It was near torture for Clarke, seeing Lexa wanting to writhe and feeling it in her hands and trying to stop it for fear of ripping her stitches out. But Clarke's desire felt like an unrelenting storm, and she kissed her clit and then sucked hard on it, groaning as Lexa cried out, bucking her hips uncontrollably. Clarke gripped tightly onto Lexa's side as one hand failed to resist and she coaxed a finger inside, feeling Lexa clench for her.

It felt like it had been so long since they'd been rolling around in bed, enjoying each other, feasting on each other without a worry in the world. It felt like forever since Clarke had last traced Lexa's tattoos, and the peaceful kiss they'd shared upon wakening. Everything since had been a horror story, but Clarke was determined to fuck Lexa so hard that she'd forget everything.

She slid another finger in, pumping fast and hard as Lexa bucked into her face, her mouth still in a determined 'O' shape as she sucked on her clit. It was overwhelming for Lexa as she shuddered, feeling every muscle in her body spasm at the mere sight of Clarke staring hungrily up at her as her mouth gorged on her cunt, animalistic and desperate. It was a mix of sharp jabs of pain in her abdomen and an immense tidal wave of pleasure as Clarke curled her fingers inside her. Lexa tossed her head backwards, exposing her neck, and she could feel Clarke clamber up her body again, her fingers still sliding in and out of her.

"Come for me," Clarke whispered in Lexa's ear, her mouth still sticky with Lexa's juices. She kissed a wet trail down the side of her neck and then Lexa yanked her by the head, pulling her up so her mouth was hot and heavy against her ear. Lexa nipped at her earlobe and then she was coming, hard and fast, cursing heavily as she bucked against Clarke's hand. It had been quick and hard and fast—and Clarke could feel the heat pool in the bottom of her belly as Lexa came loudly in her ear, panting and panting and panting—

"Fuck," Clarke groaned, the ache between her legs growing even more as she watched Lexa's head loll back in pleasure. She could already feel Lexa's hand straining down Clarke's body, but she stilled it, near-torturing herself.

"Takes as long as it takes," Clarke told her matter-of-factly, knowing that an orgasm wasn't (quite) worth Lexa pulling out her stitches again. Breathlessly, Lexa laughed at the reference and sank back against the pillows, making room for Clarke's naked, sweaty body pressed against hers.

"Will you replace my tunic?" Lexa murmured, pulling up the covers so they could huddle in each other's warmth.

"Don't see the need," Clarke replied cheekily, snuggling into her. Her hands roamed Lexa's enticing skin, and if she could get drunk off sheer desire, she was far gone. Lexa smiled lazily, pressing a soft kiss to Clarke's lips, then to the tip of her nose, and then to both her eyelids.

"Reshop, Clarke," Lexa murmured dozily, her hand raking through Clarke's hair.

Clarke's eyes fluttered shut at the soothing sensation, nestling her head against the crook below Lexa's chin. "Reshop, Heda."

[stillebesat]

In These Tangled Webs (8/11)

Sanders Sides: Patton, Logan, Roman, Virgil Blurb: It should be easy admitting to your roommates that you’re not entirely human. Only in Logan’s case it’s not. Not when he discovers that Patton is afraid of Spiders. Fic Type: Hurt/Comfort Overall Warnings: Spiders, Arachnophobia, Death Talk, Minor Character Deaths, Slightly Detailed Descriptions of Deaths, Murders, Injuries, Swords, Imprisonment, Biting, Fangs, Venom, Extra Body Parts, Blood, Manipulation, Negative Self Talk

To Catch Up: Chapter 1  Chapter 2  Chapter 3  Chapter 4  Chapter 5  Chapter 6  Chapter 7 

Breathe.

Don’t scream. Don’t run. It’s okay. It’s okay.

Breathe. 

Patton shakily inhaled, squeezing his eyes shut to block out how bright blue the remaining spider webs around them were glowing. 

It Glows! Tell all Spihers Go WAY!

Glowing just like the pendant clutched so tightly in his fist that Patton wouldn’t be surprised if he bent it out of shape as gentle fingers fluttered over his clothes, pulling and tugging. 

Wrapping you up. Look. Fast food delivered right to your doorstep.

No! Patton fought to keep silent, to not scare Logan as he worked to free him from the sticky webs covering his entire body.

Webs that would draw attention if he were to leave the shed still covered in them even if they weren’t glowing like the rest of the space inside the shed was.

It would still be attention Logan didn’t need be--because he--he was---

Blood stained lips spread in a smile. “You can’t hide from me forever child. I am the shadows! You can’t escape a Human Widow!” 

“All mine?” Little Logan queried, tilting his head. “Eat all mine?” 

The woman softly laughed, nodding. “I picked him out specially for you, my spiderling.” 

The boy licked his lips, fangs glimmering as he leaned into the woman’s side. “All mine?” He repeated, small fingers touching Patton’s shoulder.

NO! He shuddered, unable to stop a whimper from escaping his lips. 

The tugging on his clothes paused. “Pat?”

Breathe.

Don’t. Scare. Logan!

He. Needs. You. To. Not. Be. Scared!

Patton forced his eyes open a crack, meeting Lo’s concerned eyes, now back to their amber color since he’d put the glasses back on, and offered a smile far more shaky than he would have liked. “I’m--” 

Not. Scared. Not. Scared.

He jumped, squeaking as clattering sounded from the back of the shed resulted in a bright flare of blue among the remaining webs, followed by muffled curses from Virgil as he and Ro tried to track down his phone lost somewhere within the dark spider filled depths. 

Oh Crofters! How many spiders had they just disturbed? What if Aragog suddenly charged from the darkness with his spider children all in tow to chase them and web them and eat them and!!!!!

Keep you safe. Pwomise. 

Logan glanced behind him as he edged closer to Patton, placing a protective but trembling hand on his shoulder. “It’s okay, Pat.” He said, returning his attention to pulling more of the sticky white threads off of him.

BUT THE WEBS AROUND THEM WERE GLOWING!!

Pwotect you.

Patton jerked his head in a nod. “Mmm.” He managed, squeezing his eyes shut again, trying to remain still under his touch. 

He’d told Logan to trust him. He needed to trust Lo too. Trust that it was okay. They were safe. He was okay. Safe. Safe. Safe.

Breathe.

Come on. Be Brave. You CAN’T be scared of Spiders. Not any more. You have to show Logan you’re not scared! Be brave! 

But how could he be brave when the creepy crawly death dealers were everywhere! A whole tidal wave of them had fallen from the ceiling! They’d fallen onto him! It was--

“You’ll be out of here soon.” Logan reassured as the tugging on his clothes and feather-light touches trailing over his skin freed him from the tangled threads coating him like a gossamer sweater. 

Not soon enough. 

“I have you almost free and---and the spiders---” Logan cut off as Patton flinched again.

He didn’t want to see spiders. Didn’t want to think of the creatures---but how could he not! He had to be okay with it. Logan was a Human Widow. He was part Spider. He probably had Spi---spider--friends in his room and--- 

“Spiders don’t like Widows.” Logan whispered. 

Patton’s eyes shot open as his heart skipped a beat. What? He looked up, eyes wide. “They--they don’t?” 

Lo nodded, struggling to keep eye contact as he tossed a large wad of webbing over his shoulder before crossing his arms, partially covering the widow mark on his chest. “You’re safe. They won’t come near while I’m with you.” 

“Wait.” Virgil said, the tattered webs around him glowing brighter as he emerged from the narrow passageway, a bundle of cloth in his arms. “Spiders don’t go near you?”

“How can that be true though!” Roman demanded following right behind. “I mean--” He gestured widely, his hands tearing through a few more of the glowing webs. “This place is like Spider Army Central and you their Spider King.” 

Lo tensed, eyes flicking to the rafters and then to the exit. “They know when danger is in their midst. Even spiders have a--” He grimaced, shoulders hunching. “Sense of self preservation. They won’t come near me. Not willingly.”

But there was an apocalypse worth of the creepy crawlies in this place! Patton had seen them. A writhing black mass of doom descending from above. And it had taken most of--no--all of his will power to stay in here with Lo after he’d saved him and not run screaming into the night. 

He had to prove he wasn’t scared. Had to show Logan that he wouldn’t run. That his fear wasn’t going to keep him from being there even though he knew that those dark creatures infesting the shed were hiding nearby, just waiting for the perfect moment to strik--

Patton squeezed his pendant, letting out a slow breath.

Spiders don’t like Widows. 

Pwotect you.

Everything was fine. He was fine. Logan wouldn’t let the little demons hurt him. 

Keep you safe.  

Logan would protect him, Patton knew that. 

It was just really super hard to believe it when he could feel a billion hungry eyes gazing down on him from above and--he grabbed onto Lo’s arm. “Can---can we---leave now?” He managed to squeak out. They had to be okay to leave. Lo had stopped pulling webs off of him, they had to be---

Breathe. 

Roman shoved his hands into his pockets, pulling out two phones. “Didn’t expect to find both of them, but yah. I got your phones.” He said at the same time that Virgil held out the bundle to Logan. 

“And your jacket, L.” He said. 

Logan hesitated, half turning away from the exit to face the back of the shed where he’d been hidden. “Were…there alot of people out there?” He asked finally. 

“No!” Patton quickly denied. He couldn’t seriously be considering staying in this awful place! Could he? 

Roman and Virgil shared a look. “I mean---” Virgil shrugged. “There’s not as many people as there could be, but it’s a college campus, L. There’s always someone about.”

Oh. Patton licked his lips. But he hadn’t seen anyone one---well he hadn’t really been looking, focused instead on Lo, but surely in this rainy weather--

“No one followed you?” Logan asked, reaching out to grab the jacket. 

Roman gasped, placing a hand over his heart. “Us?! Draw attention? We’re theatre majors for a reason, Microsoft Nerd! Discreet is--”

“Not your middle name, Princey, nor mine.” Virgil rolled his eyes, tugging at the strings on his hoodie. “But no. It’s just us over here. No one needs to do gardening this late even if it wasn’t raining.” 

Logan exhaled, nodding. “Right.” He slipped on the jacket, zipping it up so the Hourglass was hidden. “Right.” 

Keep you safe. 

Patton twined his fingers in with Logan’s offering him a tight smile. “We’ll blend right in, Lo.” Now that the we-webs were off him…no one should have reason to notice them. After all Logan looked completely normal again.

Two pitch black eyes.

Gleaming Fangs.

Patton swallowed hard, hoping that Lo couldn’t hear his skyrocketing heart rate. 

“I. No. Eat. You.” Little Logan said forcefully, keeping eye contact, dipping his hands under Patton’s head. “SEE?” 

A gentle tug and he stepped back, a wad of webbing held in his hands. “See. Safe. Hod still.” He advanced again, little fingers easily tearing away the remaining webs, from Patton, freeing him in seconds. “No eat. No die. All safe. K?” 

Patton gaped at him, shakily getting to his feet as the spider child threw the webs into a corner. “Why...why not?” 

Logan wrinkled his nose. “I no mamma. Bad tase you. ALL bad. BLEH.” 

Pwotect You. Promise. 

Lo wouldn’t hurt him. He didn’t like the taste of humans. 

At least...he hoped he still didn’t---No! This was Logan. They were safe with him. He was nothing like his Mother. 

“Blend right in--you guys aren’t wearing shoes.” Roman pointed out.

“And we’ve seen weirder things coming home from play practice, Ro. No one will comment on it so long as we don’t draw attention to ourselves.” Virgil said, ducking outside. He pulled his hood over his head, turning in a slow circle until he faced the shed again. “Coast is clear. Let’s get outta here.” 

Patton didn’t need to be told twice. Squeezing Logan’s hand, he pulled them both outside with Roman following close behind, trying to not break into a dead run to get them as far away from the spider infested shed as possible. 

If he never saw the place again it would be far too soon. 

You can’t escape me. I am the darkness, child! 

Patton fought back a shiver as they splashed through the puddles forming on the grass to get to a path, keeping a tight grip on Lo so he wouldn’t---wouldn’t run. 

Trust me. 

Logan edged closer to Patton, clutching his jacket with white fingers as his eyes darted this way and that.

Patton licked his lips. “It’s okay, Lo.” He whispered. “Trust me.”

Logan hunched his shoulders, giving a terse nod. “I--I’m trying.” He said, the faintest of tremors to his voice. “But I’m not…used to this. People knowing…and not attacking. Try---trying to kill me.” 

Virgil dropped back, brushing Patton’s shoulder with his own. “How--” He cut off as a woman suddenly appeared in the path ahead, briskly walking towards the Wellness Center with a yoga mat over her shoulder. 

Logan tensed, practically glued to Patton’s side as he watched her disappear into the distance. 

“How many people have tried that?” Virge finished, keeping his voice low. 

Logan exhaled, briefly closing his eyes. “More than I care to count.” 

 “I’ll feast on the newcomers. No worries, Logan. Momma will eat too.” She said, two of her hands guiding the boy’s fangs to Patton’s exposed neck as faint voices and stomping sounded overhead. “Hurry now.” She encouraged, withdrawing. “It’s fast food today.”

Patton shivered. He couldn’t imagine it. Imagine their nerd having to fight for his life. Flee so he wouldn’t die at someone else's hand. Logan had always been well. Logan. He’d passed as completely normal until tonight. 

He probably could have kept hiding it if Patton hadn’t--He bit his lip, squeezing Lo’s hand. No wonder he’d reacted how he had when they’d seen his--his fangs, seen the hourglass.

How many times had Lo nearly been killed as a child because of...because of what he was with no questions asked?

He trusts you. 

Patton would have to make sure it stayed that way. That Logan would have a safe place with them. A place where he could be himself and not have to hideaway. Not have to live in fear. 

“People coming from the right.” Roman said softly at the same moment Logan stiffened, squeezing his hand tighter. 

How acute were his senses?

“Just act normal.” Roman said, moving up, taking position next to Logan while Virgil stuck close to Patton, the two of them striking up a conversation similar to the one they’d been having before Lo had come home as more and more people appeared around them, darting this way and that through the pounding rain. 

Keep you safe. Pwomise. 

Patton leaned into Lo. “It’s okay.” He whispered as reassuringly as he could. The hourglass was hidden, but it didn’t stop his friend from shrinking down with the barest of nods, trying to appear as small as possible without drawing attention to himself as a couple of strangers approached.

He bit the inside of his cheek, hand tight on his pendant, barely daring to breathe, watching as the two students under an umbrella quickly walk by them, focused more on each other than their group. 

Patton let out a small sigh as they moved passed, squeezing Logan’s trembling hand. 

He really hadn’t noticed so many people before in his mad dash across campus to find Lo. He’d expected the place to be deserted because of the storm. 

That obviously wasn’t the case. And with every student that appeared, he could feel their nerd getting more and more tense walking more like a feral cat wary of being captured, ready to flee at the first sign of danger. 

For good reason. 

With how fearful Lo had been about being found by Roman and Virgil in the shed; with how he’d reacted to all of them seeing the hourglass on his chest in the first place; with how he kept looking over his shoulder...Patton nearly expected an instant mob to form and attack them with every student that crossed their path.

So far no one had given them a second look.

They had no reason to. Logan looked as human as the rest of them. 

Only their little group knew better.

Spliced.

A Human Widow.

Dangerous. Unreasonable. Anyone who didn’t know Lo would automatically assume the worst of him without even knowing him and---He shuddered.

Blood. Pooling underneath Mr. Wratche’s purpling body, staining everything in its wake. 

Logan needed to get to safety. Before--before something horrible-- 

“Are we close?” He asked, interrupting Roman and Virgil, working to keep his voice steady.

Not. Scared. Show Lo, you’re not scared! 

“Car’s just ahead.” Virgil said, pointing to the shadowy shape of his minivan parked as far away from the lights in the parking lot as possible. 

Patton couldn’t help but smile at the choice, giving a quiet sigh of relief. Their resident cryptid expert really had thought of everything hadn’t he? While he would have preferred the van under a light, this meant that Lo wouldn’t be as visible and that’s what they wanted right now. To keep him under the radar.

Pwotect you. Pwomise. 

Still, it took all of his will power to not break into a run and drag Logan to the safety of those tinted windows where hopefully hopefully Lo could then relax.

Where he could be himself again.

His roommates must have had similar thoughts because they too increased their pace without prompting, quickly crossing the near empty lot. Virgil pulled out his keys when they got within range, the sidedoor to the van sliding open with the press of a button. 

Logan faltered, pulling Patton to an abrupt stop three feet from safety. “Wait.” He said, his voice barely audible over the rain.

The others paused, Roman with one foot in the front passenger side of the van. “For what, Specs?”

Lo grimaced, the tips of his fangs briefly appearing as his hand spasmed in Patton’s. “I--I---” He shuddered, taking a step back. 

Keep you safe.

Patton fought back the brief flutter of panic at seeing those fangs.

Bloodstained lips. A dark smile. 

NO. Logan is NOTHING like his mom. NOTHING.  

“Lo?” Patton moved with him, his other hand slowly reaching up to cup Logan’s cheek, staring into his amber eyes. “It’s okay. You’re going to be okay. You’re safe with us.” 

“I--It’s...It’s just---that this is all too easy.” Logan managed, eyes darting to the others and back to Patton’s. “You should be scared. Running. Not helping me.” 

Virgil scoffed leaning against the sliding door as he fiddled with his keys. “Dude, if we didn’t want to help you, I doubt any of us would have been out here in this nightmare weather.” 

Roman hummed his agreement, brushing at his wet hair. “Truth. I’d be in bed, getting my beauty sleep.”

Virgil rolled his eyes. “How could you sleep Princey after getting webbed to a couch? Twenty bucks you’d have been on the phone to the police as soon as you freed yourself.” 

Roman hunched his shoulders, crossing his arms. “I---I--” He grimaced. “Yes---under other circumstances--BUT I DIDN’T!” He shot Logan a pleading look, spreading his hands. “I mean, Patton ran after you. That’s good enough in my book to trust you, Lomageddon.” 

Truthfully, if it had been anyone but Lo, Patton knew he would have never left the apartment agai--no, he would have been out the door and on the first available flight to somewhere far far far away from here to get away from a Human Widow.

But this was Logan. Not his Evil Mother. Not any other creepy Widow that they’d read about in history. 

And he needed them right now. 

“We’re not a threat, Lo.” Patton said as gently as he could, stroking his cheek with his thumb. “And we know-” He squeezed the pendant in his other hand.  

Keep you safe. Pwomise. 

“I know you aren’t a threat to us.” 

A mixture of conflicting emotions crossed Logan’s face in the faint light as he gripped the jacket tighter. “How though?” He demanded in a hoarse whisper. “You know what I am. You know what a Widow does!” He bared his teeth, fangs bright and glistening. “Just because I-I” He shuddered, looking away, his feet shifting as if to break into a run. “I haven’t followed the norm for my kind, doesn’t mean you guys should be willing to be anywhere near me.” 

Patton deliberately tightened his hold. There would be no more running. “That’s exactly why.” He said firmly. “You’re not evil Logan. You never were and never will be.”

Lo drew a shuddering breath. “You don’t know that.” 

“I do.” He lifted his hand, uncurling his fingers from the pendant so that Logan could clearly see it.  

Logan inhaled sharply, recognition flashing through his eyes. “That’s--” He whispered, raising a shaking finger to the pendant, the webbing within the bent nail turning dark blue at his touch.

Confirmation. 

“You’ve saved my life as a kid, Lo.” Patton said softly, pressing the glowing pendant into Logan’s palm, closing his fingers over it. “How could I ever be afraid of my hero?”

To Be Continued Chapter 9 Taglist: @loverofpizzaandallthingssweet​ @not-so-innocent-bi-sander @redundant-statements-for-400​ @aikogumi​ @depressed-alone​ @lizziepopanime​ @midnightcandy​ @sidewritings​ @nekoabi​ @ironwoman359​ @ilovereadingandilovebreathing​ @ultimate-queen-of-fandoms2​ @theblackhoundsdaughter​ @littlemiracle05​ @virgil-has-a-houseplant​ @caristars​ @seas-space-and-stardust​ @thedannyparable​ @faacethefacts​ @but-jesuschrist-im-never-good​ @fancydelusionluminary​ @generalfandomfabulousness @theincediblesulk​ @i-am-avacado​ @entitydark​ @unikornavenger​ @iris-sanders-athena​ @narniasfinestavengingsociopath​ @queen-of-all-things-snuggly​ @uniquesoulshatter @made-of-bitterness-and-sarcasm @moltengoldenstardust​ @sanders-is-awesome @myownhappilyeverafter @dragonsight9​ @loving-neko​ @lucifer-in-my-head​  @punsterterry​ @riley-castillo @sleepyssnail​ @fandomcrazy899​ @fuck-perfection-be-a-mess​ @yay-cats9​ @i-will-physically-fight-you​ @wisepuma23​ @jemthebookworm​ @analogical-mess​ @friedlieb-ferdinand-runge​ @stormcrawler75​ @book-of-charlie​ @just-another-rainbowblog​ @sparkedawg​ @kirsten-the-freak​ @jughead-is-canonically-aroace​ @saphirestrike​ @skylagamingfea​ @ssimplypatton​ @proudhufflepuff​ @birdybabybird​ @quinintheclouds​ @dementeddracon​ @thatgaydemigodnerd​ @countessmissyshort​ @creativenostalgia​ @koalaaquabear​ @heythereprincey​ @inalandofmythandtimeofmagic​ @the-incedible-sulk​ @savingshae​ @somepostontheinternet​ @nyamafriend​ @topiwolf​ @nonasficcollection​ @why-should-i-tell-youu2​ @ab-artist​ @oakskull​ @bihighandgivinghighfives​ @greenninjagal-blog​ @trans-demon-king @cocobearthe4th​ @hells-angel-forever @teacupfulofstarshine​ @starfly302​ @wildhorsewolf​ @moonstone-puppy​ @lefaystrent​ @seaspider10​ @midnightmagi​ @romanasanders​ @kitycat1​ @romanslunchbox​ @i-sleepygiraffe-love​ @sidespart​ @always3charcoaltea @marvelfangeek09​ @listenherebuddypal​ @thebadhalfofafandom​ @withspaces​ @justanotherpurplebutterfly​ @i-am-me-i-am-sam​ @pheonix-inside-reblogs​ @battleblaze​ @awkwardcat​ @im-a-ban-im-a-bandito @pumpkinminette​ @ndb-123​ @randomprojectedtrashcutie​ @whatschooldoesntteachyou​ @fangirlingrightnow44​ @ase-cakes​ @nonyabidness103​ @rainbowbowtie​ @edgy-gremlin​ @raterina-and-rayla​ @merlybird500​ @enbyamy​ @notall2gether​ @fandomloverangel​ @enby-phoenix​ @morgantoast​ @theradicalrainbow​ @thisblogispattonpending​ @som3thing-cr3ativ3​ @queenannarevenge​ @dontdeceiveme-dontleaveme​ @nafsbluebery​ @no-sleep-gang-posts​ @m-lt-ng-ld-nst-rd-st​ @heyhelloitsk​ @plummeting-and-singing​ @earths-trying-angel @power-in-plain-sight​ @forrestwyrm​ @meglooy​ @ultimatefandomtrashcan​ @musicwithalex​ @madsk3tch​ @supergirl-prime @mason-does-a-thing​ @phantom-moonfire​ @just-perhaps​ @hiddendreamer67​ @burningpersonflapsuitcase​ @hedgiehoggles​ @light-it-on-fire​ @goat-milk87 @stellar-blue-bird​ @unicorndragon1-2-3​ @under-the-blue-moonlight​  @lunalikesgamesandstuff​ @no-no-no-no-6​ @logansanderslove​ @rainysharkfreaklover​ @imaconfusedhuman @kittycake574​ @romanthestarstruckqueer​ @winterrs-child​ @joaniejustwokeup​ @txyfrxddy​ @theitalianscribe​ @lunarlogix​ @croftersphoenix​ @lostchoirchild​ @sparklerose222​ @unevencube2554​ @abigail-loves-fanfiction​ @an-absolute-failure​ @a-fandom-trashdump​ @yep-another-fander​ @nottheatretrash​ @allofthewhales​ @skruffy901​ @tinyemogod​ @incorrect-lazaret-quotes​ @timoteay​ @icecoldparadise​ @unsocialchapeau​ @nerd-in-space​ @pansexualdemonofpain​ @found-angel103​ @letthefandomsbegin​ @anxie-teaa​ @lordvaatitthewindmage-2 @anachronistic-cat​ @storytellerofuntoldlegends​ @peepersstuff​ @donalev​ @acompletemusicalnerd​ @fluctuating-fangirl​ @dogwithpants​ @feathered-skeleton​ @thecasualinsomniac​ @snakeboywasright​ @ihateeveryoneintheuniverse​ @a-wild-fander-appeared​ @joyfulness03​ @an-ironic-pisces​ @reluctantlyhuman19​ @sanderstalker​ @cantstopcreation​ @k9cat​ @misscatpurrr​ @randommuffinyt​ @noisyeggpizzapatrol​ @decentsanders​ @the-anti-virgil​ @changeling-ash​ @pinkeasteregg​ @bootsinthesun​ @iskierka1337​ @dorkoverse​ @fangirlio​ @nomejodasb​ @faycanyons​ @trickskita​ @mintea-luck​ @demidork84 @angels-and-dreams​ @justasadchildwithablog​ @4amanxiety​ @rosiepupper​ @amazonprimebox​ @rowbro-thetellyboi​ @modsnow​ @somenerdyartist​ @the-cactus-lord​ @bl00scl00s​ @rabbitsartcorner​ @the-dumbster​ @moonlace​ @aroundofapplesauce​ @amazable01​ @logicalityforlifefightmeiswear​ @fandomobsessed-nerd​ @happygothe-epic-posts​ @hufflepuffgirl01​ @the-amazing-roman​ @theunoriginaldaisy​ @spxced-oxt​ @askthesnakesides​ @knight-shives​ @reginaofdoctorwho​  @kaytikitty​ @smol-tree56​ @danish-fandomer​ @turtle-haven​

[kingdomofsenshi]

A story of my fursona

My name is Haru. I am a purple anthropomorphic cat craftsman, wielding a magic Katana. Sound weird? Oh, you do not know the half of it. Let's start off where any well written story does. The beginning. It was 18 years ago, a downpour, when i was abandoned. I was the runt of the litter. Could never keep up, could never do what my brothers and sisters could. So, i was left behind. But one of the gods must have been smiling on me. I was left by a Dojo, that taught martial arts. In short, i grew up learning the same as Humans, despite being what they called a Beastman. The father taught me all he knew, along with his 2 sons. The mother taught me many of my skills such as sewing and basket weaving. The years went by rather quickly, and in a flash, 11 years had passed. I was 12, and Father was going to teach me how to wield, craft, and repair blades and armor. Of course, my brothers would be learning with me as well. Daichi and Hideyoshi were the best brothers i could have asked for. Daichi, living up to the "Dai" in his name, was an astounding 6'5", was heavily muscled, and could wield a hammer like no other. Yet, he was kind, and gentle, and made sure Hideyoshi and I was safe. Hideyoshi was wise, strong mentally, but not as strong physically.He always had some way to help me figure out a problem. And there was me. As I aged, my legs developed more muscle than the rest of me, so, i could jump at least 3 times my height, and kick someone so hard, they would be blown back. But my upperbody was lean, having muscle, but nowhere near like Daichi. In short, i had a more feminine figure than i would have liked, so i wore a loose fitting Gi. Back to what i was talking about, i had started to learn forging. And, well,  it was not easy. i could barely lift the hammer at first, let alone swing it. But, i practiced every day. No matter what the weather, i swung that hammer until my muscles could take no more. But, after 3 years of practice, i succeeded. I had forged a Katana my Father approved of. I was overjoyed by his smile. For 3 years after that, i forged blades to sell, helping our family earn a living. I am proud to say my blades are used by Samurai all over Japan. But, as my 18th year approached, it was time to leave my humble home, And journey the vast island nation i lived on. I was living in Kyushu, the southern most tip of Japan, so, the only way to go was northward. So, i took some of the coin i had saved over the years, my straw hat, and a katana Father had made for me and was on my way. It was time to leave the castle town of Kagoshima. My goal was Fukui, in Maeda, a mere 800km away in a straight line, most likely more than that. Having no horse, i would have to walk out of my Daimyo's territory, and to the city of Higo, which in and of itself was a hundred Kilometers. The trip would take 32 hours, including time to sleep. 12 hours in, nothing unusual had happened. I guess most humans were afraid of Beastmen like me. And i hoped to keep it that way. As i bedded down in the forest at night, i couldn't help but notice how eerily quiet it was away from the town, but i paid it no mind and went to sleep. Early the next morning, i awoke to howling. It would seem some wolves were nearby. I hurriedly gathered up my belonging and hurried back on my way. I had hoped to cover the next 18 hours of the journey that day, but it seemed the weather had other plans. Around noon, the weather turned, gray clouds filling the sky. A few hours later, a thunderous downpour erupted. I was forced to seek shelter in a nearby cave. I could only wait and hope it cleared soon. As i was building my fire, I had a foreboding sense that i was not alone, but i shrugged it off, thinking I was just being paranoid. Then, moments later, i heard it. A howling, deeper into cave. Against my better judgement, i decided to go deeper, the howling growing louder and grating on my sensitive ears. i was thankful i had the foresight to bring a torch with me. As i grew closer to the pitiful wailing, i realized it was no normal wolf. It was a Beastman, like myself. I hurried to find an an injured She-wolf laying up against the wall, her leg with an arrow through it, the wound recent. She growled as i approached, a common thing for canines to do when faced with an unfamiliar person. I got to my knees, and slowly moved closer, showing i meant no harm. Suddenly, she spoke. "What...is a cat...doing out here...?" She asked, her breathing labored I replied, speaking as calmly and clearly as i could. "I am traveling to Fukui, but as of now, i am on my way to Higo. I hail from Kigoshima" She closed her eyes. "So... you must be the feline bladesmith..." I was shocked. "You have heard of me?" She nodded "Beastmen... do not normally... get taken in by humans" As we talked, i slowly inched closer, trying to get a better look at her wound, wondering who could be so cruel. She sighed "I see... you have noticed my new... adornment" She forced a chuckle, then grunted it pain. I sighed, nodding "I believe i can help you, if you will let me." She scoffed "I may be injured... but i still... have pride..." I rolled my eyes and shook my head. "Pride doesn't matter if the wound gets infected and you die" I said sternly. She huffed, and allowed me to help her. Lucky for her, I had some knowledge of what i was doing. I inspected the wounds. The arrow hod gone right through her calf. It was amazing she had been able to get this far with such a wound. The tip of the arrow was still on, so i had to break it off, then slowly, ever so slowly pull the shaft of the arrow out. Half of my attention was on her, and making sure she didn't try to get at me with her large paws. Though, she seemed to have amazing self control. I didn't hear a sound from her the entire procedure. After the shaft was removed, i made sure there were no splinters, and then i cleaned it out with some fresh water, i sewed both sides of the wound shut. That made her wince, but she took it well. I bandaged the wound with some clean linen. She would not be able to walk on that leg for a few days, so i offered to let her join e. She reluctantly accepted, seeing that i was her best chance for survival. I had to carry her over one of my shoulders, and she was not exactly what you would call light. The worst part was, her nose was right next to my ear, so she was quite literally breathing in it. My progress was drastically slowed with her, and after losing 6 hours with the rain, i could only walk for an hour before night fell. And yes, being a cat, i could see rather well at night. But i had picked up human sleeping habits, so i was already drowsy. And with my extra luggage, i had no choice but to bed down. At least the She-wolf was quiet when she slept. I layed awake, looking at the stars through the tree branches, pondering how this had come about. Was there some higher power that planned our meeting? Or was it purely coincidence? I doubt i will ever find the answer. but, suddenly the she-wolf turned to me. "I see you are awake" she stated. I sighed. "Of course i am. It is warm enough under my own fur, now i have even more next to me." "Oh, you are just jealous of mine" She taunted, obviously trying to either get a reaction, or trying to break the ice between us. "Hmph, i like how mine looks, thank you very much. Is there something you want?" I asked, trying to guess her game. She sighed, struggling to form words. "I... wan ted to thank you..." she said reluctantly. "ohhh, a wolf, thanking a cat? That must have hurt your pride" I teased "It did, but i have more than enough to make up for it" She boasted. "I'm not sure that is something to brag about..." I said, sighing. She rolled over, looking at me. Her eyes were a bright golden under her silver fur. Now that i take a closer look at her, she really is quite pretty. Nicely kept fur, not too curvy, not too flat either... wait, what was i thinking?! I was glad to have fur covering my blush. I could never fall in love with a wolf, it just would not work. "My name is Sakuya." She said softly. Now that  was focusing on her more. Her voice was light and sweet, none of the usual gruffness wolf males had. "My name is Haru" I replied, tried to keep myself calm, even though it felt like my heart was going to explode out of my chest. "Your name means Spring, doesn't it?" She asked, sitting up some. I nodded. "it was when my father found me, after i had been abandoned by my mother" I said somberly. "Oh, you poor dear" She said softly. Her personality had completely changed. "Are you alright? You kind of did a total personality change" "Well, i understand your pain. I too was an orphan. But not abandoned. My family was killed by vicious Beastman hating humans. " She said, balling her paws into fists "I was hidden when they came, a whole gang of them, into my village. No one was safe from their blades..." tears streamed down her face "there is no need to continue" I said, putting my paw over hers. To my surprise, she buried her face into my chest, sobbing. I sight and stroked her fur, which was smooth and silky on top. It was at this moment i realized i had never even touched another Beastman, let alone a female one. I sighed, laying back against a tree, and staying that way throughout the night. Morning came far too soon. My back and chest ached from my weird sleeping position and the extra weight on my chest. Sakuya was still asleep, her fur glistening in the morning sun. I guess i really was lovestruck.